Not what I expected

Really, it was a bit of a letdown--this whole driver's license renewal process. Granted, there is still a very real possibility of being pulled over by a cop in the nearby future (the new headlight is still sitting in a rather benign fashion on Erv's passenger seat.) I mean, I did my homework. I looked up the renewal requirements online (written test/eye exam a must if your license has expired), paged through a rather lengthy PDF of the AK DMV driver's manual all day, and--when pressed for time--chose the worthier option of driving straightaway to the DMV after work, rather than spending some extra time with a straightener and mirror . . . JUST TO FIND OUT THAT IT WASN'T NECESSARY. When the DMV clerk asked for payment, my first thought was, "You'd think you wouldn't have to pay until after you had passed the test. Weird." After a few moments of anticipatory silence I asked where I would go to take the test, and whether or not I'd have to re-take the motorcycle test as well. She seemed quite a bit amused at the question. I suppose my rather crestfallen appearance may have brightened her day, as well. I so should have spent the time with a mirror--yikes! I now regard my license picture as a potential "before" shot. There's nowhere to go but up. ;o)

What can I say? I LOVE TESTS. I've always loved tests. I retook the SATs not because I was unhappy with my score, but because someone who saw my scores made an offhand comment that I followed the trend of scoring higher in verbal than in math. Well, we'd just see about that! I could be atypical and score higher in math! Bring it on! I ended up increasing my overall score, as well as hitting my bizarre goal of a higher math score than verbal score. We all have our foibles, I guess. ;o)

Could it be?

. . . that the fonts Times New Roman and Comic Sans don't deserve the scorn I heap upon them?

. . . that when I tailgate cars in front of me who are misbehaving, they do not understand my teaching methods and see the errors of their ways?

. . . that setting my alarm clock to erupt 30 minutes before I plan to get up (just so I get the pleasure of pressing "snooze") punishes me with 5-minute hasty sleep increments rather than rewards me with "an extra half hour of sleeping in"?

. . . that just because I didn't start a new resolution or behavioral change at the beginning of the week, it doesn't mean I'm off the hook for self improvement until the next Monday?

. . . that I shouldn't quote my arrival time to others based on a blanket "anywhere-in-Anchorage-is-15-minutes-away-from-where-I-am" mindset?

. . . that it's not a good idea to purposely skip a friend's birthday just so I can use the "belated birthday" card I bought 8 years ago and have never had occasion (or guts) to use?

. . . that I shouldn't continue to drive past the police station a minimum of four times a day with one headlight out and expect not to be pulled over? (fingers still crossed on that one)

. . . that--even though I own a handy Teach Yourself Dutch kit--I won't learn a foreign language just through the FORCE of wishful thinking?

. . . that most people start their conversations with a greeting, instead of launching into a story that's been yammering to be told all day?

IT'S WORTH CONSIDERING, I SUPPOSE. ;O)

Maybe TODAY I'll stop breaking the law

My headlight went out Sunday night. Not really newsworthy, but the incident provoked a rather disconcerting chain of thought that led to the undeniable conclusion that I was leading my life in an illegal manner.

Rahni's Rules for Roving Risk-Free
Headlight out? Check. License recently expired? Check. Forgot to put the updated insurance card in the glove compartment? Check.

Seeing as how I drive on "the Strip" all the time for work, being a pididdle (one headlight-er) is just asking to be pulled over. I snuck around the city on Monday, successfully avoided any diligent police officers, bought a headlight, printed off my insurance info and today I am just minutes away from turning myself over to the DMV in order to subject myself to taking the written driver's test again. A written test, vision test, and a new deer-in-the-headlights photo? Yea! And some people only get to go do really fun errands like this when they're 16.

Sigh.

Not knotting nicely

Are the fates just looking for more ways to mock me? When my Runner's World magazine arrived for January, one of the headline hooks on the cover queried, "Are you tying your shoes wrong?" Hmmmm, I thought, am I tying my shoes wrong? And, in fact, I do tie my laces incorrectly. Who knew? This could be valuable information, come my next long run. Ah, the peace of mind brought about by the security of knowing that one's laces will not fail. That, and the seconds shaved off my time due to no re-tying breaks, should definitely bring me closer to that elusive 48th place prize. (Only, of course, assuming a field of no more than 100 runners--half of which had better be lazier than me!)

