rachel’s blog

Need a haircut? Grab your headphones, close your eyes, and listen to the sounds of this Virtual Barbershop. The audio is so incredibly realistic that I could almost believe Manuel and Luigi were walking around in my house. I’m not exaggerating — it’s amazing!

By the way, the Starkey Cetera is a hearing aid. If I ever suffer from significant hearing loss, I’m getting one!

This is what we looked like 28 years ago. I think I’ve changed more than you have, Mom.

And this is what my Mother’s Day artwork looked like a few years later…

Contrary to what you might think, the blue letters in the bottom right corner do not spell “MY MOM.” I was trying to write “MOMMY,” but I obviously ran out of room. Oops! Nothing like a little creative problem-solving!

Dear birds of the neighborhood,

My car is not a toilet.

Sincerely,
the driver of the red Subaru Outback

This morning at 10:39, the semester suddenly ended.

Last night I had stayed up late to put the finishing touches on my final paper, which was due this evening. Then this morning I received an email saying that this evening’s class was being canceled because the professor was sick. Just like that, another semester of seminary was over. I had been looking forward to the satisfaction of handing my paper to the professor, as well as listening to the final two student presentations, so it was rather anticlimactic.

BUT… I have now completed 40% of my master’s degree!

When I arrived at a retirement celebration for a colleague this afternoon, the middle-aged woman serving the cake flashed me a smile and greeted me as if she knew me. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think who she was, so I just said a breezy hello. As I waited for the line at the food table to move forward, she leaned towards me and said, “You look really pretty today!”

Um, thanks. Today was one of the rare days that I decided to wear jeans to work, so I was actually dressed down, not up. She must have thought I was someone else — probably a student.

“I’m sorry,” I confessed. “I don’t think I know who you are.”

“I’m Nancy! We met one day in the library and talked for a while!”

Nancy. Aha. Now I realized who she was. We had been briefly introduced to each other at a meeting six weeks ago, but that was the extent of our interaction. We certainly didn’t have a conversation in the library.

“Really?” I said. “I think you must be thinking of someone else.”

“No, it was you — I’m really good at remembering faces.”

That’s interesting. So am I. I started to say something about where we met, but she was too busy reminding me that “we chatted in the library!” I should have introduced myself and explained which department I work in, but it was easier to simply end the conversation and let her think I’m a student.

A pretty student.

Like most bloggers, I love getting comments… especially when they end up on the post for which they were intended. Occasionally, however, a comment attaches itself to the wrong blog entry, and some of you have wondered what you’re doing wrong.

It’s Not Your Fault.

It’s not my fault either… at least not directly. Until last night, I had absolutely no explanation for this bizarre behavior. In digging around the WordPress forums, however, I discovered that this comment quirk is a known bug in the particular theme I had been using for my blog. WordPress hosts this blog for FREE, so I have limited control over the design of my site, and can only select themes from a gallery. Since I want comments to function properly, I had no choice but to switch to a different theme.

Some themes allow custom header images, such as the dominoes you used to see. Today I switched to a new theme (so long, Tarski!) and created a new look. I even chose a title for my blog… finally! Today I like it, but tomorrow I might decide it’s too silly, so if it changes soon, don’t be surprised. My blog, my rules.

During my sophomore year of college, a friend who lived on my hall brought me a get-well gift one day when I was sick with the flu. The gift was a pineapple with a hand-written note that read, “If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, what would a pineapple do?” Thanks, Deb.

This morning I sent my sister Phoebe a short email. It read:

“Rachel slooFlirpA. Kinda has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? :o)”

She had been duped by my April Fools joke last evening, so I just had to tease her about it a little more. She rolled her eyes… or so she said.

Nobody tried to fool me yesterday, and I hadn’t been feeling very creative either, but as I drove to class last evening, I started mentally composing an April Fools email. I mentioned this to a classmate who suggested that I write, “I’m pregnant!” Nah. A good April Fools joke has to be believable. Phoebe and I were already planning to talk to each other via Skype last evening, so when I got home from class, I sent her the following email. You’ll notice that I’ve censored a few details.

