Chronicles of Survival: Day 13

Dear Mum,

It's just the sort of thing a crazy person does. Turns her blog into a post office so that she can keep in constant contact with her mother. Who in their right mind does that? Completely forgets (or ignores) that she has other readers following her blog. Selfishly pursues her own desire to maintain her relationship with an absentee . . . who just happens to do the same thing with her blog.

There is only one conclusion that I can come to . . . you miss me. Face it.

Because you seriously checked with me today to see when I was going to write back to you.

You miss me.

This update is getting rather old, but I feel it my duty to summarily inform you that: your house is still standing, the dishes are washed, towels and sheets were laundered today, and I have every intention of picking up the dog and giving him a bath tomorrow. Piece of cake.

Not to get long-winded, but who started that rumor about my students fleeing the country? They haven't gone anywhere. I would have noticed if there were fewer voices complaining to me every time I add homework to the white-board. No, the chorus of howls (or howlers) remains - loud and miserable. What is truly unbelievable is that there are less than 4 weeks remaining in this school year!

Love you.

~ Rachel

PS: Dad's response when I handed him the ice cream cake you ordered for your anniversary? "Wow. Wow!" Then he repeated it several more times. And several more. You get the point - he loved it!

PPS: I bet Jack will forget he misses you in the joy of seeing me tomorrow.

Chronicles of Survival: Day 10

Dear Mum,

My cleverness eludes me tonight. I'm sleepy. And when I'm sleepy, I'm worthless. I write nonsense. All right, I write nonsense all the time. But it is far worse when I'm sleepy.

Sounds drifting in from the "playroom" make me think Dad must be watching something on TCM. Something with Shirley Temple, Fred Astair, or Judy Garland. It's the old fashioned silly music that gives it away. Have you noticed he's been turning it up louder than before? I have. =P

I'm sorry to hear two of the kids have been sick over the weekend. Are you taking your vitamin C? Nothing is more awful than a sick grandma. Really, do you want to scar your grandkids for life? I didn't think so. They've already seen their mom go through morning sickness.

By the way, how are Hoops and Yoyo? Let Leash know that I also think Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum to be very cute, though perhaps already taken by Dad and Stephen.

If you're nice to me in your next letter, I'll post my bulletin board pics for May. Of course, I'm going to post them anyway since it's my blog. But it wouldn't hurt to get an extra sweet post from you out of the bargain.

Love you!

Rachel

PS: It's Fred Astaire - I can hear him singing about a "great big beautiful doll!" It's amazing these guys could get a girl. Sure they could dance, but when they opened their mouths! . . .

PPS: Jack . . . well, you get the point.

Chronicles of Survival: Day 9

Dear Mom,

I have so much to catch up on! I haven't posted over the weekend because I was visiting college and even Thursday was consumed with getting things ready for my departure. I know you said to just put the bills in the basket labeled "BILLS" on the kitchen table, but I thought you'd want to see this note ASAP. It was left by the cleaning service I hired on Thursday.

Dear Customer,

Thank you for your prompt payment of our initial fee of $350 on 5/6/10. As of this date, your home has been dusted, vacuumed, laundry done, and an extra meal cooked and refrigerated for the residents of the home during the weekend.

Please let us care for all of your future cleaning needs. All additional services, including carpet steaming, paint touch-ups, and tub rust removal, are only $100 an hour. Our Pet Pickup Department is also available for the same fee plus gas (and any smell removal products used should your pet relieve himself while in our transportation vehicles).

Thank you.

Merry Maids, Inc.

As you can see, Mom, I took care of things right. I told you you could trust me. 'Cause I love you and I won't let your house go to the dogs! Literally, I can't even get these two men I am forced to co-inhabit this dwelling with to even pick up your dog. They just shrugged when I asked them where he was when I got back Saturday night. Poor, pathetic animal. Oh, well.

TTFN - Ta ta for now!

Love,

Rachel

Chronicles of Survival: Day 5

Dear Mom,

Do wash more than once a week? Why? We still all got towels and underwear. Dishes are absolutely getting done more frequently! We can't have mice coming into our house.

