Happy Birthday Daddy!

Bit and Bridle

I flopped on my bed, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn my literature assignment, in hand. After reading into several lines, I became aware of a cold sensation around my ankle. Frigid metal dug into my foot until I was distracted enough to investigate. I reached down and pulled up a bit! An loose ring, jointed, snaffle. In my bed. Weird. The extreme coldness of it has officially reminded me to always warm the bit before I put it in my horse's mouth.

It is cold, but it doesn't smell at all like Autumn, so I feel cheated.

Have any of you ever started a first person-narrated novel without knowing what the main character's name is? That's sort of the dilemma I am in right now. Or write now.

Back to Huckleberry Finn...
"But it warn't no time to be sentimentering."

Or here's why I titled that post, Fog:
"For nothing don't look natural or sound natural in a fog." I think my brain is still foggy. I'd better go study my Euclid or some Dialogues of Plato to clear it.

All Who are Thirsty

1Th 5:23 Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Rev 22:17 The Spirit and the Bride say, "Come." And let the one who hears say, "Come." And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.

Rev 22:20 He who testifies to these things says, "Surely I am coming soon." Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.

Fog.

Today I have made a very mundane discovery. The motions which are involved in

a) washing tall windows

and

b)painting hallways

are very, very similar. I feel as though I have not been using my brain at all today.

This post doesn't have anything to do with the Cavalia picture. I just thought that a picture of some amazing, gorgeous horsemanship would be a lot more interesting than a picture of a paintbrush. Has anyone else seen Cavalia?

I rather don't like eating bananas. I have nothing against their existence, so I can't really say I don't like them, but I don't like eating them.
My story has been on my mind quite a bit lately. Until, of course, it was driven out by Switchfoot Nothing is Sound and the monotony of painting. So far, the name Giselle appeals to me for a girl. Or Sylvia. How about Sylwyn?
I feel the need for a poll. Hmmm...

Fair...

We went to the fair today. The huge, greasy, humongous, marvelously fun fair. I ate cotton candy, rode as many roller coasters as possible and a 20 story ride, and listened to live performers. Oh! I got to see my friend compete in dog 4H. And the draft horse driving show, which was amazing!

Everyone gained a sunburn. Giles gained a stuffed-animal snow tiger prize that is at least three times the size of him. I gained the satisfaction of knowing that I thoroughly wore myself out having a jolly time. Oh, and I gained a new found appreciation for the fact that I have a full set of teeth.

Now, what I really want is a bath. Or two.

Tree Climbing, Postal Workers, and Yew.

Today, I took a look at a tree at the top of our driveway and resolved to climb it. I had never been able to, owing to the fact that there are no branches for ten feet up the trunk.
Yet, grappling two limbs that sloped down, I managed to swing my way up to the first layer of branches.
Focusing, straining one arm, I could just reach my fingers up to the next set of limbs. Just then, the white Mail truck came roaring up the driveway. Concentration broken, I took one glance at the Postal Worker, before dropping and landing, er, catlike on the ground with, um, perfect balance.
The truck rolled to a stop in front of me. An imperious Postal Lady stared at me, her face containing the ideal mixture of dignity, shock, and a dash of "For Shame!"

"Do you live here?" She asked suspiciously.
"Why, yes!" I recovered my poise.
"Then I have a package for the residents of this house."
She handed a brown box (containing school curricula for my little siblings) and backed professionally down the drive. As she reached the end, I thought she laughed, but I can't be too certain.

I dumped the box inside, successfully made it to the top of the tree, and then picked some yew berries.
I've only eaten one once because I've heard it said that they are poisonous. But, hey! I am still living.

I couldn't resist squashing a few, considering that they have no other purpose.

They are suprisingly slimy.

Names??? Ideas anyone?

So, our family's official first day of school was last Monday. It will be interesting to see if I can quite keep up with my set schedule...

But enough boring stuff. Let us venture into the land discussion of the Written Word, specifically stuff that we write ourselves.

For school, I am writing a story. I am afraid that I have boring all my friends to tears with descriptions of how excited I am to write fiction, that actually counts as school work.
Anyhow... I have a Plot. I have Characters. I have a Setting. I do not have names.

I have two characters, a girl and a guy, that need names. The setting is this day, age, planet, world, and dimension. Check that: I need three. I need a good name for a villain, which ought to be fun.

Ideas anyone? Suggestions?

Everybody clap for Peach!

She sent me one of her entries!!! Huzzah! However, the contest does not end yet because she says that there are more to come.

An Executive Decision!

Because I am, after all, this blog's only executive.


I am sick of having a Weird is the New Normal contest running with no end in sight. However, the end date has been spotted, chased down and affixed to my sidebar as a trophy.

