Holy Poley!

Although I have moved to Cornland, Indiana, one may think gosh you will hideout in your home and figure out the best uses of corn. On the contrary, I have decided to glass half full approach and decided to make the best of my time here in the Midwest.

It was suggested by golf husband to look into personal training. (I don't think he was indicating that I had gone flabby, but knows it would be a good use of my time. That's what I tell myself anyway.) We are very fortunate that his employer promotes fitness and provides a membership to a gym. I do enjoy going to the gym and why not learn a few moves that would get me bikini ready?

One day I walked into the gym and the staff has set out a display of workout drink samples. I choose one that I thought would be safe, but it tastes a little like what I imagine is children's orange flavored cough syrup. There happened to be a lady who was a personal trainer sampling as well. We struck up a conversation and I asked her how the whole training thing worked.

We sat down and she went over the numbers and looked at her schedule. Turns out she would be gone for a few weeks because she was going to the Bahamas and then to Vegas. She said something to the tune of "live like a Kardashian" for the time that she would be away. I immediately knew she and I would get along and this is the person who I want to not only train me, but maybe go on vacation with.

Turns out my trainer is pretty good at what she does and she is no slouch in the area of sarcasm, which endears me to her more than the fact that I'm going to be able to bounce a quarter off my tush by doing all these lunges.

Last week I get a late phone call from a friend who invites me to go see Madonna in concert. YES! I don't think I even let her ask me. So, I get to mark that off the old bucket list. I just felt like I got asked to the prom, but better. I don't think I was ever this excited about being asked to the prom as I am about going to see Madonna in concert. We're getting cone bras and everything!!! (That was a joke... maybe.)

A few days later at my training session, I get asked if I would be interested in going to this pole dancing class on Sunday. WTF! I should go out and by a frickin' Lotto ticket, because I'm on fire! YES! Not only do I get asked to the Madonna Prom, but now I get to pole dance. Two things off my bucket list (even though Madonna isn't until November.) This is one of the best weeks of my life!

I texted golf husband to make sure he was okay with me being gone for a few hours on Sunday and him being left alone with the kids. It was approximately 4 seconds before he called back with questions:

• Is this a joke?
• Who are you going with?
• Where is it being held?
• What do you wear to a thing like that?
• Can I watch?
• Why is it on Sunday? Isn't that wrong or something?

And these were my responses:

• No.
• My trainer. We've decided it would be part of my "cross-training" program. There will be a big group of girls.
• Some place called Exotica or Erotica or something like that. (Giggling)
• Something slutty. I don't know. Workout clothes. 
• I don't think the other women would want you there, so no. I'll report back what I learn.
• I'm not sure why it is on Sunday. Maybe the instructor allows time in the morning to go to church first. It's not like we're stripping or pole dancing for money. I'm sure God would be okay with it. 

The plan was to meet my trainer at the gym and then we would meet the other girls at Hacienda's for lunch and margaritas. We needed a little liquid alcohol to loosen our muscles... and our pride. 

We get to the restaurant and the other women are there. I thought I was doing pretty good wearing some biker shorts and my lucky shirt, which is a St. Patrick's day shirt that is green and has "My Lucky Shirt" written in sparkly white block print. I needed some luck on that pole, right? Then another lady who works at the gym trumps me. She is not only wearing her old roller derby shirt that has "Anita Margarita" written on the back in sequins, but also is sporting these undies over her stretch pants that say TEQUILLA. It was then that I decided if I go on vacation, I'm bringing my trainer and Anita Margarita. Fun would definitely find us.

There was eight in our group and we arrived at Exotica. Turns out Exotica isn't a gym at all. It is a sex shop that also carries smoking paraphernalia. When we walked in a sales lady complimented my shirt and pointed out they had St. Patrick's Day shirts, but their's said, "FUCK ME I'M IRISH." Classy.

We paid for the class and signed our waivers. Yes, waivers. We won't sue in case we injure ourselves dancing on a pole. 

