The Fastest Phone in the West

I've started noticing a pattern.

I call home.

Rachael answers.

Rachael hangs up on me.


Now, I don't consider myself to be an overly sensitive type.  But after my wife hangs up on me almost every time I call home, even I start to wonder if she's mad at me.  She swears she's not.

So now I'm left to wonder if she really is NOT mad, or if this falls into the large chasm of comments that wives make, waiting to see if their husbands will know they mean just the opposite:

"No, honey, I don't mind if you work late again."

"Nothing's wrong." 

"I'm fine."

"Of course it doesn't bother me that your secretary is gorgeous."

Now, I do have to be fair here.  Rachael is usually pretty good about telling me what she truly thinks or feels.  So, after considering, I had to conclude that she really wasn't mad at me.

So, the question is, Why then is she hanging up on me?

If she's not angry, maybe she's just being rude.  The kids can get a little loud at times.  Maybe the crescendo increases right as she answers the phone, she can't hear anyway, so she just hangs up on the unsuspecting caller.

Rachael is typically not rude, but I had to be sure.  I put this theory to the test.  The next time I called and she hung up on me, I paid close attention.  There was no loud shouting or whining or playing from the kids.

What then could it be?

I thought about her favorite retreat.  Maybe she takes a much-needed trip to Rachael Zone Land right as I call.  I would discount this idea outright, if it were not for the incessant zones I see her slip into.  I mean, it is possible.  Maybe she answers the phone right as she's taking the first imaginary step into the zone.  As the phone rises to her mouth and she says 'hello', she lifts the second foot and moves on in.  At that point, real life disappears instantly.  Without realizing it, she has dropped the phone, and it hangs up.

I knew the only way I could test this theory out was to watch when she answered the phone on others.  This was when I got much closer to finding the answer.

One night, the phone rang.  I sat back expectantly, waiting and watching.

Rachael answered.

"Hello?"

I don't think she had fully pronounced the question mark yet, when she was already hanging up the phone. 

I said, "Who's that?"

"I don't know, some telemarketer."

"How do you know?"

"Well, when they don't say anything right away, I know the computer is calling and in the process of clicking me over to a live person.  When that happens, I just hang up right away."

Ah ha!

So, I tested out the newly formed hypothesis.  The next time I called, it went a little something like this:

"Hel"

"Hi, hon.  How's it going?"

"Fine."

Of course, now she probably thinks that I'm the rude one, but what can one do.  Besides, when it seemed like she might be upset, I asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing."

Of course, I'm not totally sure if 'nothing' means 'nothing' or 'something' or even 'everything', but I have to assume I'm OK.

Because she still takes my calls.  And she never hangs up on me. 

So, if you ever need to call Rachael on our home number, be sure your words are ready.

The race is on and Rachael can hang up quicker than most people can say 'hello'.



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The Wake-Up Call

The first words I heard this morning, as I slowly drifted back from the sweet, sweet land of sleep were,

"Mom...." "Mom!" "MOM!"

This actually was repeated many more times, but if I accurately recorded exactly how many I am concerned that the size-limit google allows for their blog posts might be exceeded.

Finally, a faint whisper in return-

"Huh?"

"Can I play on the computer?"

A pause.

"Mom...." (pause) "Mom!" (pause) "MOM!"

The same faint whisper-

"Huh?"

"Can I play on the computer?"

Again, no answer. This repeated several more times. Again, I will leave it to your imagination so that I don't have to actually type it out.

Finally, after the 32nd attempt, (or at least the 5th), our son said in his sweet 1st grade voice,

"AYE-AYE-YIE" Pronounced this would be "I-I-YIE" with each successive syllable getting progressively louder. This is an expression all 3 of my kids seemed to learn in the last year or two at school, and I think all of them have taken to it somewhat, but my youngest seems to have developed a special affinity for it every time he gets frustrated.

I am thankful that God blessed Rachael with a job at a Christian school, so that our kids can attend there. So far, "AYE-AYE-YIE" rates as about as bad as the kids have brought home from their friends at school.

Trying to rest, the process began to repeat.


