Rachel Daniel Learns to Send Emails in a God Honoring Way

 And if you didn't get the title reference...click here.

Call Me Becky Cause I Got Wheels

If you don't understand the title reference please Google it immediately. 

It's been nearly 3 weeks since I owned a functioning car and wow. Time does not fly when you got no wheels. As I continue to wait for MY car to be ready, I am driving a loaner from the dealership. A Corolla.

Here's what they won't tell you about Toyota Corollas...they're not Chevy Cruzes. Not even close.

This freaking car y'all. Not only is it not a Cruze, or even a Chevrolet for that matter, but for the first 4 days I drove it I thought it was without the basic necessities of all post-Flintstone vehicles.

No cruise control. No digital speedometer. No gas gauge. And worst of all...no Apple Car Play. How do people drive like this?

Now. 2 days before I finally got rid of this whip for good, I discovered that there was a gas gauge on the dash but it was VERY covert.

Like, how was I to know? Living life without knowing how much gas I had left was a minor issue. It was worse that I couldn't tell how fast I was going without busting out a freaking protractor. Honestly how did any speeding tickets stick in court before digital speedometers? If I was a judge and a driver told me they could have sworn they were going 37 and not 78 I would probably dismiss and bring in the dancing lobsters.

About 300 miles into our relationship, I located the cruise control, hiding behind the steering wheel like a coward.

Put it. On. The. Wheel. Who has the motor skills to fiddle with this guy? 

Another grievance - the Corolla'a climate control system used degrees Fahrenheit and not the traditional blue to red semicircle. What am I supposed to do with that? I don't know how many degrees I want I'm not a doctor! 

But the worst thing about this car was that it didn't beep when you locked it with the key fob. So I'm just supposed to hit lock and then take your word for it? I have trust issues, that doesn't work for me.

As a direct result of this lack of sound assurance, I lost the dang car for a good 40 minutes once. It was in a parking deck...somewhere. But I didn't know where. Or which deck. And once I got to the deck I couldn't even play marco polo with it!

Now I will say, I eventually did discover that I had been in the wrong parking deck the whole time so that part is mostly on me. But I still need a car to polo when I marco, as a matter of principle.

So I am very thankful that today I became a 3 time Chevy Cruze owner. Third time's a charm?

We Said "Nice" to the Price!

Saturday (after car shopping) I went wedding dress shopping with one of my best friends. It was really hard to narrow the selections down because Ginny is tiny and therefore looks perfect in everything. When we arrived at the first store they had pulled 4 dresses for Ginny, much to Taylor's dismay. In fact - Taylor almost got kicked out for touching the dresses, which should come as a surprise to no one.

I personally don't care for wedding dresses seeing as they are rarely black and I am beginning to seriously doubt whether I will ever need one, but should I find myself requiring a wedding gown I'm sure my chief concerns will be that it has sleeves but no lace. That's gonna be tricky, I'll have to get real comfortable with mesh basically. Ginny's primary desire was a dress she wouldn't trip over, one with not too much fabric. Not in a scandalous-showing-skin way but in an I'm-clumsy-but-wish-to-remain-upright way.

The first dress I saw her in was lacy and long and pretty. Now I obviously can't post pictures, but I have recreated the top 3 stunning designs from Saturday in a series of surprisingly lifelike illustrations.

See what I mean? This was an example of a dress that I think is objectively pretty, but it just wasn't for Ginny. So we headed to the next appointment and I left my knitting in Miranda's car even though I don't think it's that weird to always want something to do with your hands.

Now the next place was my favorite. It was a much more relaxed vibe, we could look around and pick dresses. Well. Taylor could pick dresses. The best part was that each designer's section was labeled with a sign that identified the designer and summarized their style. Ginny's favorite dresses came from the Melissa Sweet collection - romantic, bohemian, eclectic.

Since I didn't have my knitting and this was the closest thing to a Buzzfeed personality quiz, I decided to peruse the sections until I decided on my favorite so I could determine my bridal style. And, well...

Galina Signature - sexy, dramatic & glamorous. Nailed it.

