A Wildwood Story

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” -Dumbledore

laugh with me

Letter 41 {A Week of Monday}

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Dear Candace,

Monday morning, this is how it went:

I drop Caleb off at his Algebra 2 class. Not wanting to spend unnecessary driving to and from home, I plan on spending time at a nearby Starbucks to do some work before picking him up. After settling in, I learn their Wifi isn’t working, and hasn’t been for a week. A WEEK. This is the modern age! That’s simply inconceivable (and yes, I do know what that word means). I do a quick maps search and realize a St. Louis county library branch is within a mile. Perfect. I can use a study room there. I show up at the Library only to learn-it’s closed, for some reason I did not investigate.

Okay Monday, I get it. You’re having fun with me. But guess what? I am young and adventurous and also behind on email, and I can find another Starbucks since St. Louis is literally littered with them. They can’t all be out of wifi.

I am not ashamed of carrying my iced americano from Starbucks #1 into Starbucks #2. Starbucks understands.

…

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Letter 40 {6 quick things on turning 36}

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Dear Candace,

Now that I’m 36, I’m living in the fullness of myself and have come to terms with a few things.

One, I still forget to switch the laundry to the dryer.

Two, giving myself a manicure is an arduous task requiring a ridiculous amount of Q-tips and toxic polish remover, and I still end up with nails that look like they were done by a 6 year old.

Three, pie is my always and forever weakness and a crust made with lard makes my knees buckle. I could eat pie every day of my life and never, not once, feel guilty. Pie is life….

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Letter 38 {Short(s) Thoughts}

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Dear Candace,

I’m writing to you from the lumpy comfort of one of the farm beds. I’m here but not here for the weekend. Staying tonight and then running down to Silver Dollar City tomorrow for the day with Hosanna, my mom, and a mix of sisters! This weekend is all about celebrating Hosanna’s 17th birthday, enjoying Keturah’s quick visit-we never get her; school and work keep her so busy in Indy-and soaking in all the sunshine we can.

For real. I’ll be wearing shorts at the park tomorrow and hopefully no small children will be frightened. Shorts are hard for me, you know. I haven’t quite hit on the perfect style and length. They tend to be either too long or too, well, short. I’d like a lovely distressed pair for the summer, but I haven’t found it yet.

…

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Letter 36 {Oven Rice}

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Dear Candace,

I have rice cooking in the oven right now, because it seems like the easiest way for me to make a large amount of it without any tragedy. Those days of almost or always burning it on the stove-top are long gone for me, thanks to this method and my instant pot. I used to have a rice maker but it wasn’t the greatest and would stick something awful. Baking it in the oven also means you don’t need any fancy appliances! {I generally do 4 cups rice with 8 cups water or broth in a large glass rectangular dish.}

The other day when I was at Target, I noticed a professionally dressed woman, about my age, strolling with her daughter. I immediately felt drawn to her not in a creepy way, but in a I-have-found-my-kind way. She wasn’t wearing hose with her pencil skirt and heels, and her white legs matched her white arms and white face which also matched mine. She was rocking the not-tan look, meanwhile I have been contemplating the merits of gradual tan lotion. I don’t see many others like me in the wild (case in point-at yoga that same day everybody looked fresh from the beach while I looked fresh from the depths of a cave).

I felt in the mood for something entirely different in my reading life, so when Madeleine from Top Shelf Text mentioned The Lace Reader as an excellent, riveting novel with a big plot twist, I immediately requested it from the library. The unreliable narrator (I love a good unreliable narrator!) has returned to her childhood home in Salem, Massachusetts after the disappearance of her aunt. This New York Times bestseller serves up realism with a thread of natural magic, the untimely death of a twin sister, forgotten memories, and tea-making. I’m a few chapters in and it’s obviously the kind of book I’ll be tempted to forego sleep to finish…

I need to majorly empty and revamp my closet. I thought I did pretty well at keeping it contained this winter, but when I was going through my hanging clothes recently I realized there were several things I hadn’t worn in over a year, and many more that just didn’t fit properly or needed to be replaced. So I plan on doing two things at once over the next few weeks-work on rounding out my winter wardrobe with clearance items even as I pack (most) of it away in storage, and figure out what I need to purchase for spring and summer. Since you have so much time on your hands, idling away the days with five children, surely you would like to do this for me? I trust your taste implicitly.

