So I thought that I would write a note about my troubled heart in the hopes that I can move on to something more suitable in public. So, in a nutshell, I feel...
Afraid
Overwhelmed
Trapped
Useless
Lonely
And this beautiful song is not helping...
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Gypsy Moth
I've been struggling through some fairly simple yet painful issues lately. However, I don't want to write about any of them. Instead, I want to tell funnier stories. But here I am, with a song on constant repeat in my head, feeling a little too blue about life and all the things to come.
So I thought that I would write a note about my troubled heart in the hopes that I can move on to something more suitable in public. So, in a nutshell, I feel...
Afraid
Overwhelmed
Trapped
Useless
Lonely
And this beautiful song is not helping...
So I thought that I would write a note about my troubled heart in the hopes that I can move on to something more suitable in public. So, in a nutshell, I feel...
Afraid
Overwhelmed
Trapped
Useless
Lonely
And this beautiful song is not helping...
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Self-Portrait
Rachel
Art 100
March 16, 2012
Self-Portrait
Joseph Nicephore Niepce captured the first photographic image in 1826 (Text, 121). I like to imagine the intensity of that moment when he realized what he had done, and the endless possibilities he had opened up. The scale of the achievements that would follow was probably as far from his understanding as the moon was from the men who first studied it. In many ways, photography has become a lazier medium than others. The results can be achieved in very little time comparatively. But photography can also be much more baring, as shown by the moments in history that have been displayed in all their raw glory. Often, these results are extremely uncomfortable, as is evidenced in the many photographs of the dead and wounded throughout the wars in the past century and a half. The truth is often ugly.
But like anything, photography can be used to lie or influence. A movement here, a prop there, and one can create something that looks very real, but may not be so. The same could be used to make a political statement, or an expression of pain. The first photographers to truly utilize this concept were call “Post-modernists” (Text, 436) At the forefront of this postmodern photography was Cindy Sherman. Her use of props and specific settings enabled her to make satirical stabs about the female stereotypes of her day. Suddenly, a photograph could make as much of a statement as a painting or a song.
I chose to do my self-portrait in the medium of photography, in part because I understand this medium more than others, but primarily to make a statement that I can only make through a photograph.
Because the image is a self-portrait, it has obviously been posed. The setting was carefully chosen, the lighting specifically set, and an optimal image achieved. Almost nothing about this image is an accident. In that way, it has been designed to hopefully achieve a precise reaction. At the same time, however, the purpose was to show myself in a vulnerable and raw state. This is how I look. This is my face without make-up, without guile, without pretense. Three angles are shown simultaneously to insure that I have hidden nothing. So although I have set up my shot to lead you in the direction that I want, I am still unprotected in the very personal way that I have chosen to show myself.
This choice came on the heels of being told for the third consecutive time that I would never find love if I didn’t become more attractive. In order to be valued by another human being, I was told to lose weight, buy nicer clothing, and spend more time on my hair and face. My first reaction was hurt. I think even the staunchest among us are hurt by things like this. Like every fragile human, I have the desire to be loved and valued. My next reaction was anger. Who is the world to tell me my worth? I am more than my skin and if I am ugly, I will rejoice in my ugliness. I value myself from all angles, regardless of my flaws. I thank the artists who have come before me for showing me that everything can be seen in a new way; full of ugliness, promise, and value.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Stupid Questions
I am frequently to be found trying to make awkward conversation in a ragged attempt to illicit friendship. I ask questions that are so irritating, I should be ashamed of myself. Sometimes I'm lucky, and it's only awkward...
"So, what's your favorite color? Green? Yes, that is an excellent color...soooo...."
Other questions leave me desperately seeking a graceful exit...
"Who is your favorite musician? Really? Justin Beiber?"
This is not the face of a brilliant social manipulator. Okay, well...MY version of this face is not the face of a brilliant social manipulator.
Anyway, I was asked one of my own stupid questions, and I couldn't answer the damn thing. It wasn't a life-changing question, it wasn't a deep question, it wasn't even an easy question. It was just one of those stupid questions. I was sent into a tailspin.
Days of fasting, covering myself in ashes, and praying to heaven for assistance, I asked myself this question over and over again...
"What IS my favorite movie?"
So I'm here to run through a list of my favorite films of all time. Because I really am THAT inane, and this is the blogosphere.
