Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
So, if you at all read Kei's photography blog (see my sidebar) you know that in Washington, we have lots of snow! For once, that is; normally in western Washington we get merely a couple of inches a couple of times a year. But in this last week, it has snowed 14 inches! We are having a blast. (Yes, all you people out there who get a foot of snow every week may laugh at my enthusiam.)
Anyway, we were supposed to have a blizzard and a giant power outage on Saturday, but it never really happened. Our family knew it wouldn't happen. How did we know? We merely paid attention to one of the primary laws of nature: If you prepare for any kind of extreme weather (blizzards, high temperatures, windstorms) it won't happen. If you don't prepare, it will. This law is referred to as the law of "Contrarius Naturae." [aka Murphy's law to the old fogies] Because we did not desire a power outage, we made the usual preparations for one: purchasing fire logs, candles, pre-cooked food etc. So, we didn't have a power outage. (Just joking-God has his hand in all things)
The fire logs were the processed kind, owing to the fact that all our wood was wet. If you can believe it, written in gigantic letters on the package of logs were the words,
"CAUTION: RISK OF FIRE."
Bracie, Giles, Ava and I have been enjoying the pasttime of sledding. We have been out in the snow sledding almost constantly, except two nights ago we left the sleds out and now we are having difficulty locating them under the snow. We'll have to go hunt around.
Here is a ten second video we made at Church on Sunday.
Featuring Bracie as "The Antagonist"
And introducing Nate as "The Provoked"
Camera crew: Me!
Friday, December 19, 2008
Morals are only tolerable when the are subtle.
Good Example: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
Bad Example: Any Aesop's fable.
Do people generally like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat? (Rhetorical question: the answer is no) Obvious, glaring morals produce a very similar sensation to that of getting hit over the head.
Anyway, I didn't start this post to teach about morals. What I wanted to do was show you the absolute worst, most glaringly garish moral ever. I found it in a book called, A Hive of Busy Bees.
It would take forever to type it all out, so here is the summary:
"Little Davy" finishes eating a delicious lunch with his friend. They decide to go fishing, but before they can leave, Little Davy's mom asks him to do the dishes.
"Awww, Mom! I don't wanna do the dishes! You do them," says Davy.
"I just don't feel very well." Mrs. LittleDavy'smom says. She "gently rubs her temple."
Davy hollers, "I don't care!" and races out the door with his friend to go fishing.
After several hours of fun fishing, Little Davy comes home. He sees his mother sleeping in a chair.
"Hey mom, what's fer dinner?" he asks, but receives no answer. "What's for dinner?"
Slightly concerned, he walks over and shakes her. "Mom? MOM!!!" Little Davy realizes that his mother is DEAD, killed by the exertion of housekeeping. In horror, Davy looks over at the counter, and there sit the dinner dishes, spotlessly clean.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I'm baaaack! Back after a lovely week, er, beginning with my cousins and Grandma. We went Christmas shopping. It was grand, but it is good to be home.
I am home to my family. Home to our beautiful Christmas tree. Home to our stockings hung on the mantle with care. Home to my cozy bedroom,
and the closet that explodes when you open it. Ahhhh, what would we do without life's little perks?
Sunday, December 14, 2008
However, its magical fishy properties render it a wonderful stimulant for the cerebrum. Or something like that. So it's supposed to make you smarter. That's enough to make me take it, oh, a several times a week.
But it is a thing of wonder to watch Ava and Milo snarf them. They simply bring a new meaning to the word clamor. They hang around the vitamen cuboard, chanting "fish-oil, fish-oil, fish-oil!" If Milo wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, er, crib, we hand him a fish oil, and BINGO, instant smile. Ditto for Ava. Fish-oils also make wonderful bribes,
"Milo, eat your mashed potatos and I'll give you a fish-oil!"
"Ava, finish cleaning up those toys, or NO FISH-OIL!"
I can make them perform tricks for a fish-oil: "Roll over, bark, lie down, sit upand beg and I'll give you two a fish-oil." They actually do it!
So those are two little kids building up their brains who will probably rule the world someday with their superior, fish-oil stimulated brains.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Today alone, our family received 6 Christmas cards.
This season, for the very first time, people all over the earth need to take a stand; a stand against the destruction of our natural resources and the draining of the poor postal workers' time, a stand against Christmas cards!
