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'.



**If you liked this, be sure to click the 'follow' button and share it with your friends. Also, all comments are welcome!**

The Bulletin Board That Almost Wasn't, The Curtains That Grew, and the 6-Mile Zone

This past weekend, I spent one of the longest hours of my life.

This year, Rachael finally got an official classroom for her to teach music in. Needless to say, she is very, very excited. When Rachael is excited, she is very animated, very awesome to behold, and almost impossible to say no to.

She asked me if I'd help her re-do the boards in her classroom. I asked her how long she thought it would take. She said probably no more than an hour, maybe two.

I agreed.

Several funny things happened as we prepared her classroom. The fact that the 1-2 hours turned out to be more than 6 hours, even with my dad helping for 4 of it, was not one of them.

Sorry, I digress.

Rachael is very creative. She has tremendous talent.

She decided that the boards would look much better covered in fabric instead of with papers. She had previously purchased sheets to do so.

All well.

All fine.

We began to put the red fabric on the first board. This would have been a much simpler task if the sheet was large enough to cover the board.

I asked Rachael if she had measured the board. She said that she had not, but that someone had given the measurements to her. She then said in her guilty-conscience way, that she had not been able to find them while purchasing the fabric, but that she kind of had them in her head, and that she was sure it would be enough.

You all can see how well that worked out.




One of our next projects was to put white fabric over a bulletin board, attach that board to the wall, and then hang a curtain rod on it, over which Rachael would drape some nice red curtains.

All was going fine until I looked closer at the curtains.



Me: "Hey, hon, don't you want these two curtains to be the same length?"

Rachael: "They are the same length."
Me: "Um, no, they're not. One's quite a bit longer than the other one."
Rachael: "Are you sure? I looked at them closely. Even the pictures were the same.
Me: "No, they're completely different. The measurements are different and the pictures are completely different."
At this time, I showed the pictures to Rachael. She took one glance at them and said, "See- they are exactly the same."
I have attached both pictures for your viewing pleasure.







After pointing out the fact that one curtain was significantly shorter than the other, and that it was clearly so in the picture, Rachael decided that we would be needing to buy another curtain that was the correct size.



On to the next project.
We were working on stapling the fabric to one of the other bulletin boards. Now, it's very important that there are no wrinkles in the fabric. To accomplish this, you need to have two people working together. One stands on the back side of the board and staples. The other stands on the front-side of the board so they can hold the board and make sure the fabric looks good before the other one finalizes it's placement with the staples.
I was the stapler. Rachael was the holder/looker.
Working together, our conversation tended to be fairly monotonous.
Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."

Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."
Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."
After doing this several times, I noticed that Rachael's tone had changed. I looked at her. She had that far-away look that indicates she has left this terrestrial plane and is hovering in the celestial sphere know as The Rachael Zone. Just to be sure, I tried again.
Me: "Ok?"
Rachael: "Yeah."
I watched her eyes the entire time I asked her and while she answered. I'm not sure what she was looking at, but it was approximately 6 miles away, through the walls of the building and not even in the same direction as the fabric she was supposed to be looking at.

Each time I said "OK", she was saying "Yeah", as if in a trance, without ever looking at the fabric.
I called her attention to it. She shook herself back to the here and now. We both laughed a bit.
We finished that board and began working on another. We began the process again. Once again, I noticed the monotone, the vacant stare, the fact that Rachael was not even looking in the general direction of the fabric we were working on.
Working together, we finally finished everything.
Rachael shared with me all of her ideas to cover-up the errors that were made through a lack of attention-to-detail.
I'm sure it will all turn out great. It almost always does. Rachael is very creative and this creativity often compensates for her lack of attention-to-detail.
This got me to thinking. Which came first?

Did Rachael's above-average creative ability lead her to quit paying attention to the details, knowing that her creativity could overcome any obstacle?
Or, does Rachael just naturally pay less attention to detail, and so her brain compensated by blessing her with exceptional creativity, kind of like a blind person's other senses becoming enhanced to help compensate for the lack of sight.
Later that day, I expressed my thoughts to Rachael. We talked about it for awhile. She sometimes minimizes the difficulty her lack-of-planning and preparation causes for Her Poor Husband and others, so I told her a story. A true story. I am currently reading the book by John C. Maxwell, titled The 21 Irrefutable Laws Of Leadership. He shares this story in that book, highlighting the importance of paying attention to the details.
In 1911, two groups were in a race to be the first to reach the South Pole. One of the groups was led by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen. The other group was led by a Brit by the name of Robert Falcon Scott. Amundsen paid attention to the details; Scott did not. Amundsen had proper food and fuel. Scott did not. Amundsen made it to the South Pole a good month before Scott. Amundsen made it safely home with all of his party. Scott and all of his party died of thirst/hunger and exposure.
Rachael looked at me. She said, "That's not a good story. I thought the story was gonna be about how one person made it by great planning, but the other was able to come up with some totally new way of doing things, or something like that."

Me: "No, he died. Him and all of his party."
Rachael: "I don't think I like that story."
Now, to be fair, I must admit that the room turned out great. Rachael's creativity once again saved the day. That does not surprise me that much, as I have witnessed it many, many times. Rachael does have some amazing talent. She will post some 'after' pictures on her post tomorrow. You should check them out. Especially the red bulletin board. You'd never know that hiding beneath the carefully placed decorations are gaping holes.
All's well that ends well, I guess.
So, while my title probably fell short of something really original, like The Lion, The Witch, and Wardrobe, you now know the story of The Bulletin Board That Almost Wasn't, The Curtains That Grew, and the 6-Mile Zone.

**If you liked this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab so you can stay current with this blog.  Enjoy!**

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.

**If you enjoyed this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab and check some of the other posts out.  I hope you like them!  Thanks   - The Poor Husband**