The Highlands, Sylwyness, and Photos Galore

How do you really spell Sylwyness? Is it really a word? In the (2) lessons of latin I studied, we had to repeat, "Sylwa, Sylwae, Forest, Forest" over and over and over again.

Anyway, here are Bracie and I holding our new, insanely awesome, Scottish DIRKS!!!
Bracie is looking very lovely and Elvish.

And what could be more awesome than running with your cloak flying in the wind? By the way, green cloaks are excellent for camouflage, but it makes them difficult to photograph. =D

Dewey leaves seem to occur frequently in photography, and I felt the need to try my hand at it. Sargeant, my dog, nearly destroyed the leaf by licking it, stepping on it or eating it, about seventeen times.

This one is Bracie's:

Mine:

Aren't they awesome! I am spilling over with delight! They were gifts from my grandmother, who went to Scotland recently. They came unsharpened, but took them to a professional sharpener. We get them back next Thursday.

As you can see from the vast amounts of pictures I am posting, I am quite obsessed with my dirk.

I need some knee socks to slip it into for Easy Transportation. =D (That's one of the traditional ways of wearing them)

Grandma also gave Bracie and I each a beret. I really, really wish I had Scottish heritage.

Once, when I was talking to Bracie and my little brother Giles was listening, I said,

"Oh, I really want a Scottish Dirk!"

Giles piped up, "Why not have a nice Scotsman? I think you'd have a happier life."

"What???" I was confused.

"You said you wanted a Scottish Jerk!!!" he cried.

"No, Giles, a Scottish Dirk!" We had a good laugh over that one.

Monday's Idiom (Or question?)

A ubiquitous "word" that my mother has always deplored is "Duh."
The expression is found commonly among the youth, working as a response to an obvious question. It is pronounced several different ways: all unattractive and all designed to compel a sense of inferiority in the recipient.
Example:

Person A: "So December 25th is Christmas, Right?"
Person B: "Du-uh" (stressed to two syllables to call attention to how stupid [pardon the adjective] the question is.)

A by far less humiliating response, as coined by my only uncle, is
"Does ten pounds of flour make a big biscuit?"

Not only does it endear you to the questioner far more than the depressing "duh" it is almost guaranteed to produce a smile.

"With every Christmas card I write..."

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.

O Christmas Tree!

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.

But get ready for the tragedy:

There wasn't ANY snow! It was horrific; the first time in history that I can ever remember getting a mountain tree without any snow. We didn't get to eat any snow, or romp in any snow, or even throw any snow. The closest thing we found was a tiny patch of crusted ice that was probably from the last winter. It couldn't even make a half-decent snowball. The whole thing was terribly disappointing.

But being optimists of the finest sort, we pressed on and had fun anyway.

And I know you are just dying to see some family pictures, so here goes:

My family

Some of my family, and some of my extended family


The above is Milo, exploring the moon in his super spacesuit. Isn't he darling?
And here is our Christmas tree, patiently waiting for us to decorate it tomorrow.

The TRUTH!

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.

THE END

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.

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.

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...

Aunt Olga and Uncle Boris

A Tribute to Uncle Boris and Aunt Olga:

We all love learning about our heritage, and yesterday, I discovered the existence of my Aunt Olga and Uncle Boris, who lived almost 100 years ago. I'll never know what happened to them; they disappeared when Boris was 11 and Olga 9, after leaving a note saying that they were running away to join the circus. We only have one photograph, in which Boris stands tall in his sailor suit at the side of his sister, who is clutching a hoop. They are both serious and earnest for children. It nearly brings me to tears to think about their unknown fate.

Isn't that fascinating?

Isn't it wonderful that my family has such a unique history?

There's only one problem; it isn't true. The kids in the picture are Czar Nicholas and his little sister. I don't really have an Uncle Boris or an Aunt Olga. I don't even have a drop of Russian heritage. *sniff* I wish. What happened was, my dad's Cousin Will sent me a letter, asking me to go to youtube and look up Yehudi Menuhin Plays Brahms Hungarian Dance no. 5, (which really is impressive,) while reading the story he wrote about our Dear Uncle Boris and Sweet Aunt Olga. Cousin Will is a wonderful story teller.