Level 1
These are all films that make it to my "super-fave" list. I own them, love them, and could watch them repeatedly. I would also turn into a fan-girl over the recitation of their contents.The following are in no particular order, because I can't figure it out.
Persuasion
Captain Wentworth holds the "single most beloved fictional male in Rachel's world" spot.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Not only do I relate more with Esmeralda than any other Disney female, but this is a freaking glorious film. Of all the under-appreciated films on earth, this one was the most inconceivable to me.
Tangled
If I have to tell you about this film, it's because you haven't seen it...which makes you a horrible person.
How To Train Your Dragon
Beautiful, funny, exciting, heart-warming, AMAZING. And the soundtrack is worth buying in multiple versions.
Prince of Egypt
This movie is glorious. The soundtrack is still one of the most unbelievable works of art I've encountered in my life, and the story-telling is magnificent. This almost made Level 1.
That's it for now...question answered.
"So, what's your favorite color? Green? Yes, that is an excellent color...soooo...."
Other questions leave me desperately seeking a graceful exit...
"Who is your favorite musician? Really? Justin Beiber?"
This is not the face of a brilliant social manipulator. Okay, well...MY version of this face is not the face of a brilliant social manipulator.
Anyway, I was asked one of my own stupid questions, and I couldn't answer the damn thing. It wasn't a life-changing question, it wasn't a deep question, it wasn't even an easy question. It was just one of those stupid questions. I was sent into a tailspin.
Days of fasting, covering myself in ashes, and praying to heaven for assistance, I asked myself this question over and over again...
"What IS my favorite movie?"
So I'm here to run through a list of my favorite films of all time. Because I really am THAT inane, and this is the blogosphere.
Level 1
These are all films that make it to my "super-fave" list. I own them, love them, and could watch them repeatedly. I would also turn into a fan-girl over the recitation of their contents.The following are in no particular order, because I can't figure it out.
Persuasion
Captain Wentworth holds the "single most beloved fictional male in Rachel's world" spot.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Not only do I relate more with Esmeralda than any other Disney female, but this is a freaking glorious film. Of all the under-appreciated films on earth, this one was the most inconceivable to me.
Speed Racer
Yes, I loved it...I LOVED it. I saw it 6 times in the theatre. I am baffled that it was a flop. I would marry this movie.
Alegria
If you haven't seen it, you are missing a life-changing film. I'm not even slightly kidding.
Level 2
These are films that I adore and would recommend (with enthusiasm) to all of my friends...probably even my enemies, because those turds need some happiness too.
If I have to tell you about this film, it's because you haven't seen it...which makes you a horrible person.
How To Train Your Dragon
Beautiful, funny, exciting, heart-warming, AMAZING. And the soundtrack is worth buying in multiple versions.
Penelope
This film makes me happy. And James McAvoy is a hunk o' burnin' love.
Prince of Egypt
This movie is glorious. The soundtrack is still one of the most unbelievable works of art I've encountered in my life, and the story-telling is magnificent. This almost made Level 1.
Pride & Prejudice (1995 Version)
Level 3
I like these films a lot. I could live without them if forced, but they still merit a spot in my limited film library.
Mulan
Come on, who doesn't want a man mysterious as the dark side of the moon? And Mulan is bad ass.
Mulan
Come on, who doesn't want a man mysterious as the dark side of the moon? And Mulan is bad ass.
The Quest for Camelot
A classic favorite of mine. This literally catapulted my slowly blossoming wanderlust into a raging fire.
Mr. Bean's Holiday
This movie is adorable and heartwarming, in the very best sense. I even cried.
Babies
It's about babies...I need say nothing more.
The King's Speech
Brilliant. Just...brilliant.
The Young Victoria
One of history's great love stories.
Thor
It's true, Thor is good-looking. But my personal favorite is Loki...that hunk of stud.
That's it for now...question answered.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
New Zealand Adventures: The Naked Masseuse
Nudity. It's an interesting thing.
But not so interesting that I thought it would twinkle its way into my great New Zealand adventure.
Now that I have your attention, I think I'll start from the beginning.
I had just moved into a music studio in Auckland.
In my first week I was already cooking breakfast for Daniel Bedingfield as he made fun of my spatula habits and drug me out to the grocery store for proper food stuffs. This was just before Natasha's debut and he would get her on the phone and try to make her sing for us.
