Pleasant Origin Day

Andy and I have spent last week re-discovering the wonder of Gorgeous Tiny Chicken Machine Show. It is incomparably silly, unrelentingly formulaic, and side-splittingly hilarious--if you're in the mood. As yesterday was my father's birthday, we decided to share a bit of fun with him:



It should be noted that some episodes of GTCMS are decidedly less innocent. Read the plot synopses before clicking "play" if you're sensitive to that kind of thing.

We also took the opportunity to wax creative. Around the time of the presidential election, my father came up with the idea for Cheerios to market a chocolate Cheerios cereal, and call it the Obama-O (in jest--please don't be offended). So, when we saw a box of chocolate Cheerios at Kroger, we had to show him his dream come to fruition.


He loved it, which made our day. This just goes to show you that sometimes, it really is just the little things in life.

Blogging

Here's the deal about blogging: if you don't update regularly, then people will lose interest in your blog. If you feel like your audience has lost interest, then what's the point of blogging? Andy and I were having this discussion, and he wants to quit. "I don't see what the point is," he says. Well, I have been faithfully blogging since blogging was on xanga and livejournal. And never, EVER, have I had a faithful audience of readers. Does that stop me?! NO!

I blog for my own self-satisfaction. I have always been a writer, since before I could actually write, when I remember narrating my life in my head ("Rachel walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. She waited for her friend Tami to answer"). Part of the reason blogging is so appealing to me is the mere possibility that my voice might be heard. I keep personal journals, too, and copious notes on random scraps of paper, but unlike those media, a blog has the possibility of publicity. The moment I click "Publish Post," I allow myself a vulnerability that isn't included in my personal journal. This vulnerability causes me to write very differently than I would in my own personal notes--in voice, structure, content, vocabulary, and many other ways. Whether or not my work is actually read is secondary to the fact that it might be.

The challenge comes when one tries to make an exceptional blog about a seemingly unexceptional life. I am CERTAIN none of you care that my Vietnamese noodle salad tonight was a bust (failed nuoc chom), or that my car stalled out five times on the way home from work today, or that my residents were happy to see me today--the first day after my vacation--or any of the other mundane details of my life. That challenge, of trying to make interesting what is inherently uninteresting, is what makes it exciting. If I can draw your attention as a reader while talking about something that in and of itself doesn't merit your attention, I feel accomplished.

Most blogs are just people who are writing about their "boring," daily lives. The events are not at all compelling, but the thoughts and feelings behind them are. So to resign, saying "I just don't have anything to say," is only to say that (a) you don't want to share what's going on inside of you, or (b) there isn't anything going on inside of you.

In conclusion, Andy is wrong. Blogging is AWESOME.

What you've missed

1. We kicked off the Christmas season last Thursday with the tree lighting at the Square here in Denton. The highlight, however, was our town's musical gem, Brave Combo. The following is a clip (albeit not a great one) of the awesomeness that is the Combo.



2. Rachel spent all of this past weekend gigging it up all over DFW. We didn't see each other much, but y'know, rent money has to come from somewhere. By day two, we can see below how the long drives and late nights took their toll. Yes, Rachel ran into a light switch, and sustained a bruise on her arm in the process.



The culprit: Our bathroom light switch



The victim: Rachel's arm

3. Oh, and did we ever mention how we have the most amazing landlords in the world? Well, here's another example. About 10 minutes ago, Clint called just to tell me to look outside my window to see this:



I guess that about does it for highlights...oh, wait, I also got a job today. Not a bad week.

First Snow

It may not seem like much to our friends in the northern regions, but it was thrilling to wake up to this. It only stuck around for a couple of hours, but that was plenty.



View from the balcony



The west balcony



Our cars

Our Week So Far

This has been one for the books.

Monday: Andy's car was (over)due for inspection, but we couldn't get it checked because the "service engine" light was on. So, Monday morning, we took it into the shop. They called us that day telling us that it was the catalytic converter, and that there was either an $80 option or a $700 one that might fix the problem. Obviously, we opted to try our luck with the former.

