Even though I knew it was Henry’s birthday, I signed us up a few weeks ago for a Children’s Hospital charity walk. My friend Todd had his own walking team for it and when I found out about it, I was like DID SOMEONE SAY WALKING? You know I love me some walking! Especially when it comes with an event t-shirt! Henry is a good sport and didn’t mind (too much) having to leave the house pre-7AM in order to drive around Oakland looking for somewhere to park before festivities commenced at 8AM. We ended up parking in one of CMU’s parking garages and cutting through their campus to get to the designated meeting spot.

I’m still v. annoyed with CMU and the whole college application process. I hope fucking Suri Cruise is enjoying her time in MY SON’S SPOT. (LOL j/k but NO RLY.) I’m actually glad he opted not to piss around on the second round of wait-listing because he really loved Drexel and being outside of Pittsburgh. Plus, he has a life at Drexel and isn’t on the brink of a nervous breakdown like these CMU kids are.

Pre-walk cold brew acquisition from the Roaming Bean. They had stuffed snickerdoodles there and Henry was ogling them to an uncomfortable degree and I thought for sure he’d treat himself since it was his birthday and god knows I treated him with nothing, lol.

(THE MAN NEVER WANTS ANYTHING, OK!?!?!?!? I was nice to him all day at least and if anything, I sacrificed A LOT by refraining from bossing him around.)

Anyway, what a great event! There were lots of vendors and free snacks (I had a banana and Smiley cookie — the breakfast of Pgh champions!), Zumba on a stage which would have been better if PAUL EUGENE was leading it, but they did play a Blackpink song which was cool I guess.

One of our other work friends, Sharon, also joined Todd’s team with her husband Dave and daughter Lillian so that was really nice too! Sharon is one of my faves and it was nice when I was still going into the office post-pandemic on Tuesdays because she was usually also there but then I just gradually stopped doing that and now we don’t have our own floor anymore and I hate going on some alien floor like I’m a visitor, having to share a space with STRANGERS UGHHHH.

Sorry, that was a little side rant. So very unlike me.

FINISH LINE!

So one of the things that I had to laugh at is that there was a booth there giving away kids pillows. I’m sure if I had gone over to the booth and actually paid attention, I would have understood what was going on but instead I just walked by and thought nothing of it. Then Sharon’s husband Dave decided right before the walk started to go and grab one even though their kids are teenagers. He came back with a Minecraft pillow and I was like, “OMG I BET CHOOCH WOULD LOVE THAT” so I sent Henry off to get one. By that point, it was slim pickins and the Minecraft ones were gone. Dave and Sharon both were like, “Please just take this one honestly, we don’t really need it” and Sharon ESPECIALLY was like, “I’m not kidding, I don’t want that in my house.” LOL. Dave even said he’d carry it through the route for us and I was like, “I mean, if you’re sure…” and their daughter did not seem like she cared either way, so now we have a Minecraft pillow to surprise Chooch with when he comes home next week! I know he’s going to be like, “Wow cool” in that shitty tone but then he’s going to be snuggling it in the care when we drive him home after his break.

THOSE KIDS WERE SO ADORABLE. You know that means something coming from me! The girl with the purple shirt on—Egypt—was like a mini-adult. I was a big fan of hers!

Anyway, it was honestly such a great start to the weekend. Todd and Brittany are two of my favorite people so it’s always fun seeing them, and their friends and family were so down to earth and welcoming! Hopefully they do this again next year because I’m in!

Also! You can see the neon yellow wristbands on some of us– there was a vendor handing out SLAP BRACELETS. I used to love those little bitches so much! It made me launch into a spiel later that day, a spiel that I am positive Henry has heard before, about how I was so obsessed with them back in the day (“Doesn’t surprise me,” Henry murmured) and one time, when I went to FRONTIER DAYS in Ligonier with my friend Kristin and her parents in elementary school, I spent all the money my mom had given me on SLAP BRACELETS because there were shops that had DESIGNS I DID NOT ALREADY HAVE IN MY COLLECTION.

Do you remember how they became outlawed because kids were allegedly getting sliced with defective ones?

Back at home, Henry was examining the one I got that day and made some offhand comment about the tape measure inside of it and I was like, “OK, WAIT, WHAT NOW??? THAT IS WHAT IS INSIDE THESE THINGS?!?!?”

And he said that’s how the original ones where made, with whatever the tape measure metal is!?!?!?

MIND BLOWN. Henry spitting facts as always, no break on his birthday.

We went home, ate lunch and relaxed for a while, then went to a brewery of the birthday boy’s choosing out in Jeannette. I decided that since it was a special occasion, I could break my month-long beer fast. (Just so you know, my choosing to not drink beer anymore is 100% about vanity and weight management, so I’m not like “falling off the wagon” or anything!)