From: [Yours Truly]
To: [Phoebe]
Subject: EEEEEEEK!
Date: Tue, 1 Apr 2008 21:19:58

Eeeeeeek! When I got home from class tonight there was a message on my answering machine. Wanna guess who it was from…?? [CENSORED]!! As in, the guy from [CENSORED]!!!! He said someone told him that I had asked about him, so… he was calling to see whether I’d like to get together for dinner this weekend!!! EEEEEEEEEEK!!! He gave me his number and said that I should call him. Eeek! Should I call him tonight?!?! He also told me his last name, of course, and since it’s pretty unusual (slooFlirpA), I can finally google him. Heehee! :o) Anyhow, hurry up and get home from your potluck (I just typed ‘potcluck’) — and SKYPE ME!!

EEEK!

—- end of email —-

My level of giddiness was so over-the-top that I was sure she’d figure it out. And the slooFlirpA thing? Dead giveaway. But to my delight, she fell for it. Rachel slooFlirpA?!? Oy. I’d rather be a Smith.

Last fall I reconnected with a former college classmate via Facebook. I hadn’t seen Tom since we graduated eight years ago, but I found him through a mutual friend’s Facebook profile and clicked to request him as a friend too. Since we hadn’t been close friends in college, we simply exchanged a few brief messages and that was that.

Yesterday afternoon I glanced out the window and saw two people walking past my house. The tall man and the short woman looked a lot like Tom and his wife, but since they live in New York City, I figured it must be my imagination. Nevertheless, I wrote a message on Tom’s Facebook page, just in case.

This evening as I walked out my front door to head to a meeting, I was surprised to see that Tom and Jessica were indeed walking down the sidewalk. As we stood in the middle of the street talking, I discovered that they left the Big Apple a couple months ago — and they live just three houses down from me on the opposite side of the street! I guess now we get to do quaint things like borrow an egg or a cup of sugar…

Every time I donate blood, I feel compelled to blog about it. I’m usually able to resist the temptation, but not always… hence this post. It’s not that I want to give a pint-by-pint account of my blood donation history — it’s just that I think you should donate blood too.

Why? It’s just a good thing to do. It feels good to know that someone in need will benefit from this simple act of generosity. People need blood and I have blood, so it makes sense that I should give them some of mine. It doesn’t even cost me anything to give it to them, except for a little time. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a free t-shirt when you donate. And if you donate a zillion times (OK, just 16), you might get a snazzy lapel pin saying that you’ve donated two gallons. Woo.

I know, a few of you probably have legitimate reasons not to donate. That’s fine — lapel pins aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. And some of you are probably regular donors. Fantastic. But what about the rest of you? What’s your excuse?

Maybe you…

…don’t like needles. Good. If you did, they probably wouldn’t want your blood.

…can’t stand the sight of blood. That’s OK. You don’t have to look at it. (But I think it’s fun to glance back over my shoulder to see how full the bag is getting.)

…had a bad experience donating blood. Me too. I also had some bad experiences in junior high, but I didn’t drop out of school.

…are afraid your blood pressure is too high or your iron level is too low. If in doubt, this is a great way to get a mini health check for free.

…think you’re too old or too young. If you’re reading this blog, you’re probably not.

So if you’re eligible… donate. No more lame excuses!

If I were a guy, my chin would never see the light of day, because there would be a handsome goatee growing there. It’s not that I think facial hair is superior to the clean-shaven look. It’s just that facial hair is the only thing I can think of that might make me look like I’m somewhere in the vicinity of age 28… if I were a guy. But I’m female, of course, and facial hair on women just isn’t cool.

Last weekend I ran into a man I had occasionally interacted with in a former job. I hadn’t seen him in more than three years, and he wasn’t someone I knew very well, but as I chatted with him briefly, it became apparent that he didn’t quite remember who I was. He asked whether I had declared a major yet.

I live in a college town and work at a university, and while I certainly don’t look or act like a teenybopper, my youthful appearance frequently causes people to mistake me for a college student. I don’t like it, but I do realize that I look young, so I can’t blame them.

Last night, however, I reached a new low. A few friends and I went to a local high school for a concert by Lunasa, an amazing Celtic group from Ireland. We found four seats together in the balcony and sat down next to a retired couple. I’m acquainted with the husband and we chatted a little before the performance. At one point his wife leaned forward in her seat, turned to look at me, and said (and I quote), “Are you a student here?”

Wow. I graduated from high school almost twelve years ago. If we were doing the age-appearance limbo, I’d win. How low can YOU go?