Best experienced young

What have I been roped in to? This thought crossed my mind as images of disco and roller rinks assaulted my eyes. Back at BYU, my roommate, Jenny, was helping me fill in the gaps of my movie-watching repertoire by showing me a childhood favorite of hers that I had somehow missed. But not missed, I soon found out. Xanadu? Xana-don't. Unfortunately, she had the same reaction to one of my cherished indulgences, License to Drive. Puzzled, we questioned each other's lackluster response to these icons of the 80's. And came to the conclusion that SOME THINGS ARE BEST EXPERIENCED YOUNG.

Upon further rumination, here are some other candidates for the better-as-a-memory category:
Xanadu, License to Drive, The Edge Chronicles (a series that my nephew loves, but I can't work up any enthusiasm about), Fun Dips (remember those packs of sugar with a hardened sugar dipper?), swimming in murky lakes, walking down polluted creek beds, He-Man/Skeletor, side ponytails, Walk for Hope (26 miles of staggering through the city--despite not really fundraising for the event, so what's the point--with a faithful Mom meeting us to change socks, etc.), chicken pox, riding on bicycle handlebars, shoes with velcro, staying up all night, The Family Circle comic strip, filling out sweepstakes forms with any shred of deluded hope, throwing fits in public, the Gravitron ride at the carnival, paper routes, Indian-burn/pain-threshold contests, rolling down grassy hills, knock-knock jokes, etc., etc.

There's so much more, but my lunch break is over!

No band-aid big enough

Thump

A curious word, an ominous sound.

Thump

A tire swerved, a lifeless mound.

It's not hard to predict a "winner" in a match between a ponderous car tire and a frazzled rodent. Yet I'm still a little puzzled at how I, Rahni (friend-to-nature-couldn't-even-kill-a-mosquito-buzzing-in-the-house-last-night-so-opted-to-take-refuge-under-my-sheets-to-prevent-a-"sleeper"-hit), managed to commit murder last Friday. Perhaps I could blame my niece, Madison? She was in the car with me. Alas, no--she did not distract and thus to charge her with the fault would be considered churlish by some. By all?

As I pulled out of the Quiznos' parking lot, he (she?) darted to the shoulder of the road. It really shouldn't have happened--the squirrel froze and I jerked the wheel. Perhaps the car seemed farther away after the pull to the left? Maybe he just freaked? Historically, I've always instinctively swerved away from homicidal opportunities. But I must admit, my hasty tug at the wheel was tempered by that cheeky Geico commercial where the squirrels congratulate each other on running another car off the road. There! I said it. I didn't swerve quite as much as I had first intended! In fact, I was actually thinking something like Hey, I'll try and get out of the way, but you're not making me have an accident, you little conniver! He did escape three out of the four tires, though. Too bad about the right rear one sneaking up on him. I guess I can expect all of squirreldom to be against me and mine from now on.

Bring it.

takeabreath*

It all started with the "Lucky" Charms . . .

For the third time this school year got doused with chilling cereal and milk while driving never learn apparently only had one other pair of pants with me because I'm housesitting promptly dropped extra pair into a puddle after exiting a wetter than normal Erv so got stuck in blotchy wet pants that were purchased in like '97 or '98 from the Express and are inexplicably short hello I'm a shrimp and flare embarrassingly at the bottom of course they also had big wet splotches on them too why do I still own these pants my hair was staticky because I slept in went to vote found myself staring blankly at unresearched issues horrible citizen after school tried to be responsible and go to the gym but wound up with my inferior shoes no hair tie no iPod subpar television programs and stupid Jeopardy contestants who couldn't hear me blurting out the right answers much to the amusement I'm sure of the other gym members tried to master smooth running so the pen I nabbed from the lobby would keep holding my hair in a bun lost track of my wallet couldn't go to Costco drove illegally Erv rolled over something unmentionable found myself drinking HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP banged my forehead on a sharp and unforgiving shelf at the bookstore tired tired tired got home to s l o w l y calculate that if I ate the aptly named Chunky Monkey ice cream from the small container in its entirety I would have ingested nearly 1200 calories had cereal instead fell into bed.