But first, when there are “wall wings,” there’s me bossing Henry into a pose!

This was the foyer of Sobel’s Obscure Brewery! Because I’m a thorough investigative blogger, I looked at their website and found that this space was once an Historic 1903 Department Store (their capitalization, not mine!).

That’s the owner! He was very friendly. I sampled the Monkey Business brown ale and immediately went for a full pour of that.

It was DELECTABLE. Reds and browns for me, please.

Henry got a flight. I have been steering clear of flights because they make me feel sick afterward whereas one fill pour (or 2 half pours) don’t. Maybe it’s psychosomatic but in my head, it feels like mixing liquor and even now just thinking about a flight sitting in front of me made my stomach roil. Is there a science to this or am I just being weird as usual?

Since it was the middle of the afternoon, we were one of only about 3 groups there. It was a very pleasant experience! I only wish that the music would have been a little bit louder because it was almost eerily quiet in there.

I liked this place so much that I made Henry buy a glass.

It started raining really hard while we were there so we split a honey wheat while we waited out the storm.

I am really liking this new “season” (ugh, I hate when people say that yet here I am being One of Them) of our lives. It’s nice to have been with someone for so long but still have so much to talk about—well, that’s 90% accredited to me, the resident yapper. I always have shit to say. But it was just really fun sitting there and talking about the recent Cold concert, and past Cold concerts, and what we’re looking forward to at this year’s Riot Fest, and just concerts in general! MUSIC IS MY FAVORITE THING TO TALK ABOUT and thank god Henry can keep up.

After it stopped raining, we walked around a bit before driving back home. I loved this mural!

Can I be so for real for a second though and talk about how Henry is OOAK? Like, all men should be modeled after him. He is basically a feminist (I mean, I taught him though), he hates Trump, he is an ally, he is patient and reliable, he puts literally everyone else before himself (not always the greatest thing because SELF-CARE IS IMPORTANT TOO but you can’t train an old dog, etc etc), talks softly to the squirrels and bunnies when he passes them in the yard and driveway, and takes care of the most basic tasks so that I have more free time to paste things in my journal and do YouTube workouts or god knows whatever I’m into that week. This is why everyone likes him more than me, and after 20+ years I think I am finally OK with that. I get it, you guys! I get it. Lol.

He is so amazing that on HIS BIRTHDAY, he walked down the street to a local record shop and bought me tickets to two upcoming shows that I have been clamoring on about (Armor for Sleep and Royal Coda). On HIS BIRTHDAY. Ugh, I love that oaf.

Henry is the best. Like that’s news to anyone.

Wednesday night,  Chooch was over Janna’s house, making her family think he’s some kind of angel or something. Feeling inspired to listen to something other than the stack of MP3 CDs I have in the car, I backpeddled to one of my CD racks, closed my eyes, and plucked out a CD by the Pale to listen to on my way to pick up Chooch. (Yes, a CD! Remember those?) I vaguely remember liking The Pale enough to put them on mixes back in the day – I think this might have been circa 2003-4. I also vaguely remember that they changed their name to the Pale Pacific sometime after the release of this album and I never really followed them after that.

The first song didn’t really move me much, but by the time the opening notes of the second tracks filled my freezing car, I was 24 years old again, it was spring time, and Henry and I were walking in a cemetery. And then I listened to the words, really listened, and suddenly my face was wet and I was murmuring “Aw” out loud and I swear to you, the last eight years of my life flashed by and it hit me, fucking cold-cocked me in the face, and not that I didn’t already know, but I was taken over by this overwhelming realization of how lucky I am to have Henry. Yes, I said it! I have fucked up so many times that it’s almost like, why get a job? I have one! I work in the Fucking-Up Lab. And somehow Henry forgives me every time (though he keeps track).

I am the one who can solve all your problems
A savior with only you to save
That’s why I’m here
At least I tell myself that
The motivation becomes so blurred

Henry’s always picking up the pieces (sometimes quite literally, because I’m a destructive wild woman), always making sure I don’t run off with a razor blade/bottle of sleeping bills/keys to the car, always supporting me even when everyone else is placing bets for me to fail.

And you want them to see
And you want them to know
But they never find the real you
You never once complained
But now twenty years are gone
And you’re ready to explode

That’s me, Vesuvius Rachelle.

In light of recent events, I’ve just been finding perspective everywhere. In music, in my little family, in my underwear. It doesn’t matter if not everyone appreciates you, as long as that one person does. So, I don’t know. I guess, thank you Henry. And don’t get too used to these PDAs.

