How I Survived the First Week of School (RE-POST from 9/2/12)

This post was originally written in 2012. A few of the references are a little dated now, although we are headed toward an election once again . . .

 Here is how I survived the first week of school:

• I avoided coverage of the Republican National Convention (too crazy and a little depressing) . . . unless it was on The Daily Show or The Colbert Report.
• I ate leftovers all week. As an equal-opportunity-loving feminist, I would have been happy to let Dan cook for us. And Dan, also an equal-opportunity-loving feminist, would have been happy to do so. But we would have ended up eating cheese quesadillas every night.
• I repeated this mantra: "Labor Day is just around the corner."
• Caffeine! And only because Valium is a controlled substance.
• Chocolate! And only because Valium is a controlled substance.
• Zumba! A little healthier than Valium.
• I laughed with my colleagues. We have plenty of material at an elementary school.
• I focused on anecdotes like this: A little student of mine, who looks just like my brother did at age six, called a picture of a trumpet a "trump-bone." Adorable!

At the end of the first week of school, Dan and I were both comatose by 9:00, even though I had been the one herding six hundred kids all week.

"When can we retire?" he asked. He was having sympathy fatigue, I guess.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

As Summer Draws to a Close . . . (RE-POST from 8/22/15)

Summer is drawing to a close once again. It seems like it goes by quicker every year. Here is last year's summer's end blog post, originally published 8/22/15. 

My summer is drawing to a close in the best way possible. Unfortunately, because I am having such a great time, I am also finding it difficult to update my blog. I will just share a few of the highlights from the past couple of weekends. Maybe I'll be able to go into more detail later (especially about the cutie in the middle of the page) . . .

1. Rise Against: My husband, Dan, and I went to the Rise Against concert. Dan (yes, quiet Ninja Dan!) actually asked some strangers if we could share their table. This was mostly for my benefit since I have a hard time seeing at concerts. They were happy to share because it meant they could take smoke breaks, and we could save their seats. They also told us we looked about their age . . . twenty-four.

Best. Concert Friends. Ever.

2. Visiting My New Nephew: The morning after the concert, Dan and I drove to Pocatello to meet Desmond, my new nephew. He was only five days old at that time, and I am hoping to go into more detail in the next few weeks, once my schedule calms down. (P.S. I did get permission from my brother and sister-in-law to plaster these adorable photos all over my blog!)

This picture raised some eyebrows on Facebook, like, "Hey, look what happened to Dan and me over the weekend!"

This is the father, guys, calm down.

3. Rehearsals for Chess the Musical: Rehearsals are in full force for the latest production. I chose this as a highlight because I get to be in a show with, not only gorgeous music, but some of my favorite people as well. You may remember my "chess experience" blog post from a couple of weeks ago.

4. Shakespeare: Dan and I watched our penultimate Idaho Shakespeare Festival production for the season. It is always sad to have to wait another year for more Shakespeare, but we really enjoyed watching King Lear last weekend.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

Fear of Heights Strikes Again (RE-POST from 7/25/15)

Still afraid of heights . . . Enjoy reading this re-post from last summer, 7/25/15!

I have an issue with heights. Most of you know this already. My husband, Dan, is aware of this as well, but he still tricks me into situations that involve heights from time to time. In fact, Dan lured me into one of these predicaments over July 4th weekend.

"There's this cool waterfall past Trail Creek Summit. It's only a mile hike, and it has wheelchair access. It would be a nice leisurely trail before we head back to Boise. We should go," Dan said from our hotel room in Sun Valley.

Little did I know that "past Trail Creek Summit" meant driving a winding gravel road, over one thousand feet in elevation, with no railings protecting the sides. On the way up, I started to dread our return. I knew I would be the one dangling over the edge of the cliff that I could see out the driver's window as we crept up the mountain.

I was right. Coming back down was horrifying. During the times I dared peek out from between my fingers, it looked as though there was not even a lip of road protecting me from falling into the green and golden depths below.

As we drove down the gravel road, my meltdown started with me covering my eyes.

"Look at how pretty it is though," Dan said.