The owner of this studio was a British/Polynesian/Kiwi man who boasted an insane resume. He was an art teacher, a licensed masseuse, a musician, and a studio owner. He was tall, strong, handsome, and hilarious. At the time I was rather enthralled with a young kiwi boy named Sam, so I was relatively unmoved by the glorious-ness of Andy. Oh, but he was glorious.
One morning, not long after I finally achieved equilibrium, I was shaken awake by an overly excited Andy.
"Rach, aye...get up mite. We're going on a trip, aye?"
His cheerful demeanor met my why-am-I-even-speaking-to-you-this-early-in-the-morning response. But I flopped out of bed and got dressed. He spent his time darting around getting things together.
"Oh, and Rach...pack a bag, we're staying over!"
I look back at this now and think that I must have been very confident in my ability to defend myself against very tall, very strong, very handsome, and very talented virtual strangers. Because I went driving off on an over-night adventure with a man I had known for three weeks. My mother would have had hysterics.
On the road we went.
Destination: Rotorua Hot Springs
It was a blast. Andy bought lunch, opened the back of his SUV, and we sat and ate while overlooking beautiful New Zealand. Our first meal was Fish & Chips, which is an entirely different thing in N.Z. than it is here in the states. It never ceases to amaze me how awesome a picnic can be. We ate, laughed, drove, and stopped anytime we wanted to explore. The only torment on the drive was my extremely painful introduction to War of the Worlds...the musical.
We ended up at the hot springs at dusk, just as the last vehicle was leaving the area. We were alone...on a sub-tropical island...on a warm spring night...with only the stars and moon lighting our way. It was a gorgeous night.
It was beginning to dawn on me that I might have been in over my head, what with all the romance flying around willy-nilly. But I chocked it up to my youthful ridiculousness. So Andy and I grabbed our stuff and walked to the nearest spring. I found a tree close to the bank and started laying my things out. I heard Andy already splashing and laughing, so I turned around to get in the water and was immediately confronted with the holy mecca of all temptation.
My gorgeous Polynesian friend was standing calf-deep in steaming water, drenched by moonlight, with one hand beckoning me to come join him...stark-raving naked.
Second 1: I register what I am seeing.
Second 2: I panic.
Second 3: I look skyward and start verbalizing.
"WOW! Look at that moon! It's amazing...I think I'll just look at it all night!"
I ended up scooting so far to the other side that I got myself stuck. As I tried to get in the water I saw Andy wading towards me with his arms out...perfectly proportioned arms beckoning me to accept his offer of loving assistance. So what did I do? I plugged my nose and took a flying leap into the water.
Half an hour of excuse making ensued...
"Rach, you can take off your togs...no one is here!"
"Oh no, it's fine...I'm afraid of fish bites."
"Rach, come see the moon from here, it's choice as!"
"I think different perspectives give it depth, don't you?"
"Rach, I found a warm current right here..."
"That's great! I'm looking for a cold current though..."
I finally begged the need for water and went running back to the SUV (leaving my water bottle on the bank) and called my mother.
In retrospect, she was pretty cool about it all. Naked man? Okay...don't look, grab your mace. Middle of nowhere? Scratch the mace, find a bat.
Eventually convinced that someone would know if I went strangely missing, I headed back to say that I was tired and wanted to head out.
"Sweet as, I'll just set up the bed in the SUV then, aye?"
Oh yes...that was the plan.
Andy set up a feather bed with fluffy pillows and comforters in the back of his car.
I crawled into bed, on top of the covers, and married myself to the siding. I busted out my phone and started texting everyone that I knew to keep me visibly occupied. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings.
After my tenth text I began to smell something oddly out of place. I looked around to find that there were candles burning, and Andy was setting up his massage gear.
I cannot even begin to express what was in my head at that moment. If ever a woman was faced with a temptation greater than chocolate...this was it. And yet I was in a state of perpetual panic.
And what do panicked girls do? Oh yeah...pretend to be asleep.
Andy tried to wake me up once, to which I replied by snoring...a little too much like Darth Vader. But that was nothing compared to trying to keep the pretense up after he started to massage my head and shoulders.
