Public Apology.

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.

Ugh; I hate posers!

I positively cannot stand dramatic picture poses. Cameras are supposed to show what you look like! I find it excessively annoying when a friend, or in this case second cousins on my mother's side puts on a face that looks nothing like them in real life. Does anyone else share this annoyance? These are my second cousins:

Trey,

And Asher.

See? they both have these pasted on, horribly morbid fakey faces. It absolutely drives me batty! People are supposed to smile, and look nice in pictures. Try telling that to my sec. cousins though; it's swimming upstream.

Bus Ride

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.

Four long days

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.

The poll is up!

Ha! I have the poll up and running like kids on a Chef Boyardee commercial. Sorry, that was really random, but hasn't anyone seen those commercials where the tin man has a label that says "Chef Boyardee soup" or something like that on it, and all the kids run after him?
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*

My mother, the Egg Princess

Here's a lovely little report that I wrote about my mom.

When my mother was 18, she and some friends flew to Nushygak, Alaska, to work in a Salmon cannery. The nearest phone was 40 minutes away by boat, or 20 minutes away by plane. At first, she worked not many hours, and she would scrounge for the old job. Cleaning the shower stalls was one such job. Mom tells us it was the most disgusting job that she had ever done, and she cleaned them by mixing ammonia and bleach together, (which can kill you,) and dumping them all over the bathroom. Fortunately, she survived the experience. However, mom was not stuck scrubbing toilets for long, because the harder you worked, the better the job you got, and mom was a hard worker. Soon, she was promoted to being an egg princess. An egg princess’ job is to slit open the fish and take out all the eggs. This job was called egg “princess” because it was considered one of the better jobs. Even so, mom worked 16 hours a day on average. At the peak of the season, everybody worked 23 hours a day. The entire work force wore yellow slickers to protect their clothes from being coated in salmon guts. Mom remembers once, a man was showing some new comers how to chop fish heads off on a machine that had a vertical blade that chomped up and down. While the machine was running, he told the workers, “One thing you must never do is stick your hand in the machine, like this:” He stuck his hand in the machine and chopped his hand off. Many of the workers were Japanese and often they would invite mom and her friends over to dinner. Mom describes it as a pleasant experience, always with delicious authentic Japanese food, except once, when it was not so delicious. “One time,” she recalls, “we stayed over there to have special meso soup. Now, meso soup is quite good, but this was special meso soup. I wanted to see what special meso soup looked like, so I peered into the pot- Do you know what chum eggs are? They are huge marble sized salmon eggs. Well, I looked into the pot, and floating around in it were huge, slimy chum eggs, and FINS! Smelly, underbelly fins.” But mom tells me that they had a baker who made absolutely divine pastries. The particular cannery mom worked at could not sell fish to the US because the quality was too poor. Mom told me that one time, the fisherman left huge bins of fish on the docks for four days. If you touched the fish, they were so incredibly old that your thumb would easily go through them. But they processed and packaged it anyway. Mom worked at the cannery for 5 weeks and she earned $4000 dollars. She tells me that when she received her pay check, she was thinking, “This is it?” Now, my mother, the former egg princess has resolved never to eat canned fish again.

P.S. Mom is not nearly old enough to have these pictures be her personal ones. I simply googled Nushagak Alaska cannery.

Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Website Malfunction

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.../

Polls

Alrighty, the results are up for the watermelon poll:

5o% love watermelon!

25% could eat just watermelon for the rest of their lives!

Traitors! Only one person hates watermelon. (Not including me.) That's terrible.

And only 13 people voted on this poll! Can you believe that? I know more people have looked at my blog than 13. 13 stinking votes! Come on! That is totally lame!

So, now the new and improved post is up. You, my gentle readers, get to help choose the name my new Flip video camera shall bear. I expect more of you this time! Everybody vote, or I will throw a big fit. You don't have to be a blogger or have a blogger identity, you just select your option of choice and press the big button that says, "Vote."

P.S. I afraid I have spoken too soon. Yes, I eat my words. The poll widget isn't working. *sigh* maybe in a couple of days.

And now is time for... The Serious Post

Today I am going to try my hand at a more serious post, as it is Sunday. My featured verse is a very familiar one;

Proverbs 15
1 A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.

I have discovered that it is only familiar because it is very, very true. Try it, it works!

THE END

History Lesson

So, as I was irresponsibly blogging, in my own little world, Bracie, who was studying her history book, like a good little cherub, fascinated me with the top fact she derived from her modern U.S. History lesson. She said, out of the blue;

"You know what? Al Gore's wife has ugly knees!"

And so I got up, walked over to her, and I stared at the picture, and I saw that it was true.

My fear...

