Author: Rachel Ann

Sometimes we have these wondrous moments of clarity in life. One such event occurred when I was seven, almost eight years old. My sister left for college and my life would never be the same.

I remember the day very well. She’d been packing for about a week. You know those giant Lesportsac bags that were cushion-y, soft, you could pack them to the hilt and not be penalized by the airlines? Oh to live and travel back in the 90’s folks. Those were the days.

Who remembers no fees, fines, weight or scrutinized size restrictions by the airlines? I do!

Dad and Debbie lugged each one down the long flight of stairs, bump, thump, wump.

I went out to the front yard to play…but really I was just feeling the beginning of a lonely heart.

As her bags were loaded up, so was part of my heart.

Now, I was no stranger to saying good bye to people. At a tender age of two I said good bye to my maternal grandmother. Even at that age I understood something serious had occurred. My grandma was no longer around and my mom was filled with a sadness that we could not ease. I wished on my third birthday for my grandma as I blew out the candles on the white and pink flower decorated cake. I wheeled my new indoor pipe tubed bike around the family room and wondered what it all meant in my own little way. Sadness will do that even to the young ones.

Debbie was outlined by the burning colors of autumn and leaves crunching under foot. As I gave her a hug and got a whiff of her curly highlighted blond and brown locks I thought to myself, “I’ll miss you.” Even if we’d been bickering hours earlier. Probably from me invading her space as I usually did. Little sisters just have a way with personal bubbles now don’t they?

Mom had said, “You’re going to miss her, stop arguing and be nice.” Easy to say and listen to although, the meaning was elusive to my young self.

Months later I would clean the etagere with our family photographs, mom’s collection of antique jewelry boxes and chachkas and I would look at her photograph. The one with you wearing the purple turtle neck shirt with the paisley vest. Bushy bob of bangs and hair half up and half down. You know the one right? Well, I’d look at that photo and think about what it must be like to be so far away at college.  I missed bothering you. I missed knocking on your door and you asking me to leave you alone. I missed sharing a bathroom with you. I missed your cool friend’s coming over to visit and getting to pester all of you at once. I missed my big sister and her uniqueness that I cherished and admired.

But the thing I didn’t realize was that we’d draw nearer to each other through the years. You would become my confidant and pen pal. I had only had one pen pal prior, Grandpa in Montana. And might I just interject here that he was probably the best pen pal a kid could ever had. He kept me up to speed on all his ice fishing, hunting, and mountain driving extravaganzas.

Our letters, which I still have, every single one, were so special to me. I loved them. Every time I got a letter in the mail I’d be so excited to open it with that letter opener mom had and read and re-read each and every line.

I have carted those and Grandpa’s letter’s around for years. From one move to the next. Andy would always ask me, “Do we need this desk and what’s in these drawers?” And I would always reply, “YES I NEED THE DESK,” and my stuff!

Now the desk rests in our niece’s bedroom and the letters in my library. Safe keeping and such.

Through our letter writing and years into adulthood now I know that those years apart served a great purpose. It allowed me to learn about who you were as an individual. It also helped me to not hide in your shadow, but instead grow up to be that brave out going kid I had inside of me. You have taught me so much through the years. I cannot imagine who or what I would be without the help of your guiding wisdom and words.

You might be far, far away in Hong Kong, but you are always close to my heart. Sometimes I pull a card out and put one in my vanity to make me smile. For you see when I look in the mirror I see you and I see me.

I love you! Have a spark-tac-lar-ific day sister. xoxo

Wire-Haired Terrier’s…

(This goes out to all of my animal loving friends out there!)

In our family, animals always played an important role. They were members of our family, guardians of our nights, and confidants during our dark days. There were three that Debbie and I shared together throughout childhood and on into adulthood.

Emily.

Rex.

Ari.