Do you know that every Christmas season, fifty-three million trees give their lives to become stationary? Do you realize that postal workers are forced to work countless extra hours to keep up with the grueling work that those Christmas cards make for them? ("Every night I come home at 3:00, exhausted, weary, and unable to interact with my family. I have come to hate the Christmas season." -Louisa Laborawi, Postal Worker)
I know you, gentle readers. I feel your anguish. I see the tears running down your faces. You, upon hearing this shocking news instantly wake up and resolve to put a stop to this. "But how?" you ask yourself. Then, you quickly scroll down to find out.
The answer is relatively simple, and when I say relatively simple, I mean, so-simple-an-amoeba-could-do-it. It is: follow my family's excellent example and don't send a Christmas card at all. Yep, folks, we have been way ahead of everyone else on this issue, and we never send Christmas cards.
Alright, alright, so we're just lazy, we hate addressing envelopes, and I just made up the above information. So for everyone out there who has been mad at us for never sending you a card when you've sent us one for the last umpteenth years, just know that we love you anyway. And for everybody else who doesn't know me, go ahead and send your Christmas cards. And for all you select few who never send anyone a Christmas card, give yourself a pat on the back.
The video below was taken while Mom and Dad were gone for the weekend at a retreat. We children stayed at home with our dear Grandma. Her back was turned.
I got myself into some slight trouble by taking this video. Why? Milo used to have a problem with "roaring," as you may have seen in the above video. However, this problem was corrected by sticking him in the crib about every other time he roared. Realizing that he could not "express" himself by roaring, Milo took to "sniffing" and got rather good at it. Milo's sniffing is not appreciated by his parents, so my encouraging sniffing was consquently not, er, appreciated.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Last night I sat up in bed, aroused by a deep desire to gain some specific knowledge. But what knowledge, you may ask yourself is important enough to keep Ophelia from her precious and most valuable sleep? The answer is that I was struck with a longing to know what the word, "Salubrious" means.
It is actually quite strange that I have never given a second thought to words like "avuncular" and "lithogenous" and "anthropomorphism" but I in the middle of the night I sat up in bed wishing to know what salubrious means. Salubrious is probably a word I should know, and I most likely sound foolish by writing that I didn't know the definition. However, if I resolved not to say anything that might make me look foolish, I wouldn't ever say anything.
Anyway, last night I sat in my bunk pondering possible meanings for the word, "salubrious" and musing on the fact that salubrious rhymes with lugubrious. As I said before, I had a deep desire to discover the definition of salubrious, but unfortunately it was not quite deep enough! That is, it was not quite a deep enough desire to persuade me to leave the cozy comfort of my bunk in pursuit of knowledge. Likely enough salubrious meant something dull, for example; "pertaining to great Spanish literature written in the pre-Cervantes era"
If I am lazy, I am not forgetful, so today I looked it up. If you are at all interested in knowing like I was last night, the exact definition of "salubrious" is as follows:
"favorable to or promoting health; healthful: salubrious air."
Example: "He made himself a salubrious sandwich composed of germinated wheat bread, peanut butter, whey protein powder and kale."
Now that I know what this important and often used word (riiiiiight...) means I can count myself an intelligent and educated person. Okay, enough learnin' fer one day; I'm gonna go watch uh muvie.
Monday, December 8, 2008
I must say I have always had a sort of unhealthy disrespect for bloggers who write book reviews. This is a very negative aspect of my character and in the past, when I have debated with myself whether or not to write a book review, the negative aspect has always conquered.
But after reading Leave It to Psmith, I have overcome my unhealthy disrespect in my eagerness to share my new favorite book.
Ah! Here we see my little sister Ava. She is four. We have more pictures of her than any other member of the family because she is the only one who doesn't scream and hide if Mom whips out the camera.
She is also the only person with blonde hair in our family. I think she is a doll.
The Boring Interview
Me: Ava what do you think of blogs?
Ava: What? I like them maybe.
Me: What about them do you like?
Ava: Can I have a piece of paper?
Me: Do you want a blog?
Ava gravely shakes her head.
Ava: Because I want to draw on a piece of paper.
Me: Okay, forget the whole blogging thing what are you going to draw?
Ava: Flowers! And a horsey.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
In spite of all you people who liked that other layout, I am changing back to my simple old one. I will now watch you other-layout-lovers suffer in intense agony by having to look at the plain template.
No, that isn't really how I feel. I actually changed my profile picture to a normal picture to appease the other-layout-lovers' feelings.
Friday, December 5, 2008
like a brick in quicksand. Wait a minute, that's a really lame, if accurate simile. Oh well.
Anyway, so what was the reason behind this sudden nose-dive off my spirits? I saw that in just inside the building was a metal detector! My eyes widened in fright, and I assumed the stance of a hunted deer.