This picture is of me trying to dodge the camera. I dislike getting my picture taken, except when I'm taking silly goofball pictures. Ask my mother; she will confirm this. She is always saying, "Ophelia, come and get your picture taken! What if you die tomorrow? How will we remember you?"Our digital camera has all these pictures of, say, my arm, or my ponytail because I duck to escape the lens. This video was filmed by Giles:

These are pictures of a photo contest. Competition takes place between two people, in this case, first Paul and me, and then my mother and me. It is incredibly important that both parties are highly paranoid of "the lens" You run around snapping pictures, and in the end, whoever has the most complete picture of the other wins. I won the first contest, and my mother won the second.
Here's my mother trying to take a picture of me and trying to block me from taking a picture of her. The game is most fun if there are things to hide behind and trip over.

I hate Algebra!

Bracie and I both hate math. Here are two videos, which were taken on two separate days.

Ophelia hates Algebra

Bracie hates Algebra

Ophelia: "Aaaaaaagh!!! Bracie, I don't understand this equation! Help. How do I set it up? What should I do?"

Bracie: "Follow your heart!"

My super-duper awesome new Flip

Yesterday, for my birthday, I received a Flip video camera of my own, from my dearly beloved parents. I used to use Gile's, but it was very inconvenient. Now I have a super awesome one of my own! I know you really don't want to see these pictures, but I am going to "play the birthday card," and make you scroll down.
The Flip company should pay me to do this.
Believe it or not, I actually wasted time taking pictures of my beloved gadget.

This is, believe it or not, me, wearing the stylish birthday hat.
Anywho, believe it or not, this post actually has a purpose. We shall come to it presently, after I tell the story behind the purpose. Well, Kei, in the presence of several witnesses, called to her mother, "Have you seen my camera?" But, to the ears of the very wise, (and beautiful,) witnesses, it sounded distinctly like, "Have you seen my Kendra?" Since then, Kei's camera, whether she likes it or not :-D, has been dubbed, "Kendra."

I was thinking this over, and I suddenly thought, "Surely, should not MY video camera aspire to have the great honor of having a illustrious name?" Okay, so maybe it wasn't phrased exactly like that, but the moral of the story is that my Flip needs a name. So, here's what I propose; YOU, my gentle readers, comment with all of your wonderful suggestions, and then, I will put them on a poll! It will be jolly. But I get a veto. >:-)

The second meeting of The Reluctant Dragon Fan Club

Once again, Ophelia stands upon the stage, bright lights shining around her. This time, however, she has a smile to match; she can see staunch supporters of the Reluctant Dragon Fan Club, and others as well.

"They, I suppose, are only here for a smile," Ophelia thinks, a little ruefully, "But hey, it's better than a hobo and a pop machine.[See The Reluctant Dragon Fan Club #1] Anyway, isn't that why I blog? To make people smile?"

Ophelia waves, and blows kisses at the rows where she can see her friends. Then, a hush falls over the crowd. Ophelia clears her throat.

"Welcome to the second meeting of the Reluctant Dragon Fan Club!" Ophelia smiles, and looks gratified as applause fills the auditorium. "I'm sure you all know me, I'm Ophelia, the creator of the Reluctant Dragon Blog. I going to talk about why I blog."

Having said this, she opens her binder, and stares at it, for one minute, then two, then three. Bracie, peers anxiously at her sister, wondering what is wrong.

"Where are my notes???"

Those four little words, all which have only one syllable, mind you, run through Ophelia's head like a broken record. Five minutes go by, and the crowd begins to murmur. All of the sudden, Ophelia snaps out of her frozen position. A frenzy takes hold of her, and using her teeth, she rips the unfortunate binder in two. Giving a yell that would make Tarzan proud, she hucks the pieces far, far into the crowd.

"WHO STOLE MY NOTES?" she hollers, her face distorted with anger.

One flys off to the right, striking an unsuspecting bystander, whom Ophelia recognizes as the tramp who was present at the last meeting. The other soared way out in the back, not stopping until it it collided with a pop machine. People take this rather well, and aren't disappointed at the lack of a fan club meeting. Instead, they take the catastrophic events as an invitation for a fight. People begin throwing shoes, purses, anything they can get their hands on, at each other. Shouts echo through the auditorium.

"OW!'

"Revenge!"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

*Biff*

*Bang*

*Thud*

On the stage, Ophelia, still crazed, collapsed on the floor, reflects on the pandemonium she has created. She laughs evilly. She sobs, and realizes that this is the worst day of her life. She resolves never to have a meeting of the Reluctant Dragon Fan Club again.

In the crowd, in the midst of the chaos, the tramp stops, and grabs the broken piece of binder. He quickly hops a ride to the nearest library and lists it on ebay. It sells for $2885.23. It is the turning point of his life. He buys new clothes, gets a job as a fry cook, and eventually goes on to become the CEO of McDonald's. He marries the daughter of a millionaire and has seven strapping sons. He lives happily ever after.

But what happened to the notes? Who has them? Why did they take them?