The Pale – Gravity Gets Things Done

We spent the afternoon at Henry’s sister Kelly’s house yesterday.

It was a nice time, for sure, but when Kelly pulled out some old photo albums, it was ON. Typically, I can go hogwild making fun of a gawky teen Henry wearing bitchin’ shades, high-waisted pants, and steepling his fingers. (Seriously, he steeples his fingers more than sinister cartoon crime lords.)

But then Kelly slipped me a strip of photobooth pics taken at Kennywood in 1974.

(For those of you who are bad at math, that is FIVE YEARS before I was born.

To spell that out: HENRY IS WAY OLDER THAN ME.

)

And aside from the idiotic gaping maw pose he’s got going in the last photo (he claims this was back when an actual person was in there taking the pictures and telling you how to pose), there wasn’t much I could say other than “OMG aw” and “SWOON.”

I also want to add that I’m thankful he doesn’t still have the pervy beer-drinkin’ molester look he had going on in his twenties.

Oh dear Lord, I found this old post from Mother’s Day 2007 when I was looking for something and I haven’t publicly made a mockery of Henry in so long, like an entire month maybe, so excuse me while I indulge in a re-post.

It had quickly become my dying wish, this one thing that I wanted last week. The desire for this favor was so great, like I could die from the sheer want of it all. The extremity of it had far surpassed my dream of starting a jump rope league, and was at least on par with the Robert Smith / Lydia Lunch personal journal conquest of 2001, where my insanity had reached such high summits that I was ready to sell my car to finance the purchase.  If I had to put it in terms that the rational populace might understand,  I might liken the obsession to dreams of aquiring a new house or the incessant need to check yourself for venereal diseases.

This obsession overtook each of my senses: a palpable vinegar pool of yearning swirling on my tongue; the sneering visage of an undulating Satan dangling my dire longing before my eyes; a needling Siren song of excruciating taunt engulfing my ears. And Henry was the only one who could make it go away.

When I initially presented him with my proposition on a Monday, Henry seemed perplexed, probably from his deep-seeded inherent fantasies surging forth. To camouflage his interest, he instead scoffed and rather quickly became sucked back into Food Network. Broaching the sensitive topic on Tuesday resulted in an equivocal “We’ll see,” which I’m truly talented at converting to the far affirmative side of the Erin Gets Her Way spectrum.

By that Wednesday, he was putty in my hands. It could have been over and done with in a mere two minutes, the butterfly finally in my net, but I had to push my luck as usual.

“Why don’t we take this outside for a second?”

When he reluctantly agreed, I pushed further.

“Across the street and by that tree.”

And the foot came down.

We didn’t talk for nearly an hour.

Using Mothers Day as leverage, I finally got what I wanted.

Hey, if you got the legs to rock it….

Notice the stark contrast between the ones where he was pushed out of his comfort zone and this next one, where he was clearly in his Pretty Girlie Sue Sue element and patiently waiting his turn to strike a pose on the catwalk, as Robert smiles down some moxie on him from the background.

Hello. It took me TWO HOURS to copy and paste that last fucking post.

Apparently, I’m not allowed to edit it, but I should just be thankful that WordPress allowed  me to publish it AT ALL considering it completely devoured my last attempt, which was actually formatted correctly, and left no evidence that it was ever posted.

So I apologize for the pisspoor, hard to read formatting, and I apologize to my subscribers for basically getting spammed by me today.

I’m really fucking over this whole blog thing, motherfuck.

I need to go jab myself with something sharp.

L8r.

EDIT: I love u Henry. Marry me.

Henry just sent me this picture of THE GIRL that he nabbed in the library. I am overjoyed, seriously tickled to the brightest pink in the apples of my cheeks.

And not only because he gifted me with another secret picture of THE GIRL to add to my collection, but also because my very own Henry has finally, after seven years of being my reluctant beau, succumbed to the dark and seedy underworld of stalking.

Take my hand, Henry; you’ll be safe down here with me.

When I gave birth to Chooch, Henry slept at the hospital every night. Maybe it was because he was afraid he’d get his nads lopped off if he didn’t, but it was still a fair indication of how he was going to be as a father: very hands-on and always there. You know, the kind of father I never had.

Chooch and Henry are attached at the hip. They go grocery shopping together, they practically live at Target, and sometimes Chooch even gets to go to Henry’s workplace with him. (He loves it there because it’s a juice warehouse.) Henry does all the hard stuff, like cook actual well-balanced meals for him (as opposed to my popcorn-for-breakfast and freezepops-for-lunch methodology). He gets him strapped into the carseat in less than a minute without pinching skin. (It takes me three times a long and I usually hurt myself.)

