dancin’ with myself.

Welp, last day at the Vincent’s. How to celebrate? Why, a dance solo in the kitchen of course! I wish you were all here to dance with me in the kitchen that I will never have to clean again. Here are some highlights… [there were a lot of punch-dance moves]:

Here’s the song I did most of the dancing to. [couldn’t get enough of this song today!] Start the music and then watch me mooooove:

dance.

daance.

daaance.

daaaaaaaaaance.

daaaaaaaaance.

daaaaaaaaance.

daaaaaaaance.

daaaaaaance.

daaaaaaance.

daaaaance.

daaaance.

I know that’s a lot of dancing pictures… but there was a lot of dancing/celebrating.

healthy cupcakes and rabies in yo mouth.

The one, and only, downside about leaving the Vincents is that my post are about to get more boring. These people are char-ac-ters. Here are a couple slices from normal interactions with the kids:

Hazel wanted to make the cupcakes from the mix that I bought and haven’t made yet. “Sure,” I told her. Since I’m about to leave this place, I don’t mind at all if she makes it… I’m not taking it with me… and maybe she’ll let me eat one… maybe. Hazel is ON A DIET. [please reference “the chocolate sauce crisis of 2009“.] So even though she’s “on a diet”, there’s no surprise to me that she’s making cupcakes. Her parents, on the other hand, are very curious why in the world she’s doing this. This could very well stem from the fact that she’s in the kitchen for more than 20 seconds… but they ask questions about her “diet”. Barbara first:

– Hazel, I thought you were on a diet.

– Oh, yeah, no these are healthy cupcakes.

Wait. What?

– Yeah, they only have eggs, milk and margarine in them.

HAHA! Yeah, Haz… that’s all your lazy self has to ADD! I really don’t have the heart to explain to her that the pile of sugar and additives she’s about to mix the eggs into isn’t exactly “diet-friendly”. That and I don’t want her to think she shouldn’t eat cupcakes! Have your cupcakes and eat them too! …is what I always say.

But the situation just gets more hilarious as more people ask her about her cupcakes and she, in turn, convinces herself that these delicious things are actually a health food.

[Marc enters the kitchen.]

– Hazel, what are you doing there?

– I’m making cupcakes! Healthy ones! They only have eggs, milk and margarine!

Oh man. YES.

And then there’s Craig. He is just an odd kid. An odd kid who I have to ground from the computer before 8am because he’s cursing at me and his sister and just being 84% jerkface. Here’s a conversation I had with him the other day after he got something in his mouth:

– plllpllll [spitting] I have something in my mouth!

– What is it?

– I don’t know… something fluffy.

– What is it?

– Think it’s rabies. [totally serious.]

– You think you got rabies in your mouth??

– Yeah. [walks off.]

– Yeah… probably rabies.

[I kid you not… “RABIES”… I just let it slide… not gonna correct him… remember… 84% jerkface.]

too much of a temptation.

Here is the final installment of a series I like to call, “Dad’s Postcards”… Not clever? Right… okay. Well, even though I can’t think of a more fitting hilarious title for “Dad’s Postcards”, his last addition is no let down:

front.

front.

back.

back.

It is addressed to “Her Tallness Rachel Stevens” and reads…. ahhhemmhemmhemm….

“Hay BluRay, They asked me to help design the Corn Palace again but I said NO because I’m trying to quit eating corn tortillas & it would be too much of a temptation. They said that’s too bad because they grew some bright pink corn just for me. Now I’m thinking about doing it just to see what the corn tastes like. Working on the Palace is such a hassle because the birds eat all the corn & poop on you like rain. Mom is still mad at me about ruining her good umbrella. I think it looks cute.

[heart]
BAD DADDY [drawn smiling face.]”

Thanks, Pops, for all of the hilarious postcards. I needed them and enjoyed them more than you know.

My dad is so great. And he’s also an amazing artist! Proud daughter, right here. Check him out: www.jimgeiergallery.com

pops. [www.jimgeiergallery.com]

it’s just going to take a while.

This weekend turned my already upside down Australian world, upside down. [right side up??] Either way, I’m happier than I’ve been yet here in Australia… or at least I will be… Friday.

If you hadn’t noticed, the Vincents aren’t my favorite people to work for. In a fit of inward rage after an incident to the like of this one:

[after spending hours in the kitchen making 1, 2, THREE different meals for the family, Marc [the dad] takes a bite of his shrimp fajita.]

