Attention, choppers! 

Try to resist my cuteness, just try! 

Striking a pose for a caricature. 

Rachel models at the Holiday Fashion show at Parisian last Saturday. 

Happy Halloween! 

The Many Faces of Rachel

It's 3:30 pm. The phone rings at my desk at work. This is pretty much the busiest part of the day. I pick up the phone. My wife is on the end of the line and at wits end.
"Hi, Rachel is stuck 20 feet in the air at the Chick-fil-A on North Druid Hills. Do you think I should call the fire department?"
There is a conversation opener.
She explains some more. I try to wrap my brain around it. I understand my child is stuck 20-feet above some sort of playground equipment outside a restaurant. I can hear Rachel crying. My wife says there is no danger of her falling, but she is worried about Rachel being so high in 75 to 80 degree heat. I'm still trying to figure out how she got up there.
I hang up the phone, fire up the Batmobile and get there as fast as I can. Good thing there was no police officer at the North Druid Hills exit!
As I pull into the parking lot, there is no sign of my child 20-feet above it all. It turns out Rachel got into an apparatus with tubes that look like a human ant farm. There are several levels. For some reason, she kept going and going and going until there was no place else to go but down.
A couple of people wriggled up to get Rachel, but she panicked and shook her leg when they tried to coax her down by latching on to her ankles.
Finally, my wife took matters into her own hands and snaked through the tubes on her own. She got Rachel to come down. How Rebecca got out without use of the Jaws of Life is something I will never know!
By the time I got there, Rachel was on the playground patio demanding sweet tea.
I made her latch on to my gaze and said, "You're not going to do that anymore, are you?"
And she replied, "That's enough!
Darn straight!

That's daredevil Rachel (bandaids for boo-boos sold separately.) There is also sweetheart Rachel.
The other day, while I'm trying to overcome the pain and the itching of the shingles, Rachel gently walks out to me and thrusts a card in my hand.
It is a Jewish New Year card that had been on display on a small table in our living room. Rachel had other concerns, however. She pressed it into my hand and in a soft voice said, "Get well!"
Man, I love my kid!

There is also Rachel, the matter-of-fact.
We've been trying to wean her off so many videos and dvd's, so I was pleased to come home from work one day to a child who wanted daddy to read to her. Actually, she wanted me to read to her and her baby doll.
Rachel was seated in her wooden rocking chair by the end of the couch; baby doll was seated in a smaller wooden chair next to her.
I decided to really dramatize the book, throwing around different voices and inflections for emphasis. I'd show a page to Rachel, then to baby doll, making sure each had ample time to take it all in.
About the fourth page, I'm showing the illustration to baby doll and talking to her when Rachel interrupts.
She informs me that "she can't talk."

And there is disciplinarian Rachel.
We are in the midst of the terrible twos. Yeah, buddy! Rachel is doing a little more standing in the corner than in the past.
During one recent session, I was about to pick her up and put her in the corner when her independent streak kicked in and she said, "No! I do it myself!" She then walked over to the corner and stood there.

The ride just gets better and better.

Hanging My Shingle

Sorry I've been silent for so long. Rachel tends to require a lot of attention when awake. She is TWO after all. But also, I haven't felt very good...and now I know why.
About the middle of last week, I was feeling really sore through my shoulders, neck and back of my head. I figured I hurt my trapezius in a workout. In some cases it was a steady pain, in others I'd feel these stabbing pains in the back of my head, neck and shoulders. I kept trying to stretch the muscles and shiatsu massage them.
Around Friday night, this huge rash developed, mostly on my neck and the back of the head. We figured it was a heat rash, but it didn't get any better all weekend. And when Rachel would hug me on that side, the pain was excruciating.
So on Monday, my wife says, "Your rash isn't getting any better; maybe you should see a doctor." I get squeezed in at 3:45 and by the time I get there, my energy has flagged and I have the worst headache I've had in years.
I take off my shirt. The doctor takes one look at my neck and shoulders and says. "That's shingles."
I say, "What?"
I have shingles. I had chickenpox as a kid and apparently, the virus that causes chickenpox remains dormant in your body waiting for an opportunity to strike when your immune system is compromised. In most cases, this happens to the elderly, but I guess I'm just ahead of my time.
My sore muscles were actually the virus attacking the nerve endings in my head, neck and shoulders. That explains the stabbing pains.
Shingles only attacks one side of the body. It doesn't pass the midpoint.
So...I am now taking some horse pills that are supposed to stun my nerves back to normal. I'm taking prednisone for the rash and Vicodin if the pain gets to be too much. So far, I haven't needed the Vicodin; Advil works just fine.
The rash will likely stay 3-5 weeks. But at least I'll have a new accessory for Halloween. I'll stand shirtless at the door and in my best Peter Lorre voice, exclaim, "I'm hideous!"