I've dabbled in the world of knots in the past with sporadic results. The local Rock Gym has even certified me to hoist people 20 feet above my head! Of course, that was a few years ago, and my memory is sometimes spotty--perhaps choose someone else to partner with if you see me lurking nearby. Don't ask Amber about the time I forgot to anchor the rope, though--it's still a touchy subject. Never having been a Girl Scout (or even a Brownie), I've sought to supplement my skills by purchasing The Handbook of Knots, by Maria Costantino. The book itself is practical, colorful and straightforward. How could I not excel, given this tool? Well, forgetting to buy any rope was a key factor. But hey, I can tie one heck of an imaginary bowline! Or clove hitch. Whatever.

A Sucthethfully Twisted Tongue

Six sick slick slim sycamore saplings.

When I was little, I was accursed with older siblings who enjoyed taking advantage of the ignorance associated with my "age-deficiency" and my stubborn, competitive nature. Paging through a recently acquired tongue-twister book, I was hit with a vivid memory. Well, to be truthful, only parts of it were vivid. I find that happens a lot with my memories. Sometimes I can remember every detail . . . except whether it happened to me or to my twin. Just minor technicalities like that. This particular memory has a flaw as well--I can't remember whether the antagonist was my older sister, Amber, or my older brother, Troy. Let's just compromise and say "Tramber" was the gleeful adversary.

Anyway . . .

I'm a mumbler. I admit it! Being a rambler and a mumbler is an awkward combination. It's often provoked the following question, ever since I was little: "Did you just swear?"

People have been waiting for me to trip up and become a potty-mouth from Year One, it seems. Back in grade school, I was so intent on maintaining my perfect record of no profanity that I was skeptical as to whether or not I should sing the rare occurrences of "hell" in the hymnbook. Erring on the side of caution, I refrained. Knowing this, and just unable to not tease such an obvious target, Tramber pounced.

Tramber: I heard a really hard tongue-twister the other day.
Runt Rahni: What was it?
Tramber: It's really hard, Rahni. I bet you can't say it.
RR: I can too! Tell me!
Tramber: O-kay . . . if you think you're up to it.
RR: I can do it, I know it. Please?
Tramber (sighing): All right. Say 'wash'.
RR: Wash.
Tramber: Okay, now say 'it'.
RR: It. Wash it. Wait, that wasn't a tongue twister.
Tramber: Well, you have to say the words together. Really fast.
RR complies.
Tramber (crowing): You just swore!
RR (aghast): I DID NOT! YOU TRICKED ME! THAT DIDN'T COUNT!!

Really, though, who could blame Tramber? That's a pretty fun bull's-eye to aim for. After Chandra taught me the delicate art of sarcasm, though, I had a few weapons of my own to aim at them!

Lesson: Have fun with little sisters while you can, but watch out for payback! ;o)

Slug-ish behavior

Can you believe it? We here in Anchorage had THREE ICE DAYS last week! I've never even heard of "ice days" before, but I appreciate whoever coined the term! After suffering through weeks of -20 degree weather, the temperature shot up to much more civilized numbers. The whiplash effect of a 50 degree sudden increase in digits (and the high, high winds), however, caused dangerous driving/walking/transporting-oneself conditions. Enough so that the Superintendent canceled school for three straight days! Plus, we have today (Monday) off due to the national holiday--Martin Luther King Jr. Day! I wish I could say that I spent the time productively, but I decided that it would be a far, far better goal to see how long I could last in my pajamas.

"They're Made Out of Meat"

You've GOT TO READ this short story.

Back in 2002, I was substituting for an English class in Palmer, Alaska, with nothing to do but flip idly through the textbook. The students were busy "silently" reading to themselves, so I decided to join them. An English classroom, one would presume, would offer something more enticing to read than a textbook, but no such luck. In that clod-hopper tome, however, I found a little four page short story that has got to be one of the more entertaining reads of my life.

Well, nearly six years later, I found it again! I've looked for years for this gem of hilarity, but--not recalling the author or title, just that it has something to do with aliens discussing their new discovery (humans)--without success.