Love,

Rachel

Letter 35 {Netflix & Patio Tacos}

Letter 37 {Baby Walks}

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I may receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.

Photo by Natalia Y on Unsplash

Monday

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Mondays get all the memes and exasperated sighs for a reason. It can be haaard to get back into a work routine any day of the week after a little rest, a tiny wee siesta for your nerves. Even if you love your Monday work! You may be rolling your eyes about all the #Monday drama. Of course I make fun of it, too, until I find myself having one of those Mondays.

Looking at pictures of succulents brings calm and peace to my Monday soul

It’s like quicksand at times, over here on Monday. In which you are doing stuff, but getting nothing done. Everyone else is seemingly on top of their game, making headway on the productive work week of your dreams, and you’re just standing there trying to remember what math is and wondering why the dishes are never done and knowing you have 4 appointments to make but talking on the phone can be weird….

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Letter 33 {Wedding, Donuts}

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Dear Candace,

Thursday, March 22:

I’m writing to you from Indy, where spring has been welcomed with fluffy snow and strong winds. Naomi’s wedding on Saturday will probably feature temps below freezing and more precipitation. Remember that proverb about March?

In like a lion, out like a lamb.

False. OPPOSITE.

However, this is not dampening our spirits in the least and we are enjoying every minute of preparation and time spent together this week! Many important tasks have already been accomplished, such as last-minute shoe shopping for certain unnamed member of the family, the purchase of chalkboards from Michael’s, flower petal accumulation (for the send-off), getting our nails done, and eating of Thai food.

…

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Letter 32 {Don’t be Rash}

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Dear Candace,

For the past week I’ve been afflicted by, as I call it, a body rash. I won’t go into detail on this public forum, but suffice it to say that large portions of my epidermis have been covered in a blotchy, slightly bumpy, incredibly annoying, very ridiculous rash.

Before I get yelled at to go to the doctor, allow me to explain that I don’t have any other symptoms which would warrant an immediate visit to the urgent care, and I’ve been conferring with my doctor (who is, of course, on spring break) and getting advice from nurse friends who have some insight to give me.

As it turns out, rashes are a dark and mysterious, often unexplainable entity. I don’t have hives, shingles, or poison ivy (thanks, nurse friends). According to Google, I have no less than 50 diseases. Feeling in the mood to be terrified? Here, just search “rashes and their causes” on Google images. You’re welcome. Sweet dreams.

Benadryl and creams of all sorts have been helping me cope. Thankfully, a week in and I’m almost over it, I think. Could it be viral, or a reaction to something I was newly prescribed? Yes. There’s also a high chance I’ve been experimented on by aliens. Turns out they don’t want me.

You can’t ignore a rash like this. Its become a part of me, of my identity. “Hi, my name is Rachel and I have a Rash.” At a department store recently, while getting fitted and surveyed for proper formal attire, I blurted out my rash story in an apology voice. The lady with the measuring tape just grunted. To my relief, it didn’t seem to bother her. As I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing the dress I’ll probably have on at my sister’s wedding next week, a commentary ran through my mind:

“This is our sister Rash Rachel, featuring a neck rash of epic proportions vying with her necklace for the biggest statement.”

“What was she like before the rash? We can’t remember, but we think her skin was very white.”

I took an oatmeal bath during the peak of my rash season, since Google and everybody else recommended it for its “skin-soothing properties.” The oats were in a fine mesh bag so they didn’t make a mess in the tub; the water turned a resulting milky oat color. I couldn’t tell any difference in my skin afterwards, though squeezing oat slime out of the bag was kind of fun, plus once I put coconut oil in my hair I smelled like granola.