Peach! It is all on your shoulders now. The contest officially ends when you choose to send moi those photos, (which I am sure are awesome). If you need me to, I can add the words. You have been warned. This is a guilt trip.

Wait, let me try this approach. Peeeaaaaach? Would you... if it isn't, you know, too much of a strain, maybe you could, sorta, send those reeeeaaaally cool picturesyou took for my contest???Pleeeeeaaaaaaase?

For the rest of you, this means:

A. Peach will immediately send the photos and the contest will end and I'll re-post all the entries.

B. (Much more likely, [no offense, Peach]) Peach will keep feeling guilty about this but will also keep forgetting to send them. =D And you all will have lots of time to make your own photo and send it in. For more details about it, check my sidebar.

Can you hear me?

Hi! I really would like to say more, but I sort of lost my *wheeze* voice. It comes and goes really randomly. At least, that's how it has been these past days.

Tonight, we tried to practice worship, and I couldn't sing a note. Maybe if I drink a cup of tea it will come back.

Slurp. Slurp.

Ahhh! That's better. I really and truly think my voice is back for good. Oh Fiddle. Nevermind.

Anyway, Bracie and I are listening, as we paint our front entryway, to a book on tape, Stormbreaker, the first Alex Rider book. So far, I am really enjoying it. In two days, four of my library books have been... consumed.

You know what? I am going to make some more tea.

Gold!

I feel wealthy, like a miser counting his gold.
I am sitting down at a marvelous feast: a banquet with food of all kinds.

Why?

Because last night we went to the Library. I think I checked out 13 books. And Bracie checked out ten or something like that. Already, I am finished with two. I have a voracious appetite for books.


You know what is one of the most tantalizing experiences ever? Driving home from the library in the dark. Piled aroung you are tomes just begging to be read, but... you can't.

Of course, then you go home and read and read and read and read until your mother tells you to come up for air and finish that homework assignment. Speaking of which...

Sphinx Schooling

Yup. It happens to be that time of year where people start school, so I thought I would share some pictures of us doing school last year:

That's right. Our school consists of making Sphinx faces for Egyptology.
Giles:

Bracie:

If you study ancient civilizations, eventually you come across the tale of the Sphinx.

I think Mom deserves an A.

The Celtic Zucchinis: The Latest to Today's Show

Is it just me, or is this our best one yet?

I have Returned.

Hey. I have returned. I am not "back" because I have looked through all o my posts in which I return to blogging, and they all say "I'm back!!!" with lots o exclamation marks.

However, it is absolutely necessary to maintain a grave demeanor when saying, "I have returned." Not the barest hint of humor can shine through. AT ALL!

When saying "I'm back," you can accompany it with a big cheesy grin and lot o delightful anecdotes about wherever it is you where.

The " " key [you know, the one between E and G] is broken on this keyboard, so I am adopting a Scottish dialect. Sort oph. It is very diphicult to hit it hard enough to type.

On our trip to the beach, we phorgot our camera, as always. So you'll just have to imagine beautiphul pictures oph my phamily looking soulphul on the beach. And we saw a water dinosaur, the loch ness monster, and a selkie, but we just didn't have a camera to take a picture oph it.

I did get several clips oph me trying to do walk-overs and turning cartwheels, but they just aren't... suspensephul or anything. We had a jolly time!!!

And thus, we hath returned.

Stuff.

Will tagged me for the thirty things about me tag. While you are reading this, I am making sandcastles and splashing in the ocean. Which is cold. And salty. And I probably have sand in my hand, and bruises all over from falling off my skim board.





1. My horse's bit is on top of my dresser at the moment. How's that for random?


2. I currently have 5 stories started. Because starting them is so easy!


3. Currently, I am attempting to wean myself of the habit of eating the stickers on my apples, which I am accomplishing by eating our own apples.


4. My chicken's name is Nefertiti. We used to have ten, whose names were





Shifrah


Puah


Ribbon


Ruth


Boaz


Hapshetsut


Cleopatra


Red,


And Red.





5. Ferns are my favorite plants


6. I epic-fail at knitting.


7. At the moment, I am reading Sophie's World, which is about a fourteen year old girl with one month before she turns 15. I thought it was an fitting time to read it.