We worked our way to the back of the store past the Re-entry Lube, Vibrators, and stripper wear and on into this tiny room that only had two poles. We had 10 girls in there including the instructor and two poles. This means that we would be watching while we waited our turn, in a tiny room, hot as balls, and with thumping booty-shaking music.

The instructor wasn't so great at instructing. She could do some tricks on the pole, but I'm not sure if she took formal classes if you know what I mean. This had me thinking that with some internet surfing and studying there was a business opportunity here.

We were told at the end of class that we could get 20% any item in the store. So, we browsed around giggling. There were a few shoppers in there that had probably not gone to church that morning. 

My trainer bought a pole-dancing book. Her wheels were definitely turning on the $180 for one hour of teaching pole dancing. We discussed how we could definitely make it work at the gym on the way back to my car.

I learned a few things about myself in this class. The dance training from my youth came in handy for gracefulness. Pole dancing is hard and it hurts. It takes a lot of upper body strength and flinging yourself around a pole. I'm pretty sure the bruising will go away. The final thing that I learned is that I may not have played competitive sports, I did compete in dancing (the innocent kind like tap, ballet, and jazz) and I kind of felt the pressure to really get this stuff down. My goal was to get upside-down and I did. I may have looked like a frog and slid down the pole in slow torturing skin-burning motion, but I did it. AND, Anita Margarita who is a full-figured type of girl did the worm, so I got my twenty-dollars worth of entertainment.

If you can't laugh at yourself, then who can you really laugh at. Just so you know, I have the upmost respect for someone who can pole dance. Have you seen these world competitors. They are awesome. It's nothing sexual at all. Here is a little video of Felix Cane who is a world champion pole dancer. 

Hi I'm Rachel and weird shit happens to me

Golf husband requested that I get with the marketing director at the club yesterday to help put together a video presentation. The task was to first take photos of the cottage that was being built on the golf course.

I have talked to Laureen on the phone and we are friends on facebook. The night before she offered to go out for drinks sometime. So I texted her back, so she would have my number and told her I was her Georgia peach and I'm ready for drinks when she was. She texted me back and said that I could drink sweet tea if that would make me feel more at home. Awe, she's sarcastic and I really think I'm going to like her.

I went to Laureen's office and we talked about the objective and the fact that the rain and mid-construction were going to cause issues with this event that they were planning. So, we decided to investigate the job site.

We load into my car and she directs me to the cart path. I've been on cart paths before so this wasn't new territory. The path wound and undulated along the golf course. The path then changed in nature there was a gully where the pavement separated and then the path turned into gravel and mush stopping in front of the construction of the two cottages.

We had to pull close to the cottage along side of another pick up, so we wouldn't block anyone trying to leave the worksite.

I had flutters in my stomach, because new construction is one of my loves in this world. That and now red velvet cake pops.

Us two girls hop along daintily not to get too dirty up amongst the Carhartt sausage party in matching cream color coats. Laureen was even more prepared for mudding in her super cute flowery peep toe shoes. At least I had on boots and jeans, but I'm not working in an office all day either.

After deciding that photos of a messy work site wasn't a good marketing piece we got back into my car. I begin to back out and crunch. Uh oh. I ran over these metal posts and I'm pretty sure they caused some damage.

I looked at Laureen who had big eyes and then turned the other way to see a guy waving his arms and running over to direct me safely out of the sight.

DAMN!

"Do you want me to get out and look at it?" Laureen asked.

"No. I don't want to think about it right now. I'm going to save that for later." Like when I can freak out without her thinking I was crazy. We've only known each other for about 20 minutes and she works with my husband. A bad impression was not a priority, but it looks like it was heading that way unintentionally.

All I wanted to do was hurry back, so I can see the damage. In that hurry, I drove over the gully perhaps a little too hard, because all of a sudden there was this metal on metal grinding fingernails on chalkboard sound. Holy crap! What did I do!?

I put the car in park and run to the back of the car. Wow, for running over something that looked damaging there wasn't anything wrong with my car. Laureen got out of the car and we both were on our hands in knees in our matching coats trying to figure if the muffler fell off. Nothing appeared to be hanging out of the bottom.

