Every Second Counts

I often wonder if I can still walk on my hands . . . but I don't often wonder in appropriate times or at appropriate places or wearing appropriate clothing and thus I continue to wonder. To be honest, I was only ever able to really walk backwards on my hands. Not shocking, I suppose, especially for one whose mother reports that she didn't walk skillfully until she reached the ripe old age of 18 months. I imagine that I could at least stagger around effectively before that, but I'll have to confirm that hope and get back with you.

The other night I found myself wrongly inspired while I was straightening up the Sports section in B&N--being surrounded by inspirational get-out-there-and-PLAY books can do that to you. I scanned the area: acceptable floor (if not soft, at least it was carpeted), workable clothes (kicked off the heavy Danskos, shirt was tuckable), and--best of all--no spectators (the store was closed and my co-workers, presumably, were co-working responsibly together elsewhere.) Drawing courage from the memory of the time that another B&N-er and I spun cartwheels up at the cash registers during a customer lull, I took one final look around and spent the next 120 seconds relearning what it feels like to regard the world upside down. Perhaps my Australian Uncle John would say that I'm finally seeing it right side up. ;o) And you know what? Not so comfortable. I guess it's a rite of passage of adulthood to realize that having the blood pool in your face causes discomfort. A perspective shift to process, if you will. When you're a kid, you flip upside down at any and all opportunities (during the Kool-Aid inspired zany moments, that is.) I can just imagine this milestone written in a questionnaire "Am I a Grown-Up?" Hmmm . . . I'm no longer comfortable being upside down. Check! That Lance Armstrong book will get you every time, I'm telling you! Every Second Counts, indeed.

( S M A L L ) S U M M E R G O A L S

~Master the handstand (Obviously.)

~Acquire competent juggling skills (I've been meaning to make progress in this one for years. I chase my throws and have never been brave enough to practice in front of a wall--I prefer my knuckles unbruised, unjammed and unscraped.)

~Perform a back flip on the Hutchings' trampoline (It doesn't have to be the Hutchings', but I figure that since I'll be hijacking my nieces into this one--I'll need some pointers, Kaeli, some courage and encouragement, Chelsea, and some ice cream, Madison--I'd do them a favor and pick a convenient location. That, and I'll know who to sue if it all goes wrong.)

~USE MY CUTE TENT (I've carted it around in the trunk of my car for nearly 11 months now. I'm not sure why--was I expecting an off-the-cuff camping expedition? If so, I'd probably really regret not stowing a sleeping bag as well, given Alaska's less-than-cozy night air.)

And, seriously, check out this elephant. Though I think I might have an edge on him, because that's more of a headstand, I think, than a handstand. And I can totally do a kickin' headstand.

I take that back--the elephant wins. There's no way I could do a headstand on my nose.

Tried poking the cat's stomach?

"I wanted to let everyone know that my pet hamster, Hammy, is missing somewhere in school. He is a big, fluffy white and tan teddy bear hamster. If you see him or HEAR him, please call me. Thanks! Jan"
This woeful plea was sent to my inbox on Friday. I've had A LOT of experience with hamster drama. One hamster was found taking his daily constitutional on the driveway, one was found down the laundry drain (too late for her, alas, but Troy nonetheless chased us around the house with the bedraggled corpse), one hamster suffered a broken neck due to a certain sister not wearing her glasses (said stricken sister begged us to take him to the vet--vet regarded us in puzzlement, "Well, it's dead." "We know that. Could you flush it or something?"), one hamster died and rotted black before his negligent owner dared to peek into the cage, etc., etc. Whenever one of our hamsters would disappear, my sisters and I would trap the cat and suspiciously regard her stomach. To her credit, she never ate even one little baby hamster! (That we know of, of course.)

Ready, set, go!

For any of you who are curious and wish to have their pride trampled (like me), visit this site to test out your typing skillz: http://www.powertyping.com/

Looking back, I think I've been inflating my wpm number ever since my high school keyboarding class. Always fairly adept at a keyboard, I naturally assumed that I've just improved over the years. This site tells me "no." Rude. Actually, though, my scores did raise once I read the directions. :o) Here's a hint for you before you test your pride: choose a paragraph based on whether you are a two-spacer (after a period) or a one-spacer typist for dramatically improved results.

These were the "games" of my schooldays. Typing games, NumberCrunchers, Oregon Trail . . . ah, the memories. The black DOS background. The days of double spaces after periods (people tell me that now we're down to one--actually, they say it happened awhile ago.) Golden years, indeed.