Thankfully, he wasn't a bad guy...just crazy. He packed up his stuff, fell asleep on his side, and resumed our fun-loving relationship the next morning. To this day, he probably has no idea how insane he made a young American girl trying to keep her head on straight.
But not so interesting that I thought it would twinkle its way into my great New Zealand adventure.
Now that I have your attention, I think I'll start from the beginning.
I had just moved into a music studio in Auckland.
In my first week I was already cooking breakfast for Daniel Bedingfield as he made fun of my spatula habits and drug me out to the grocery store for proper food stuffs. This was just before Natasha's debut and he would get her on the phone and try to make her sing for us.
The owner of this studio was a British/Polynesian/Kiwi man who boasted an insane resume. He was an art teacher, a licensed masseuse, a musician, and a studio owner. He was tall, strong, handsome, and hilarious. At the time I was rather enthralled with a young kiwi boy named Sam, so I was relatively unmoved by the glorious-ness of Andy. Oh, but he was glorious.
One morning, not long after I finally achieved equilibrium, I was shaken awake by an overly excited Andy.
"Rach, aye...get up mite. We're going on a trip, aye?"
His cheerful demeanor met my why-am-I-even-speaking-to-you-this-early-in-the-morning response. But I flopped out of bed and got dressed. He spent his time darting around getting things together.
"Oh, and Rach...pack a bag, we're staying over!"
I look back at this now and think that I must have been very confident in my ability to defend myself against very tall, very strong, very handsome, and very talented virtual strangers. Because I went driving off on an over-night adventure with a man I had known for three weeks. My mother would have had hysterics.
On the road we went.
Destination: Rotorua Hot Springs
 |
| RotoVegas |
It was a blast. Andy bought lunch, opened the back of his SUV, and we sat and ate while overlooking beautiful New Zealand. Our first meal was Fish & Chips, which is an entirely different thing in N.Z. than it is here in the states. It never ceases to amaze me how awesome a picnic can be. We ate, laughed, drove, and stopped anytime we wanted to explore. The only torment on the drive was my extremely painful introduction to War of the Worlds...the musical.
 |
| The painful reality... |
 | |
| The painful reaction... |
It was beginning to dawn on me that I might have been in over my head, what with all the romance flying around willy-nilly. But I chocked it up to my youthful ridiculousness. So Andy and I grabbed our stuff and walked to the nearest spring. I found a tree close to the bank and started laying my things out. I heard Andy already splashing and laughing, so I turned around to get in the water and was immediately confronted with the holy mecca of all temptation.
My gorgeous Polynesian friend was standing calf-deep in steaming water, drenched by moonlight, with one hand beckoning me to come join him...stark-raving naked.
 |
| This photo has been chosen for modesty's sake. |
Second 2: I panic.
Second 3: I look skyward and start verbalizing.
"WOW! Look at that moon! It's amazing...I think I'll just look at it all night!"
I ended up scooting so far to the other side that I got myself stuck. As I tried to get in the water I saw Andy wading towards me with his arms out...perfectly proportioned arms beckoning me to accept his offer of loving assistance. So what did I do? I plugged my nose and took a flying leap into the water.
Half an hour of excuse making ensued...
"Rach, you can take off your togs...no one is here!"
"Oh no, it's fine...I'm afraid of fish bites."
"Rach, come see the moon from here, it's choice as!"
"I think different perspectives give it depth, don't you?"
"Rach, I found a warm current right here..."
"That's great! I'm looking for a cold current though..."
I finally begged the need for water and went running back to the SUV (leaving my water bottle on the bank) and called my mother.
In retrospect, she was pretty cool about it all. Naked man? Okay...don't look, grab your mace. Middle of nowhere? Scratch the mace, find a bat.
Eventually convinced that someone would know if I went strangely missing, I headed back to say that I was tired and wanted to head out.
"Sweet as, I'll just set up the bed in the SUV then, aye?"
Oh yes...that was the plan.
Andy set up a feather bed with fluffy pillows and comforters in the back of his car.
I crawled into bed, on top of the covers, and married myself to the siding. I busted out my phone and started texting everyone that I knew to keep me visibly occupied. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings.
After my tenth text I began to smell something oddly out of place. I looked around to find that there were candles burning, and Andy was setting up his massage gear.
I cannot even begin to express what was in my head at that moment. If ever a woman was faced with a temptation greater than chocolate...this was it. And yet I was in a state of perpetual panic.