I didn't think I could take it much longer. Somehow, Rachael awakes just long enough to give a false hope that she's going to be able to make a decision about playing on the computer, but then instantly drifts back to sleep. I am not so lucky.

"Honey?"

"Hon?"

Rachael finally wakes up. At this point, I help Ben out and we ask her if she's ok with him playing on the computer. The answer makes him squeal with delight.

He practices his sprinting moves as he runs to the office.

I tell Rachael how many times Ben had asked. About that same time Rebecca, our eldest daughter walked in the room. She mentioned the other sleep induced response Rachael is famous for.

She said, in her newly acquired 4th grade voice, "Sometimes when we ask you a question when you're still half-asleep, the answer comes out 'ahhhhuhhhh'. It's hard to tell if that's a yes or a no. You have to listen really close. Yes sounds just a little bit different than no."

Now of course, Rachael would be back asleep by this point anyway, and would probably not even remember the question or the answer.

I'm just thankful that our kids have NEVER taken advantage of that situation. I know that if your kids are like mine, they would never, EVER take advantage of their mom's sleepy responses. Which is a good thing, because if they wanted to, they could probably get in a lot of trouble.

"Mom, can we have the keys to the Honda? We want to go joy-riding!"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Gee, thanks Mom! - Catch ya later!" Of course, the fact that my oldest daughter is only 9 might impose some natural restrictions on this one, as I'm pretty sure her feet would have a hard time reaching the pedals.

"Mom, my sisters are being mean to me. Can I hit them?"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Woo-hoo- No time-out this time!"

"Mom, I'm going to go practice my knife-juggling in the kitchen, OK?"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Wow- Thanks Mom! I didn't think you would let me."


After Rebecca finished talking about the indiscernibility of Rachael's 'yes' from her 'no' when she is half-asleep, she asked us if we had noticed the bagels she had brought us for breakfast. For the past few months, she has tried to make sure to bring us breakfast in bed every Saturday morning. This has resulted in messy kitchens, extra dishes, but most of all it has been an affirmation of her love for both of us. I've been quite touched by it.

"Mom, do you remember me bringing in the bagel?"
"No."
"Your eyes were open."

Ahh, the bliss of half-sleep. When you're awake enough to still feel comforted and somewhat cradled by your soft bed and comfy pillows, but not awake enough to really register what's going on around you.

The more I think about this, I can see where I have really been missing the boat. Next Saturday is going to be different.

"Hon, I'm going to go buy a new Corvette today."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"With the 401(k) money."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"OK, kids, she agreed. you stay here and take care of momma."

"Hon, I think I'll leave you to take care of the kids this whole weekend. I'm gonna go spend some time with the guys."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Hey! Thanks!"

And then get out of there before she actually wakes up.

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NOT The Luckiest Person On The Planet

I have only had my wallet stolen or lost or accidentally left behind one time in my entire life. Now, if you are like

The Man Purse recovered after the theft.

me, and you live with Rachael, this could seem exceptional. Without exaggerating, I would guess that Rachael has left her purse in a public place at least 25-30 times. I know most of you are sitting there right now thinking I'm exaggerating that number just for effect on my blog. I assure you I am not. Any of our close friends can vouch for this.

The amazing thing is that we have never lost one thing out of it. Ever.

In fact, we have had people go to some amazing lengths to ensure that it was returned safely. Please see Rachael's post, The Luckiest Person On The Planet.



I have never, ever, even one time left my wallet in a public place.

But of course, I am the one to have mine stolen.


I can remember the night well. Rachael and I were enjoying a peaceful, relaxing time shopping at Wal-Mart in Rocklin, CA. This was in our Pre-Kids life, so most evenings were peaceful and relaxing. All of you parents know what I'm talking about.

We were checking out at the cash register.

While in line, I noticed the Ice Cold, Tantalizingly Beautiful, Good-To-The-Last-Drop, Diet Cokes, placed so completely conspicuously close to me. Now, I have mastered avoiding a few temptations in life. Smoking- never have. Drinking- never have. (At least intentionally. That's another post, although it does not involve Rachael and so may never find it's way on this blog. We'll see.)

