Guest Blog

Something different today-a guest contribution by my friend Sheryl-Smith Rodgers, a professional writer who lives in Blanco, Texas, north of San Antonio. She and her daughter had their own Rachel stories and mommy and daddy clearly have to do some more work to erase a certain word from Rachel's vocabulary.

Take it away, Sheryl!

One night on their Big Vacation, the Ries gang stayed a night in our home, located not far from the huge, bustling town of Blanco, Texas. (Imagine one traffic light, and that’s Blanco.) Since David enjoys collecting stories about his favorite daughter, Rachel, I thought I’d contribute to his blog. If he’d let me, that is.
You OK with that, David?
Here goes:
So the next morning, Rachel and I wandered outside, where we headed for what’s left of our burned up vegetable garden (this drought is killing us). Rachel wanted to pick something. Finally, I found a tiny cherry tomato.
“Here, you can pick this,” I told her, pointing to the little thing. “If you want to eat it, we’d better wash it first.”
“No, I hate tomatoes” she responded. (Daddy note: yet she loves ketchup, go figure!)
“OK,” I shrugged. “Hey, let’s go over here and sit on this special seat, where we can see the pretty flowers.”
“No, I hate flowers,” Rachel said.
“What? You can’t hate flowers,” I said, after plunking down on the bench. “Come over and let’s talk about it.”
“No!” she exclaimed adamantly. And off she went.
That morning, I’d offered butter with her waffle. NO, I hate butter. Syrup? NO. How about grape jelly on it? NOOO. At lunch, I peeled her a boiled egg and set it on a plate. How about salt? No, I hate salt. Pepper? I hate that, too.
“Well, Rachel, now tell me...what DO you love?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Natural Cheetos.”
“What?”
“Natural Cheetos.”
“Did you say natural and Cheetos?” I asked, geniunely perplexed.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Ah. And what else do you love?”
“Grapes!”
“Do you have a boyfriend, Rachel?”
She nodded and said his name. Alas, my memory blanks there.
I bet David can take it from there! (Daddy note: Jesse)
* * *
Lindsey Rodgers, my teenaged daughter, also has a Rachel story to contribute:
Rachel dropped by Lindsey’s bedroom, while Lindsey and a friend were watching Lemony Snicket’s. A line in the movie mentioned “dead kids.”
“I don’t like dead kids,” Rachel announced. “Kids should be alive. Bad guys should be dead.”