Tuesday: Andy's car still in the shop, he took mine to work, dropping me off at my parents' house at 6:40 where I could shower, get ready, and then walk to work. At 5:15, on my walk home, I talked to him, discovering that the $80 fix had worked, at least temporarily, and his car had been passed for inspection. Hallelujah!

At 5:37, he called back, letting me know that my old reliable Camry had started smoking on its trip home from work (about an hour drive, give or take). We called AAA, and the nice lady let him through, although he wasn't technically a member (I'd put in my renewal THAT MORNING, adding him to the list). He was towed to our favorite mechanic, where we dropped the car and the key. This put us home at about 9:30 instead of 6:30--all in all, not too bad. Thank goodness for AAA!

Wednesday: My car still in the shop, we borrowed my mom's car for the night, so we could go home that night, and pick up Andy's car in the morning. Learned that poor Cam had shot its radiator, which was a $400 fix--not as bad as we'd been bracing ourselves for, darlings (I know, I'm not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition). However, the "check engine" light in my car was still on, and they needed more time to diagnose this problem.

Thursday: Andy decides to get sick. So, he stays home from work. I hadn't been anticipating this, so I'd again borrowed my mom's car for my errands. Poor kid.

Friday: Andy is still sick, and my car is still in the shop. This time, I take Andy's car to work, and his check engine light is on again. This isn't all too worrisome in and of itself (after all, I've been driving my car with its light on for nearly a year now [the radiator was unrelated to the reason for the light being on, which has to do with my exhaust system], and we hadn't really been expecting the $80 fix to be permanent), so I go about my business. I notice, however, that it is making strange sounds, and doing funny things when it is idling, and the light is actually blinking at me. Finally, a half mile away from our apartment, it makes a horrible noise (like when a rock gets shot under the car by one of the tires?), repeats it a few times, and then refuses to go faster than 30 mph (on a road with a speed limit of 60--my apologies to the string of cars cursing behind me). Poor baby putters up the driveway, giving what sound to me like its dying breaths. The car, valued at $600, may be on its last limb.

This is to say nothing of the busy weekend ahead of us. All I can say is, "When it rains, it pours."

Stay tuned for an update: Will the Richardsons become a one-car, commuter family? Will we finally have an excuse to purchase that brand-new H3 we've been wanting for so long? Will we sell both cars and move to Bangladesh? Only ONE of these is not an option for us--if you know us, you should be able to tell.

Don't Take Candy from Strangers . . .

. . . but listen to their advice-- at least for entertainment purposes.





I really, honestly, and truly LOVE it when strangers offer me unsolicited advice as to how to live my life. This probably sounds sarcastic, but I swear to you, I am being absolutely genuine. I love it because I find it so amusing. Especially when they start advising me on major life decisions.

For a while, my hairdresser would offer such advice. I never get my hair cut very often, so once every few months, he would tell me how I should get an MBA and get a "real job," and play the cello for " 'walking around' money," or how I should finish my degree before I go on a mission (he's not LDS, and I wasn't considering a mission), or any number of things about my love life. He was my fount of everlasting knowledge.

There have been others in my life, and I'm sure, in yours as well. Those who tell you where to live, where to apply to school, what kind of job you should get, etc.

Today, I had another experience. I introduced myself to a lady at work today, who began interviewing me, and upon discovering I was a newlywed, began sharing with me her wisdom. This was quite extensive, covering such topics as fashion, menu planning, raising children, personal finances, health, beauty, recreation, religion, the in-laws, and more. Perhaps the most remarkable part of it was that she kept producing these pearls with little reaction or encouragement from me. I must say, I really loved it. I went into the office and jotted down what I could remember.

Anyway, if you see me rushing out right now to have children, growing my hair out, or seasoning my food sparingly, you can thank my friend at work.

Blog Race

I'm having a blog race with my husband right now, in celebration of the fact that we now (thanks to the best landlords in the history of time) have high-speed wireless internet in our apartment. This means we can both blog simultaneously!

I'm going to win, because he just found out that I'm doing it. He's getting wise.

I'd better post.