We get back in and head down the cart path and the noise which is the equivalent of fingernails scraping a chalkboard is still VERY prevalent. Up ahead of us there was a guy on a golf cart coming our way. Laureen knew him and asked me to roll down my window.

"Hey, do you hear that? Do you know what that noise could be?" Laureen asked.

Great a man. Men know cars right? So, now there were three of us on our hands and knees looking at my car's undercarriage.

Just then it was a caravan of golf cars with workers on them (more Carhartts) heading towards us.

Since I was from the South and I thought I can put the whole damsel in distress thing on I said sweetly, "I've got six guys here can ya'll figure out what the heck is going on with my car." Okay, maybe it came out more redneck than sweet.

How dorky is this? Great, now everyone will know Brian as the guy with the wife who can't drive. I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I got out my phone to take a picture. Laureen felt more useful as a photographer than sitting in the car.

Here they are:

They messed around and then we had to let them get back to work. I told them golf husband would repay them with a case of beer or something.

On the way back to drop Laureen off with the grinding still going she says, "Gosh! That sounds terrible! I mean I guess I need to be more positive. Its not that bad. See here is what you do to make it go away." She then turns up the radio louder.

Gosh, I am really not that upset. This girl is funny.

I grinded up to the front door and Laureen opened the door.

"This was fun." I said.

"Yeah, I wonder what we'll screw up the next time we get together."

"Maybe we can burn something down." I do like a good fire and it's cold here.

I drove straight to the auto repair shop and I got a text from Laureen asking me to eat Mexican with her in honor of the nice hispanic man that wedged himself under my car.

Mexican food makes everything better. I really like this girl and not only did we have matching coats and take me to eat Mexican food, but we also had the same nail polish color. She doesn't know Ken. I asked.

Oh, the guy at the car place said it was no longer making noise and it was probably a rock. WHEW!

First week in the corn

So if you haven't heard, we moved from Evans, Georgia to EvansVILLE, Indiana. Golf husband took a job with a new company that just bought the 35th best private golf club in the United States... and they decided his skills would be useful here in Indiana.

I know I never followed up on the BHI part 2 post. For the most part the rest of the trip was fine. I got a little tipsy one day, lost my earrings and sunglasses in the ocean while I was flopping around in the waves like a mermaid, then went out to see a live band of 2 people and I got everyone dancing and couldn't understand why the girlie singer and the guitar playing-dude wouldn't let me sing back-up. I never had a hangover, but my brother-in-law and golf husband went to play golf (imagine that). They had to stop short because BIL wasn't feeling well. Turns out he forgot his medication and was severely dehydrated and that was the cause of this violent vomiting episode that freaked us out so badly we had the paramedics come to house. I know what you're thinking... this is just your normal family beach trip.

Okay, so here are a few photos:

We all got dressed "beachy" and found a random person to take our picture in front of Old Baldy. It was like herding a group of retarded spider monkeys.

This is the house I stalked. I'm obsessed with this house. It honestly makes my hair tingle and my palms clammy. The four chocolate labs that were snoozing on the front porch only made my fantasy that much better. There was beach on the other side of the house too with a gigantic cantilevered covered porch. *sigh*

 This is me whipping up a fury of booty shaking. So, I could only get the little ones to dance.

Okay. So back to Indiana...

We are living in a loaner house that is already furnished. The furnishings are really not my style: Tommy Bahama has a seizure and throws up modern bile. I dunno, but we didn't have to move our furniture and we have a garage. I was really stoked about parking in a garage only to learn that an entire gym is being stored in there. There are aerobic machines, weights, and all kids of crap. My best guess is the owner who used to own the development moved the gym equipment out of the pool house and put it in the garage. Gym equipment is heavy lifting, for now I'm parking in the driveway... and also nobody knows whereabouts of the garage door openers.

The first week was hard on the account that my children were up my asshole the entire time I was getting things settled. They are now enrolled at a preschool that seems okay. They are happy to get out of my asshole and I get to hear myself breath and do things like laundry, grocery shopping, and getting my nails done.