And what do panicked girls do? Oh yeah...pretend to be asleep.
Andy tried to wake me up once, to which I replied by snoring...a little too much like Darth Vader. But that was nothing compared to trying to keep the pretense up after he started to massage my head and shoulders.
Thankfully, he wasn't a bad guy...just crazy. He packed up his stuff, fell asleep on his side, and resumed our fun-loving relationship the next morning. To this day, he probably has no idea how insane he made a young American girl trying to keep her head on straight.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
This Post May (Does) Contain Whining
Fourteen thousand dollars.
Emergency Dental Care
Diapers
Student Loans
Petrol
etc.
Between the monthly bills and trying to stay afloat I am absolutely buried. For a while now I have been paying one bill with the other, and that one with another, and so on, and so forth.
Today I have less than 1/8 of a tank of petrol, 12 diapers, and $1.23 in my bank account. I am within $4 of the limit to every credit card I own. I can't afford a lawyer, I can't afford gas, hell...I can't even afford toothpaste. I've been stretching us to the brink of flat-out stupidity for longer than I can remember. I've been juggling and pushing and selling and bartering and working and I am finally out of ideas.
Mina has a roof over her head and good food in her stomach, so my major purpose in life is fulfilled (God eternally bless my parents for tolerating a grown woman and her child in their basement). But sometimes I just wish that life were a little less, well...lifelike. Even a sugar daddy sounds life a blessed relief right now, only I'm not petite OR docile enough to attract one of those. Although I CAN cook like a superstar.
It used to be that I would remind myself about the starving children in Africa, or the war-torn Bosnian women. But I'm going to be frank. I am exceedingly grateful that I have the life I have compared to people who live in a degree of suffering that I cannot comprehend. But I am tired, sick, and strained. I want money to pursue good health so that I can run with my daughter. I want money to protect us from a man out to do as much damage as he feasibly can. I want money to dig us out from underneath this stupid debt and let us start fresh. We can live poor, so long as we're not dealing with the $700 bills each month on a $100 income. I want to earn money and save it. Put it away to take my daughter to New Zealand, or send her to Harvard, or whatever it is that strikes her passion when the time comes.
This is precisely the kind of post that no one in their right mind cares about. Tough noogins, if you've read this far it is now too late to evade.
I have exhausted my last resource, anyone want to buy a guitar? How about a spleen?
Emergency Dental Care
Diapers
Student Loans
Petrol
etc.
Between the monthly bills and trying to stay afloat I am absolutely buried. For a while now I have been paying one bill with the other, and that one with another, and so on, and so forth.
Today I have less than 1/8 of a tank of petrol, 12 diapers, and $1.23 in my bank account. I am within $4 of the limit to every credit card I own. I can't afford a lawyer, I can't afford gas, hell...I can't even afford toothpaste. I've been stretching us to the brink of flat-out stupidity for longer than I can remember. I've been juggling and pushing and selling and bartering and working and I am finally out of ideas.
Mina has a roof over her head and good food in her stomach, so my major purpose in life is fulfilled (God eternally bless my parents for tolerating a grown woman and her child in their basement). But sometimes I just wish that life were a little less, well...lifelike. Even a sugar daddy sounds life a blessed relief right now, only I'm not petite OR docile enough to attract one of those. Although I CAN cook like a superstar.
It used to be that I would remind myself about the starving children in Africa, or the war-torn Bosnian women. But I'm going to be frank. I am exceedingly grateful that I have the life I have compared to people who live in a degree of suffering that I cannot comprehend. But I am tired, sick, and strained. I want money to pursue good health so that I can run with my daughter. I want money to protect us from a man out to do as much damage as he feasibly can. I want money to dig us out from underneath this stupid debt and let us start fresh. We can live poor, so long as we're not dealing with the $700 bills each month on a $100 income. I want to earn money and save it. Put it away to take my daughter to New Zealand, or send her to Harvard, or whatever it is that strikes her passion when the time comes.
This is precisely the kind of post that no one in their right mind cares about. Tough noogins, if you've read this far it is now too late to evade.
I have exhausted my last resource, anyone want to buy a guitar? How about a spleen?
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Aotearoa: Home of My Heart
Once upon a time I lived in New Zealand.