Now these three were quite different from one another. Emily was truly Debbie’s dog. She was a beautiful husky with the sweetest personality of all time.  Debbie begged Dad to let her get a dog from the box of a lady sitting and giving away dogs if I remember the story correctly…. in, of all places, but in the mall parking lot. Thus every dog owners story begins. I wonder how many new companion stories begin with what would be the first of many…”begs” so to speak. Haha, ok, did I only crack myself up there? Hmmm.

Who knows the story Peter Pan? And who remembers the character Nanna? She was one of my favorite characters in that film. She was a gallant, kind, and clever dog who watched over the Darling children.

I had a Nanna in my life too you see. And it was Emily.  We have photographs of her sitting on the edge of my pink baby blanket. Me a blob of sweetness and black hair sitting and looking up at the camera, with Emily guarding my every move.

Our mom says that when I was super tiny she would lay in the door way of my bedroom. If I would move, moan, or dare I say cry, she’d go sauntering into mom and dad’s room, nuzzle mom awake in order to come take care of me. Perhaps that’s why I had trouble sleeping years later. Subliminally, I missed my Emily dog.

Alas, poor sweet dog had epilepsy at the end of her dog days on Earth.  Her seizures were intensely scary and harmful. She was the best dog in our family and we still carry her with us today.

Now Rex came lumbering into our lives on a dreary mid-autumn evening. I think I was probably five years old. He scared, well how can I put this gently…he scared the crap out of me. He was a 100 pound airedale who had been rescued by my mom’s friend and the rescue society in Anchorage.  We became his new family instantly. He had the giant cone of shame people, a tube in his eye, and he weighed double my weight. After his healthy recovery, he became my steed and I his squire. I’d ride him. Yes, ride him around the house. When he was tired of carrying around a five year old he’d sit down and I’d slide right off. Wooooooop onto the wood floor.

(Sound effects just for you Debbie.)

Rex was an important part of my life. He saw me through kindergarten, chicken pox, and countless childhood illnesses and frigid Alaskan winters. We buried our sweet dog in our backyard and marked his grave with a special post that Dad whittled for him. He’s near the beloved club house and in my mind’s eye, he will always be out in the back yard racing around, having a glorious time, snatching carrots from our garden hauls and running around like a mad, wild, free dog.

Ari on the other hand, was my best friend. He was my dog, my fur faced baby.  We were chums until the last day of his life.  Debbie felt worried about me being alone in the house with only…our parents. 😉 She wanted me to have a buddy. And THE BEST buddy was brought into my life. Ari means lion in Hebrew, and I’m not sure how we happened upon the name during discussion, but it stuck.

He was probably the most air-headed of all airedales, but he was also the most loveable. Poor dog ate anything and everything, as many airedales do. He ate part of his bedding one morning. He almost ended his life there but thank God for loving and supportive parents. He had surgery and the vet had to remove part of his intestines. Oy vey indeed.

I remember crawling into the kennel at the vet’s with him to try and get him to eat some baby food. He refused to eat for everyone but me.

He had, “Such a life,” to quote Mrs. Katz and Tush by Patricia Polacco.

The last moments we all shared with him were surrounding him with love in the van bringing him to the vet, all of us together. He was snuggled into his bed, poor old puppy dog. 13 years was a long life for such a large dog. Maybe it was all the Jewish penicillin, chicken soup and chicken in his meals for years. Our mom fed him well.

Needless to say, we’ve shared some really special furry friends Debbie.

You know I love your Dulcie dog too. She was your first baby, and still is. She and I have a special bond, she even licked my nose after rediscovering our friendship while I visited you in Hong Kong.

There is something about our furry beasts that connect us. We love them endlessly and oh the stories that were involved with each of them. I’ll save those for another time.

I’ll leave you with this: Bella just gave me some long blinks, she must know I’m writing to you Debbie. From my fur cat baby to you, long blinks= I love you’s.

Sparkle-it all day. xoxo.