I ran across this funny cartoon during all my investigations-

Doctor, to his over-large patient: “It’s not a rash, it’s moss. You need to start being more active than a tree.”

That’s the more likely explanation in my case. Maybe I’ll walk today.

Wishing for clear skies and clear skin,

Rachel

Letter 31 {A Return}

Letter 33 {Wedding, Donuts}

Photo by Andrea Tummons on Unsplash

Letter 31 {A Return}

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Dear Candace,

It’s been almost 30 weeks since my last letter. {Letter 30} It’s like I planned this!

I did not plan this. I plan nothing.

As I reflect on that last letter and our time at the ocean, it seems much more distant than 30 weeks. That’s what winter does to you. Winter keeps you in its winter grip, dimming memories of sunshine and warm. I miss warm. Please don’t console me with words of spring; I prefer being melancholy right now.

Here are the top things you need to know about the past 30 weeks, in case I’ve forgotten to mention them:

I’ve been reading more, so that’s a good thing. In fact, I just devoured Ann Rule’s The Stranger Beside Me so fast I’m still dizzy. At almost 500 pages, it’s no light read. I chose her book on Ted Bundy, convicted serial killer (who I knew very little about), over numerous piles of laundry and I feel I made the right choice.

Ann writes carefully, thoughtfully, honestly. She humanizes Ted as she grapples with what her friendship with him meant as well as her slow discovery that, unbelievably, he really was capable of and responsible for atrocious crimes. She compassionately brings the victims’ stories to light so they will not be forgotten or overlooked. I need you to read this ASAP so we can DISCUSS.

Following a somewhat dark (or at least sobering) thread, I also recently read Everything I Never Told You, by Celeste Ng. Even though the story is fictional, the relationships and scenarios described were very relatable. The real life ending left me alternately devastated and hopeful. It’s a book I’ll be thinking about for a long time.

It was fun times helping pull off a Bachelorette party for my sister Naomi. {Instagram picture here.} She’s getting married at the end of the month! Do I have a dress picked out? That would be a NO. I’m trying, though, I really am. I’ve tried on so many dresses the inside of dressing rooms have begun to feel like a familiar cell.

For the Bachelorette, instead of a fancy dinner at one restaurant, we visited three different small-plate style restaurants in St. Louis which was perfect; props to my sister Keturah for planning our destinations: Taste, Planter’s House, & Bridge. Before the party officially started, I managed to lock us all out of our hotel bathroom with a hot iron on inside. I’d been brushing my teeth at the time while wandering around (?) and had a mouthful of spit when I tried to get back in the bathroom. Why do hotel bathrooms need locks, anyway? We waited around in our finery, me with fuzzy toothpaste all over my teeth, until hotel staff came up to unlock the door, which was not awkward for me at all.

My insomnia is better and I’m SUPER thankful for that. It’s annoying to not be able to sleep well and soundly, and this experience has deepened my sympathy for people with chronic sleep issues more severe than mine. I’ve been working on a bedtime routine to aid in successful slumbers; I’ll have to share more about that. I feel like I’m concocting a magical sleep recipe every night, complete with a bunny eye mask-!

What else? I traveled a little. By myself to CO for a retreat, with the family to TX for hurricane relief work, to TN for holiday celebrations. I must’ve done a few other things, too, but now all I can think about is all that laundry I put off…

Thanks for reading; you’re the best-

Rachel

Letter 30 {Beach Bums}

Letter 32 {Don’t be Rash}

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I may receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.

Photo by Jeffrey Wegrzyn on Unsplash

Rachel Goes to a Coffee Shop

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It seemed straightforward enough. People do it every day, all the time. I’m a millennial; shouldn’t I be most at home in a coffee shop? Yet things rarely ever do go as I plan them.

