Death & Taxes

They say 2 things are certain in life.

Death and taxes.

This week I'm mad about both.

The state of North Carolina is requiring ME to pay THEM twenty-five dollars. I practically work for them for free! And now they want a year-end bonus from me? IRS agent Tom was cooking the books and said "You know who is doing just a little too well...public school teachers in North Carolina. Let's knock them down a peg." Yeesh.

Enough about taxes. My family has a history of stealing government property.

Decades ago, my great-grandmother and some great aunts and uncles took a road trip to the mountains of North Carolina. While admiring the local flora and fauna, my family members took particular interest in the flora. My great-grandmother and her sister tried to scoop up some flowers to take home and replant. Like a souvenir! Or like free flowers! Unfortunately, the park rangers weren’t having it.

As my great-grandmother hustled back to the car with one last plant, a state government official stopped her and asked why she was stealing flowers from the great state of North Carolina. Those flowers cost money and it's not like they can just levy arbitrary taxes on some helpless teacher up to her eyeballs in student loans to furnish the mountainside with enough flowers for everyone to take some home. That last part is not verbatim, you know how oral tradition is, stories get passed down, things get lost in translation.

My sweet granny was instructed to go to the exact location of the grand theft yarrow to replant them. Her sister, my Aunt Jinkie, stood by innocently although she was an accomplice, stealing flowers for her own garden. She meekly said “I’ll help you Milly*” as the mountain ranger looked on, casting herself as helpful onlooker rather than co-conspirator. This became a joke in my family so now whenever we’re feeling particularly condescending, which is pretty much always, we’ll say “I’ll help you Milly” to each other.

In alternate versions of this story it was actually Aunt Beatrice who threw my granny under the bus. Not sure why no one invited Aunt Inez...maybe she would have been a whistleblower?

I'm just thankful they didn't try to pilfer some of the actual mountain for some hardscaping. Imagine the carnage!

My family’s dirty little secret resurfaced again recently. Unfortunately, a cousin of mine passed away. His sister mentioned to my cousin Tracey* that she wished she had some sand from the beach for the funeral. Just a comment. Or it would have been if Tracey didn’t have the next day off. But Tracey DID have the next day off. So she grabbed her dad and drove two hours to White Lake, a place our family used to vacation every year.

When she got there, I can only imagine that she left the car in drive, ran to the beach area and started filling a cup with sand while looking around to make sure she wasn't being watched. Sure enough, your tax dollars hard at work, she was stopped by a woman gainfully employed by Bladen County who told her she couldn’t take the sand, but instead suggested Target for Tracey's crafting needs.

Did Tracey drive another two hours home, completely defeated? Of course not. She simply drove over to the next exit and collected sand there. This time she made a clean getaway and placed her stolen prize in the cup holder. Her dad noticed how flustered she was and commented “You act like you ain’t never stole nothin’.”

And that has been "Rachel's Family Tree" brought to you by poor decision-making, wildlife looting and patronizing assistance.

*Names have been changed to protect my family from jail time. Boy am I getting tired of saying that.

OlymPICS or it Didn't Happen

If you're a true American with no social life like me, you've been starring at a series of wintry sports that make little to no sense for about two weeks now. Unfortunately, the winter Olympics is often referred to as the lesser Olympics because America is like...not that great at the winter Olympics. I mean you know me, USA all the way. But even I had the face the facts that maybe sometimes America is better at meddling than medalling. Doesn't interfere with my mad love for this country.

I have red, white and blue cat ears. That's a normal, patriotic thing to have.*

,
And red, white and blue leis.


I have an America blanket my aunt made me. Baby Fin sold separately.
 

On top of that, I happen to love the Olympics. I get into the themed Snapchat filters.


I even participated in whatever this filter was. Really Snapchat, get it together.


It's a family affair, we all take it seriously. I guess cuddling Fin in that American flag blanket at an early age helped foster his own Olympic ambitions.


This winter, I discovered that Emily and I would make excellent Olympic commentators. And the real gold medal goes to anyone who can live with me through an Olympics. So far Caroline holds the record, surviving 2 Olympic games.

