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.