I was there early, though not as much as I’d hoped because drying my hair took longer than it should have. I think my hair dryer of 10+ years has quite outlived it’s cost-per-use and needs to replaced. I think of this just about every other day when I am standing at the bathroom sink drying my hair. It shouldn’t take so long to get the job done. Have you seen my hair? I’ve seen BABIES with more hair.

I had perhaps an hour to write and look pensive before my morning commitments began, so into the coffee shop I walked, bag over my shoulder. I was further from home and rarely visited this particular place. While waiting in line to place my order (regular dark roast, please) I selected a pair of socks because I need socks and they were made with proper amounts of wool and cotton. It wasn’t until I was paying for them I realized the wool must be from Australia’s finest frolicking merino sheep because it cost nearly as much as the sheep. One doesn’t simply return coffee shop socks to the shelf when the hipster coffee shop barista is staring at you stroking them.

Here is the thing. This particular location seemed to be full of business professionals. There were lots of suits, lipstick, and clicking heels. Everyone appeared to be having an important breakfast meeting. Only a small percentage of patrons were students, moms-running-errands like me, or bearded men in plaids. A very small percentage, and mainly stuck in odd corners or along the window seating.

I chose a table next to a suited gentleman clicking away on his Mac with a Bluetooth device attached to his ear. When I sat down and sipped my coffee, I realized I needed cream. I returned with creamy coffee and began pulling out my planner, whereupon I remembered I needed napkins because I’d already dripped the coffee. After finding and placing napkins on my table and digging in my bag some more, it became clear I’d left my phone IN THE VAN. I stood up again, leaving my coffee and hoping no one would clear my table before I came back. It may have been my imagination, but as I left my table for the third time Bluetooth Suit did seem to be developing a nervous twitch.

At last, returning to the table with my security blanket {phone} and definitely cooler coffee, my bladder alerted me to its desperate need. I kept half my stuff there and ran to the bathroom, nearly knocking over a chair on my way. Once I returned and pulled out my Chromebook, I went to plug it in when I discovered…I had no outlet. The outlets were along the windows where the students and plaids were sitting. Did I dare risk getting up again to walk past my neighbor, who was now eyeing me sternly? I decided to stay until the last minute, when my battery was for real shutting down.

Five minutes later, I packed everything back up and shifted to the one available window seat next to a couple girls pouring over their study notes.

How anyone gets anything done in a coffee shop I have no idea at this point. However, this was my window of time and I was going to squeeze every drop out of it. I finished my cold coffee, sip by sip, writing out my thoughts, line by line, and then it was all-too quickly time to leave.

Goodbye, Bluetooth Suit. I know you’ll miss me.

Wait-I’m back I LEFT MY BOOK UGH.

Photo credit: Nafinia Putra and Jason Briscoe on Unsplash

 

 

 

Things That Happen To Me In Airports

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{This is not an exhaustive list.}

Get majorly lost.

Spend a night on those uncomfortable blue chairs you can’t lay down on.

Pat downs: always.

Security going through my bags and finding that jar of chocolate peanut butter I forgot I’d put in my carry-on. {You didn’t have to laugh when you threw it in the trash.}

Hauling children.

Delays of all sorts.

Confiscation of my pocketknife. Ooops, forgot it was on my key-chain.

Confiscation of my pocketknife AGAIN. Why can I not remember this??

Having to sit near the vagabond who hasn’t washed in approx. 365 days.

Being so early that the flight info isn’t even out nor is any eatery open. Wah, no coffee! #overacheiver

Being so late there isn’t time to sit before boarding the plane. #procrastinator

Sitting on a toilet only to be surprised and horrified by a gloved hand reaching in to my stall from the other side to replace the toilet paper. It’s like a 8×8 inch opening. Blue Gloves can totally see my knickers.

Eat amazing food! {I’m especially looking at you, Copenhagen and Paris.}

Observe remarkable people.

Experience one of the most fascinating microcosms of our world. Travel is the best.

Photo by marcus zymmer on Unsplash