P.S. For those of you who have an unhealthy interest in the keyboard, allow me to recommend the following--Quirky Qwerty by Torbjorn Lundmark. It's the story of the keyboard "@ your fingertips."

"101 Jobs"

Today I found an old notebook halfway filled with scraps of all sorts of notes and odds and ends. It starts out with a few "101" lists. I've always loved making lists--lists of New Year's resolutions, projected (ambitious) week routines, books I own, foreign words I remember, etc.--but I went through a phase where my lists had to consist of 101 items. Well, can it be legitimately labeled a "phase" if it only lasted for three lists? My topics included:

~"101 Books I've Read"
This was harder to list than I anticipated--I had to remember which books I had actually read versus what I was supposed to have read for school. Also, I didn't allow sequels or series. Sadly, most of the time, when asked to recommend a book (people assume that I must have recommendations flying out of my ears, what with the number of books I've read and my considerable exposure to the product) I almost always go blank and can only thing of the last three books I've read.
~"101 Things I'd Like to Remember About My Married Life--Looking Back When I'm 80"
No, I'm not secretly married--just ruminating on what I thought would make a good marriage and guess what? "Gas fireplace" made the list! Odd.
~"101 Jobs"
This list made one of my managers nervous when they saw it. I only made it because I thought that if I were to ever write a book, what kind of occupations would my characters dabble in? Strangely enough, though, this last list had one extra job tallied (in a different pen and everything), so it should really be dubbed "102 Jobs."

Just for kicks, here's what the "101 Jobs" list had to say for itself:

1) bookseller 52) magazine editor
2) graphic designer 53) banker
3) photographer (portrait) 54) hairdresser
4) photographer (magazine) 55) garbage man
5) newspaper columnist 56) singer
6) copyeditor 57) construction worker
7) accountant 58) florist
8) pilot 59) welder
9) airplane mechanic 60) factory worker
10) mom 61) sports coach
11) dad 62) circus performer
12) social worker 63) professional sportsman
13) butler 64) computer programmer
14) housecleaner 65) chimney sweep
15) architect 66) rancher
16) lawyer 67) farmer
17) secretary 68) forest ranger
18) mailman 69) armed services
19) plumber 70) landlord
20) painter 71) boat captain
21) carpenter 72) railroad conductor
22) economist 73) lobbyist
23) clothes designer 74) gardener
24) car salesman 75) relief worker
25) pediatrician 76) priest/preacher
26) nurse 77) engineer
27) cafe worker 78) state trooper
28) security guard 79) consultant
29) air traffic controller 80) librarian
30) real estate agent 81) massage therapist
31) computer analyst 82) chiropractor
32) teacher 83) royalty/diplomat
33) principal 84) playwright
34) school nurse 85) marriage/family counselor
35) subsitute teacher 86) comedian
36) aerobics instructor 87) historian
37) personal trainer 88) hostage negotiator
38) pharmaceutical rep 89) detective
39) judge 90) fireman
40) correctional officer 91) EMT
41) actor 92) dancer
42) screenwriter 93) autioneer
43) novelist 94) decorator
44) chef 95) wedding/event planner
45) bartender 96) vetrinarian
46) astronaut 97) translator
47) government rep 98) inventor
48) president 99) CEO
49) foreign ambassador 100) car mechanic
50) press secretary 101) weatherman
51) advertising executive 102) risk assessor

What's so important or meaningful about "risk assessor" that I allowed my list to become untrue to its title by including it at the end? Who knows. I don't remember. Obviously, these aren't 101 jobs that I've had, nor do I wish to have many on this list, but it does make for some interesting pairings, eh? I wonder how I jumped from "bartender" to "astronaut." And, come to think of it, this was perhaps the least entertaining of the lists. I'll think about posting the other ones sometime in the future, just to bore you with more long entries. This blog wouldn't be called "r a h n i r a m b l e s" if they were all short entries, now would it? ;o) It would be a much BETTER blog if the "tab" function worked when I wanted to format lists!! Oh, well. Bygones.