8. I really cannot stand pb&js. Blech.


9. In my book, eating with chopsticks is a delight.


10. Sargeant and Kipper, my two big dogs, have a room bigger than mine. They live in a homestead cabin.


11. I can't remember the last time I brushed my hair. That's kinda sad.


12. In my lifetime, I have ruined about 17 watches.


13. My cat tore the Control "Ctrl" key off of this laptop.


14. I have almost entirely filled my composition notebook!


15. I don't believe in matching socks.


16. I always steal my dad's socks because I never have any that match.


17. My dad's socks don't fit me.


18. My dad is 6'6".


19. The space between my bunk bed and the wall of my bedroom has been called the Depths of Doom for about seven years.

20. I am very good at losing pocket knives. So if you live in WA, and you find a knife lying around, it's probably mine.

21. I love mountain huckleberries.

22. Once, in a fit of extravagence, I paid $3 for a button. *Shakes Head*

23. I have supposedly met the man who invented the thinamajig that connects the pencil to the eraser. His name was Yimmy, and I have no idea if he was telling the truth. =D

24. Last summer, I got to see a Lipizzaner act.

25. Never, ever, ever, will I ever try to make a jelly roll again.

26. I love the rain.

27. If I could go anywhere right now, I'd go to the Library

28. When the Sky is like Lace is one of my favorite picture books.

29. I have discovered that I am much better at typing on a laptop than a regular computer, which is rather sad because regular keyboards have such a nice clacking sound.

30. When I was younger, I set out to look for an arrowhead one day. However, I never found one. Not to be daunted, I found a piece of sedentary rock and used a file to make myself one. I still have it.



I tag... umm... who hasn't done this tag? I tag

Phil Wordy,

Heidi

Ashley

Attempts at Opera... sort of.

Sometimes, in video-making (we are too un-serious to call it filming) the mess-ups are a million times more humorous than the actual movie. These attempts were first tries on making a video about elevators. The idea was to for us to be trapped. It wasn't the brightest idea.

Eventually, we abandoned these clips, as they were...um... maybe a little too embarrassing, and a little too...unintelligent. Why I am posting these, I wonder? Maybe I need to rethink this. By the way, Lib, please don't kill me for this. (She's the middle girl in the below clip)

Somehow, watching these, all my ambitions to be in The Marriage of Figaro crumble and fade. I don't think I was born to be an opera star.

Three Character Tag

I am not adhering to my usual principle of doing all my tags together. =D

Bethany tagged me with the three character tag. But how am I ever to decide which three of my favorite characters to write about? I think that nearly all of mine are from George MacDonald, so I'll start with one of his characters.

I. Curdie, Peter's son. [Sorry about the picture. I can't find a satisfactory one.]

1. He, by obeying the "Lady" and thrusting his hands into her fire, he "will henceforth be able to know at once the hand of a man who is growing to be a beast." Basically, he can know the character of any man or woman.

2. He can sing and invent marvelous rhymes on the spot.

3. He was formally a miner.

II. Polly, of An Old-Fashioned Girl, by Louisa May Alcott.

1. Her real name is Mary. [Isn't Polly an odd nickname for Mary?]

2. She coasts (sleds) splendidly, and is a sport for all kinds of fun.

3. Humilty is very present in her.

III. Horatio Hornblower (of the movies, not the books. I couldn't reccomend any of the books other than the first two)

Peach, I can see you rolling your eyes! =D

1. At the beginning of his naval career, he suffers from seasickness.

2. He joins the navy at seventeen.

3. His strong sense of duty often gets him into trouble.

Amazing Grace

Fish and Dream Jobs.

Isn't it glorious? O! The thrill that fills my heart as the shimmering fish soars heavenward! And then, how it comes gently to earth, landing securely in the hand of a fish-monger!

That is where I am going to work as soon as I am eighteen. Oh Yeah. I just can't wait to put on a pair of lovely orange overalls and conquer the world one fish at a time! But seriously, folks, wouldn't it be grand to work there? Perhaps for just a summer. I'd love it. Also, I want to be a summer forest fire-fighter, like my dad. What's your dream summer job?

I'll be gone for SIX days! Daddy is taking our family to the beach on Monday. I shall attempt to schedule some posts, but the last time I tried that, I messed it all up. Yup, I've got skills.

The Dr. #3

Click here to read the first two.