For several years I was a kiwi, born and bred in my own mind. I loved the people, I loved the country, and I loved a boy.
I have missed it every single day for 6 years, 8 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day. I feel like I left the whole of my heart in that place.
While I was there, I was given a name by a local Maori chieftain. The name meant "She who loves this land". To this day, I have struggled with being this far away from a place that feels like my home.
So I think that I'm going to tell a few stories about my time in Aotearoa. The stories I tell will most likely be humorous, but I may tell you the story of my tragic heartbreak. I will then immediately pray that no one reads my blog.
For several years I was a kiwi, born and bred in my own mind. I loved the people, I loved the country, and I loved a boy.
I have missed it every single day for 6 years, 8 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day. I feel like I left the whole of my heart in that place.
While I was there, I was given a name by a local Maori chieftain. The name meant "She who loves this land". To this day, I have struggled with being this far away from a place that feels like my home.
So I think that I'm going to tell a few stories about my time in Aotearoa. The stories I tell will most likely be humorous, but I may tell you the story of my tragic heartbreak. I will then immediately pray that no one reads my blog.
Friday, December 30, 2011
New Year's Resolutions
#1. As of 12:01 AM on Jan 1st, 2012…NO MORE SUGAR. I will become a master of honey and agave usage. No more hypocritical denial of sugar to my daughter.
#2. Pay off all debt. Even if I have to work graveyard until my eyes bleed. Preferably paying off $14,000 will not cause my eyes to bleed.
#3. Seek love and abandon fear. Lord, help me.
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#4. Find out the name of the Ichi 12 boy WITHOUT stalking him.
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| This is a model depiction of Ichi 12. Any resemblance to the real Ichi 12 is purely coincidental. |
Christmas is for Overkill
Most people who know me well understand one definitive truth.
I am a walking Epic Failure when it comes to lying. Seriously. I would be a dream to play poker with, I have more tells than I have skills. When I was young I don't remember getting away with a single thing. I either cracked under the pressure of deceit after about 3 seconds, or my steam-bun face gave me away.
Yup.
However, there is one thing that most people don't know yet. If you remove all of the subsequent guilt from the lie, I could be an Oscar winner.
I am an AWESOME liar during Christmas.
Just call me Snidely. 'Cuz my deviousness will give you mad whiplash.
So...long story semi-short, I lied my bloody face off to my entire family at different times in order to manipulate them into different places and situations and therefore allowing me to create and complete their Christmas gifts.
Oh yeah, I bad. But only sort of, as I had LOTS of help.
Lie number one was designed to give my parents a surprise 3-day anniversary trip, whereupon their return they would find their house and property spotless, repaired, and up-kept.
This is quite a challenge for a girl with barely enough money to buy diapers. So I sent out a call for help. Anyone who wanted to could pitch in financially for the trip, donate needed items, or help with the cleaning. I thought that I might get 5 people.
I got 50.
Some pitched in for their trip (a two-night stay in the Executive Suite at the Cannon Beach Hotel, an ocean-front table at the best restaurant in town, petrol, and a champagne turn-down were all covered).
Some donated much-needed items (meals, garbage bags, laundry soap, essential oils...etc).
And many donated some blood (especially one young man), sweat, and tears.
I usually learn at least one life-lesson a day, regardless of whether I want to or not. But through all this I learned several things, not least of which is how important community is. And trust me, coming from the Great Hermit-Grinch of the Lower East Basement, that is really saying something.
It was just unreal to watch what can happen when people pull together. It actually makes me inclined to do the same for someone else in need. It just boggles my mind how much can actually get done. Obama, please take note.
Now that the plans were laid, I knew the precise track that my mother's brain would take when she found out.
And I would like to say...I was spot on. But I would like to move on from the hilarity of my mother and onto the awesomeness of our friends.
At the end of the insanity, I took the photographs taken by my friend Julianna and my sister Jubie and had them taped up in a collage on the wall next to a beautiful card made by our friend, Kelsey. The following are some of the photos that went up.
Needless to say, it was a raucous time and fun was had by most. I wanted to fully commemorate all of the effort that these people put into my insane plan to bless my parents this holiday season. Thank you all so much, and may God bless you richly.
I am a walking Epic Failure when it comes to lying. Seriously. I would be a dream to play poker with, I have more tells than I have skills. When I was young I don't remember getting away with a single thing. I either cracked under the pressure of deceit after about 3 seconds, or my steam-bun face gave me away.