*I don't drink, but every now and then a little "whine" is good for you! ;o)

Teen trauma

I am surrounded by adolescents--at the school, at the bookstore, at church, at my brother and sister's houses. You can practically hear the blushes blossoming, the hearts crashing, the zit cream wearing off, the hopes spiraling up, up, up. And it reminds me: it's hard to be a teen.

A friend of Madison's called her up yesterday to relate that what she thought was a first date maybe wasn't so much. He asked her to meet him at the mall for the movie, they watched said movie (presumably had a good time), and while they were waiting for their parents to pick them up, sprang this on her, "So, if anyone asks, we're not here together. It's just an accident that we're both waiting by these doors." He didn't bother to make it clear if he was embarrassed by her (and a complete jerk) or if perhaps he wasn't allowed to date and just didn't tell her? I'm just trying to come up with a scenario in which this teenage boy has any sliver of hope for a Decency Intervention actually working.

For another thing, we live in Alaska. There's lots to do outside, provided you don't mind freezing in the winter, you can actually get someone to drive you anywhere out of your neighborhood, and you're a sporty person. The indoors . . . well, the indoor entertainment is where we fall short. With not a lot of city afternoon destinations to speak of, my friends and I usually debated between bowling, pool, a movie, or the mall. With that in mind, I blithely sent my nephews and niece to seek birthday fun at BP Billiards. I should have titled this post, "Three underage teenagers walk into a bar . . ." I guess I had noticed that there was a bar of sorts off to the side, but the main focus of the joint seemed to be pool. Whoops! They were a little mortified. That's how I found out that there's nowhere in town for someone under 21 to play pool, unless accompanied by an adult. Crazy!

But, you know, it's hard to be 10, too. Or 6 or 23 or 30, etc. Every time I advanced a grade, I'd look back at the last one and think, "Wow, now it's hard. I didn't know what hard was last year." A case for looking back (and forward) with perspective, I guess.

rahniREADS (March '09)

My reading this month was conducted, by and large, "under-the-influence." I chose all of the titles that are orange due to direct Internet persuasion (just like the caveman above), either through NPR Books, or the covers flashing by on bn.com. While reading through the choices of the "You Must Read This" link on NPR, I found myself nodding along and jotting down notes of titles to procure. That column in itself yielded Replay, The Groucho Letters*, the intention of reading the Tao Te Ching, an interest in Olive Kitteridge, and a renewed desire to read another Henry James novel. I've read Portrait of a Lady (under duress--it was a book club pick) and found that I loved the sentences and was happily caught up by the prose, but could care less for the characters or the plot. Perhaps there is another work of his out there that combines the lovely writing with a worthwhile tale? "Books We Like" spawned the reading of Happens Every Day. The bn.com covers alerted me to the newest Jodi Picoult and the latest Spencer Johnson which, ironically, didn't inspire me to read that one, but his older bestseller. I have no recollection of where on worldwide web I stumbled upon Wish I Could Be There, but I know it wasn't through happenstance at the bookstore. I was startled to find it in the Anxiety/Fear subcategory of Self Improvement--thought it would be in Biography. Oh my word, that last sentence made me laugh--"startled" and "Anxiety/Fear section"? Totally unintentional, and probably only noticed--or even thought funny--by me! ;o) The titles in green were suggested to me by reliable co-workers (thank you's to Nora, Thomas and Andrea C.!). Even though I had a couple of duds later in the month, the highs from the beiginning saved me--great month for page-turning. Business, memoir, SciFi, fiction, sports, mystery--it was all on the shelf for March!

Wish I Could Be There: Notes From a Phobic Life - Allen Shawn ***
~Investigates phobic origins, manifestations--personally/generically~
Turned out to be more of a technical read that I anticipated--I quickly found out that it was not a light bathtub read (where I started it). I found my attention sometimes wandering in the chapters that focused on the technical and anatomical aspects of fear, response, memory, etc., but really enjoyed hearing his personal take on living with such crippling phobias, yet allowing himself to objectively observe them as well.
Happens Every Day: An All-Too-True Story - Isabel Gillies ***
~Opposites attract then collapse, wife records~
An interesting dissection of a marriage that, frankly, I'm surprised lasted as long as it did. Couple of lessons here: if your fiance left his first wife WHILE SHE WAS PREGNANT WITH THEIR FIRST CHILD to have an affair, maybe rethink marrying him. Also, if the author's half as hysterically emotional as what she actually wrote down (describes LOTS of "weeping"), it sounds like perhaps she's a handful to live with as well.
Replay - Ken Grimwood **1/2

~Man dies 43, wakes 18, repeats~

Interesting concept of reliving your life armed with the knowledge of previous years you've lived (and thanks for the riches due to the surprise World Series "prediction" he always bet on), but I didn't need to hear about all the wallowing in the drugs and dregs of France for that many pages. Too bad the ending didn't really pull it all together for a decent narrative. I didn't really cheer for the main character because I didn't really care about him.