Dear Debbie and Readers,

Please read these lyrics and see if you can recognize the song….I know you will Debbie.

“Look into my eyes – you will see
What you mean to me.
Search your heart, search your soul
And when you find me there you’ll search no more.” -Adams, 1991

Did you recognize it? Did you? Well if not, read on and you will receive your answer soon enough.

When I look back upon childhood, some of the earliest memories I can remember involved music and my sister. This comes as no surprise to many people I’m sure. We’re a musical pair. I followed in her foot steps and took piano from the same teacher.

Debbie is a much better pianist than I ever was.  She had more concentration and pure skill at the instrument. I think my dyslexia has more to do with reading two staff lines at once, playing, and anticipating the next measure than I would care to admit.

What lead us to this instrument was our amazing mother.  She was the best music advocate and still is to this day. She knew that having her girls learn an instrument early on in life was one of the most important and helpful things she could do for us.

“Don’t tell me it’s not worth tryin’ for.
You can’t tell me it’s not worth dyin’ for.
You know it’s true:
Everything I do, I do it for you.” -Adams, 1991

Debbie played Bryan Adams song, “Everything I do, I do it for you,” so many times that I know it by heart…. to this day. It’s probably the only song from the early 1990’s pop music that I listened to consistently and could recognize without missing a beat.  In fact, I think she practiced it more than any other song that year, oh 1991.

But play it she did and with such feeling and emotion. I used to play on our home’s second floor balcony between the living room and the spare bedroom/library in our house. She’d be practicing and I’d be listening intently. I wasn’t supposed to be on the balcony without supervision because it wasn’t super safe number one and number two, I liked to get myself into trouble.

Try as I might, I could never emulate Debbie’s ability and ease with this instrument. Perhaps I was just destined and more inclined towards voice from an early age, whatever the case may be, piano lead the way towards a musical future.

Thank you for paving the way Debbie. And thank you for indulging me in the early stages of recordings as well.  I am certain that those mix tapes of me singing, “Puff the magic dragon,” amongst other amazing, “We Sing Silly Songs,” spliced in with me jabbering away, were highly amusing for you to listen to at college right?!

I love you! Keep sparkling on!

So thank you Debbie, for paving that pathway towards my musical future. And thank you to your Bryan Adams and Sting obsessions for following me in my pop music endeavors.

I love you. Sparkle on and play some music soon. 🙂

How many of you have bleached your own clothing before?

Remember acid washed jeans? Do you see flashbacks from the late ’80’s to early 1990’s? Well, I do. And I remember your white Reebok high tops, with the amazing three velcro straps embellishing those shoes, now those were something weren’t they?!

Growing up in our house we had all the bedrooms upstairs and the laundry room downstairs. The cool thing about our bathroom was that we had a laundry chute. Sometimes we used it as a means for communication. How many of you had laundry chutes?! Is this just a thing of the past or what? I mean seriously, I did not see one laundry chute in all of our house hunting in Portland. Hmmmm, I have digressed.

Back to the bleach.

So, I have established the setting, laundry room downstairs, bedrooms upstairs. Nosy little sister upstairs in her room. Sister told her to stay upstairs and play, she was walking up and down the stairs and had directed me to stay AWAY from the stairs. Apparently, she was bringing up mini-cups of bleach to the bathroom…. One at a time.

Ha ha ha.

Do you see where this is going?

I stood in my door way and watched her falter at the top step. Bah. Drip, drop, plop.

Bleach on the carpet, Debbie on the run.

Slam went the bathroom door.

Mom came home later, I probably spilled the beans immediately, as I did with most things in those days. My nick name was, “The informer.” So people, it really wasn’t my fault.

And the jeans, well, they were Über cool, or perhaps we thought they were.

This was Debbie’s attempt at a d.i.y. before it became, “a thing,” to share via Pinterest, Tweet, Instagram or Facebook. Bleaching your own jeans in 1990 was pretty fantastic. Especially when the parents are out of the house. Good thing the carpet was beige. The spot was barely noticeable, but I still found it every time I sunk my toes into the carpet on that top step.