It's just good times. Trust me.

I resolve . . .

. . . not to tell you all of my resolutions, thus protecting myself in a three-fold manner: 1) If I don't tell you, you won't know if I slack, 2) Pride - who wants to put all of their areas-to-improve-upon up for public display/dismay, and 3) To tie the two together - I like to maintain the illusion that you don't already know all my weaknesses.

Okay, just one resolution revealed (because I need your help): I resolve to add an entry to my blog at least one time a week. I was shaking my head, looking at my woeful slacking of posts, but I just couldn’t think of anything to type about. Blogger’s block. And then, come January, I suddenly couldn’t shut up! Maybe I should also resolve to comment on one blog site a week as well—who doesn’t love comments?

My history with New Year's resolutions isn't sparkling with successes, but does attest to my perseverance of goal setting. ;o) It has often occurred to me that if I, indeed, did reach all my goals, I would CERTAINLY be translated as quick as a blink. Some examples . . .

Journal writing
Who doesn't list this one every year? I flipped through an old journal to find the January entry where I had listed the goals for that year. Chief among them was the declaration that I would become a faithful journal-keeper, never missing more than one day in a row. The next entry was dated March 8th.

Memorize one poem a month
I'd always thought that I'd like to be someone who could recite poetry off the cuff, if the situation warranted. I figured that since I had once memorized 100 lines of Shakespeare walking up to campus one day from my apartment (the teacher was waiting in the HFAC to hear my recitation and I, of course, had procrastinated this particular assignment), this goal would be a snap. Memorizing the first poem so inspired me that I increased the increments from once a month to once a week! That all stopped after about three poems--just the pressure of finding a poem I liked well enough to memorize submarined me. I know this is old school, but I THINK POEMS SHOULD RHYME!!

Strengthening bonds with siblings
I determined that I would see every member of my family (in the Anchorage area) at least once a week in person, and to contact the (at the time) Fairbanks folk with a weekly phone call. I've never been so familiar with Rod, Chandra and Amber's co-workers! Of course, once Amber found out she was a "goal", she was less than impressed. "Ooo, Rahni, you can check me off now!" That waned as well--though I do still have good contact with my family. They're the first people I think of to call when I have news or a story to share.

Read the Declaration of Independence & Bill of Rights (thoughtfully) once a week
Reasoning that I should know what liberties I'm enjoying, I set out to read our founding fathers' words once a week. Do you KNOW how much time it takes to read those documents thoughtfully? I eagerly took to the task and methodically followed every amendment through all its possible teachings, applications and ramifications. Once.

Multitasking
One year I set up a schedule to maximize every moment of my days. Efficiency and improvement were my mottos. Involving balanced meals, reading scriptures while eating a nutritious breakfast, exercising twice a day, practicing piano daily, reading one Shakespeare play a month, improving weekly correspondence, all sorts of financial goals, the least of which was “know your bank account balance” since I never kept track, drinking the recommended amount of water a day, even more memorizing, preparing one church talk a week for a "just in case" file, study Dutch and/or Spanish daily, etc., etc., etc. Obviously, those goals were never reached.

And yet.

And yet, undaunted, I fling myself with glee into more endless goal-making!

My hula hoop is broken

Several years ago, I strode confidentally into the local Sports Authority, armed with resolve to purchase a stylin' elliptical machine. After gulping at the prices (and the knowledge that pavement is free), I left the store, the proud new owner of a yellow-striped hula hoop. The timeless circle, I reasoned, would surely provide a workout as well. AND, it was only $2.99. Bargain! Well, it's sat in my garage for lo these many years until I dragged it out today.

I was more than a little disconcerted to find that I couldn't keep it from slipping down to my knees or from spinning beyond a puny three revolutions. I'm telling you, there must be some malfunction! I swear I used to be rather talented in that arena in my junior high gym class. Or was it grade school? I'll have to test out another hoop for more concrete data.