Handle With Care - Jodi Picoult **1/2

~Medical financial woes = "wrongful birth" lawsuit~

HATED her last book, but hoped for another Pact, My Sister's Keeper or Plain Truth. Perhaps I hoped a little too hard? This book is basically My Sister's Keeper redux. Interesting to learn about OI, overkill to have the spiralling "healthy" sibling wrestle with every known teen girl issue, and not a book to actually purchase. Sadly, I had to buy this HARDBACK FICTION book (if you read last month's post, you know how I feel about such travesties) because I made the foolhardy decision to read it while walking my dog through a neighborhood filled with snow, slush and puddles. I only meant to borrow it from B&N, but alas, tiny mud flecks made that impossible.

Memorial Day - Vince Flynn **1/2

~Mitch Rapp continues to save the world~

I kind of liked it that Mitch's wife was conveniently in Wisconsin (Minnesota, Michigan, wherever) for the whole book. I know she dies soon, and I know that's supposed to sadden me--as well as give Mitch a renewed reason for fighting the world of injustices, but I can't make myself care about her.

It's Not About the Bike - Lance Armstrong****

~Brash bicyclist bears back-breaking burden~

Sometimes I read books out of intended order. Mostly this happens on accident, but in this case it was more due to laziness. Every Second Counts was sitting on my nightstand, but I knew I'd have to hunt for It's Not About the Bike. Upon review, however, I recommend following my lead and reading them in that same order. I prefer the Lance of the second book to the Lance of the first, though both are great reads--very inspiring. Uncanny, though, how hot on the tail (trail?) of reading two books about this racing phenom, I learn that he's making another comeback and will be participating in this year's Tour de France. I feel so prepared. I even already own yet another book about him--Lance Armstrong's War--that I'll have to take a look at soon.

Dog On It - Spencer Quinn*****

~Dog tells tale of detective work~

After hearing glowing reviews from two of my managers at work (and these are two people whose bookshelves would not have a lot in common, I suspect), I decided to check this book out. There's really no way that I can do proper justice to this thoroughly entertaining mystery except to say 1) please note the five stars above, and 2) I bought this HARDBACK FICTION book of my own volition, because I couldn't bear to wait until it came out in paperback to lend it around. Just read it, is all I have to say. Universal appeal.

Who Moved My Cheese? - Spencer Johnson***1/2

~Personality types revealed through cheesy analogy~

It's a fast, slim read and has been a bestseller for years. I've passed it on the shelf at B&N no less than 3 times a week for the past several years, and I even own the parody Who Stole My Cheese?--but had I read it before this month? Nope. Best question in there - "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" Simple, but thought-provoking review of how we live our lives.

The Secret History - Donna Tartt****

~Outsider befriends elite collegeians, murder ensues~

You know, sometimes it can be a little intimidating to read another reader's recommendation. Notably, I had a friend who declared (as she handed me her beloved book) that she just couldn't respect anyone who didn't think that book was life-altering. I found it only okay. So I was a bit leery to accept this rec from the well-spoken and somewhat intimidatingly literary reader, Nora. I just can't imagine her flipping through something as mind-gibberish as the Vince Flynn books, or elementary fare as the Among the Hidden series. But I pressed on because I do, on occasion, have my moments! After hitting this gem of a line in merely the prologue, however, I knew I had hit gold. "I suppose at one time in my life I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell."

A reminder of the 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 didn't list The Groucho Letters for March's rahniREADS because it's more of a nightstand read than a sit-down and ingest straight through. I highly recommend checking out his letter about dinner with T.S. Eliot on page 161-163.

Should my Spidey senses be tingling?

"With great power comes great responsibility . . ."