Diet Coke, though.

I still have a weakness.

I fought the good fight for at least 2.23 seconds before giving in. During that period of time, my face became contorted. Sweat began to pour. My hands began to shake.

I knew there was only one thing to help.

I grabbed a Diet Coke.


Now, I know that there are many people out there that think it is quite funny to play practical jokes on friends or strangers. Some will do almost anything as long as they get a good laugh. A certain memory of a bull-horn in Las Vegas comes to mind, but that again is another story.

I believe I fell victim to someone's practical joke that night in Wal-Mart so long ago.


As soon as I paid for the soda, I calmly twisted off the lid in a slow-motion manner. OK, OK, so I tore it off as quickly as I could.

I was so anticipating the first taste of Ice Cold Diet Coke. The first taste is always the best. It kind of primes your taste buds for the rest of Heaven's Nectar to follow.

Imagine my dismay, when instead of being able to take a nice refreshing drink, the soda spurted all over me and the floor.

Apparently, someone had thought it would be funny to shake an Ice Cold Diet Coke up and put it back in the cooler. I looked around the store. Many people were laughing. Many people diverted their eyes when I looked at them. I knew they couldn't all be guilty, but I was sure it had to be one of them.

After staring at everyone that so much as smiled in my direction, I was saddened to see that I was still not going to be able to drink my soda.

There was a fairly large pool of Not So Ice Cold Diet Coke on the floor.

Now, I may be a lot of things, but I try hard to not be inconsiderate. I did not want to take the chance of having someone slip in the mess that I had created. I asked the checker if they had any paper towels. They did not, but pointed me in the right direction.

At this point in my life, I had a rather large wallet that Rachael had given to me as a present. All of my friends called it my man-purse and seemed to gain a great deal of satisfaction out of laughing at me about it. I am not sure but I think they were all just jealous. I know someday, they'll all have one.

I know this, because I think someday I'm going to give each of them one for Christmas.

Whatever the case, this wallet was much too big to fit in my pocket, so I was keeping it in the small compartment section of the shopping cart.

I turned away from my cart and walked about 12-15 feet away to get some paper towels. I retrieved them and immediately walked back and worked on my mess. When I was finished, I threw the towels away and was ready to leave the store.

I looked down at my cart.

My wallet was gone.

I had literally only left the cart for about 20 seconds. In that small amount of time, some heinous creature, some human waste, some ectoplasmic speck of putrid vile, had stolen my wallet. OK, so I'm not even sure what an ectoplasmic speck is, but I'm sure it is a fitting description.

I looked over at Rachael, for she had been standing there the entire time. I was sure she had pulled out my wallet to make me think that someone had stolen it. However, she was standing there, hands where I could see them, face transfixed. She was in her Zone. Someone had brazenly stolen my wallet out of the shopping cart that she has standing about 3 feet from. They were just lucky that Rachael retreats to her Zones early, often, and for extended periods of time. While her Zone appears to be quite the incredible place to be, it did not prove conducive to apprehending the would-be thief that stole my wallet.

Now, normally, I would have been upset.

However, in this case, I noticed that they hadn't really taken anything of value.


I calmly reached down, picked up my Ice Cold Diet Coke, and finally was able to take my long-awaited first sip.



After spending most of the morning canceling all my credit cards and mourning my losses, I went back to the store the next day and found my wallet behind a row of bushes. Someone had stripped it clean and discarded it like an unwanted carcass, which was totally unbelievable, because it was really a great wallet. If my man-purse jealous friends had found it, I know they'd still be carrying it today.

Every single thing in the entire wallet was gone. I apparently do not have the luck that Rachael does. I keep trying to convince her that I need to rub her for good luck once in awhile, but she doesn't seem to see how that would help. I say it sure couldn't hurt.

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The Zone

This morning, I was forced to think about zones.

Now, there are certainly many good zones. In fact, most of you have probably heard a coach tell you or another to 'Get Into The Zone!'. When someone is 'In The Zone' they can use this to intensely concentrate on the task at hand.