I had my nails done yesterday at Princess Nail. It was quite the experience. My nail tech was a hoot. He was like a Vietnamese Chang from the Hangover. I asked him his name and he said it was Ken then said something that sounded like Kit without the tee. We had become pretty good friends at that point, so I asked him if he made up that name just now. To which he replied, "No, honey. Most people cannot pronounce my real name, so I just tell them Ken." I then pronounced his name correctly and his eyes got big. "Oh, well you got it." (He doesn't know yet that I can mimic things pretty good and he will be on the list of people that I impersonate.)

We talked about food and how he went to Georgia over Labor Day to a Vietnamese celebration in Atlanta on Jimmy Carter Blvd. I discovered he was married and his wife was driving him crazy. WIFE!? Good Lord, I truly thought this man was gay. Then I chuckled inside thinking about Chang and how the rest of the wolf-pack were shocked to find out he had a wife.

I suppose he felt extremely comfortable with me when it was time to apply the polish, because he said, "don't you want like a red or pink or something?" I had chosen a taupe color that I thought was pretty nice.

I looked at him and quietly whispered to not offend any other patrons, "You think this is too old lady-ish?"

He grimaced, so I trounced over to the nail polish and choose Lincoln Park at Dark, which is the color of blackened blood. I held it up for him and asked him if that was a better. He agreed it was a better color choice.

Lookie at Chang's work...

And just because Ken reminds me of him... "Just a little bump."

I did have a girls night out last evening. Not too bad, huh? One week and invited to the Monday night Bachelor viewing with the other gals from the block. I'm not one for watching a bunch of hoes getting sloppy seconds from the same douche bag, but there was wine, food, and girl time without husbands or kids. It could have been a Natzi Mother's Meth lab social and I would have gone. Okay, so maybe not really. That would be illegal. It was a good group of girls and I had fun.

I still miss my Georgia peeps though!

p.s. photos for your viewing enjoyment

Boden and Olivia on the carousel at the mall. Yes, we had to look at coats, because someone implied their jackets weren't sufficient.

 This is a house I pass by a lot that confuses me in so many ways. I think I hear Dueling Banjos. Check out the yellow Trans Am. Hell yeah!

 Lots of rolling pastures and farms.

 Weird not to have pine trees everywhere.

 Here is the garage/workout storage that I mentioned earlier.

Bald Head Island: Part I

Even though I have been a little busy and this happened about two months ago, the memories are still fresh in my mind. For your amusement, I will narrate my story...

Let me preface this by saying that I love my husband dearly and I married him for all the right reasons with the exception of travel planning. He is more of a fly by the seat of his pants type of guy, which is fine and I can keep up with that if we didn't have small children.

We have planned to spend the week on beautiful Bald Head Island, North Carolina with Golf Husband's family. Our family would be sharing a 3 bedroom home on the island with his parents, my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, and their two children (ages 5 & 3). (We shall call them the T-Stocks.) Yep, that would be parents in one room and a room per family unit of 4. Tight quarters should make it more interesting.

After packing myself, Why Child, and the Vanilla Gorilla with a weeks worth of clothes, toiletries, diapers, wipes, toys, beach gear, etc., etc., Brian gets himself packed in about 5 minutes and is ready to drive 5 five hours to Bald Head Island. He told me we were going to wait until Monday to leave, however changed his mind Sunday morning and decided to load up and make the trek. At this point, he's looking at me in impatiently, like I'm taking too long to pack up the car.

I advised Golf Husband to stop for gas in North Augusta, which as ya'll know is much cheaper than Georgia gas. It was a Shell Station too, which means we'll save even more with our Kroger card. I had to explain the Kroger savings to him on this day even though he has had a Kroger card for at least 3 years. Perhaps the signs in the store and at the pump never clicked. (For those who don't know, you can save $.10/gallon on gas with your Kroger card.)

So, it is lunch time and Golf Husband goes inside the gas station to get some lunch. I didn't realize that there was a sub shop inside, however getting lunch from a gas station didn't sound too good. The grey hotdogs scare me. I told him I didn't want gas station food. He went inside and got a few sub sandwiches and we all shared the food in the car.