Emily's first Olympics experience with me was figure skating and she had a lot of good points. However...all of her prior knowledge of figure skating comes from Blades of Glory so when we're 10 minutes in and no one has been beheaded she gets frustrated. And I think she accidentally cursed the American figure skating team so earlier this week I banned her from watching any further skating. On the first night we watched, things were going so bad we both called for America to boycott the rest of the games entirely. We started chanting "warm up the bus" but thankfully no one listens to us because Mirai went on to become my personal hero.

In an article of the best tweets about the Olympics someone said that Mirai Nagasu and Adam Rippon are our president and vice president now and I'm perfectly okay with that. I'm at an age where several decorated Olympians are part of a completely separate generation than me and make me feel more inferior than I already do, see below.

But I'm also at an age where many Olympians could be my friends if they for some reason wanted to ski down that black diamond. So Mirai, Adam, Bradie, Red, Shaun, Tommy, Jared, Chris, Ted if you're reading this - click on ads. And hmu. And Jamie, what conditioner do you use?

I feel like the Winter Olympics is all about turning one thing into like half a dozen events. Like why is skiing on a half pipe a thing? Snowboarding is sufficient. Do we really need both luge AND skeleton? Can someone remind me what the difference is? Laying on a board and going downhill, it seems like we're only a few Olympics away from water sliding as a sport. And the whole skiing and shooting thing. Who invented that? Let me tell you. A long, long time ago, some kid didn't make the bobsled team and he thought "I'll show you all! I will be the best at something!" and then the only thing he was good at was the sport...and I use the term sport very loosely here...that he Frankensteined from two completely unrelated activities. I'm really good at setting a volleyball and then skipping down the court. Why doesn't that get to be a sport? Because there's not enough weaponry involved?

Here's our opinions on skiing. First of all...moguls. What even IS that? Is it speed, is it tricks, no one knows. Makes no sense. 0 of 10. And NBC did this touching special on how Lindsey Vonn has fought through so many injuries to be here, but from my perspective, if you're getting injured all the time are you really that good? What is God trying to tell you? Maybe skiing isn't your thing honey.

And finally, our hot take on the Pyeongchang games...we really don't get why the Russian athletes are allowed to participate in team events. I tried to explain to my brother that the athletes were allowed to compete as individuals just not as Russia. I said they have an abbreviation that was three letters, something something R and he filled in the gaps as USSR. I love that kid. We're fine with the athletes competing in individual events, we just find it unfair that the athletes from Russia can compete as a team for team events. So in my opinion, they should be disqualified from the team skate. And if that means the US goes home with a silver medal, so be it. Let's just let the medals fall where they may.

Because at the end of the day and the Olympics, no matter what, USA is still bae.
 


*You may recognize some of these pics from another blog post I had about how much I love America and the Olympics. Oops.

Wreckless

It's Valentine's Day so I'm blogging about something super romantic...traffic accidents.

Here's a sentence I bet you thought you would never read - I was in a car accident and it wasn't my fault. I'll spare you the gory details and give you just the carfax.

I was going straight, coming up to an intersection with a two-way stop. I did not have a stop sign, the other driver was stopped to my left, didn't see me and  tried to cross the road. I don't eat steak, but this was a T-bone. No injuries other than some bruises and my ego when I realized how visible the hair follicles on my legs are. Do yourself a favor...don't zoom in on this pic.

After a fireman on the scene helped me cross the street to stand somewhere safe I texted my boss, my mother and my roommate. Everyone else involved was local and all of their dads came while I waited. A police officer asked us if we were on our way to school. I think I'm supposed to be either insulted that he thought I was a teenager, or complimented that I look young but I was neither. He was right. I was going to school, it's just a school I happen to work at. I'd never been in a wreck before so I really didn't know what to expect. I just assumed they were going to take me downtown and book me. The policeman asked if I had a ride and that's when I realized I wouldn't be driving my car to work.