Let me stop right here. Some people collect butterflies, some spoons, some post cards, some pretty china, and many stamps. What I collect triggers alarms when I pass through metal detectors, and it isn't spoons. I (along with several good friends who shall remain nameless) collect pocket knives. They are very practical and collectible.
"Mom," I whispered, worried that my precious knife would get confiscated like the last one (at an airport,) "I think I'll go sit in the car."
My mother did not take to the idea.
"Ophelia," she said, "This is Seattle, and I'm not going to leave you in the car. Besides, this is a family outing and we are going to stick together. Why do you want to stay in the car?" she began to ask, but then it was her turn to walk through the condemning metal arch. I watched Giles and Ava go through. No one remained but Bracie and me. I smiled at her weakly and faced the inevitable; it was my turn. First, I carefully placed my bag on the moving counter so that it would feed through the scanner. Then, I removed my pocket knife from, guess where, my pocket, and placed in on the tray. Bravely, I stepped through the metal detector and came out without setting off the alarm.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
We cut our Christmas tree! Hurrah! And it has personality, lots, really. Actually, that just means that it has a crooked top. We had a nice, jolly time hunting around in the mountains for an absolutely perfect tree.
And I know you are just dying to see some family pictures, so here goes:
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Well, folks, today, in Western WA, we had our first frost. For crying out loud! It's the 20-somethingth of November! What's the matter with the weather? It was cold all summer, and now it's warm and muddy all fall. Frosts are supposed to come in October.
Sorry, I just had to bore you all out with my weather woes.
Anyway, for the next couple of days, I get to go over to Eastern WA, where hopefully there will be some SNOW! But that's hopefully.
Are you all feeling nice and thankful, and akin to strict villagers in white aprons, and shoes and hats with buckles? Once, when I was 7, I wrote a horrid play in which Squanto goes to visit the pilgrims. I just about died at how ridiculous it was when I read it lately. Mom thinks it's cute, so she insists on keeping a million copies of it. I suppose when I'm 30-something I'll go over it again and it will just touch my heart and I'll reminisce about my childhood. I guess I'll be thankful then. (Haha! get it? Thankful, and it's almost Thanksgiving! Bwa ha Ha! Pretty punny, huh? No, not really. As George MacDonald says in his book, the Light Princess, "The most objectional form duplicity can assume is that of punning.")
Well, have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Feel sentimental all weekend.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
I hate shoes. I never wear them if I can help it. Bracie and Libby are also staunch supporters of barefeet. I go barefoot until Welfare calls mom, (usually around Feb.) and then I figure it's time to put something on my feet. =D The natural state of barefeet is good for the soul, and besides, you toes look weird if you wear shoes all your life.
Everybody else who hates shoes and loves barefeet raise your hand (comment!). I think I'll start a club and call it, "The Barefeet Club." I would say, "The Barefoot Club," but "barefeet" has a more musical, harmonious ring to it. Applications for membership are now open. I think I'll make a little picture gadget for my side bar that you can copy or something if you'd like to join.
P.S. As a depressing side note, we might as well go barefoot, because 98.7% of America's shoes are imported.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Okay, so the general consensus (according to the people who commented) was that my blog template was boring and BLAH. So I, caring deeply about my gentle readers opinions, changed it, even though I didn't want to. I'm such a martyr!
Now, I really, really don't like this new one. I think it's way to bright, but not original enough. The Reluctant Dragon blog layout ought to scream, "Quirky!" and "Unusual!" and "Super awesome!" Not like the last one did, but it was better! I guess I'm just rejecting any hint of change and throwing a fit. Sort of like Pat of Silver Bush, for the minority out there that has actually read that book.
So, I want YOU! (Picture me here pointing a strangely foreshortened arm and extended pointer finger at you while I'm wearing striped pants and a top hat that defies the laws of perspective.)
... To tell me whether I should go back to the old, safe background or stick with this ugly one or get a very scrapbookish looking one.
Please? Pleeease? It doesn't have to be an essay, hey, if you want to, just write "ew" in the comment section if you don't like this new template.
So, comment! (And thanks to all of you who commented last time.)
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
P.S. YES! I can now post videos! I believe I can safely say that I'll post more often.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
(Note: To read the first episode, click HERE)
Inspector Winderby: (grimly) “Don’t put on an act when you’ve already let too much slip. And don’t say “him” to me after you told me it was a woman, you most likely, who murdered the girl.”