The tension is high, but we're making it happen.

By the time we passed Florence, South Carolina, somewhere in BFE we noticed the car's air conditioning was no longer blowing cold air. Huh? This would be a big problem, since we have a car full and two small children, loads of anxiety and tension, and yes let's throw in high temperatures to make things more interesting. (No, I was not praying for patience.)

We pulled over to a gas station and Golf Husband notes that the car is over heating. WHAT!? Seriously, this is how we are going to start this thing? We are halfway to the beach and the car is going to crap out on a Sunday? This is what I was thinking, but thankfully I remained really quiet while Golf Husband popped the hood and inspected the engine. He decided it would be best to keep traveling with the air off and he would take the car to the dealership in Wilmington on Monday.

As I stated earlier, I love my husband, but he is not a travel planner. We had never been to Bald Head Island, so he was using GPS on his iPhone to get us there. This is sort of like doing a mapquest and then realizing they give you the shortest, but most time consuming route. So, iPhone and Golf Husband took us straight through Myrtle Beach's main drag. If I had died and gone to hell, this was it... or so I thought.

Here we are driving down the strip in the armpit of Myrtle Beach (my opinion) in stop and go traffic, windows down, humid 90 degree weather, car fumes, and it begins to rain. Fabulous. And when I say fabulous, I mean this sucks donkey balls big time.

I look back at my kids and their hair is matted to their sweet little heads and Why Child says he's thirsty. I give them both Capri Sun juice pouches and they sit quietly in their booster chairs watching Despicable Me for the 468th time. Then I hear this coughing and gurgling and sputtering coming from Why Child. Uh huh, he threw up all over his lap and below is little feet on the floor board of my car, which has no a/c, windows down, 90 degree humid heat, and raining.

Golf Husband doesn't want to get the Vanilla Gorilla wet, so his window is actually up and my window is down. Unfortunately for Why Child, that means he's got a little over spray action from the rain whipping back from my window. At least, the rain may help clean him.

At this point, I was imagining what would it be like to actually jump out of a traveling car or what people would think I was a different breed of labrador sticking my head out of the window or perhaps one of the dealerships were open on Sunday and we could just trade the car in on a Pinto or anything that would carry all of our crap and have air conditioning. My head was swimming with thoughts of how to remedy the situation and if the vacation is beginning like this, how would the rest of the week pan out for us.

I was keeping hope alive and just praying that God would not allow my car to overheat and leave us stranded on the side of the road. God got us to the ferry thank you very much.

Finally, after lapping the Ferry station twice, because we didn't see the drop off sign (I love you so much Golf Husband), we unload our vehicle, clean up Why Child, and corral the wild and loving Vanilla Gorilla to wait on our ferry ride to the island. The T-Stocks were already there, so the kids were getting excited and Golf Husband got all excited. He began to walk off and look around. He likes to explore his new surroundings even though there is vomit to clean and loads of crap to unpack.

Here's me trying to contain the Vanilla Gorilla on the ferry ride. I look so excited.

The Vanilla Gorilla waiting on the boat.

Here is Why Child and T-Stock nephew waiting for the passengers to get off the Ferry, so they can get on the boat.

Part II coming soon...

Sometime you just have to hold your head up high, blink away the tears and say good-bye.

Human's are creatures of habit. We carve out our daily routines, the friends we see, and the places we patron. It is with great sorrow that I have to inform all of you (all two followers) that the Bean Baskette Coffee Shop is closing.

Sigh.

If any of you know me, the Bean was my place to go to just take a break. It was essentially my Cheers. They'll serve you coffee, fix you a reasonably priced breakfast, name a sandwich after you, and pick on you like your family. I consider David and Mary Lin, the owners, very much like family. Hearing that they have to shut their doors is like working through the grieving process and only getting to the disbelief phase.