As you can clearly see, it was totaled...I'm an idiot. I told my roommate that I was fine while I waited for my dad to arrive. But I wasn't fine. I was in the process of freezing to death. It was 27 degrees. I was wearing open-toed shoes. So when the other driver's father asked if I wanted to sit in his car and warm up I said yes. And when he needed to go to his house quickly to get car keys for the wrecker I was along for the ride. In retrospect...that was weird. He was being nice and was a very kind gentleman but these situations seem to only happen to me. Should you get in a stranger's car and go to a second location? Probably not.

Luckily, my dad came and got me, helped me sort out some insurance stuff and gave me a car to drive. Many family members and friends checked on me, including my aunt who finished her phone call by asking if I wanted to just go home and crash...interesting choice of words.

When I did get home instead of crashing (again) I researched cars and watched Grey's Anatomy, thankful that Shonda Rhimes isn't the show runner of my life. I know how she did McDreamy! My accident could have been much, much worse. I was granted a rental car after paying a deposit of fifty dollars, which I will get back once I return the rental. I'm not a lawyer but...I think that's a fifty dollar car? That is going to be hard to beat.

As we scoured the internet for new whips, my roommate Emily and I decided to tell her sister that I was buying her car for next to nothing from their dad since she moved. Please note that she immediately called her dad and did not text me back for over an hour.


After terrorizing her sister, Emily helped me car shop while simultaneously searching for the Jeep she so desperately needs because I am tired of folding myself in half to get in her Camaro. Emily is a car person and she comes from a strong lineage of car people so she does all the talking at dealerships. We've been wheeling and dealing since Sunday. When one salesman asked me for the best phone number to reach me and I looked at Emily out of habit. Luckily she gave me permission to give them my phone number.

I've been trying to throw around key car terminology to make myself seem knowledgeable, like "torque" and "PRNDL." But as much as I have learned through this process, Emily still has to explain things to me. Like powertrain doesn't mean that the car comes with a complimentary electric train set. And when I saw this on a car and got excited, thinking it was one of those coupon dispensers that used to be all over Food Lion when I was little, Emily informed me that it didn't hold coupons at all. Unfortunately I will have to pay full price for my new car and 2 General Mills products.


Since coupons were no longer an option, I had to find another way to pay for a new car. I told my parents we would see what the insurance payout would be, compare to my life insurance and make a difficult decision. And that's the story of how I learned that my parents are not cool with committing insurance fraud.

So I needed a plan C. And I had an idea...

There's a lot to unpack here. They say a picture is worth a thousand words but this one will run ya at least three grand. The first message is my grandmother telling me good night on behalf of her pet parakeet named Pretty Boy. The next part is me asking my grandfather if I can morally sell some of my eggs and/or a vital internal organ to get some quick cash. It was a soft no from him. I tried to point out that the Bible is also big on not being in debt and he told me Jesus would rather me be financially bankrupt than morally bankrupt so now I need a car and a priest.

No car yet but I am very excited about one in Winston-Salem and the salesman told me that he would be sure to put some cookies in the oven so they're ready for my visit so I think it's safe to say that's a done deal.

At this point, I'm happy to say I'm a Chevy Cruze stan. I drove a 2012 Chevy Cruze, my rental car is a Chevy Cruze and I have searched exclusively for Chevy Cruzes. When I went to look at some options Monday night, a salesman asked if I was familiar with the car and I politely explained my situation to him and asked if he had any questions for me about the Chevy Cruze. I would like to extend that offer to my readers as well. If anyone has questions about what colors cars come in, please don't hesitate to contact me. If you have questions about body styles, trim packages, horse power or warranties, contact Emily.

XOXO - Consummate Professionals
 

America's Least Wanted

I have not been on a lot of dates. The lack of love in my life is a central theme of this blog as well as my therapy sessions. However, for the small amount of dates I have been on, a large percentage of them have been weird. I've been strawberry picking in the rain, hotdog eating in the snow and hot chocolate sipping in front of a Great British Bake Off marathon to name a few. But my most recent misguided romantic misadventure really takes the show-stopper challenge cake.

I suggested that we go to Target. Target is the perfect date location. There's shopping, reading, Starbucks, slushies and a Pizza Hut Express that's oddly never open. I've had several Target dates and I am not sorry about that at all. It's called multitasking. And this weekend, I happened to need some curtain rods.