Yup.
However, there is one thing that most people don't know yet. If you remove all of the subsequent guilt from the lie, I could be an Oscar winner.
I am an AWESOME liar during Christmas.
Just call me Snidely. 'Cuz my deviousness will give you mad whiplash.
So...long story semi-short, I lied my bloody face off to my entire family at different times in order to manipulate them into different places and situations and therefore allowing me to create and complete their Christmas gifts.
Oh yeah, I bad. But only sort of, as I had LOTS of help.
This is quite a challenge for a girl with barely enough money to buy diapers. So I sent out a call for help. Anyone who wanted to could pitch in financially for the trip, donate needed items, or help with the cleaning. I thought that I might get 5 people.
I got 50.
Some pitched in for their trip (a two-night stay in the Executive Suite at the Cannon Beach Hotel, an ocean-front table at the best restaurant in town, petrol, and a champagne turn-down were all covered).
Some donated much-needed items (meals, garbage bags, laundry soap, essential oils...etc).
And many donated some blood (especially one young man), sweat, and tears.
I usually learn at least one life-lesson a day, regardless of whether I want to or not. But through all this I learned several things, not least of which is how important community is. And trust me, coming from the Great Hermit-Grinch of the Lower East Basement, that is really saying something.
It was just unreal to watch what can happen when people pull together. It actually makes me inclined to do the same for someone else in need. It just boggles my mind how much can actually get done. Obama, please take note.
Now that the plans were laid, I knew the precise track that my mother's brain would take when she found out.
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| Stress - "HOW MANY PEOPLE WERE IN MY HOUSE?!!!" |
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| Abject Humiliation - "Oh Lord have mercy, these people saw under my stove!" |
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| Gratitude - "We have such wonderful friends!" |
And I would like to say...I was spot on. But I would like to move on from the hilarity of my mother and onto the awesomeness of our friends.
At the end of the insanity, I took the photographs taken by my friend Julianna and my sister Jubie and had them taped up in a collage on the wall next to a beautiful card made by our friend, Kelsey. The following are some of the photos that went up.
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| Danger was everywhere |
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| Mr. Darcy had the ladies swooning... |
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| Trust me, this basement project required mad scientists... |
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| Babysitters were a crucial component... |
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| I don't know why they took on the kitchen, but God bless them! |
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| Superman...'nuff said. |
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| What the Energizer Bunny looks like in human form. |
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| Smile meets Death-glare...I got that a lot. |
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| The face of lurve... |
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| May the force control your Windex. |
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| He wishes he could be there... |
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| FIRE! |
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| The L-Team Part 1 |
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| The L-Team Part 2 |
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| Morning hair. |
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| WEEEEEEE! |
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| Pizza! |
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| The L-Team Part 3 & 2 + 1 |
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| It had to be done... |
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| Captain Stupendous-Pants. |
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| Food is prepared, or else I would have had a team of helpful, yet murderous zombies. |
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| Light-saber warfare, a necessity at every deep cleaning. |
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| Mowing in the rain...he needed a lot of coffee. |
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| The first task...dishes. |
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| He was present, but useless. |
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| Food for the masses (not me, the pizzas). |
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| Morale was high. |
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| Manly men everywhere! |
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| The bathroom...no sane person would do it. |
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| Christmas window washing! |
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| Cleaning the gutters and the fireplace...in the rain. |
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| I can't believe they're still smiling. |
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| A birthday was celebrated... |
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| As was hair... |
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| And more birthday. |
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| Some people couldn't be with us, as they are odd little foreigners. |
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| Or crazy bikers... |
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| Or just behind the camera and didn't get caught. |
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| Some others were masters at hiding from the lens... |
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| Or just didn't like their photos... |
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| She came, she saw, she conquered. |
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| Lovely |
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| Encouraging... |
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| Smiles for my insane plan. |
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| Darling... |
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| Charmers #1 |
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| Charmers #2 |
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| Santa Claus helped out... |
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| Madame Zora |
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| Photographer #2...also not caught on camera. |
Needless to say, it was a raucous time and fun was had by most. I wanted to fully commemorate all of the effort that these people put into my insane plan to bless my parents this holiday season. Thank you all so much, and may God bless you richly.
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