So much for birthday wishes...

Yesterday was my real birthday, and as it happened to be, a Sunday. I was playing monkey in the middle, but I had to run out and chase after a runaway football. I picked it up and sent it flying back towards the circle, a brilliant display of my, um, incredible football prowess. On my way back to the game, I stopped, spying a perfectly, spherical dandelion. I carefully plucked it from the ground, and contemplating dreamy, birthday thoughts, (Here I am, another year older... Do I feel any different?) I gazed at my sweet dandelion, and raised it to eye level, preparing to blow, to blow and make my wonderful birthday wishes...

And then, something whizzed towards me, colliding with my wishing flower, and poof, I stood, amidst clouds of dandelion seeds, horrified. I heard a dull thud, and I witnessed a football bouncing away from me. My birthday, spoiled by a football.

No, not really, we got a good laugh out of it.

The Formal Introduction to my little little brother Milo.

This is Milo:
Well, actually, with his haircut, he looks more like this:

But hey, he's pretty darn cute either way, right? Of course right. But my goodness, is he a piece of peanut brittle right now, because my dearly beloved parents are attending a conference for the church, and Bracie and I are watching him. I honestly believe that he never sleeps, he only "hibernates" for a couple of hours, only to wake up again. But, with a face like that, you still have to love him.

The Boring Interview

Me: So, Milo, what do you think of your sister's blogging?

Milo: Blank look, followed by peals of laughter.

Me: Well then, anything you'd like to tell us about yourself?

Milo: Doggie! Woof.

Me: Thank you for that fascinating piece of information. Er, um, that's all, I guess.

This video is really, really random. Oh well. It was the only one I had of Milo.

Politics! Politics Politics!

Take my advice and take a look at this video. It is quite fascinating. I love learning about our economy, but at the same time, it's kind of depressing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RZVw3no2A4"
If you did look at it, I thank you. If you looked at it and said,"Oh no, she wants me to watch 10 minutes of polictical babble" and you did it anyway, I am proud of you. If you said, "Oh no, she wants me to watch 10 minutes of polictical babble" and promptly looked at my more interesting posts, I want you to know that I am frowning darkly at you. If you didn't even consider looking at it, I'm glaring. Okay, so maybe not. But know that it is worth your time to watch.
Wait, nevermind. I didn't just type any of that, because this is not one of those blogs that is constantly making a political statement. I think. Sigh.

The Pet Meme
What is the first pet you remember? The very first pet... A goldfish. I know I know, that's incredibly boring, but hey, I was probably 3 or 4. I remember most distinctly when he died. Dad asked if I wanted to flush it down the toilet to bury it, or if I wanted to bury in the back yard. I, of course, chose to bury it in the back yard. Where is the honor in flushing it down the toilet?


How many different kinds of pets have you owned? Okay, I'll start with fish; a goldfish named Goldfish, two betas named Ruby and Sapphire, and two catfish, one called Old Man Low, the other Pedro. Giles had a big, black and orange fish who's name I cannot remember. We also have one turtle, named P.T. for Pastor Tom. We have had various frogs and snakes for several days, only to be released soon after. And we used to have 10 chickens, but now we have 6. Their names are (if I can remember all of them...) Nefertiti,(sp?), Boaz, Ruth, Ribbon, Shifrah, Puah, Hadassah, Hapshetsut,(sp? who knows how to spell these Egyption names? Aaaah!) and two that didn't have names. We also had two guinea pigs, mine called Brownie, Bracie's called Poppyseed.We have had 11 cats, including kittens that we gave away, and our two current felines, Lottie and Rosemary. Our "big" pets are our large, odiforous dogs, Sargeant and Kipper, and our two horses, Maximus and Chess.


What was your strangest pet? None of our pets are that strange. Am I missing out on something? Wait, I just remembered; we had sea monkeys. Now, on the box of the sea monkeys container, they have this little cartoon, with a nice little family:

When they finally hatch, or whatever it is that sea monkeys do, they look like this:
You "train" them, as the box so proudly proclaims, by shining a flashlight in the tank, and they swim after it. Huh.

What is your dream pet? A Black Akhal Teke. All the way. Akhal Tekes are the loveliest horses immaginable.

What is your nightmare pet? Turkeys. I positively cannot stand them. Don't try to tell me they are misunderstood; they are EVIL!

Tell your best/funniest pet story. I have to think about that one...

Tell your worst/saddest pet story. A pet's death hits me really hard. It is always tragic when one dies.

Did you ever have a scary animal experience? Well, once I got flung off my horse when he was spooked by a deer. Then I caught him, and another deer came, and he pushed me into the nettles. :-P
What was your favorite pet? What multiple pet owner can possibly pick favorites?
What did you really want to tell us about your pets that didn’t fit in the other questions?I just make the questions fit if I want them to! :-D
The tags: I tag
1. Ashley
2. Ana
3. I don't know many other people with blogs! If you visit this site, and your name isn't here, consider yourself tagged. (Evil Laugh!)