Don't call me "Ace"

The other day I was trotting along on a treadmill at the Alaska Club when I became distracted by an ad shown repeatedly on one of the screens. Seriously, though, anyone would be hooked by the words, "Win a free trip to Mexico or Hawaii!" The ad stated that anyone who registered in the contest could qualify for the drawing by losing ten pounds by March 14th. Marvelous, I thought. I intended on getting back in marathon shape anyway. Why not add extra incentive? However, once perusing the details online, I found that the contestants would have to weigh in at an Alaska Aces game held on January 1, 2 or 3. What??! Are you kidding me? I was picturing being on the ice between periods, humiliated in front of the large crowd of fans. Turns out that it's done in a private booth up by the concessions, much to my relief.

I wavered about going, but found myself wending my way to the Sullivan Arena a little after 8pm last Saturday night. When I arrived, I asked the ticket lady for a nosebleed seat--whatever the cheapest seat available was (I wasn't planning on staying long, seeing as how I was already about an hour late.)

Ticket lady: Wet or dry?
Me: Excuse me?
Ticket lady: Wet or dry?
Me (fumbling): Wet or dry? Um . . . what?
Ticket lady waits patiently, if unhelpfully.
Me: Oh! Dry. I guess. Obviously, right? Seeing as how I had no idea what you were talking about.
I chuckle, amused at my gaffe.
Ticket lady doesn't smile.
I escape into the arena.

I decided to stay and watch some of the game, seeing as how I paid to be there. Making my way up to the upper "dry" section, I quickly found myself baffled by many aspects of hockey. 1) What

color was I supposed to cheer for? A quick text to Amber answered that question--the guys in blue. Also, since when are hockey players allowed to bat the puck out of the air with their hands? Perhaps, I've been watching too much soccer, but I thought only the goalie was allowed to touch the puck with something other than a stick or a skate. This mystery didn't get cleared up until later, when I queried my always-knowledgable friend, Sarah. Apparently, you can stop it with your glove, but you can't catch it. Or something like that.

Anyhow, the great result of all of this being that I enjoyed myself way too much on Sunday, fiddling around with an Excel spreadsheet, scrupulously detailing my meals/snacks/exercise ambitions for the week. Aha! Therein lies my strengths--lists and MS Office. NOT HOCKEY. I hope to conduct myself with more grace at future hockey games--the midway check-in is on either February 11 or 13!

Cowboy's Ten Commandments

Some people in Texas were having trouble with all those shalls and shall nots in the 10 Commandments. Folks there just aren't used to talking in those terms. So, some folks out in west Texas got together and translated the "King James" into the "King Ranch" language:

(1) Just one God.
(2) Honor yer Ma & Pa.
(3) No telling tales or gossipin'.
(4) Git yourself to Sunday meeting.
(5) Put nothin' before God.
(6) No foolin' around with another fellow's gal.
(7) No killin'.
(8) Watch yer mouth.
(9) Don't take what ain't yers.
(10) Don't be hankerin' for yer buddy's stuff.

(Cowboy's Ten Commandments posted on the wall
at Cross Trails Church in Fairlie, TX)

http://www.cowboyfun.com/10commands/

!!!Wendy's Wroad Wrage!!!

My name is Rahni, and I am very susceptible to road rage. Oft-times, I could be considered a road-rage-aholic. Really, though, I just get mad when people don't follow the basic driving rules. Or etiquette. Or just plain common sense at the wheel.

Each day that I drive the stretch of Northern Lights Blvd. from LaTouche to the Seward Highway, I am bothered anew by the collective amnesia suffered by the Anchorage driving population. Instead of switching to four lanes at that light--as so indicated by the helpful lines on the road--drivers have followed Cosmo Kramer's lead and formed three "luxury" lanes in that area, followed by a hasty dispersal at the light back into four lanes. I often ignore the obvious paths people have carved out and follow the actual lines of the road, in hopes of reminding others of their summer memories on the particular stretch of asphalt. It's all Chandra's fault, really. She's the one that used to get ticked off about it and vent to me. Now that she's gone (from the state, that is), I feel it my duty to make sure that someone is paying attention. Yes, I am rather sanctimonious in my driving--but I'm trying to ease up! Oh, but that is just one of my driving irks.