– Hmmm… Maybe next time wait a while before you put the prawns [shrimp] in to grill them with the peppers.

…After something like that, I looked to the internet for new au pair positions and called the first family I saw that needed a nanny.

Kylie picked up and was very excited to have me come out and meet her husband and 8 month old, Sienna.

It was a waaaaays out there. They live in Terrigal Beach. [pronounced “Terrible Beach” by me because I think it’s funny, not because it’s terrible… it’s quite nice actually… not terrible.] Anywho, it’s about an hour north of the city.

After the Most Ridiculous Public Transport Situation of ’09, I finally made it to breakfast with Kylie, Grant and Sienna. They. Are. Awesome. Kylie and Grant are both 29 and they’re just hilarious. Here’s my favorite part of a conversation with Kylie…

– So what do you think the family’s going to do when you tell them that you’re leaving?

– Well, pardon my french, but I think they’re going to flip their shit.

– Oh, thank god you curse. That’s pretty damn fantastic.

It just felt like I was hanging out with some close friends. A wonderful day. So I’ve decided to leave the Vincents and work for the Parkers. [adorable pictures of Sienna soon to come.]

I gave the Vincents my one week notice, which I know is short… but please reference all blogs categorized under “the vincents.”

Barbara’s reaction was surprising. We argued about a lot of things, but Barbara kept a pretty cool head.

“Light Housework” was our most elaborated topic. Barbara’s response to my complaints was:

– Well, it’s not like I’m having you wash the walls.

[??????]

– Barbara, no one washes the walls. Please tell me what the heavy housework is around here.

– Well, the light housework is only…

– No, no… Tell me what the heavy housework is. I know what you think the light housework is.

– Well, “heavy housework” isn’t even a term that people use… It doesn’t make any sense.

– ….[stare of frustration]…. What I’m saying is that I do ALL the housework… And “light housework” implied that it wasn’t ALL housework.

– Well, I’m not having you wash the walls!

[this is where I’d like anyone who has washed walls ever in their life to speak up. she really couldn’t get over the washing of the walls.]

Anyways, it was a good weekend leading to a very hard/awkward week, that will soon be turned into the Australia that I’ve been wanting.

[a conversation with an old woman on a train this weekend.]

– Excuse me. Does this train stop at Central? I asked… because I’m always confused.

– Umm… Oh, yeah it does. But this is the long train to get to Central. So you’ll get there… It’s just going to take a while.

[you’ll get there. it’s just going to take a while.]

speaking of trains:

assurance sake.

Big changes are a happening round these parts. I’m dealing the the emotions of change and surety, but as soon as I have a better grasp on those, I will explain my current situation to you via blog… because that’s what normal people do… share their lives via blog.

Until then, here’s a story from the other morning for assurance sake:

Barbara [the mom] shows no indication of doing much of anything this morning… except for critiquing my every move. And I do mean EVERY. As I’m getting packed lunches together for the kids, Barbara sits on the other side of the counter and watches… very, very, closely.

To begin to explain this ridiculousness, I have to tell you a little bit about the children’s eating habits… maybe even more ridiculous:

Craig [age 13] doesn’t like much of anything. He’s the stereotypical picky eater times 10. Here is Craig on his lunches:

– Rachel, if you give me yogurt in lunch, I won’t eat it.

– Umm Rachel, don’t give me ham anymore because it makes my lunch box smell funny.

– I couldn’t eat the grapes because I had a loose tooth.

– The jam had too many seeds in it.

– Please only give me the white, white bread.

– Etc.

– Etc.

And then there’s Hazel [age 14]. Hazel is a vegetarian who won’t eat meat, fish or gelatin but eats chicken and turkey. I know you might have to re-read that sentence a couple times to grasp the ridiculousness… please feel free. When I buy sour straws at the mall and offer some to Hazel, she always replies with, “Oh, no… I can’t eat those; I’m a vegetarian.” So, I always buy sour straws around Hazel cuz it’s safe… Chocolate, on the other hand…

Anyways, Hazel eats turkey, no problem… no other meat or gummy candies.

Back to this morning. I’m rushing around, getting the lunches ready and Barbara is literally just sitting there, watching my every move around the kitchen…

– Aren’t you going to give Craig a ham sandwich?