Lessons learned (lame and/or laughable)

Lesson #1 -- I am not a mouth breather
I ran into my friend, Ron, at the Alaska Club Thursday afternoon. Happily deterred from my task of tackling ChlorineLand, I stopped and chatted with him about the torture machines that exist in the gym, the many excuses we use to avoid them (not that you would know by looking at him, I'm by far the poster child of that sentiment), etc. Chuckling, he told me that sometimes he would hit the hot tub first to loosen up, relax for awhile and call it a day. Kudos to even making it to the gym, we agreed, and went along our separate ways. Which probably explains the nearly-impossible task I had later of walking past said hot tub. But I had decided that NOTHING would stop me from hitting the pool that afternoon--certainly not anything as capricious as pride or practicality (I had forgotten any hair ties, swim cap, or goggles and was wearing a rather nubby and threadbare bathing suit cast aside by Chandra years ago.)

Apparently, I used to swim like a fish while taking lessons at the YMCA when I was little. That was before I learned to hold my breath when exerting myself and also before I got contacts and became intolerant to water near my eyes. Obviously. And so, with floating hair threatening to strangle me, and a crick in my neck from keeping my head above water, I made my way (slowly) up and down the pool. For perhaps five laps. But still! A start. Emboldened by the man I saw roaming the lanes in his snorkel gear, I vowed to return the next morning with my own never-been-used snorkel equipment myself! And I did. However, even though better equipped (swim cap, snorkel stuff) I didn't find the task as magically easy as I had anticipated. While it was fun to stare straight down at the pool floor and follow the helpful lines displayed there, I found myself pausing at the end of each pool length to remove my mouth-breathing-stick-thing in an effort to calm my dancing heart and inhale proper amounts of oxygen. Breathing through the nose is a life-preserving measure that is hard to turn off.

Baby steps, I guess. I'll keep trying. In fact, I tried walking around for a bit breathing only out of my mouth, but all I gained from that experience was a dry mouth and several weird looks from strangers passing by.

Lesson #2 -- Cornbread hates me (I'm not so fond of it, either)
Since I was in charge of the Chili Cook-off for my ward this past Friday, I found myself in a tough situation of my own making. I had forgotten to pass out sheets for people to sign up for the cornbread competition as well, thus I had no idea if anyone would bring any carbs for us to snack on. No biggie, I thought, I'll just get my friend Melanie's delicious recipe and spend the evening making cornbread while chilling with the housesitting puppies and getting some quality TV time in as well.

Batch #1--Couldn't remove the mixing bowl from the Kitchenade I was using, had to call sister, Robin, for help (hard to tip or clean a bowl still connected to the world's heaviest mixer.)
Batch #2--After I put the pans in the oven it dawned on me that I had forgotten to add sugar. Pulled pans out of oven, mixed sugar into already baking bread, shoved back in oven.
Batch #3--Decided to double up the recipe (midway through adding ingredients) to save time. Congratulated myself while pouring batter into pans, paused while contemplating if I had added any vegetable oil, one serving, or two servings. Poured batter back into bowl, added two servings of oil, redistributed. Halfway through baking process realized that I didn't remember ever doubling the flour. Hmmm . . .
Batch #4--This batch went okay, but that's when I ran out of salt and flour (the two items I forgot to bring from home.) It took me twenty minutes to even find the scraps of salt I had used for the previous batches, so there was no way I was going to waste any more of my time scouring the house for this basic of basic ingredients. Plus, it was about 11 o'clock and I was due to hit the swimming pool EARLY the next morning.

I cleaned up all of my mess (so as to not traumatize myself the next morning with horrific memories) and decided to make a lunch run to Costco and buy bags of tasty rolls. I CAN COOK AND BAKE. I mean, it's just following directions, for Pete's sake. It's just that my enthusiasm had waned by the time I found the salt and flour and I freely admit the undeniable fact that I can get easily distracted.

P.S. It's all still waiting to be sampled--I'm sure that just sitting around for a few days has done nothing but improve the bread. ;o)

Monkeys at the keys

Having missed the bulk of the Superbowl, I learned of Gatorade's unfortunate name change via http://www.runnersworld.com/. Was Gatorade too long a word for the general public? Does the Gatorade company suffer from a inferiority complex and think that they are still a small, obscure little start-up? I just can't see the day that I'll start saying, "Did you bring the G?" G is not a name--it's a letter. For the last few days I've been changing student records in our database--not to wreak havoc, but because student's homerooms often change at the beginning of a semester. I've come across the strangest names. Some were just spelled a little irregularly (thus condemning a kid for a life of No, no, it's "Kristen" with three n's.), more were just unfortunate choices (who could have predicted that Britney Spears would have such an effect on the class roster), and others were just completely inexplicable. A sampling of examples:

CURTISS (Why the two S's?)
LA-A (Pronounced Ladasha. Seriously.)

OARY (What?)