My Sunday With Rachel

Just back in from sifting through a couple of boxes in the garage. T-shirts I haven't worn in like five years. You look at them and think, "No way, that event wasn't 14 years ago!" Yes, it was. I now have a garbage bag full of shirts I plan to part with, as I try to streamline "my stuff."
This was just a delightful day. Mommy taught Sunday school and went to lunch with a friend, so we had a daddy/daughter day.
We started at Kroger. "Low prices everyday," my daughter informed me as we got out of the car. Daddy got much-needed prescription eye drops for his fall allergies (like going through dusty boxes in the garage!)
Then we went to the mall for some Aveda Shampoo. Although I shampoo every day, it lasts me a long time...not much hair to deal with. Then we had lunch at Panera Bread. As usual, Rachel seized custody of my croutons and ate the parts of her chicken and wild rice soup that met her specifications ("I don't like celery!")
Her favorite food remains black beans and rice. Queso is right up there, along with chicken fingers, grouper, ketchup (daddy always squeezes it out in the shape of a smiley face), pudding, raisins, pretzels, apples and sweet tea. Seeing your wife and daughter arm wrestle over sweet tea is quite the sad sight. Occasionally, she has to be reminded to dip food in queso and ketchup, not her fingers. Okay, more than occasionally.
She's also starting to drink from a glass without spilling water all over herself. If only daddy could get the hang of that too!
The next stop after the mall was the park. It was an absolutely gorgeous day to be outside. Rachel rode the big girl swing for the first time and I saw her climb the ladder apparatus to the walkway leading to the slide, so that was a first as well. There were brief tears when she asked for a hand getting off the slide and I gave her a jolt of static electricity. The tears dried up quickly. What's really funny is watching her go down the plastic slide and seeing her hair rise like Bride of Frankenstein by the time she got to the bottom.
She's definitely going through the twos though. There has been a lot more standing in the corner lately. One standoff lasted ten minutes yesterday until she suffered the indignity of putting the crayons she dumped on the floor back into the box.
"No" is still real popular with her right now. What cracks me up is the way she emphasizes her displeasure. "No! No! NO! Not yes!" Thanks for the clarification.
She loves school. She's come home and started singing songs in Hebrew, along with hand movements that go with them. Depending on the day, her boyfriend is either Max or Bennett. And depending on the day, her favorite color is pink, purple, red or orange. She talks about circle time (when they tell stories.) And the first thing she says to any stranger is "I go to school." She is very proud. "Wednesday." Apparently, going to school Monday and Friday hasn't made as much of an impact.
I think the most funny and horrifying thing she did recently occured at the mall. Rebecca and Rachel went out to lunch with our neighbor Christina. Both women gave Rachel a quarter so she could get a ring and a ball out of gumball machines. Around this time, I called my wife on her cell phone and I hear Rebecca say with exasperation in her voice, "No, Rachel! NO!"
Concerned, I asked what was wrong. Rachel was hitting up a stranger for a quarter so she could get another ring or ball. He gave it to her.
Great, we gave birth to a 2 1/2 year-old panhandler!

Groin Pains

And then there is Rebecca's unintentional humor. The other day, we encountered one of the sports anchors in the tv station garage. He informed us that the Atlanta Thrashers second goalie had followed in the footsteps of the first goalie and injured his groin.
Rebecca's knee-jerk response left me shaking my head and smiling.
"Aw Nuts!" she said.

Yet Another Reason Why My Wife Rocks!

Today, Rebecca is heading north on the highway that leads to our home. She notices the car in front of her began to sputter before it died, two lanes from the shoulder. Traffic moves around the car and she notices the couple inside growing more frantic. The man gets out of his car, but Rebecca stops him from running. She points to the shoulder and the man, who obviously knows very little English, seems to understand that Rebecca has offered to push him off the side of the road with her Honda Civic.
Fortunately, a flatbed driver is behind them and figures out what is going on. He takes his flatbed and turns to the right so the three right lanes are blocked so my wife can push the vehicle to safety, which she does.
The woman is still upset. She needs to get to her office to pick up her paycheck. It's not that far, but it's not around the corner either. After the man assures her a friend will pick him up, she drives the woman to her office and then to a nearby bus stop. She comes back later to make sure the bus came by to pick up the woman.
Throughout Yom Kippur services this week, we were told to look for a chance to perform Mitzvah, good deeds. My wife exemplifies kindness, caring, intelligence and humor every day. I love her and admire her.