A strange look appeared on the stranger’s face, and without a word, he began backing towards the window.
The doctor figured that if this fellow was inclined to silence, so much the better for him. Reflecting on the fellow’s plight, Dr. Batwinkler began to devise a scheme to help him, but one that would also lift out of his predicament.
“Well now, my good man, ah, you’ve come a long ways up and I don’t doubt it was healthy exercise, and seeing as we’re coming on noon, well –how about a fried egg?”
“An egg?” he asked bleakly. “Yes. I shall accept it as a last comfort before my impending doom.” Here the fellow buried his head in his arms in a posture highly resembling the Dr. Fritz’s stance several pages ago.
“Come! This way to my eating area.” Dr. Fritz beckoned cheerily, determined to rouse the spirits of his guest. Leading, he navigated out of the office, into the laboratory, past mountains of expensive-looking equipment, and through piles of shabby looking-artifacts. Pausing to switch on a Bunsen burner, he came to a stop in front of an apple crate rested on a stack of musty books. Inside was a large, blue hen.
Uttering the civility of “If I may, Henrietta,” the doctor reached into the nest and pulled out three eggs: two cobalt and one silver. With his left hand, he weighed the silver egg and promptly chucked it in a remote corner of the room.
“My Henrietta has funded many scientific discoveries!” he said proudly, “But those aren’t edible, you know!” Deftly, he buttered a frying pan and heated it, and when the butter began to pop, he cracked the eggs and tossed them in.
All through this, the stranger had remained mute, as passing from the sparse, professional office into the laboratory, a chaotic mixture of science and lore antiques, had astounded him. The large, rectangular room was broken into three-sided nooks by tall, chrome, book and display shelves. They were like houses on a street: all were connected by a long hallway. Everything was neatly labled. Reminiscent of Arabian nights, hundreds of oil lamps lit the room brightly. Another was entirely stocked with greatly varying jewelry catalogued “according to property”. A little ways in the hallway was a cardboard box, marked “No apparent ability” full of plain gold rings. Machinery, lavishly coated in buttons, was dotted here and there like islands. Labeled, “Trash,” an especially large nook was almost entirely filled with broomsticks and curiously pointed hats. *Like a library of the ancient world, parchments, tightly curled, were stored in glass jars. Cracked, worn, and dusty, books occupied every other available space.
As Fritz handed over the expertly-fried, blue egg, the guest noticed that something, on a shelf of musical instruments, was moving. It appeared to be twisted rope. Answering to the doctor’s whistle, the rope picked up speed and dropped neatly to the ground at their feet.
“This, my new friend, is Zither, of whom I mentioned previously. And speaking of introductions, my name is Batwinkler, Dr. Fritz Batwinkler.”
“P-p-p-pleased to meet you. I am Savvel Vastion.” Savvel’s voice and vocabulary lost its magnificent, despairing tone as he became more awed and less focused on awing. “What is this stuff?”
“It is my scientific collection. Which reminds me, I have something in the way of a… business proposition.

* Just so you know, I am not really into witches. Please note that that nook was labled, "Trash."

Critiques? Pointers? Anyone?

Ophelia, the Ninja Nanny.

Previously, I've been a car jacking hoodlum. Yesterday, according to my mother, I was a Ninja Nanny, a Colombian terrorist, or a French Guerilla Warrior. Yeah. Great. Knee socks, a beret, and a black sweatshirt. Put together, are they really that threatening? I though they were just stupid looking.

I learned a long time ago to stop pretending I had any semblance of fashion sense.

Earrings and Bush Survival, again.

Remember this post? Well, Libby, who is creative and resourceul and currently sunburned, made me this pair a while back.

They are actual matches. And they are intensely awesome.

Living with a whimsical, artistic sister

"Will you go get me a salmonberry leaf?" Bracie asked me one day. I could see she was in the middle of a drawing, so I walked outside, hunted around, plucked a leaf, and brought it to her.

Bracie is the artistic genius of the family. She is an awesome artist. But the "real" person behind her success is moi. Oh yeah. That's right, you heard me. (Just Kidding =D)

A couple of days ago, I walked into the bedroom I share with Bracie. I was immediately confronted by my dear sister: sketchbook in hand, pencil poised.


"Hold still a second. Stand up straighter, will you?" she asked, "Raise your eyebrows blissfully! Tilt your head like-no, no, look that way! Up, higher, higher. Turn towards me a little more. Give me a big smile... WAIT! Clench your jaw! I need to see a pristine, clear jawline. No, keep smiling!"

Contorted into this strange position, I replied, "How in the world do you expect me to smile and clench my jaw at the same time? And what are you drawing?"
"A mermaid!" she responded, " Now stretch your arm out gracefully..."

Yup. That puts me in mind of another mermaid-drawing incident. Lying on my stomach, I sat reading on my bed. Bracie marched into the room, brandishing a scalloped-edged pillow case.
"Ophy, will you do something for me?" Before I could say anything, I found myself with the pillow case on my head. After adjusting it so it looked artistic, Bracie picked up her sketchbook and began to work. "Now, rest your chin in your hands. Straighten your neck..." The drawing was of another mermaid, resting with her tail draped over her head. A scalloped-edged pillow case was as close as she could find for a tail-model.



She doesn't really draw me all the time: I am basically one of these:






Once, Bracie was involved in a sketch of Snow White.We were waiting in the car for Mom to go grocery shopping.
"Will you lean back your seat all the way?"
I obliged.
"Face me. Close your eyes."
Several minutes elapsed.
"Could you please strain the muscles in your neck? And make the veins stick out?"
I was a little surprised. I mean, it's not like the sleeping Snow White was weight-lifting or anything. However, one thing I have gotten to know is that even if an action sounds weird, Bracie makes it look awesome on paper.