Penelope: (wonderingly) Me? Me? How could you even suspect me of killing a person? What a low, dirty thing to do. I would never dream of it!”
Inspector Winderby: (dazedly) “But you said- You confessed to have murdered Charity Ellison!” Penelope: (indignantly) “There you go, putting words in my mouth. You ought to be ashamed. Besides, I said I did it, not that I murdered somebody.”
Inspector Winderby: (still dazedly) “But how could you do it without murdering Miss Ellison?”
Penelope: (superiorly) “My dear fellow, are you so ignorant that you have never heard of a class of people called evil hench-people? I’m quite disappointed in you.”
Sunday, November 16, 2008
For those of you who haven't realized already...
Asher and Trey aren't really my second cousins. Asher and Trey aren't really Asher and Trey. Asher and Trey don't really exist.
And now the terrible truth comes out:
Asher and Trey are really Ophelia and Bracie.
Yes, folks, it's true. These strapping young gentlemen are actually the talented, clever, beautiful and humble Ophelia and Bracie.
Er, um, wait a minute. Wrong Ophelia and Bracie. These are the ugly stupid Bracie and Ophelia.
That's better. Anyway, aren't you shocked? Actually, probably most of you guessed and thought it was quite hilarious.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
And finally mine. Isn't it super awesome? Huh? Huh?
For all you who couldn't guess, it's MASTER CHIEF! The one, the only. Isn't that awesome?
WHAT! You don't know who Master Chief is? How could you? He has his own wikipedia article.
Ah, well, I guess nobody shares my enthusiasm. It is after all just a video game that I never actually play.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Today, I opened up my blogging account and clicked on "create post." Then... I, I, I sat there and I didn't know what to write! My mind was blanker than a sea monkey. I frantically racked my brain for suggestions, "Uh, How sorry I am that I haven't posted? No, I'm not that sorry. How annoyed I am that I can't load a video? No, if I write about that I'll bore my readers."
So now, I'm writing about how I can't think of anything to blog about. Which is, if I really think about it, momentous. I can almost always think of something. Perhaps I have run dry. Horrors! Or maybe I just too tired from staying up until midnight for the last three nights.
I apologize for not posting lately. You see, I really have been busy because we have had out of town guests with daughters my age, which means late nights.
Every time I try to post, I try to post a video. I wait for a long time for the video to load, and then a little window pops up that says "We're sorry, contact us and include the following information blah, blah, blah." Somehow, since this has been happeing for the last month, I highly doubt that they are actually sorry.
I just posted about everything that I decided I wouldn't. However, I'm not very sorry. I wonder what this says about my character?
Friday, November 7, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Inspector Winderby: (wearily) “Suspect number fourteen, please come forward. Name, please?”
Penelope: (brightly)“Miss Penelope Alexandria Juliana Faullty. With two l’s if you please.”
Inspector Winderby: (automatically) “Miss Faullty, can you supply any information regarding this recent unpleasant business?”
Penelope: (uncertainly) “Must I tell the truth?”
Inspector Winderby: (incredulously) “That, Miss, is why you were sworn in!”
Penelope: (doubtfully) “I raised my left hand instead of my right. Doesn’t that make a difference?”
Inspector Winderby: (sternly) “Not in the least!”
Penelope: (reluctantly) “Well, (sniff) it was… (sniff) me.”
Inspector Winderby: (loudly) “You! What did you say your name was?”
Penelope: (slowly) “Miss Penelope Alexandria Juliana Faullty. With two L’s.”
Inspector Winderby proceeds to attempt to put handcuffs on Penelope.
Penelope: (tearfully) “Handcuffs! The idea of putting handcuffs on a lady. You will make me cry!” Penelope begins to sniffle profusely.
Inspector Winderby: (unsympathetically) “Fancy calling a confessed murderer a lady. A lady spends her time doing much more charitable things than committing murder.”
Penelope: (indignantly) “You are taking an unstable position on the conduct of ladies. In not so many words: you are quite wrong. They kill people all the time; it is merely that they are excellent at putting the blame on somebody else.”
Inspector Winderby: (severely) “Er… never mind all that. Why did you kill Miss Charity Ellison?”
Monday, November 3, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
My dear, gentle and maybe slightly aggravated readers, I, known only to you as Ophelia, deeply apologize.
I sincerely hope that you are asking, "Why, since she's so perfect, is she apologizing?" but I highly doubt it.
I've been a bad, bad girl. Last night, my mother took me aside and showed me the errors of my ways.*Gasping followed by sobbing pierces the air* Punctuation errors. And Grammar errors. Lots of them. What you see now is the corrected version.
