Down with the tyrnanny of short posts! I now resolve to write longer ones! Does not the expression run, the more the merrier?

So, you, my dear readers, are going to be bombarded by this long, rambly post.

Yesterday, I was babysitting my little brother Milo while Ava and Mom were at soccer practice. Milo was quiet and I used the opportunity to catch up on some school work. However, after twenty minutes, I decide that quiet was just a little too quiet for my normally high volume little bro. Whenever he is silent, he is usually working some mischief. So, I walked around the house until I found him in his bedroom.

My brother was perusing a Cheaper than Dirt magazine. The pages were clutched tightly in his hands, and his brow was scrunched in concentration. He viewed the pages filled with weapons and ammunition with delight. Accckkk! He is two!

Now where could he possibly be getting those violent tendencies from? Say I as I quickly hide my seven airsoft guns where no one can see them.

Erg. I forgot my password for playlist.com. So now, I can't really edit my playlist. And I forgot which email I used for the playlist account. That's just another example of my brilliance and stunning intelligence.

Ya know somthin' awesome? As I, scholastic and devoted, sat rigorously studying biology, I just happened to glance out the window-

Okay, maybe that's not exactly what happened. While I was supposed to be wading my way through random information about organelles and ribosomes, I stared out the window for several minutes, pondering the plot line of my novel.

Movement caught my eye, drawing it to the tawny form of a lithe and graceful bobcat.

How beautiful! I thought immediately, and then, Ack!!! The chickens!

With all the grace of a buffaloe on ice skates, I dashed outside to chase it away, only to see its tail disappear behind our yew bush. Whew! You see, our chickens are free range, and I did not want one to fall prey to a predator, however beautiful. But I love bobcats.

Anyway, here is a picture of me displaying all the grace of a buffaloe on ice skates. Or perhaps the co-ordination of a gnat in a gorilla suit. hmmm... let's see how many terrible analogies I can come up with...

Or perhaps not. Isn't this a jolly picture? Kei from Photos By Keilah took it. Just for my benefit, I'll have you know that I was somersaulting down the hill, not falling down it. =D

A True Cowboy:

Which picture should I enter for Equus Delirus' A True Cowboy/Cowgirl contest? Click HERE to enter.

Violence in the very young.

My poor little siblings.
Yesterday, unable to resist the pull of the sunny outdoors, Ava, Milo, Bracie and I skipped out for a picnic in our back yard. Blithely, we lunched under a blossoming cherry tree, listened to the bees buzz, and lazed around until Ava, the dear, proposed we play a game of "cat and bird."

"Cat and bird," is one of those wonderfully rousing amusements in which two persons crawl about on the ground, mewling and altogether impersonating a cat, and two other persons skip around, flapping their "wings," not tied to mere earth, but "soaring" heavenward. Or something to that effect. The correct formula for the conflict of the game is this:

cat eats bird

For it is the solemn duty of the "cat" to chase the said "bird" until they make the catch.

Resuming:

Though not naturally inclined to forsake our lounge on picnic blanket, Bracie and I obligingly got up and performed the office of "cat." Fulfilling the solemn duty of big sisters, we waited the proper amount of time to let the "bird" evade us. However, all good things must come to an end, and the time for us to catch the "bird" had come. Stalking the "bird" with refined, agile feline elegance, we slunk closer and closer to our prey, our dear little Ava-bird.

We had her cornered, we jumped, we sprang, we completely took out the bird. Ava wriggling out from our clutches, ran away with, it must be said, a scowl.

She turned to us, the picture of defiance, and triumphantly declared.

"Oh yeah? I am a bird with multiple lasers taped to my wings! And I am in a bubble shield so you CAN'T GET ME!" She pointed her "wings" toward us, the helpless kitties. "KABLAM! KAPOW! hahahahahah! I got you both."

Stunned, Bracie and flopped on the grass and awaited Ava's next move. She marched over to us and told she was finished playing "cat and bird."

"How about we play "duck and wolf?"she asked. "I'll be the duck."

NOTE: For the knowledge of the readers, wolf and duck is nearly identical to cat and bird.

Despite the risk of being blown up or fried with a laser or blasted in smithereens, Bracie and I agreed to play. Before the game, I asked Milo, who was sitting on top of me, if he would like to join. Because the poor little boy looked a little confused, I decided to enlighten him.

"I'll be the wolf, and you be the duck, and I chase you and eat you." Something in his expression told me that my youngest brother was not quite satisfied with these terms.

Disgruntled, he replied, "No. YOU be duck, and I shoot you."

Fish Oils

Fish-oil soft gels are nasty. If you swallow them, they stick in your throat. If they burst in your mouth... it gives me shudders just to contemplate it; you get a mouthful of vile, slimy, fishy, OILY OIL!
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!"
or threats.
"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.

Milo the Menace

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.

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.