At this place Ginny tried on a dress picked by Taylor that had some 3D flower action. There were hints of pink, which is probably what caught Taylor's eye. Also this seems like a good place to mention that the consultant said she loved my energy.

We of course LOVED this one, but there was another dress that just seemed perfect. 1 - it was on sale. 2 - did I mention the sale? It just felt very Ginny. Simple and interesting, clean and beautiful, not trying too hard, whispering its presence rather than shouting (HELLO GALINA SIGNATURE!!!).

A rose gold accent belt (or a hair piece for me LOL) really tied the look together. My decision was made, I was ready to move on to picking a cerulean mask to be her "something blue" but plenty of episodes of Say Yes to the Dress have taught me that it's not my decision. So Ginny is still thinking it over. What do you guys think?

It's going to be a difficult decision for sure. I'm glad all I have to do is find a bridesmaid dress. In plum. Even though I tried to pitch several other shades. My personal favorite was the sequin-heavy rose gold. There's really nothing quite like pigeonholing yourself into one eyeshadow shade and one jewelry metal. Easy, breezy, rose gold only.

I also suggested a truly heinous shade of obnoxious purple, just to make my other ideas seem better.

My final proposal was a deep puce called Chianti that was mainly appealing for all the Silence of the Lambs references. Exactly what a wedding needs. Ginny has yet to confirm whether they will be serving fava beans.

In 6 short months, I will share which dress she picked so - don't hold your breath.

Any Wreckomendations?

Oops I did it again.

I got in another wreck.

I have told this story A LOT over the past few days and it's really not much of a story. I rear ended a guy who was allegedly "turning" but his car ended up parallel to the road...suspicion. I swear that my experience was seeing a car with no brake lights legitimately stopped on the highway for no reason. Two of the things I'm worst at are driving and accepting blame so I guess we'll never know.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I was having a pretty good day. I woke up and got Chick-fil-A for breakfast and went home and did my nails. They looked bomb.

I didn't actually eat my Chick-fil-A due to anxiety but I was sipping away at a Dr. Pepper, feeling good. I got ready for a birthday party for one of my best friends. We were going to eat chips and cupcakes at a winery and I was so excited because how chill is that? Chisme, Chardonnay and charcuterie? Sign me up. I brought my yarn so I could sit and knit and the venue was BYODP...so I packed a cooler bag with ice and some crisp Dr. Peppers.

As you can see, I dressed for a completely different season than everyone else. It was officially spring for me.  

We had a great time celebrating Amanda, I headed home to do homework :( and then BAM! Like I told the state trooper, "this probably won't pass inspection, right?"

I had so much adrenaline at first that I wasn't in any pain even though I noticed my wrist was bleeding. Luckily Doctor Nathan fixed me up later when he suggested "put bandaid on."

Since two airbags on my side deployed, I knew it didn't look good for a full recovery. But I managed to somewhat quickly shift from dramatically despondent to thankful that no one was hurt.

This will come as a shock to no one but I am pretty pessimistic. And I SWEAR my nose is swollen from the airbag facial but only people who frequently look at my nose can tell.

I am also thankful that my friend Hannah noticed me on the side of the road and stayed with me until everything was over, she even stayed when my dad got there. I was really worried my dad would be mad at me and I of course started crying again when he arrived. I told him I loved my car and he said, "they make more," which is what everyone says. Cars can be replaced, I can't. But my brother is marrying a girl named Rachel in a few months so there literally will be another Rachel Daniel. 

The real mystery (besides everything surrounding what the other car was doing) is where my arm bruise came from. The seatbelt bruise makes sense. The kneecap bruise, the leg bruises, the sore neck, the waist bruises. I get it.

But what hurt the worst once the adrenaline wore off was my right upper arm and I really have no idea what happened there.

It reminds me of the time that my dad hit me in the back pitching freaking baseballs to me overhanded. But I only fell for that once. 

Add me on snap to follow the evolution of this bruise, we're 5 days in and going strong! 

Interdisciplinary Feminism

Today I want to share two stories of social justice debates in the classroom. One is from the perspective of me as a student and the other is from when I was the teacher and they both show that kids say the darnedest things.