The other day, my unfortunate nephew, Tommy, was witness to my overwhelming fixation on driving etiquette. We were stopping by the Wendy's drive-thru to indulge in some Frosties on our way home from Madison's soccer game. There is a break along the drive-thru line curb that is meant to let cars from the Fred Meyer's crowd into the parking lot. Ideally, the cars in line should keep that gap open so cars can pass through. The temptation, of course, it to bust into the line right there instead of proceding into the lot, then joining the back of the line. One obnoxious driver waited like a little vulture next to break. Well, the long and short of it is that the car ahead of it took forever to order, thus the vulture-car effectively blocked any traffic between the lots AND made me increasingly angry. I flashed my lights at them and indicated that they should continue through, so as not to cheat or block cars, but the impudent driver stoically ignored any hints or harassment. And, boy, were all the other cars upset. I can somewhat admire their resolve to stick to their (horrible) decision, but I couldn't even concentrate on Tommy's conversation because I was seething. Not quite the holiday spirit, eh?

Frequently, when I tell people about my road rage tendencies, or some situation wherein I was angry, they respond with scoffing disbelief, "You? Rahni, I totally can't picture you getting mad. No way." Which I suppose is complimentary, but I puzzle at their perspective of me. And I'm sure there's at least one person in the group who's too polite to voice the dissenting opinion, but is privately thinking, "Not me, man. Everyday I wait to see when she's going to blow her lid. Totally a 'wrage-a-holic'." In fact, when I told Chandra of this incident, and related how most people can't picture me mad, she laughed, "You? They think you don't get mad?" More laughter followed. Family knows [you] best, I guess. ;o)

The Johnson "kids" '08

Hmmm . . . Looks kind of fuzzy. Maybe I got the vaseline-screened image sent to me. Notice the canned smile. I cannot hold back an "un-fake" smile beyond .5 seconds when before a camera. Oh well.

rahniREADS (December '08)

This month was a slow one for books, primarily because I was spending all of my free time--at least, all of my free time in which I could hijack my considerate sister Amber's laptop as well--working on my Christmas present to Robin's family. Speaking of which, I've come to the (belated) conclusion that I don't like my voice. Unfortunate, then, my choice of gifts.

~Walden - Henry David Thoreau - (Still reading this one for Madison's Christmas book on tape. This man cracks me up. He has quite a high opinion of himself--and quite a LOW opinion of anyone older than 30 years old. Not a joy to hang around, I'm guessing.)
~The Cricket in Times Square - George Selden (Read for Kaeli's Christmas book choice. I totally forgot that there was an old Chinese man character in the tale. Boy, you have not lived until you hear me trying to stumble through a stereotypical "wise old Asian man" accent. Quite an embarrassment on my end, really.)
~The Book Thief - Markus Zusak (Grew to hate this book due to the 12 hours I spent with it. Worse than just mere accents, this book was liberally sprinkled with German. Indeed, German--a language I'm not familiar with. AT ALL. In a genius move, I didn't pre-read the book, thus I was often found stuttering over unexpected pronounciations and substitutions. Admittedly, I did not preserve the integrity of the writer's true written word--I replaced any swear words (not that there were many) with non-swear words, etc. The most memorable or obvious switch, I suppose, was when I repeatedly substituted "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" as an exclamation with "Peter, Paul and Mary." (The book was set in WWII times.) Then, of course, came the memorable message "file not found" that found ME re-recording one hour of the book with a raspy voice in the wee hours of Christmas Eve day.)
~Bunnicula - James Howe (Have to finish recording this one for Madison--something to tide her over while wading through Walden. Hey, she loves Twilight! So this vampire's a bunny. PoTAYto, poTAHto. Just as excellent as I remember!)
~Bad Kitty - Michele Jaffe (The prequel to the book I read last month. Not as entertaining a read, unfortunately.)
~The People of Sparks - Jeanne DuPrau (Books of Ember #2) (Continuing the series. May skim the third and fourth book. Not spectacular writing, but an interesting concept.)

Just a note about the weather

Chandra told me today that it was supposed to reach 50 degrees at her house down in the Lower 48. I heard from someone else that it was -30 degrees in the Valley today where my brother Troy lives. (It was about -18 degrees here in Anchorage today.) That means that there was a potential difference of EIGHTY DEGREES between my two sibling's houses. How bizarre is winter. The other day I saw a t-shirt with the logo, "Alaskans in Favor of Global Warming." Made me laugh.