Tag Archives: Typical Terry

Harmony, Sweet Harmony

So I go and drop an “I’m pregnant!” bomb on my blog and then leave it alone for almost a month. That’s just wrong.

In the past month of high-speed crazy, there’s been a fantastic Thanksgiving, a visit from the British Woodroffe clan, lots of moisturizing, lots of go-go-going and not nearly enough sleep.

It’s been a blast though. I’ve got no complaints about a single thing in this wonderful life. So there’s that.

(Okay, so I can’t fit into anything I own and I’m pretty much living in leggings and big shirts and I can’t sleep on my tummy anymore. I could complain about all that, but … nah.)

I’m off to Dallas with the Woodies for a long weekend. I’m leaving this photo of a page in Brenner’s Minvera’s Wreck that’s a quote from the über-talented Roy Danger here to remind me to live in each moment.

Because that’s all we have in our youth. We can’t use up all our memories now, elsewise what will we have to push us through those golden years?

(There’s a photo I can’t find of Minerva’s Wreck. ABOUT NOSTALGIA.)

Watermelons and ArtGum Erasers

I realized my latent superpower of making things weird isn’t quite so latent. I still charge forward blindly without cause for alarm, don’t move fast enough to get the right words from my brain to my mouth before I release a torrent of words from my gut that make the room go still and I’m back to the place where I accidentally (35-years-old and I still have to retype accidentally every single time so that it doesn’t show up as “accidently.”) pick a fruit before it’s ripe or deflate a story idea before I write it down.

Because I haven’t had access to my essential self in awhile, I forgot that my essential self has the patience of a newborn and am clearly still hooked on the high of immediacy. Show me NOW. Do it NOW. Let’s go NOW. I want everything NOW.

Which is weird that I’m even thinking things are weird, because they’re not weird. I’m just so fucking awkward sometimes. Unless they are weird and I just don’t realize how weird, weird is. I need to remember that my normal is not your normal, and not your normal, and not your normal, either. And I need to remember not to close off my open valve, especially before I see what comes out of it, because that’s going against everything that means anything to me.

Jump. Then justify.
Jump. Then justify.
Jump. Then justify.

Just try not to burn out the fight before the glory.


I chipped my tooth on a peach pit.

Not a big chip. But enough for me to obsess about for the next few days.

This, paired up with my earlier spit vs. inertia experience, makes me a semi-finalist in the “what the hell is wrong with you” contest.

Grosser than gross…

So I’m driving to work when a massive coughing fit hits me. Remember that I’m just getting over a cold and I’m in the disgusting coughing up the crap in my lungs stage. I can’t swallow, and I’m not near a bathroom, so I roll down the window and SPIT.

I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that it came right back and smacked me in the face before landing firmly on the side of my vehicle, or that the near 100 degree day baked it to a crisp on the side of my truck in the 1.2 minutes it took to arrive at work.

This is the quintessential Monday.

House. Sitting.

My sister and her husband have this bad ass place in a bad ass part of town and it’s all decorated bad ass and just plain bad ass.

They’re in Boston, so I’m housesitting.

As soon as I get there, the neighbors are running in circles talking about water. “No water” — they cry! “No water!!” “Did you pay your bill?” “I paid my bill” “No water!!!” — it was very amusing. Then the neighbor next door says to me “Check Your WATER!” — as if mine was going to magically work when the rest of the building was missing theirs. I walk in the apartment and neighbor guy has followed me in and is holding open the door.

Who is this guy?

Sure enough, my water is out, too and neighbor guy says “You must be Rachel’s sister, I’m Andy” Nice to meet you Andy, now get the fuck out.


Next morning, the doorknob is all jiggly and hard to turn, B leaves and I’m getting ready to enjoy the fabulous neighborhood, walk to the coffee shop across the street, take a leisurely “It’s my day off” walk down town when…

I’m locked IN.

Who the hell gets LOCKED IN?!? The doorknob is spinning in circles and it won’t unlatch. I call maintenance, who calls the peace officer, who tells me he can’t help me and then in a painstakingly slow manner proceeds to tell me that he can’t help me because I’m locked in as opposed to out and if I was out then he could help me. I already know this. I explained this to maintenance when I called in the first place now could he PLEASE CALL SOMEONE TO GET ME OUT NOW.

Half an hour later, maintenance calls. They’re coming, but it won’t be for another half hour (the guy just woke up) and don’t be alarmed because they have to come in through the balcony.

So I wait, and when they knock at the back door, neighbor Andy is waving saying “Hello — you can leave through here if you want!” Neighbor Andy reminds me of a character in an Adam Sandler movie.

They replace the door knob in less than 2 minutes. Just in time for me to shower and await the 4th of July party goers.

So much for the day off wandering.