Though a relatively well-versed fan of literature and endeavors of a cinematic nature, I've rather consistently neglected one genre: documentaries. Well, that's not entirely true. In January I was absolutely riveted to my ever-so-puny screen on my iPod Nano by a History Channel special on the manhunt for John Wilkes Booth following Lincoln's assassination. Completely engrossing--I highly recommend it. I suppose it's more that I have purposely avoided documentaries that would cause any uncomfortable reflection and responsible change to my behavior. Namely, in the area of food. To this day, I've never seen Supersize Me, or even read Upton Sinclair's classic commentary on the meat-packing industry in The Jungle. Primarily because I WANT TO CONTINUE EATING MEAT. And I want to want to continue eating meat. And fast food, when occasion calls for it. Here's a shocker--I have read Fast Food Nation. It was a book club pick, what could I do? Coincidentally, when I read that book I hadn't had fast food in about a month, due to the vanity of an upcoming trip to the Lower 48 where I would see old friends and wanted to look good. ;o) Of course, that was several years ago, and it's not like I haven't had a Happy Meal since then. Whoops.

Today, however, I'd like to crucify a quote of Neil Armstrong's: "That's one small step for wimps, one giant leap for Rahni-kind." I watched an excellent documentary this weekend entitled King Corn: You Are What You Eat. It kind of reminded me of a book I purchased (and haven't yet read) called The Travels of a T-Shirt in a Global Economy.

"Two friends with one year to spare and a deep curiosity about the American food distribution system set out to grow and acre of corn and see what becomes of their crop . . .What emerges is an informative and at times disturbing account of both the food Americans so readily consume without so much as a second though and the alarming state of the contemporary agricultural industry." --Jason Buchanan, All Movie Guide

My mom, of course, was delighted with this film as it confirmed her belief that corn is evil and only meant for pigs. Perhaps now she thinks that even pigs are too good for corn, though. Anyhow, the documentary provides an excellent chance for introspection and is very well done--says one who doesn't watch many documentaries, but still enjoyed it. Who knows, I may tackle Morgan Spurlock yet! That came out wrong, though I do think it could be fun to tackle someone. Someday. If they don't tackle me back. You know what I mean.

The moral superiority of predictive text

My cell phone is an optimist.

I rarely text. Compared to my niece, Madison (who set a record last month of 10,000 texts), I NEVER text. It's a little demoralizing, really, to admit my thumb exercises are stunted by the paltry fee of $0.10 a text. Every time I send one, I think, "Hmmm . . . better be worth it. That just added to my bill." When I actually stop and review with perspective, though, I'm perfectly fine with the added charges--it's not like I'm living on Ramen.

But I do text enough to notice an endearing quirk to my little digital dude. Every time I try and type in the word "no" it assumes I want to type "on". Negativity is so five years ago. ;o)

Subliminal pranking

I thought I was prepared. For like the first time--ever!--I took note of the approaching April Fool's Day several days in advance. Gosh, I thought, I'd really like to do something just really memorable this year. I reviewed my options:

-Cover a toliet bowl with SaranWrap (gross)
-Secure a rubber band around the kitchen sink squirter thing so that when the unwitting turned on the faucet, it turned on them (eh, not very original)
-Procure a wig and pretend to have chopped/dyed/buzzed my hair (unwilling to spend the money)
-Fill the showerhead with kool-aid, turn someone blue (a little too permanent)
-Send out fake engagement picture (too many fix-up dates after that one, I sense)
-Call in sick to work, then show up? (just dumb)

And so on. I had lots of other ideas, but my main problem was that pretty much everything I thought up was MEAN. Did I really want to add stress to someone's life? Do unto others? One idea stuck but, per usual, I ruined it by just explaining what I would have done, rather than actually pulling it off. Every month I pick up the rent checks for the duplex that Chandra and Greg own. I thought perhaps this month I could dream up a little note that one of the renters left. Maybe they refused to pay because money is so materialistic and causes rifts between friends? One tenant gave a two-week notice? One side wants the other side kicked out? They painted the bedrooms black and hope that's okay?

Sadly, this wasn't even a hard prank (or really even a great prank), but I ended up just telling Chandra about it rather than freaking her out. She thought it was pretty amusing, though! Wasted potential. There's always next year! http://www.aprilfoolzone.com/