Pretty soon, my face was buried in my hands.

Dan had a difficult time hiding his amusement.

A few moments later, I turned my body away from the window and started bawling.

By this time, he was a little more sympathetic, "Oh no, Becky, don't cry," but he couldn't completely hide his amused grin.

Cars drove by us in the opposite direction. Each time, Dan had to pull over closer to the edge in order to let them pass us on the narrow road.

Once, we stopped by a group of motorcyclists, who were enjoying the view at one of the scenic overlooks and who didn't look at all bothered by the fact that they could easily stumble into the valley below. They did take a moment to stare at me though, the crazy passenger crying in the 4Runner driving past them.

"Oh no, this is embarrassing!" I moaned through my fingers.

I can't prove how horrendous this experience was because I have no pictures from the actual drive. All of our pictures during that trip were taken on flat land at the waterfall.

Later, Dan told me with a sigh, "I wish we could have stopped and gotten a picture, but that would have really sent you over the edge."

Asking myself, "Is the waterfall worth it?"

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

So . . . Our Washer Sounds Like a Machine Gun

The washer finally bit the dust. If you have been reading my blog the last few weeks, you know I have not had the best luck with my appliances this summer. Two weeks ago, I wrote about setting my dinner on fire and mentioned that the spin cycle on the washer sounded like a machine gun.

Apparently, the spin cycle on one's washer is not supposed to sound like a machine gun. Even though it worked for a while, despite the fact that my house sounded like a war zone on laundry days, eventually the washer decided it was tired and quit.

It's a good thing too. My husband, Dan, didn't believe that the spin cycle sounded like some kind of automatic weapon. He thinks I have a tendency to exaggerate. I called him at work one day so that he could hear it firsthand.

"THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT," and I held the phone up to the washer. "DO YOU HEAR THAT?"

"Not really," he said.

"WHAT?" I yelled into the receiver because I could barely hear him.

"I said, 'Not really.' It just sounds like you're standing in a lot of wind."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU CAN'T HEAR THAT GUN SOUND! CAN YOU JUST TAKE A LOOK AT IT SOMETIME? MAYBE SOMETHING NEEDS TO KICKED BACK INTO PLACE!"

"I'll look at it sometime."

"ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN'T HEAR THAT?"

Before he had a chance to look at the washer though, it was time to do laundry again.

Everything seemed to be normal, and by normal I mean it still sounded like a machine gun, but the machine seemed to be working. I even went for a run during the first load, came home, put that load in the dryer, started a second load, and got ready to shoot a commercial.

I was supposed to shoot a promo spot for a theater production in a neighboring city, forty minutes away. Getting in costume would equal just the amount of time it would take me to wash and dry that second load of laundry. I am an organized schedule fiend.

A while later, I noticed I hadn't heard the washing machine. I ventured into the laundry room, opened the lid, and found the second load of colors sitting in a vat of blue soapy water.

I called Dan.

While I was on the phone with him, I tried to reset the cycle. The clothes still just sat there, soaking.

"Oh wait, the motor's starting again!" I exclaimed, but then, "Um . . . okay, that smells like fire. The washing machine smells like fire! I don't think we want the machine running. I'm unplugging it."

"I'm on my way home," Dan said.

While waiting for Dan, I started to ring out our clothing, piece by piece, and empty them into the dryer. By the time he got home, I had to leave to shoot the commercial. I charged him with the task of getting the second load into the dryer, calling a repair person, and scooping the sitting water into a mop bucket which he then dumped into the street gutter. Our neighbors have to love us.

We did try to turn on the washer one more time, and it still smelled like fire. I haven't had a good track record with appliances that catch on fire lately, so we quickly unplugged the machine again.

The good news is, the repair person came over the next day and was able to fix the washer right then and there. (We used the same local service from "The Day the Fridge Went Bad." We've had good luck with them.)

No more fire smell. No more machine gun sound. It could have been way worse.

What the hell?

I'm supposed to shoot a promo right now (hence the 1900's era dress),

but instead, I'm dealing with a washer that sounds like a machine gun.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.