My main problem is that I am addicted to commas. I tend to throw rules to the wind and follow my heart when it comes to punctuation because it's so much more expressive that way. Actually, I'm rather proud of myself for not placing a comma before that "because" because that is one of my most frequent errors. In conclusion, I will try to do better, but until then, let's just say those little so-called, "mistakes" are me taking advantage of poetic license.
P.S. As a side note, my mother claims that poetic license is just an excuse for being lazy.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Well, I woke up this morning and decided that I was reasonably sound of mind, so now I will finish telling you the story of our bus ride:
I'll start out by telling you why we were going on the bus ride in the first place; our church was visiting our sister congregations down in Oregon, as every quarter all of the HOFCC churches gather together for a giant service.
I got on the bus and plopped down on to a plush seat, attempting not to think about who had sat there before. It was a nice clean bus, however, so I ceased thinking about it. I exchanged hellos with Bear and Libby, and we compared how early we had woken up. As the morning progressed, we kids grew rowdier and more restless, and we took to playing telephone, which was the only game we could imagine playing in a bus. Nearly everybody started a line, some two, and mine were, "Milly Mallard marches to the Moo goo gai pan (sp?) market," and "Elegant element alamonde (sp?) around avacadoes." I can't even remember how they ended up, but I am positive they were ridiculous. After that, we all talked and joked for long time. Unfortunately, as with most of the kids, I was sitting in the back. And in the back, there was a bathroom. Now, let me explain my point of view: I am completely averse to the idea of a bathroom on a bus. It probably saved us a lot of time at rest stops, but after sitting in the back, I'm not entirely certain it was worth it.
We finally drove into the parking lot, then eagerly jumped out. The service started soon after, so we headed into the auditorium to sing some beautiful songs and listen to a powerful message on discipleship. I am afraid I did not gather its full worth because I was so tired, and I had to pinch myself to stay awake. However, I really enjoyed what I did hear!
After service, we ate lunch and set to work making Italian sodas. As I made them for hours, (it seemed) I got into a rhythm: dash of flavor, splash of half & half, pour soda, stir. Dash, Splash, Pour, Stir . DashSplashPourStir. I finally stopped because I had made so many sodas that my shoulder began to ache. I really must commend Libby for her endurance because she continued slaving away until we ran out of club soda.
I, lazy lump, skipped off to play speed volleyball. I had a blast because it was a "click" sports day for me. Let me explain... normally, I am not, er, um, very good at sports. At. All. However, that day, I felt like I was actually contributing to the team. (At least a little.) I felt so, so, so athletic!
Anyway, after that, we piled into the bus for the long, long drive back. Once home, I crashed, realizing that though tiring, it had been a wonderful, full day.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Hi. It is 8:58 PM, but it feels like 11:00. I haven't posted in four days. I think that might be a first, but I'm too tired to calculate it out. You, my hopefully faithful readers, can if you want to. Somehow I have a sneaking suspicion that you won't though.
This morning we got up at 5:00, and loaded stuff in the car, drove to church, then unloaded stuff from the car, then loaded stuff on the bus, then loaded ourselves on the bus for a 3 hour drive down to OR. It was a blast, but if I ever see another food item wrapped in plastic, I think I'll barf.
O.K. I believe I'm too tired to blog. I'm already grossing you out, and I will finish talking about our bus ride when I'm a little more sane.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Nevermind. Well, anyway, please do me a favor and vote on this poll. Hmmm, maybe I should try a different approach... Vote on this poll or else! I know where you live. *Laughs evilly*
For the last 4 days, I have been trying to load a super awesome movie, so YOU, gentle readers, could enjoy it, but, alas, I cannot because for some reason the website won't allow me to upload the video. And this on top of my being unable to post a poll. I am deeply offended. I think I'll go complain to the authorities.
But on the other hand, I suppose I should be very nice to the people who run the website because they probably work like a lake full of busy beavers. So I can have a blog. For free.
Besides, it would probably be a case of the oldies song, "I fight authority/authority alway wins/" But I'm not really fighting; I'm complaining, so I guess I just typed that out so that I could have an excuse to sing that song, even though those are the only two lines of that song that I know. (Wait, are there any other lines in that song?) That song is so much fun to sing merely because I have absolutely no desire to fight authority.
Well, bye for now. I think all go dance around my bedroom singing, "I fight authority/authority always wins/I fight authority/authority always wins.../
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
1 A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.