T'LEAH ("Leah" is a good enough name on its own--no 'T' necessary.)

SARAIAH (This may be a case of just not knowing how it's to be spelled.)

GIVEN (As in--what's your given name?)

HEAVENLEAH ("Heavenly"--lots of pressure, kind of like "Charity.")

FRANZISKA (Unneccessary tampering)

Two names took me straight back to elementary school:
~LATISHA - The only girl (or boy, actually) with whom I've ever gotten into a physical fight. Well, with the notable exception of the many fisticuffs that Chandra and I engaged in growing up. We only had one rule--if you hit or kicked the other participant in the head, the fight immediately ceased and you had to apologize. The head was out of bounds. Nails, kicking and pinching were all smart and legal methods of inflicting pain. Anyhow, Latisha--a somewhat scary fourth grader--had insulted my best friend by calling her a wimp. I, the scrappy (but puny) third grader, decided that I had to defend Perri's honor. It was a pretty fun fight actually. Adrenaline rocks.

~MARQUIS - A boy who plagued me by calling me "Rahni Rhinoceros" all through fifth and sixth grades. Mrs. Hershberger had asked us to pick an animal that started with the first letter of our own first names so that she could try and remember 32 new names faster. I considered my options (rabbit, raccoon, etc.) and honestly, "rhinoceros" never even occurred to me. I didn't figure it out until later that BOYS ARE MEAN WHEN THEY LIKE YOU. Well, in grade school that is. Don't fall for mean boys when you're older, girls! A rather innocuous classroom activity turned bad.

I do realize that my own name could be added to this list of oddities if one thinks that "Ronnie" is the one true spelling. And I used to wish for a plainer first name, actually. "Sarah" was mi nombre of choice (Chandra wanted her name to be "Jenny". Jenny, it was fate that we were meant to be randomly-selected college roommates!) Whenever a substitute teacher read the attendance sheet, I immediately piped up, "Here!" when I spotted the familiar furrowed brow and long pause--dead giveaways that she had reached the J's. Now, however, I am quite content with my tricky name. I like it so much that I don't want people butchering it, so I give them the following tip as to how it's spelled, "Rah! Rah! Rahni!" Often they think I'm cheering for myself, but I'm just trying to make sure they're spelling it right in their minds. Spelling MATTERS. Even when you can't see it.

I'M NO RONNIE. Or Ron. Or Rhonda. It's not short for Veronica. Or anything else, for that matter.

Rah, rah, rah--three cheers, Mom and Dad!

P.S. For more excellent thoughts on names, do check out the book pictured above

It's all relative

The other day, while at lunch with Spencer, Alisa, Chandra, Brin and Blake, I was getting just a little bit sick of my little nephew whacking his head repeatedly into my arm. "Blake," I told him sternly, "I don't like it when you do that. I won't want to sit next to you if you keep banging my arm."

Blake considered this ultimatum and--with the perfect certainty of two-year-old logic--smiled charmingly, picked up a fry from his plate, offered it to me and proclaimed, "Here, this will make you happy."

Excellent olive branch.

Off the mark

Where does one buy a pair of 3D glasses?

I found myself pondering this very question just yesterday when I was preparing to watch a "very special episode" of NBC's Chuck. Luckily, I asked the right person. I think Amber could produce a white cheetah who only spoke Bangladesh-ese, if called upon. Turns out it was 45 minutes of reddish-tinged people running around to no great effect. No one seemed to pop out in any special manner. In fact, I definitely prefer TV as it was meant to be delivered to my eyes--in full, natural color, without having to block out the middle bar from the cardboard glasses. Perhaps my eyes do 3D well enough on their own and need no extra help?

A typical CDoD

CDoD = Chromosomal Display of Differences

Chandra recently recommended a children's picture book to me--Old Bo Bear, by Alice Shertle. Apparently, she and Greg have been spinning offshoot Bo adventures of their own for young Blake. Their "Bo", however, is based on a beloved neighborhood yellow lab bearing the same name. It always baffles me how parents can make up stories off the top of their heads. I could have used some of that imagination in my Creative Writing classes, let me tell you. Their conversation the other night shines a rather anecdotal light on the point/counterpoint differences enjoyed between the sexes.

Chandra: Blake, tell Daddy about the Bo story we made up today. (Turning to Greg) Bo got to fly a plane today, right, Blake?

Greg: Oh, Bo's flown planes before. We've had lots of stories where Bo's gotten to fly.

Rahni: How did Bo end up flying the planes?

