Speak, then Think. No, wait. That might be backwards.

My life is funny. I get into a lot of trouble because of the things I say, often jokingly.

Take, for example, my dad's latest gift to me:

Last weekend, Dad had his once-in-a-lifetime Oryx hunt. I asked him last week if he was planning on having the thing mounted if he got one. He said no, because my brother Ben already has one up at the cabin (along with the rest of his menagerie). So, I (jokingly) said I'd put it up my house. And guess who shot an oryx? With the help of his hunting team (Uncle Leland driving the truck, Ben spotting it, Ben's father-in-law Dan helping my dad line up the gun, and my father pulling the trigger) Raymond, my father who in all his years of hunting has shot only a handful of animals, managed to take down what he called a "mature buck." I'm guessing this translates to "the old slow one that couldn't get away." Hahaha! I haven't actually seen it, because I'm not super-into dead animals, but I understand the horns are broken from years of fighting. But Dad says the taxidermist can fix it, and... he's giving it to me. He told my mom, "I'm having it mounted because Rachel really wants it." My mom was doubtful, but said, "Maybe she can hang it in her black-and-taupe guest room. It would look great in there." But no. Father says it must have a place of honor somewhere in the front of the house. Lesson: Be careful what you joke about. This is also why people used to always bring me motion-sickness bags from their airplane rides (clean ones, of course).

In other news, I read the BEST book this weekend:

If you haven't read something by Kate Morton yet, get to the library right now. I also love her other books, particularly

Honestly, this woman is brilliant. At once, you can't put her books down, but are loathe to finish them because they sweep you away into this brilliant, layered world of pleasure. There are always a few surprises here and there, even if you guess some of the mysteries in advance. Read Kate Morton!

Another book I turned to recently feels like an old favorite of mine, Emma Magenta's "A Gorgeous Sense of Hope." I picked it up a while ago on a whim, and it always makes me happy.

"Hope" hits close to home these days-- a friend and I reached a shaky armistice this weekend. I don't exactly feel better, but it's certainly a beginning.