I don’t know, you’ll have to weigh in on them Debbie, but I am pretty sure they were fabulous pants.

Bleach on, I mean sparkle on, whoops. I love you. 🙂

Raise your hand if you love stickers! “I DO, I DO!” Pick me!!! Oh wait, what’s the prize? Hi, my name’s Rachel ANNNNNNNNNNNND I have a sticker problem. No seriously, it all started with, my sister.

See, she had this thing about stickers. She collected them. In an album. OHHHHHH secret is out, “Oh no you didn’t…” I know, I just did.

“Snap, snap, snap,” in a Z formation!

🙂

I have the album for safe keeping in my library, aka, the room with only book shelves in our house. Now, the explanation for this room is left for another post.

Flood in the memory: I remember her sitting on her bed, the beautiful blue floral Laura Ashley wall paper a familiar back drop to the coolest room in the world, my big sister’s. We were sitting there and she was showing me her album.

“Here are the colorful ones, these ones are iridescent, here are some holograms….rainbows and unicorns…. Oh let’s see, stars, scratch and sniff, (followed by scratching and sniffing the stickers of course),” and then oh wait, “You won’t like this section.” Me snappily replying, “Wait, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? I wanna see!” (Circa me age 5 or so give or take a year.)

Debbie: “Really, you wanna see the Garbage Pail Kid stickers? I thought you said they were gross.”

Me contemplating that she was right, but not wanting to admit that entirely ended the conversation of show and tell which was followed by complete and utter silence.

She was right.

She’s always been right.

Moral of the story is kids: listen to your sister, and collect stickers.

Needless to say, I share stickers with my students every day, I put stickers on every card I mail out, and I have a special bag of them and an album, or two. Don’t judge us. We like stickers and who doesn’t?!

So, next time you pass some stickers whilst shopping for what have you, think to yourself, “Hmmmm, could you brighten up your life with that sparkly set of stars?” Answer being, of course you can!  Enjoy!

I love you Debbie, sparkle on!

When I was a very little girl, I remember obsessing over little things. I was very driven by visual images, imagination, and creativity. A product of the Renaissance ear in the early 1980’s. In my mind’s eye, I see it, the bouncy curls. Their texture thick and soft. Their color chestnut brown and highlighted with bits of auburn. Next to my hair, straight, dark brown, and long…

The grass is always greener in another pasture is how the saying goes.

And oh was it greener in Debbie’s hair pasture. I loved her curls, I was envious of them. I used to sleep with curlers in my hair over night and the next day I’d be ecstatic over what our mom called, “Shirley Temple,” curls.

I’ll never forget the day Dad picked me up from a neighbor’s house with Debbie in the car. The black and tan van pulled into the driveway and Debbie slid the back door open. I took a step towards the car and began to step in without noticing my sister. And then I stopped and started to grin, her hair was sticking straight out all over and poofed so to speak. Being the bratty-mc.-brattersville of a sister I snickered and made some comment as sister’s do.

Poor thing. She’d blown her hair dry. Naturally curly hair + blow dryers on high= disaster.  For the next few days I continually giggled about it.

But you see, now I can look back and recognize, how special it is that I can recall these silly moments in time. Seemingly inconsequential and yet, all the more relevant right now.

Perhaps you’ll have red hair when it grows back? Maybe it’ll flow and curl ever so softly with a gentle wave. None the less. It’ll be yours and Grandma’s genes for curls will always be with you. I love you. Not your hair. But the memory of it and all the crazy styles, I cherish ever so much.

xoxo.

Sparkle on big sis. I love you always.

“Gezondheid!”