This, That and the Other

I was sitting here staring at the blank screen when I thought, "What would President Bush do?" But since I don't have any unqualified cronies, guess I'll have to write the blog myself.

So....Katie Holmes is pregnant. It's nice to see that Tom Cruise is capable of jumping something other than Oprah's couch!

Music recommendation of the week...Brian Setzer Rockabilly Riot Volume One: A Tribute to Sun Records. 50's sounding music from the former lead singer of the Stray Cats.

One of our anchors mistakenly called Smokey Bones Barbecue "Smokey Bears" on the air. "Smokey Bears...We Burn Everything!"

This week, some of the rains from Tropical Storm Tammy made it up to Atlanta. The ABC affiliate showed video of flooding in Western Georgia, where water was halfway up car doors. Only one problem. The video was from the former Soviet Republic of Georgia. Last time I looked, Tblisi wasn't an hour west of Atlanta!

I half expected the station to localize the New York City subway threat by putting a reporter in front of a sandwich shop!

Did you see that the building that served as stately Wayne Manor on Batman burned to the ground this week? Holy conflagaration! Can't you just see the walls getting ready to collapse and Batman and Robin trying to hold them up as they close in?

I heard a great one on the radio today. Radio announcer Christopher Rude said the Rolling Stones famous lips symbol had been retired for this year's Geezerpalooza Tour. He said they were replaced by an enlarged prostate.

The same guy said that while it may look like Keith Richards is sweating, it's actually embalming fluid.

Go Braves, drive safely and remember to tip your waitresses!

Red Red Whine

And with apologies to UB40, here is a little song we wrote today, dedicated to a strawberry blonde in the backseat who kept complaining during the ride home from Rosh Hashanah services and the subsequent lunch.

Red Red Whine!
She's in the car seat,
Life on the downbeat,
With sobs all the time,
My red, red, red whine.

All I hear,
Are her tears,
And they're not sublime,
Her cheeks wet,
There's no threat,
She'll stop anytime...

Red Red Whine!
She's in the car seat,
Life on the downbeat,
With sobs all the time,
My red, red, red whine.

Red Red whine, she's not feeling fine
She keeps on crying most of the time,
Red Red whine, she's not feeling fine,
She's not happy, ain't that a crime?
Red Red whine, she's not feeling fine
It's too noisy, I need a mime...
Red Red Whine....