– No. He says the ham makes his lunch box smell bad and that he doesn’t want it.

– What? Why would he say that? Well give him the beef, he should like that beef, it’s sliced really thin… [3 more minutes of beef talk.]

I get the roast beef out to and start making a sandwich.

– Yes, that’s nice beef… Wait, how old is that beef? No, that’s about a week old… No, don’t give him that… Throw that out. And throw out the bread you put it on too.

Throw away the beef and bread. Think for a bit and then go for a can of tuna.

– No, craig doesn’t like that kind of tuna. Use the fresh stuff.

I put that can back. And go for a can that’s open and already in the fridge.

– Rachel, when you put tuna in the fridge, you should really put it in a sealed container.

– I didn’t put this in the fridge… But I’ll remind Marc and the kids of that.

– Oh, no. See, that tuna’s not fresh. Get another can. Throw that out.

This is where I start slamming things around and go mute. If Barbara and I were dating, this is the point where should would realize that she’s sleeping on the couch. I really can’t get over how she’s just sitting there directing me around the kitchen in circles.

– Rachel, we really need to give Craig some fruit in his lunch.

Silent treatment.

– Rachel, are you going to give Craig some fruit?

– He doesn’t eat it.

– Well, he needs some.

I look around and grab the closest piece of fruit to me that I know I don’t want… an old, red apple… perfect. Surprised that she doesn’t comment on the state of the apple, I start on Hazels lunch. We don’t have any turkey left, and I know Barbara will throw a fit if I give her a cheese sandwich, so I go for the Vegemite [which I find terribly disgusting].

– How often are you giving Hazel marmalade sandwiches for lunch?

– This is the first time this week… We’re out of turkey.

– Well, I can buy more turkey if we need it. Rachel, you should really spread butter on with that Vegemite.

– Hazel never spreads butter on hers.

– Oh, well she really should. I’ll tell her to spread butter on it. Yes, she always does spread butter on her Vegemite.

Wait. She “really should” or she “always does”? I’m confused. Regardless, I go for the butter. I give Hazel an apple and then reach to the top shelf of the cupboard to get her a cookie-bar thing… I have to hide these from the family so that there are some left for lunches…. and I’m done!

Barbara is still sitting at the counter in thought.

– Welp, Barbara, the kids lunches are packed. Can I get you anything?

– I was thinking I’d come home early and show you how to make spaghetti bolognese for dinner.

…..
Alright Barb, it’s not me… it’s you.

scooby doo and pecker rock.

I know that I’ve already posted today, but my amazing parents have turned my day around and I must share…

With a raging headache [that started at about 7:35am], I opened my email at about 1:30pm to find a precious email from my mother that reads:

“Dearest Rachel,

After reading your blogs and becoming more in tune to the precious moments in life, I have to pass this one on to you.

(At the grocery store by the milk case today)
4 year old boy says to his dad (seriously)
“Dad, what’s your favorite animal besides Scooby Doo?”

I didn’t hear dad’s response but I hope he cherished the question as much as I did.

Love you, babe.”

I LOVE IT. I laughed out loud and smiled for the first time today, which is sad. Anywho, thanks for sharing Momma… you are awesome.

And then you’ll never guess what I got in the mail… ANOTHER POSTCARD FROM MY POPS! I knew you wouldn’t be able to guess. Anywho, this one made me laugh real hard… maybe might be my favorite thus far.

Please Note: The first part of the card is actually true… Dad wasn’t trying to be funny…

front.

front.

back.

back.

It is addressed to “The Astute Rachel Stevens” and it reads… ahhhemmhemmhemm….

“2•10•9

Hay Sting Rae, My Grandpa & uncles climbed the stairs in the 30s & stood on top of the FACES. Your Grandpa’s name is on the memorial wall here. This yr Mom wants to drive behind the faces to look at their asses. I don’t want to because it always smells so bad there. You have to drive by Pecker Rock to get there. That’s always uplifting. After that we’re going to Flaccid Falls. It’s near Deadwood, which is downstream from the Hot Springs. I think whoever named all these places had a problem.

[heart]
BAD DADDY.

*I thought I saw Dolly Parton in this photo but it was just 2 bald headed men standing close together.”

I hope I’m as great as my folks someday.