Let's pretend I'm 7 again...

My gentle readers, I shall now call your attention to the new poll in my sidebar.

Are you happy? Is this a satisfactory poll? Nevermind, don't answer that.

I am afraid this is a previously very hotly debated subject, if you can believe it. Almost everyone I have ever asked this question has had an opinion. As for me, I cannot decide between

Snow White

Or Sleeping Beauty

Dream on, Ophy

I feel like Veruca Salt because I have spent the last 10 minutes wandering around muttering under my breath, I want, I want, I want...

But what is this object that Ophelia so fervantly desires?

I won't keep you in suspense any longer- Wait, that's presuming that you were in a state of suspension. Uh, I will now reveal the- Hold it! How can something be RE-vealed if I am not even sure it's been vealed? Actually, I am positived it can't be reVEALED because we are all familiar with the fact that veal is a particularily gamey meat taken from a deer.

And what I want is not veal. It isn't even a deer, and though I want that too, it isn't the thing I had in mind.

Wait, what I want isn't a thing, they're a-

Sommmmme day, my hedgehog will commmme...

Fish

Here we see a fish:
Let us pause for a moment marvel at the beauty of these amazing creatures.

Then again maybe not. Let's focus on the lessons we can learn from fish. Like not judging appearances. Perhaps this fellow in the above picture really possesses a heart of gold underneath his rough exterior. Somehow I am recieving the distinct impression that 'rough' is an understatement.First of all, vertical stripes are slimming. (Fashion isn't my forte)

#2. You're never fully dressed without a smile.

#3. Always keep an eye out for others, unless you don't have any: Eyes, that is, not others.
#4. Don't get prickly or be easily offended.
#5. Don't worry about feeling like a wall flower; everybody has days like that.

Bmy gendtle readers, I bmust thang you bery buch for bearing with bme. I amb fully aware thadt I haven'dt bposted anythig ladely. The facgt is, I amb nodt exagly feeling adt the topb ob bmy gameb. Sombday soon I shall breakg indo a streekg ob insbiration and bpost evbery day.
Undil thend,
I remaing,
Ophelia
P.S. In Blogger's terms of agreement, there is no "in sickness or in health clause," so I am allowing myself to take some days off of blogging without feeling quilty. Not that I have been posting faithfully anyway. Ah well.
On second thought, forget "Ah Well." I use that phrase far to much, and it conveys a rather Bertie Woosterish feel: a character which I appreciate, but shall not choose to imitate.

Quick question:

Alrighty, I seriously need some advice here: what is every one's favorite, hysterical book/short story?
P.S. I know this isn't a real blog post. I merely avoiding the fact that I haven't posted hardly at all in the commendable month of February.
Wait, is February a commendable month? Actually, I don't think that fine adjective applies to the situation at all. February is the tricky month because every year, about the third week, we get 3-4 days of mild temperatures, and glorious sunshine, and then BAM! Rain falls from the sky like bullets and clouds "hang ominously" in the sky.
(Note: I am sure that "hang ominously" is a famous phrase from something, even if I am not exactly sure what.)
I don't mind it; I love the rain, and once I wrote a poem about how after the "dry, wicked summer," rain fell again in the Autumn and the whole world was alive again. Poor Mom had the task of breaking to me that my views on the seasons were almost directly contrary to the rest of the world's, who thought that in Autumn everything went to sleep.
Come to think of it, maybe there is a reason why I am not a famous poet. I also think that fear is like a quick rush of heat rather than a cold feeling.
P.P.S. Anyway, please be sure to answer the question!

Poll Results

The posting are up! Wait, I mean the poll results are up. (I'm still in speech tournament mode.)
Are polls...
Stupid? 1 vote
Maddening? 2 votes
Jolly? 10 votes
Thrilling? 7 votes
Whatsa poll? 3 votes
From these statistics, we can derive that I had there actually are some poll loving masses because the majority of gentle readers say that poll are jolly or thrilling.
If you voted 'stupid' or 'maddening' I am going to assume that you were joking for I stand resolved that if you really felt that way, you wouldn't of voted at all. (If that makes any sense.)
Now I am going to dream up an idea for my next poll.