It wasn't unusual to steal someone's phone and change their facebook status to read something like: "I enjoy dressing up in women's clothes and riding horses bareback." It was especially funny when it was a guy's status. They would always put the phone back as if it had never been touched. Fortunately, I always held on to my phone. Partly because I have a lot of friends on facebook and I don't want to confuse them with a status like that.

The Bean would go through phases of moving furniture, changing the menu, adding wine, taking wine away and then adding it back again, opening for dinner, not opening for dinner, and so on. All of us regulars didn't mind. We all grew to know the eccentricity of having been a part of the Bean family for a while. Our Bean Baskette wasn't just David and Mary Lin, it was all of us who made it what it is.

My steady beacon of coffee and wine all started as a part of my daily routine after I returned from maternity leave from having my first child (the wine came later). It was a few month after the Bean opened. I wasn't even a coffee drinker at the time. The Bean was a place of convenience for breakfast after the gym and before work and sometimes for lunch. During this time, the same nods to the familiar faces became light conversation. Light conversation became friendship. We all became close: celebrating birthdays, planning parties together, training for 1/2 marathons that I never ran (I caught a cold okay. Don't judge).

The Bean is not just a coffee shop it is one of the neo-Evans landmarks. It is a safe haven from a shitty work environment or a break from boring Saturday breakfast. It is a place where you hate to write a letter of recommendation for Ben, because it means he won't work there any more.

Melodramatic? Yes, but it feels as though we are all being broken up with by circumstances that are out of the Bean's control. It sucks.

In all reality, it pains me to think of the heartbreak that David and Mary Lin are feeling. Then add all of our whining to increase the guilt. If I could fix this I would. Until then I'll enjoy the next few weeks getting my free wi-fi, cup of joe with a side of sarcasm and nostalgia, and speak fondly of the memories and friends that have been made at the Bean. I attribute it all it's greatness to the the hard work of David and Mary Lin. Thank you both.

Angelic Monsters

My kids are beautiful and I love them, but I swear they are devils in sheep er uhh kids' clothing.

My daughter has the same habits as a monkey. She enjoys being attached to her mother, she can climb and get into everything, and doesn't understand no. She is head strong and with throw out and show out if she is mad about something. (I have no idea where she gets that behavior.) She is definitely turning out to be a force to be reckoned with and I will have to suit up for battle for the teenage years. (I love you, mom.)

My son, well if you ever need to sharpen your sales skills come on over. I should send him to DC to work for the government negotiating international deals for the US. Think Stewie from Family Guy. He doesn't take no for an answer either, but twists the answer around until it works in his favor. He also has a memory like an elephant and this may only apply to food items. He just told me today that when we go on vacation we need granola bars with chocolate chips in them for a snack like what we took to the beach 7 months ago.

Aren't kids fun?

Were you thinking fresh start?

So many things can happen during a year and even in an instant. Reflecting on where life has taken me and where I would like to go it seems appropriate to set some goals for the new year.

1. Be more patient with the little things. I have a problem with making mountains out of molehills with respect to how things get done in my house hold and it is unfair to the people I love. Medication seems to be helping with not allowing my panties to get into a bunch, so doing good on this one so far.

2. Sell a ton of houses. I have started a new role in the real estate profession - realtor. Whoop! Whoop! Check out my listings selling JR Homes in Canterbury Farms. So excited about this. Also, if you need a professional photo contact Smashing Photography by Ashley Thomas she is fabulous, talented, and is one of the funniest women I know.

3. Plan and go on a family vacation and one alone with my husband. It has been too long and this may require some persistence, duck tape, quaaludes, warm chocolate chip cookies, and some careful scheduling. I'm thinking someplace warm and beachy...

4. At least do one Bible study and preferably with my husband. This really should be number 1, but these are in no particular order. I owe some really great girls Bible study time that I never got around to doing and I will work on that also.

5. Work out again. Thinning down does not mean a person is in shape. My pants have gotten loose, but then again so has the flab. Time to tighten up. P90X here I come!

This new year holds so many possibilities. Here is to the new year and I wish the best for all my friends and family. May this year be everything you want it to be and more.

XOXO

Rachel