So we hit the shelves. First we picked up my curtain rods, but not just any curtain rods. I was partial to the cheapest ones for aesthetic reasons - their price tag looked the best. I needed TWO curtain rods and the offerings ranged from less than ten dollars to almost forty dollars. I knew my place. But my date said those weren't good enough for me, I deserved the best. I mean, he's not wrong, but unfortunately my bank account had to disagree. He managed to talk me into a mid-price option and I started to wonder if he was part of the Target sales force, sent on a top secret mission to pretend to date me in order to persuade me to up my weekly contributions to Tarjay Incorporated. I snapped out of this when I realized that I already spend so much money there without outside influences but that's the level of self-confidence we're dealing with here.

Once that was finished, my date suggested we get cookies because I had mentioned liking cookies a few dozen times in our previous conversations. I have never said no to a cookie that wasn't oatmeal raisin. Don't get me started on oatmeal raisin. He also had me pick out some bath bombs because I had mentioned using a peppermint one to open my sinuses. I was flattered that he listened to me, remembered and wanted to get me some bath bombs just because he knew I liked him. That was a kind gesture not expected from a girl who usually orders a kid's meal on dates and has been dumped by not 1, but 2 unemployed males.

So I was even more surprised when my date grabbed the curtain rods I had been carrying around the store as we headed for the self-checkout. I didn't want to be presumptuous as I presumed that he was paying for my curtain rods, so I acted like I thought he just wanted to carry them for me. Being the feminist icon I think I am as of late, I let him think that the strain of carrying curtain rods that were probably at least fifty percent aluminum was a burden I was all too happy to be rid of. At self-checkout I insisted that he didn't have to pay for my curtain rods and he ignored me. That last part happens on all my dates so I assumed it was normal.

Sounds like a good date, right? Nope. Fast forward like an hour. We've been chilling in the Starbucks, chatting, flirting, I'm mentally designing our wedding invitations, you know, the usual for a first date.

I know what you're thinking. It's a bold font choice but I'm happy with it. And to anyone who says I won't send out wedding invites with a selfie of just me, Snapchat filter and all, I say...bet.

Out of nowhere, he says "I feel guilty." My mind immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion and I'm afraid he's about to confess that he voted for Bo Bice on season 4 of American Idol. But maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe he just has a secret family. Or only dated me as part of his official Target job duties. Maybe he's a secret cannibal and I'm a few hours away from being a Lifetime movie. None of my worst case scenarios could have prepared me for what was about to happen. After a pause more pregnant than Kylie must have been last week, he said "It's not that I feel guilty about spending money but that was my rent."

Taking a page from his (coupon) book (that was a low blow I'm sort of sorry), let me explain my reaction to that. It's not that I'm mad he didn't buy me things, it's that HE insisted I get the nicer curtain rods. HE texted me all week about how he wanted to buy me jewelry but nothing fake because I was too good for that (any guys reading this...I'm definitely not, I will accept any and all jewelry). And HE was the one who took the curtain rods from my hand and insisted on buying them. So I'm not mad that he didn't buy me anything, I'm mad that he misrepresented himself, or at the very least, his financial situation. 

What was I supposed to do with that information? I told him he didn't need to buy me anything and I offered to pay him back. He asked if that would be weird. Um. YES. But I insisted it was fine and tried to find some cash. Mind you, this wasn't a quick "oh here's twenty bucks" type transaction. I looked through my bills, considered the curtain rods, Starbucks, the cookies and the stupid bath bombs and handed him forty dollars. Did he refuse it? Just once for social conventions? Nope. He put it in his pocket and said "sweet."

I asked Twitter what to think. Survey says...only 1 person thinks that guys should ask to be repaid for dates and that was probably just Ting trolling me. 

The worst part is that when we went to actually put up the curtain rods, the smaller one was too small so he is going to return it. And get a refund. Am I getting a refund on the cash I gave him? Nope. So he literally profited off this date. Come to think of it, I should have taken notes.