Henry makes sure I don’t teach Chooch knife-throwing and flame-eating; that I don’t teach him how to build bombs and invent creative obscenities. Henry makes sure Chooch likes and respects other people and never runs out of diapers and juice. Henry never leaves him in the car with the windows up or snorts rails of coke off his ass. Henry’s catchphrase is "Don’t listen to your mother."

Henry has the daunting task of being the responsible parent. Henry is the father I never had.

While it remains to be seen if Henry and I will live happily ever after, at least I know Chooch will always have a dependable dad.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dad-dudes out there.

Today, I took Chooch over my friend Jess’s. Usually I don’t have a car during the day, so whenever I go out with Chooch, Henry is with us too. But today was the day of Independence, so I loaded Chooch and all his shit in the car and after fifteen minutes of struggling with the car seat straps and retrieving all the shit I forgot in the house, we were finally ready to go.

We had to stop at CVS first to pick up some stuff for Jess. Apparently, Chooch is perfect when Henry takes him to the store. But with me, it’s always game time, so he was trying to get me to spin in circles and then wanted me to sit on the floor with him and he was pulling me in a trillion directions so I ended up having to hold him while we were in line and some old man was causing a ruckus over toilet paper and I was like, "Just pay for it, asshole, can’t you see I’m holding a eighty thousand pound toddler?"

After we left, I called Henry to tell him I appreciate him, because I can’t imagine being a single mom and having to do this shit on my own all the time. I get frazzled easily so I was nearly in tears, after struggling with the car seat again, and I think I ended the phone call by whimpering, "And I’m pretty sure his shoes aren’t on right." Pretty much the jokiest mother ever. Seriously, I’m useless. Unless it involves running around, screaming, and making up monster voices.

I even texted a heartfelt  "I<3u" to Henry again, out of desperation, and I think it had an effect on him because he bought me a new camera. Yes Henry, I’m keeping you. A proposal might be nice, too, though. Just a suggestion.

Jess just had a baby a week ago and named him Gavin. It was Chooch’s first time around a baby.  He was enrapt, confused, suspicious, annoyed, enamored all at once; his head was probably very near-explosion. Naturally, the first thing he did was go straight for the soft spot with his fist. He kept saying, "Baby!" and doing the sign for it. Then he was trying to tickle him, I think? I don’t know, but he was stabbing the baby with his finger and saying "diddle diddle" and it was weird. Usually, he puts up a good struggle when it comes time to have his diaper changed, but when he saw Jess changing Gavin’s diaper, he pulled me off the couch and said, "Uh-oh, pee" and patted his diaper. Then he layed down, willingly, on the floor, and remained calm and still while I changed him. If only it was always like that.

He started to get annoyed at the lack of attention, though. His remedy for that was standing on his head, slamming into walls, and performing a small sign language show for us. Then he would fall on purpose and say, "SOWWY!" Yes Chooch, we’re watching you. Yes Chooch, you’re amazing. I think it was his way of saying, "That baby is ok, but let’s not bring one home." Chooch, I just got my fat ass down to a size medium, so don’t worry: there are no babies in my future.

Happy Valentine’s Day! So far, Henry hasn’t made me want to kill myself. I finally got to present him with the Vietnam Veteran belt buckle I bought him from etsy. It’s flooding with gold-plated hokeyness. When it fell out of the bag and into his palms, he kind of stared at it with that amazing brand of disbelief that you hope every gift recipient is addled with, and then he looked at me, his mustache creeping into a confused smile, and he said, "But I wasn’t in Vietnam….?"

"But you were in THE SERVICE! Same thing." I was still standing there, waiting for him to attach it to his belt.

"No, if this said Air Force, that would make sense. Then it would be the Service…" He flipped it over to look at the lavishly coated back.

"Well, just wear it. No one will know you’re not a Vietnam Vet." I was getting annoyed, and I really wanted MY present.

"Yes they will! I’m like, twenty years too young!" And then I couldn’t stop laughing, imagining Henry being "too young" for something.

"Like I said," I repeated, "no one will notice!"

And then he realized he doesn’t have the right kind of belt for a buckle, but I think he was trying to just get out of wearing it. I knew I should have bought the rainbow one that had "JESUS" emblazoned on it.

Then UPS hurled my present against the front door. Henry, further enabling my wanton lust for living in the past, gifted me with a bottle of Versace Red Jeans, one of my favorite scents as a young slut. The gift box was adorned with an elastic red ribbon, which is now being worn as a headband, so I’m pretty content right now.

And we’re going to Columbus next weekend! This sure beats the time he bought me a Fossil watch for Valentine’s Day, using a gift card my mom got me for Christmas.