And another guest post from Bracie:

"When shopping at our local Goodwill, I have learned important shopping strategies that help me get the most out of my thrift store experience. Stepping into the store, my first move is towards the skirt section, where I scan the rack for any garments that catch my eye. Few church goers realize how much of my Sunday wardrobe is made up of Goodwill fare, although many may suspect. Having grabbed a flowy skirt or two, a dignified denim, and, more like than not, a ridiculous hippie article to try on, I head toward the jeans section. There the real shopping begins. Resolutely digging into the area that is supposedly my size (Goodwill’s size organizing isn’t the best) I inspect pair after pair of blue jeans, taking out the ones I like the look of until I have a pile roughly the size of a half grown rhododendron! Quickly skimming through the shirts and shorts, I march to the fitting room. Once there, I completely ignore the inscription on the door that reads, “NO MORE THAN THREE ITEMS AT A TIME”, having almost convinced myself that because there is no one else waiting for one of the rooms, it is permissible to take in my 27 garments. My conscience is not quite eased. I make resolutions for better conduct next time. I’m working on it.

Emerging from the fitting room with a few assorted garments that I viewed in a favorable light, I meet up with Ophelia in the book section and we head towards the hats, purses, belts, and other accessories. We deliberate on whether or not to purchase a preposterously wonderful hat that represents the straw one Hornblower wears during his quarantine in the fifth episode, and then glance over the “Household Objects” section. After finding several objects of random interest that Mom persuades us not to buy, we leave household objects, and look into the shoe aisle. Together, Ophelia and I hit the dresses, fabrics, and very ugly vests and sweaters before meeting up with Mom and the kids in the toy aisle.

Mom, by now, has accumulated a large mass of books that everybody should read and toys that have survived the Goodwill processing a pricing experience. Explaining to Mom that we already having such-and-such Imaginex piece, that all the other Bey Blades are broken so we shouldn’t really buy any more, and that I’ve already read “Singing Down the Moon”, Mom’s pile of stuff in the cart decreases quite a bit. In turn, she tells me that I really don’t need a Hornblower straw hat and that I already have a pair of white capris. Nonetheless, we arrive at the cash register with a considerably large amount of loot that we acquired –thanks to my shopping strategies—in a considerably short amount of time.
As well as selling wonderful objects for small amounts of money, shopping at Goodwill can be an excellent source of entertainment. Because our church’s men’s meeting takes place in the DeBusschere living room, the members of the family who do not wish to attend yet, or cannot because they are not men, must find a place to pass the time while the meeting is going on. During this long stretch of time from 7 to 9, Mom decided that we would take a visit to our home-away-from-home, Goodwill, and that we were going to have a little fun. Sauntering into the thrift store, each of us had a mission to find an item for every member of the family that they would pose with in a picture. I chose a homely wooden doll for Ava, ethereal windchimes for Mom, a ruffely, heart shaped Christmas apron for Ophelia and a pillow that had a dog embroidered on it for milo. The pillow stunk. Giles’ object was my crowning achievement, a very realistic looking afro-ish wig that consisted of adorable brunette corkscrew curls! Posing for our picture in the ludicrous outfits we’d picked out for each other, we made quite a sight for puzzled passers-by.

Another time, when joined by our cousin Audrey, Ophelia and I found several ravishing prom dresses and had the shopping experience of a life time trying them on. Undoubtedly, the dress that won the fashion show was a cap-sleeved, knee length one that Ophelia tried on, made of the same materials as raincoats! Whenever we stop by Goodwill, Ophelia and I have made it a tradition to try on the highest high-heels we can find and wear them around the store as normally as we can. Spying an especially attractive pair made out of silver and clear plastic, Ophelia discovered they had heels six inches tall! Despite the fact that it has nauseating air freshener, shopping at Goodwill provides thrifty products and fun family exploits."

Poetic Attempts

Some people; they play hard to get.
I'm playing hard to want,
And ain't nobody got me yet,
That is my challenge taunt.

I'll grow myself a uni-brow,
And pack some extra pounds.
I'll never cut my toenails now.
I'll always make disgusting sounds.

Perhaps I'll never brush my teeth,
Or use deodorant.
My hair will poof; a fuzzy wreath.
Yes, I'm playing hard to want.