When someone sneezes, I generally respond with the above, or with salud! But not when someone coughs on me. I know, you’re wondering, why achoo when it was a cough that I choose to mention in italics? Meh, I do not know I decided to go with achoo and then commence with my cough story. I write the blog, sometimes I do not make sense. OK, a lot of the time I have random thoughts that make no sense at all.

I find it disgusting when adults cough and do not cover their mouths.

Enter rant: when checking things out from the library today, yes, I still go to the library. Little known facts about moi: I know my library card number by heart but not my driver’s license number. Discuss….

The individual checking out my items coughed, not once, but twice….on, me. EW! I have this inability to refrain from making a face when I am experiencing an emotion of distress, especially at the end of a long day. Unless of course, I am acting, which of course is a different story. <sarcasim drip turned off>

I mean seriously people, “COVER YOUR MOUTHS!” If my students learned how to cover their mouths by the age of 9, you can do so as well. “Cough, cough, ooh,” and then the human covered their mouth after seeing my disgusted expression. Which I immediately felt remorse for, perhaps for only a mili-second, and then I turned the other way and held my breath, because I’m that person. What they heck? I do not understand those that choose to share their germs willingly.

Now a story…

My best friend and I were once sleeping in the same bed while on a weekend excursion. (Don’t be weird about it.) Apparently I turned towards her in my sleep, went, “ACHOOOO,” in a high pitched voice, and then sealed it with a, “Mmmm nom nom,” sound and continued with my sleeping with the most contented facial expression. She, upon being sneezed on responded with, “What the hell?!” And high tailed it with a blanket to the basement room. “Hahhahhaahaha,” I still laugh about her recollection to this day.
So what does this random story have to do with anything? Not much. Just the point being, unless you are sleeping, cover your mouth.

No one wants to share your germs. So just be considerate people. We’re all stuck in the same circulated airborne pathogen environment, cover your dang mouth already!

This could also be used when cranky words are chosen to be shared before 10 am, but I would not want to digress…

So I shall leave you with this statement I share daily with students: I love you, not your germs, cover your mouth  (said in a lowered tone of voice) for theatrical purposes of course.

Sparkles your sneezes on, or would that be sneeze your sparkles on?! OH, forget it.

Upon first glance it is a piece of glass. It may be as formidable as it might appear, but look closer. Gaze into the depths and study oneself. When provided with an opportunity for reflection, always breathe deeply and exhale. Each exhale you expel is your truth.

When reflecting back upon a year, what is a time frame anyway? A way to mark the days that we are granted with on this rotating bit of a solar system…but let’s not get too philosophical shall we? It is me speaking to myself though, so rather…I’ll pass on that random thought.

Glancing back over the moments that took my breath away in the last year 2014 or 5775 for those who follow the Jewish calendar year… 🙂 I’ve realized some things. I’ll compose them into a cohesive list of my rambling thoughts for your pleasure. Here goes, breathe deeply and exhale:

Universal language:  When given an opportunity to smile, always do so. It is a symbol that can take you farther than you would expect and also renew humanity’s faith in one another.

Gratitude: Sharing and receiving this is absolutely invaluable and always provides a warmth in one’s heart either way.

Humility: Show and share your gifts in a manner that will always make those you share them with smile. Showing humility presents your graceful manner and wisdom of age.

Humility 2: Learn how to ask for help, reach out and take another’s hand when it is presented.

Fear: This is the grim reaper of life that is always ready to cut you off from a lesson, if you allow it to. Instead, turn around and face it head on. Stand tall, breathe in, and release. The shadow will dissipate as you continue without it.

Love: Always choose love. A wise friend’s mother once told me to always consider, “Do you want to be right, or do you want to be reconciled?” Choosing love, having faith in the opportunity to love other human beings is always, always the right choice.