Chandra: Our pilots got tummyaches so Bo had to land the plane.

Greg: Terrorists shot our pilots, so Bo took over.

So close, yet so far away. ;o)

rahniREADS (January '09)

Okay, so I'm implementing a star system. Or, to be more precise, an "asterisk" system. Here's how it goes:

***** READ IT RIGHT NOW!
**** Would definitely pass it on to others--highly recommended
*** Better than most
** If you're stuck on a desert island and cloud-watching isn't your thing
* BURN in fire if you're stuck on a desert island (even if it's a hot, tropical island)

I've tried to insert a brief, six-word summary of the book--the intelligence of such a choice is questionable, to be sure. But you can always follow the link if you're curious as to the full summary of the title!

The First Patient - Michael Palmer *
~President being sabotaged? Doctor must discover.~
Excellent premise, good first page, horrible character interactions, plodding pace, super-obvious plot. Not a writer I'll be reading again. I would have ended my suffering much earlier, but I'm cursed with the memory of way too many unfinished books in my past to abandon yet another one.
Diary of a Wimpy Kid - Jeff Kinney ****
~Middle-school everyman leads life of laughs~
I hesitate to give such accolades to a graphic novel (working at a bookstore and library, I've grown to hate Graphic Novel's evil cousin, Manga--read a real book!), but this one isn't the soap opera/soft porn/manga-like moneymakers out there. For "kids" of all ages. ;o)
Life As We Knew It - Susan Pfeffer **
~Moon bumped, Earth suffers, family flails~
I read this book more as a cautionary tale of what not to do or behave like if a global catastrophy happened. Post-apocalyptic reads are always interesting, but these characters could've done with some good common sense and charity towards others. Seriously, who is starving after just two weeks of living on masses of groceries? Also, I'm rather tired of reading another obnoxious portrayal along the theme that religious people can't be rational. Goodness.
Executive Power - Vince Flynn ***1/2
~Blown cover, CIA leak, Mitch's married~
Yet another Vince Flynn--yes, you may blame this on trying to keep up with Chandra, my speed-reading sister. Another good read--not my favorite of the batch, but entertaining and action-packed.
Pretending You Care: the Retail Employee Handbook - Norman Feuti ****
~Customers can be wrong, let's discuss~
LOVED this book. If you've ever worked in retail at all, you can't help but relate to this hilarious guide of serving the public! My mom found quite a bit of humor in it as well, even having me read sections out loud to her--which is totally unprecedented, as she usually doesn't enjoy being read to.
Peter and the Starcatchers - Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson ****1/2
~Peter meets Hook, gains dubious "powers"~
Before this book, I didn't even like Peter Pan. Initially interested because of a fabulous interview I heard with the authors (check it out for free on iTunes>B&N Meet the Writers>Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson), I quickly grew to love how these two engaging authors flesh out the backstory of Peter's life--why he can fly, stay young, etc. The first book of a trilogy.
How Starbucks Saved My Life - Michael Gates Gill ****
~Executive job gone, regroups as barista~
Strangely enough, I read two books this month involving working in the service industry. One inspirational, one cynical, both drew me in and provided quality entertainment and thoughtful reflection. I thought both books were fabulous!
Einstein's Dreams - Alan Lightman ***1/2
~Imaginative dreams wherein time disobeys laws~
Very quick read, some chapters a bit repetitive, most are full of imaginatory delight! I especially liked the chapter where people determine that time passes more slowly the higher they live, so they all live in houses way way up on stilts in the freezing cold air and mock those who enjoy the grass, lakes, warm weather, etc. Fools.
The Giver - Lois Lowry ****
~Boy suffers so community won't - until . . .~
January's book club book. I forgot how much I enjoyed this tale--check out the short story by Ursula K. LeGuin "The Ones Who Walk Away From the Omelas" or Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" for more along these thought-provoking lines.
The Sorceror of the North (Ranger's Apprentice #5) - John Flanagan **1/2
~Book ends before adventure--cheap shot~
Sadly, nothing too impressive about this book, story-wise or writing-wise. Using the same ill-advised technique he implemented in his last book, Mr. Flanagan has ended this book prematurely as well. I suppose that any book that was ended before a resolution of the main conflict occurred could be called a "cliffhanger," but that doesn't mean it's a good technique.
Walden - Henry David Thoreau (still reading) (Undetermined "*" as of yet)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I'm still paging through this tome occasionally. I probably will keep this on my list of "currently reading" for a great long while yet. I keep getting distracted by faster flights of fancy!