I just love school right now.

So much, in fact, that I am instantly going to skip off and have a blast memorizing that speech, writing those four essays that are due, and studying variables until my head overloads like that one lady in that one dumb movie. Oh well! It could be worse; my brain could turn to mush like that one dude in that one Shel Silverstein poem.

TTFN!

Bleep!

Ophelia decided that this post did not accurately reflect her heart, so now it's gone forever.

An Introduction to Audrey

This is my dear cousin Audrey. She is as awesome as they come.

I regret to say that I have no Really Boring Interview to present to you like I normally do on my introductions. But that is fine because after all, they are really boring interviews, and as is apparent, Audrey isn't a boring person.

Her fashion sense is unique. Or maybe she just loves costumes.

Here is Audrey discovering her inner mouse. (But Audrey really is an adventuring person.) Oh, and she also collects those estimable objects that are the mark of a country bumpkin.

This is her dog, Chrissy, who accompanies us on almost all of our adventures. Chrissy has newly discovered her talent in soccer. Audrey hates soccer with a fiery passion burning deep in her heart, except when Chrissy is playing.

Audrey could dance all night, if an opportunity lent itself.

To quote the venerable Boynton, "Turn with the cow in a patch in a patch of clover, All take a bow and [this post] is over.

Dadism #3

And our featured quote of the day is: "Gag me with a spoon."

This is undoubtedly more of a vague exclamation than most sayings. "Gag me with a spoon," is not an idiom that reveals some truth about life or imparts any pearls of wisdom. Rather, it conveys a distinct disgust at something disturbing or in most cases, hypo-criticism.

It requires a certain elasticity of facial features to really say "Gag me with a spoon" correctly. Namely, the lip must curl ever so slightly, and one eyebrow must be raised in a hint of superiority.

And "spoon" must not be spoken with only one syllable, it must be given two to achieve the proper element of scorn. "Spoo-oon!" Or in some cases of extreme horror, the expression may be ended with "Gag me with a pitchfork." Please don't ask me why. However, you must be careful: like as not, the only person who can rightly use the expression this way is my dad. If you use the pitchfork ending, people will just look at you like you are weird.

Go outside and play, don't stop and look at my blog.

Something I find an enormous, repeated contradiction is when people post: "What a beautiful day! The sun is so glorious outside!" while they are shut up in their houses on the computer.

But now I'm doing it. As well as "Easy to say, not to do" there should be an expression that runs, "Easy to say not to, easy to do."

What am I doing? I'm going to go out and climb another tree or ride my horses or something. You should too.

Actually, I was just out there, climbing a tree. That's what these pictures are from! Here's a really weird picture of me:

Here's the view looking down:
Here's another picture of the sun:
Check out that sunlight!
Wait, I think that's my thumb. I'll never be a photographer.

Mr. Leif B. Gonn

Bracie and my job of Alpaca Pasture Maintenance has its ups and downs. As she and I performed our task today, we were painfully reminded of one of the job's disadvantages; that of the leaf blowin' man. Next door and across the street from the pastures lives a man with a passion for ordered lawns and a strong affection for his leaf blower. For now we will call him Leif B. Gonn.
Anyway, it seems as if every time Bracie and I drive in to do our job, he maliciously gets out that noisy contraption, meticulously blowing his leaves into everybody else's yard. If not that, then the mower or rake or what-have-you.
(Note: the following paragraph is fiction.)
Leif's beloved leaf blower kicked the bucket, and being unable to sustain the thought of life without it, Mr.Gonn keeled over and died with the machine. Because I have a heart for the community, to help him out I have written him an original epitaph.
As follows:
Here lies a leaf-blowin man
In life the motor started,
Our ears his blower bombarded,
Now dearly departed,
Champion of mowers,
Greenest grass grower,
best of all leaf Blowers,
Mr. Leif B. Gonn

I'm back!

HI everybody! I'm not dead! I just thought that for a week I'd simply pretend computers didn't exist and stop and smell the roses. You really ought to. Don't read my blog; get out there and enjoy the fabulous February, uh, er... sunshine?
Or more accurately, go play in the rain, or snow drifts or whatever you have.
Anyway, soon I'll type you a nice long, long post.