Why can't kids ask complicated questions? One of them asked me yesterday: "What is math?"

Seriously? Ask me how to find a percentage or to explain how a line can extend indefinitely in both directions. Don't ask me to tell you what math is! You know the answer I'm going to give you? Hint: it will closely resemble many college papers and test essays - very fluffy. "Math is the science of quantities and relationships between them."

So what do you think? Did I fluff well? Close to the truth? If I Google it, what will it say? . . . . Hurrah! It will say close to what I said!

"mathematics: a science (or group of related sciences) dealing with the logic of quantity and shape and arrangement"

I win.

I love you.

Goodnight.

And goodbye.

~ Rachel

PS: Jack has discovered Morris code and he's been sending telegrams that keep repeating these 3 letters: SOS. Makes me wonder if he might be missing you a little. . . . Nah.

Chronicles of Survival: Day 4

Dear Mum,

What was with NCIS Los Angeles tonight?! All that to find Dom and he dies anyway? Who does that? You did watch it, right? . . . cause you are so gonna kill me if you haven't yet. Well, I like living dangerously. Anyway, we were watching it together in spirit 'cause I know you were miles away glued to the tube just like me. *Gibb's Slap* from me to you!

I did have a lost key episode on Saturday, and Dad made a comment about how I could not be related to you and be so disorganized. So I'm about to tell a "clueless Dad" story. Revenge is sweet (if not entirely biblical):

Monday is your normal paperwork day, so I came home from work ready to deal with the paperwork! However, someone had beaten me to it. The "paperwork" had already been removed from the mailbox and was sitting in the living room. Now, Momma, I knew my "paperwork" duty. I was all prepared to transfer the mail into the basket on the kitchen table labled "MAIL." Someone had to bite the bullet and get the job done. But I hesitated. Dad probably wanted to look through it for his stuff and that's why it was in the living room still. I would wait until later and put it in the MAIL basket after he checked it out. But walking through the kitchen a moment later, a piece of "paperwork" caught my eye - there was already mail in the basket. I leaned in, curious. It was addressed to me. The only piece of mail that didn't belong to you was in your MAIL basket. AND it was my credit card bill. . . . yeah. I guess being married to an organizational guru such as yourself doesn't actually qualify Dad for the same status. Go figure.

I'm tired now. Goodnight, Mummy dearest.

Love,

Rachel

PS: I haven't been calling Jack - he calls me.

PPS: He misses you.

Chronicles of Survival: Day 3

Dear Mom,

I think this blog is getting a lot more attention from me than it ever has before. This is like that daily journal Aunt Ann gave me at Christmas, except that I'm actually writing on my blog. Um . . . she doesn't read my blog, does she? Eeek. (Aunt Ann, I really am going to start writing. I mean, of course I already have . . . some . . . but nothing exciting really happens when you spend all your days with kids . . . is this starting to sound like an excuse? . . . Stop while you're ahead, Rachel.)

Anyway, so today I learned something. Go figure. Well, there were some dirty footprints in the tub this afternoon so I grabbed the cleaner and sprayed 'em and scrubbed 'em clean. Then I noticed a rust stain - the one coming down from the metal thingy under the faucet - it seems a little bigger. So, did that happen on my watch? Seriously, it's only day 3. It was probably that way already, I just noticed it now that I'm so up close and personal with the tub floor. So what does this mean? Should I immediately take an inventory of every marked wall, minuscule stain on the carpet, and paint chip on the wall? That way I can tell if it was my fault and remedy (or conceal) accordingly? Or am I just overreacting?

And exactly how big was the little rust stain - to the millimeter, please?

Your slightly OCD but loving daughter,

Rachel

PS: Jack called. He misses you.

My Purpose . . . somewhat

My apologies for not explaining my posts of the past two days. My mother has abandoned me for "greener" pastures - my sister's home. She is visiting my sister and her family for the next two weeks. Look forward, my dear followers, to daily posts which will mean little or nothing to you. Sorry.

But . . . this is my blog, and . . . I'll write what I will. Suffer, be amused, or ignore me. I shall go on with little thought other than my own desire to write prolifically and ridiculously, at which I am quite talented.