Prayer and Meditation: Whatever form you choose will always refresh and renew your soul. After listening to Oprah’s book, “What I know for sure,” I realized a few things about my faith and ability to pray. Sacred moments in life can be whatever you hold dear to your heart in that present day. Perhaps it is holding the hand of a child who needs help, or listening closely when someone is speaking to you. Sometimes I take just a few moments at the beginning of my work day to stare out at the clouds and birds overhead before going into my little classroom. Remind yourself that you are important, your life is valuable, and that purpose is what you make of the day laid out before you.

Faith: This has been an elemental part of my year. Knowing that a belief in positive thinking could change my life has done just that. I believed in opportunities and positive thought, and so much changed.  As challenging as it was, it all transpired and I live to tell the tale.

Friendship: All of the people in my life play key roles.  Each person I hold close to my heart knows how I feel about them.  If there is anything that I have learned this last year it would be this, be honest and caring in every situation.

When I was a little girl I used to wonder why certain friends would come in and out of my life. As a teenager my friendships were my world, or so I thought. As a young adult, I realized that the most essential component to friendship was honesty and love. As an adult, I know now that each friendship is unique and yet, vulnerable. It is this vulnerability that I love and admire; for this is where growth occurs and our love blossoms.

Family: The core of my existence comes from my family.  Every day I feel thankful that I am close to them, that they provide me with experiences, guidance, and love.

Gratitude for the year:

I am so proud of my husband and all that he accomplished this year and how he’ll continue with his journey through this next year. I feel grateful every day that I have a partner who challenges me, always shows compassion and love, and shares most importantly, humor, through every situation. I love you Andy.

For my parents I am indebted to their generosity, support, and love.

For my sister/s and brother in laws, I am overjoyed for all the memories that we have shared and will share this next year. For my sister Debbie: you have shown me that life is about having the ability to believe the best, even when it seems that despair is knocking on your door. Your strength, perseverance, and friendship remind me daily about the most essential elements of life.  I love you so much, always have, and always will.

For my nephew and nieces I am grateful for the laughs, light hearted lessons, and love.

Sometimes life gives you lemons and you have to work really, really hard to make lemonade. But if you keep pushing through, the sun will shine through that dang glass and it’ll be the best lemonade you’ve ever tasted.

Sparkle on friends.

Why is it when I am really tired I drop things?

In response to such a question the Sheldon Cooper in the audience would raise his hand and launch into a diatribe about the physical analysis of the space continuum between my hand, the toothpaste, and the gravitational pull, but I shut off that channel in my brain and chase after the damn cap.

UGH……….

Bathrooms are when we really let our freak flags fly now aren’t they? And I don’t say that to be funny. Don’t be weird and start thinking nudity-tootie thoughts, but they are.

I mean, sometimes I don’t want to wash my hair, ok?! Ok?! Maybe for 3 days, I don’t wanna deal with it. If you have a lot of it, it gets wet it has to be shampooed, conditioned, toweled off, lathered with serum, gently tousled or combed, dried, straightened, pinned, clipped, tied, yanked, re-twisted, the list continues on with a blah, blah, blah….(yes I am thankful for the hairs on my head, don’t think that I’m not), BUT, this is my confessional, I can say what I want to.

So you know what I bought? A shower cap. Not just a boring old, clear plastic cap, but a baby butt pink shower cap with a pink satin-y ribbon along the outer rim with cute bunching that extends for about two inches.  It looks like something Strawberry Short Cake would wear proudly in her cartoons.

Ok.

Maybe I bought it for that reason.

I mean, COME ON, who doesn’t wanna act out their childhood fantasy of being strawberry shortcake?! Cute freckles with red hair, pink floral print dresses, and besides my plastic figurines smelled like strawberries and sugar when you rubbed them…ok I’ve gone too far and stepped into the land of, “T.M.I.” but now you know.

I wear the shower cap and I look like the adult version of myself and I feel like I have a giant cupcake on my head and I love it.

So back to the brushing or was it the cap? Bristles out, hair in a twist, panties not in a bunch, that’s it for this toothpaste confessional.

Peace out and sparkle on with your flags ‘a flyin’.