The rules. Don’t worry. They’re easy.
Copy the questions to your blog. Answer them. This is the fun part.
Tag as many people as the legs on your leggiest pet.

My Grand Adventure...

So, I was innocently sitting in my ugly orange chair today, and as I was blogging...

Wait, That's too nerdy.

...and while I was eating an apple...

Wait, that makes me sound like a pig.
...and while I was reading an engrossing Soup book...

Wait, that makes me look like an idiot.
No, I was reading Don Quixote like I was supposed to, when

Predictably, my attention wandered, and I caught sight of my dear turtle P.T.(short for Pastor Tom) in his newly revamped tank. I got out the camera, and I was taking some pictures,


When I realized that there was something in the tank! I stared at the form in the water, and then I inhaled sharply. Was it my imagination, or could it be...
... a bottle? I stood, intranced, and then I took a closer look.
It was a bottle, and not merely that, it was a bottle with a message in it! This was beginning to smell like an adventure. I began to dream of a map that would lead to abundant treasure, or perhaps an tragic plea for help. I grabbed the bottle, despite the horrible risk of catching salmonella. (No offense, P.T.)
I reached in the tank, grasped the bottle, and pulled it up into the light.
After much difficulty with the cork, I managed to get it unplugged.
Inside was a paper, perhaps vellum. What could it say? There was no other way to find out than to take it out and read it.
After vigorous shaking and much difficulty, I finally managed to get the old, yellowed paper out.

I held the treasure map, or whatever it was in my hand. My face lit up with triumph and anticipation. Perhaps I would be the next Ben Gates on National Treasure or something. I carefully unrolled the paper, as though it was sacred,
... only to discover it was an advertisement for... EGGS! *To discover how I felt about having my adventure dashed to pieces, see the next two pictures.*

And, thus, the paper was removed from the bottle, and placed where it belongs. THE END

Dadism #1

This is the first of the new and absolutely entrancing series called, "Quotes from my dad. " Yes, I know that these expressions and phrases are not exclusive to my beloved parent, but for most part, I've only heard them from him.

Today's featured phrase is (drum roll please...)

"Don't quit your day job."

This remark is usually said after a performance of some kind. The most common performance around our insane asylum, excuse me, I meant house involves funky dance moves, and/or wacky and off-key karaoke. Dad says, "Nice, kids, but don't quit your day job."

I find myself using our featured expression about this blog, because I'm not making $40,000 a month like whatever that lady's name is. If I was, I'd certainly quit my day job, which happens to be the dull and monotonous vocatiaon of Alpaca Pasture maintanence. If you are not quite sure what this means, let me un-elaborate. I means I scoop poop. Alpacas are fuzzy little animals sort of like minature lamas. See Amy's Blog. I say "Alpaca Pasture Maintainer" when people ask what I do because it sounds a bunch better than, "Poop Scooper" Oh well. I wish I could quit my day job.

The Reluctant Dragon Fan Club

Bright lights flood the stage, the only spot of light in the huge auditorium. Ophelia, standing forlornly behind the podium, clears her throat, squints, and peers nervously out at the rows and rows of seats, scanning them for any human being. Her eye rests upon two, the first being her dear sister Bracie, in the first row, cheering her on complete with a foam finger that has "The Reluctant Dragon!!!" scribbled on it with a black marker. The second, she at first took to be a bundle of rags, but then realized it was a tramp who had fallen asleep in the seats.
Ophelia croaks, coughs and begins to speak:
"Welcome to the first meeting of The Reluctant Dragon Fan club! I am Ophelia, the writer of, you know... the blog thing."
The tramp grunts, rolls over and starts snoring.
"It's... There's not a very large, um turn out today, but it's only the first meeting, right? Right? Oh look! I think I see someone in the back! Come forward. We have plenty of seats in the front."
Ophelia grins and waves excitedly and wildly. Nothing happens. Ophelia whips out a pair of binoculars, and then slowly lets them down. They clunk on the stage and echo through the empty auditorium.
"It was a pop machine. Hee Hee! I thought a pop machine was a person. Ha Ha Ha Ha!"
Ophelia starts laughing hysterically. Bracie looks worried, and drags her off the stage. The first meeting of The Reluctant Dragon Blog Fan Club is adjourned.

The Formal Introduction to Bracie

The name of Bracie has graced this blog before, so I have decided to give you the formal introduction. First, we have the boring interview:

And now, what you have been waiting for; the funny part. This is my beloved sister, starring in a clip that she herself filmed. Quite a feat; filming the movie you star in. Here goes...

Blogging comic

I love this comic, but at the same time, it is frighteningly realistic. I'm not quite sure why I'm posting it. Oh well...