Picture it. The year is 2014...I think. I'm taking a course called, okay actually I don't remember what it was called but it was to meet a Gen Ed requirement. I wanna say it had "ethics" somewhere in the course name. Ethics of Philosophy and Feminism in the Western Civilization Post-WWII? Who's to say?

The class was basically about social justice and philosophy. I mainly remember John Rawls's veil of ignorance and that my teacher didn't like being called Mrs. Whateverhernamewas because that was what people called her mother in law. LOL. She's also the first person I heard explain that when fathers are caring for their children alone it's not called babysitting, it's parenting. She was pretty great and I feel like 90% sure her name was Amanda.

Anyways. One day we got into the discussion of working parents - specifically who should stay at home with a sick child? We all confirmed that when we were younger it was normally our mothers who would stay home from work to care for us. Is that because our mothers were so worried about our health? I can see why some might think this because to the average passerby, Missy appeared to be very concerned with the status of my bladder. But I can assure you that when my mother asked me "do you want to go to the bathroom?" it was NOT because she wanted to prevent UTIs but rather because she wanted to prevent UBIs - unacceptable behavior incidents.

We debated the usual considerations. Which parent makes more money? Can anyone work from home? Was one job more important than the other? Like maybe if dad misses work at Lowe's, Jim and Stacy won't get their backsplash installed today but if mom misses work at Seattle Grace then Karen's gonna experience the wonders of uterine prolapse.

Another suggestion was that the parents take turns but if it were that simple the divorce rate wouldn't be higher than the number of states where you CAN'T marry your first cousin. It's 24. Only 24 states prohibit marriage between first cousins. Check your heart America.

I thought it was worthwhile to consider who has an easier time taking off. My mother was a teacher and for her missing work required calls to potential substitutes, rapidly improvised lesson plans, allergy lists, duty coverage, human sacrifice, and a debt of gratitude to whichever coworker agreed to check in a few times to ensure that everyone was breathing and no one had peed their pants.

After some back and forth and a few heated exchanges, a student raised his hand and suggested that everyone do what his parents had done when he was younger. This student who shall remain nameless (because I don't remember his name) had previously made a contribution to our sexism discussion in regards to Halloween costumes. He explained that when he was little he wanted to be Simba for Halloween but they were all sold out so his mother got him the Nala costume. His intonation when sharing this anecdote implied that he believed his mother to be a feminist icon right up there with RBG and Gloria Steinem for her quick-thinking and immunity to disapproving looks from Southerners.

After what henceforth became known as the Nala Resolution, we were all listening with rapt attention, waiting for this kid to solve yet another first world crisis of the 21st century. And he said...in a completely serious, not at all joking manner, that when he was younger if he was sick neither of his parents stayed home with him, they just left him with his nanny. This was his suggestion. And thus marital power imbalances, societal sexism and the struggles of traditional gender roles were solved forever. At least for people with nannies.

Now the next story takes place in my own classroom. Many years ago, after administration realized that a girl who spends more money on yarn than groceries (and that is spends as in present tense) had no business teaching Personal Finance, I began teaching Career Management. Career Management involved a unit on child development and now that I think about it I really do not know why. But I taught it. And we discussed the whole who-will-stay-home-with-a-sick-child conundrum. You know, in case my students didn't have nannies someday. 

A lot of my female students were saying it should not always fall on the mother to care for a sick kid, most of the male students think whoever makes the most money needs to go to work. I present a few different factors for consideration, like the nature of the jobs, the ease of arranging time off, the ability to deal with vomit without vomiting yourself. 

After some discussion, most of the students seem to agree that it should be a case-by-case basis and mothers shouldn't feel like it is solely their job to see to sick children but I have one student who insists that she be the one to stay home with her hypothetically ill offspring. 

I throw out a variety of theoretical circumstances. Let's say the father is a car salesman who already surpassed his monthly quota. Or an accountant who can easily work remotely. Maybe he's an executive who can miss work whenever he pleases and delegate his responsibilities to an underling. She is still saying she would need to stay home with the sick child. So I give up and ask why she is so unwilling to have the father stay home instead. And she says..."because I don't wanna go to work." 

I mean. She has a point.