Rachael, at 42, was proof that firecrackers came in human form. With her bright orange curls bouncing and lime green eyes that could outshine a Vegas slot machine, she was a walking party. Sure, four trips down the aisle had ended in "thanks for the memories," but Rachael traded vows for vintage vans and traded bouquets for bucket lists. No white picket fence for this free spirit, she was busy painting her own technicolor life, one adventure at a time.