In California, we have all had to 'Slow for the Cone Zone'. This is good, as it ensures the safety of all the Cal Trans workers that are leaning on their shovels. Plus, cars whizzing by too quickly have a tendency to wake them up, so we have all decided together to slow. My apologies to all the hard-working Cal Trans workers out there. I didn't mean to cast a bad light on both of you.

This morning, Rachael forced me to consider yet another zone.

The Rachael Zone.

Now, my morning routine is somewhat systematic. I wake, take a shower, do my hair, shave, use my Q-Tips, put on my deodorant, and then use the bathroom. I have developed this system, as I have timed other variations, and this one seems to be the most efficient. Anyway, this morning I was using my Q-Tips right as Rachael came in the bathroom and went about doing her important business. With quick calculations, I figured it would only be approximately 28.6 seconds until I was done with my Q-Tips and deodorant and would need to use the bathroom myself. I figured I'd be OK. Rachael would be finishing right as I was ready. My routine would be sacrosanct.

Then I glanced over at Rachael.

She was on the throne and in a zone.

Now zones are not necessarily an unusual thing for Rachael. She tends to find herself in one at least once a week, or day, or sometimes once an hour. Sometimes more often than that.

I can count on at least 2-3 zones each time we drive for a half an hour or so. Typically at dinner, I have to wake her up from her zone at least once.

And sometimes, we'll be having a conversation and the next thing I know Rachael is gone. I've timed it and she usually leaves us when she sits still for 22 seconds or more. This is a rough estimate and it can be heavily influenced by the amount of sleep she had the night before.

So, anyway, here I am putting on my deodorant. I look over at Rachael to see if she's finishing up. I see the classic tell-all signs of the Rachael Zone. I go through my checklist just to be sure.

Vacant eyes?
Check.

Slack Jaw?
Check.

Transfixed Gaze?
Check.

Utter oblivion.
Check and Double Check.

Right about now I know it's going to be necessary to do a serious intervention or plan on using another bathroom.

I opted for the intervention.

"Hon?"

Now, if you've never seen Rachael return from a zone, it really is a sight to behold. It seems that her consciousness returns from somewhere deep inside her. Her whole body shakes. Well, it's not so much a shake as it is a jerk, like someone does when they've been startled. A bewildered look comes across her face. She looks around with a look that says 'Where in the world am I and How did I get here?' The dawn of recognition then begins.


"Should I use the other bathroom?"

"No, I'm all done. I've been done."

"Ok. Just wanted to be sure."


One day, under similar circumstances, I decided to see just how long Rachael would remain in her Throne Zone. I calmly left the bathroom, used the other one, got dressed, and left for work.

Imagine my surprise when I returned home that night.

The kids were running and screaming all through the house.
There were cereal and lunch remains left on the table and all around the table on the floor.
The couch cushions were strewn about the living room.




So far, everything seemed pretty normal.

But then I went to use the bathroom....

Rachael was still there. She looked exactly the same as when I left her, except that her legs were even whiter than before. They were a ghost white. A porcelain white. An alabaster white. A white that said, "We have not received any blood for 10 1/2 hours. We are not only asleep. We are comatose."

Apparently, the toilet seat had cut off the circulation to her legs.

"Honey, are you OK?"

Rachael's body shook, her head turned, she seemed to wake up, and then she said, "Oh, are you leaving for work now?"


Being the kind and compassionate husband I am, I used the opportunity to pat Rachael on the knee once ever 30 seconds or so. That seemed to somehow enhance the tingles that were cascading up and down the nerves of Rachael's legs as the blood was trying to figure out which of the unused vessels to once again begin using. I was really curious to see how long it takes to completely restore proper circulation, so I continued this educational activity for about 15 minutes. After that, it seemed that all was well.

The funniest thing of all was the reaction I received each time I patted her again. She did not get angry as I had expected she might.

Her body shook.

Her head turned.

She looked around.

"Where am I?"




****Integrity Alert- This entire story is completely true up to the part where I left Rachael all day. That is just a good old-fashioned lie, designed to make you laugh. I hope it worked.

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