Wiggles, No Giggles

I spent an enjoyable couple of hours at Border's Books today, buying books, a cd and dvd's. With Rebecca teaching art at the Temple today, that meant I had Rachel with me.
She knows her way around a bookstore, let me tell you. She told me I had to keep quiet when we entered the store, reminding me several times in a whispering tone during the hour and a half we were there. Of course, she violated the code of quiet a couple of times, letting out loud "no's" when I kept her from running out of my sight. And once, when I thought I caught a whiff of something, I asked her whether she had a poopie diaper and she exclaimed at the top of her lungs, "NO, I DONT HAVE A POOPIE DIAPER, I HAVE..." Before she could finish, I said, "I know, gas, okay." And she continued, "YEAH, GAS!" Well, it's good the entire store knows now.
She made out okay, with the Heffalump Halloween DVD, The Wiggles Sail Around the World and two Berenstain Bears books.
Ah, the Wiggles. They are her new passion. For the unfamilar, they are four lads from the Land Down Under who sing these catchy tunes while performing on a Faux Tv Show called Lights, Camera, Action!
It's like the Banana Splits for this generation, without so much fur. If you don't remember the Banana Splits, humor me.
Anyhow, the Wiggles have several regular featured performers including a friendly pirate named Captain Feathersword, who has a feather instead of a sword and is awash in "Ahoy ye Maties!" and other pirate phrases. I doubt he's ever made anyone walk the plank. There is also Wags the Dog, Dorothy the Dinosaur and Henry the Octopus.
I tell you this because the tunes are downright catchy. All of a sudden, I catch myself singing Wiggles tunes in idle moments instead of the classic rock and 80's tunes that used to be in that section of my brain. Hearing yourself sing, "Quack Quack Quack Quack Quack Cockle Doodle Doo" in the middle of your work cubicle can be a bit disconcerting.
What's really frightening is that we bought Rachel a DragonTales music cd as well and I noticed one of the writers was a J. Levine. I had a hunch and looked it up and it's the same Joey Levine who used to be with the Ohio Express of "Yummy Yummy Yummy I Have Love In My Tummy" fame. Why do I have hunches like this? Very strange.
Anyhow, there were so many Dora The Explorer, Care Bear and Wiggles DVD's in the family section that I thought Rachel was going to fall out like one of those famous Fainting Goats. This is apparently National Obscure Reference Day on the Rachel blog.
http://www.faintinggoat.com/learnab.htm
I have plenty of time to get home before the Falcons kick off against the Vikings, but something doesn't feel right as I get ready to turn onto the highway to go home.
I pull over and there it is, right rear tire flatter than roadkill. (Note to self: come up with better analogies. Reply from self: I'm on it!)
With Rachel in my arms, I search my trunk for the j-hook that turns my jack, all while contemplating how the heck I'm going to do this with an active 2-year-old in my hands. As I rummage through all the junk in my trunk, and I'm not talking about my butt, a kindly woman with a child in the car pulls over, says her name is Laura, she doesn't live far away, but has a 22-month-old daughter and couldn't for the life of her figure out how I was going to fix my tire and watch Rachel. She says, "I know you don't know me, but I'm not a weirdo. Let me sit by your car with your little girl so you can concentrate on what you're doing without worrying about her running into traffic." An angel sent from Lawrenceville. She later calls her husband, Greg, who has an air compressor that hooks to my car's cigarette lighter. He pumps in air that inflates my tire. A minute or so later, it has lost air again.
He pumps in enough air back in to get me moving again, follows me to a nearby Firestone and bids me good luck. The guy behind the counter says they can't get to me today. I tell him, "It's not like I can make it anywhere else." He says he'll try to get to me in ninety minutes. I walk back to the car. It doesn't look like it's lost much air. I decide to chance it. I start the car and hope for the best.
Of course, I hit three consecutive red lights. "AAAARGGGHHHH!!" I let out in my best primal scream. Rachel asks what is wrong. I tell her. This is a good test of my vow not to curse in front of my kid.
We get on the freeway, behind a pickup that's just poking along. We go around him after a half-mile or so and there's a sign of gas stations at the next exit. One says, "Shell" followed by two beautiful words, "Full-Service."
We pull in. The guy couldn't have been nicer. He checked the tire and could find no leak. I asked him to remove it for piece of mind. He immerses it in water. No leak. (It's now two hours later. I checked it. Still no leak.)
Here's my theory. My adorable little traveling companion let the air out of my tire. You see, she walked out ahead of me when we left the house and I saw her playing with the valve stems. These are valve stems that change color when the tire loses air and if they're not connected just right, you can hear the "sssssssssss".
I think Rachel loosened the right rear just enough that the air seeped out while we were at the bookstore. I saw her maneuvering the left rear valve stem before we left and I tightened it before starting the engine.
So I've replaced the fancy valve steams. And later in life, Rachel can tell her friends, "I gave daddy a flat tire when I was 2 1/2 years old."

Put Your Shirt Down!

Speaking of my wife's remarks (see entry below), Rachel has developed a habit of pulling up her shirt to show everyone her bellybutton and stomach. Rebecca never fails to bring a smile among onlookers when she admonishes Rachel thusly, "Rachel! Don't show the goods!"

Ladies and Gentlemen, Menudo!

So we're driving home late last night and I glance at a Shell Station to our left. And I notice a car that must have come from the Garish R Us dealership.
It's a sport compact in the most hideous shade of light pink imaginable. At first, we thought it might be bathed in the headlights of the car behind it, but no, this was a color that would make the late Mary Kay Ash say, "Uh, no!"
To make matters even worse, the driver was a guy. Maybe he was doing his wife or girlfriend a favor and filling up the car, but egads, light pink, practically neon?
Miami Beach on wheels?
Leave it to my wife to wrap things us succinctly. "Never drive a car the color of your stomach lining!"
Now playing left field, Rebecca Ries! Are we a great match or what?