Tournament Attire.

At speech tournaments, we are all required to wear professional... wear. You know, suits and sweaters and pencil skirts and that sort of thing. The type of garment that induces everyone to suppose you are older than you really are. The sort of clothing that, combined with a brisk walk, sends everyone running out of your way, because you look like you have somewhere to be, some deadline to fill, something IMPORTANT to be doing. Professional wear.

Anyhow, as I sat waiting outside of my Apologetics room, I overheard a interesting conversation. A young man woefully said,

"It's not fair. Girls don't have to worry about keeping their shirts tucked in all the time."

"No kidding!" his friend responded. "Plus they don't have to wear ties."

HA! If only they knew. HA! Why? Because girls are supposed to wear hose to be professional. And you can't get much worse than that. Ties and tucked in shirts don't even compare.
Wincing from the pain from my Very Professional, Very Uncomfortable high heels, I turned back to my apologetics box and said nothing.

Hehe! I can't believe I typed out the word: hose! Don't tell anybody. =D

Modern Marian #2

Last night, my dear dad suggested to me that I was perhaps I was going a little overboard on the Marian thing.

It made me think...

...Nah.

Look at those gorgeous leaves! Beautiful!

The lovely Bracie, my dear sister:

Modern Marian#1:

Bring back capes! (made by the wonderful Rowena @RandomJotdowns) Here are some of my pictures for a Modern Marian clothing (does anyone else dislike the word fashion?)

Alright, so perhaps the outfit without the cape will do just fine.

The below picture is of moi gracefully jumping off the wrong side of my horse. Way to go me. Chess doesn't mind, the angel.

This picture is very blurry, but it caught my fancy.

And of course I had to have the boot/knife picture. It is essential to Marian. =D

If feels very odd to simply post pictures of just me, so here's a picture of Lib (excuse me, I mean Rowena,) Peach, and Bracie. The ever marvelous Kei is taking the photo.

Photo credit: All of the blurry ones were taken by Bracie (don't worry, she'll readily admit to that. It's all our camera's fault.) and all of the nice ones were taken by Kei.

My Nemesis:

Is a device, crafted of metal and adorned with supposedly heat resistant plastic. However, it is not its looks that cast such terror into my heart-it is its dark and evil purpose.

For, when the authorities decide to inflict torture, they attach it to the wall, sending electricity through the long, thin wicked cord. The shocking currents heat up the device: first the cyndrilical brand, and then the pinching, cruel handle-thingamabob.

Then, advancing grimly, the operator, usually an executioner or some such person, snaps the handle thingamabob open and closed several times. The very sound chills the marrow of my bones. Yanking a lock of hair practically off my head, they feed it into the machine. Slowly, ever slowly, so as to prolong the torment, they twist the hair closer and closer to my scalp, until I am sure it will burn me.
Smoke rises from the lock of my hair, though they tell me it is steam, before the evil instrument is released. My hair, normally resplendent in frizzy-ness has been manipulated into a perfect curl.
But I resolve revenge! Beware all Curling Irons! I will come back someday and destroy you.

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.

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.

Face Painting:

Today, I let a hoard of happy little children paint my face and arms. It was a merry time. From experience, I know that it is much more fun to paint someone's face than it is to be painted. Seriously, for a very short time period in my life, I wanted to be a face painter.

But...

Now, getting home and washing the paint off my face, I realize that the red color does not wash. It is still faintly blotchy red. So, since I had a lovely red smiley face on one cheek, I now look as though I am very bad at applying blush.

However, I am consoled with the fact that they had a jolly good time. What's your good deed of the day?

Very Serious Musings on a Very Serious Topic.

Have you ever stopped and thought about the remarkable amount of stunningly beautiful characters in books? If you had never been out in the world (highly unlikely,) but had read your classic literature faithfully, (the situation is doubly unlikely, but, hey, it's hypothetical) you would go out expecting half the world to be stunning, gorgeous, striking, and altogether beautiful. Ophelia, Hero, Anne Blythe, Cora and Alice Mundy, Rebekah, Rowena, Every Single Girl In Any Andrew Lang Tale, and-what-is-the-name-of-the-girl-in-the-Lady-in-White? They are all lovely.

After pondering the topic for quite a while, I have reached the conclusion that this is because it is a million time more jolly to write about a beautiful character. (Or one that grows to be beautiful) The ratio of gorgeous persons to ordinary persons is all the authors' doing. But lately I have noticed a rising of books with more realistic characters.
What do you think? I know that I tend to write about "just pretty" characters, and I do kind of enjoy it. Fellow writers, what do you usually do?
This isn't really a very serious post.

For your Information:

#1. I am done with Algebra 1 forever! Ha!
#2. I really hate hair.
#3. I am going to install a playlist on this blog, but it will not start automatically.

I know that those three important facts will help you move through your day uplifted and encouraged.

TTFN!

Post Script:

I never saw a purple cow
I hope I never see one
But I can tell you here and now
I'd rather see than be one.
Gelett Burgess

Update: The aforementioned Playlist now resides at the bottom of my blog.

Family Photo Shoot

Here are a bunch of pictures of a bunch of people you probably don't know.

What more can I say besides "Weird is the New Normal?"

(With honorary cousin Gabby and real cousin Audrey) So, yes, I am related to two of them!

Earrings and bush survival

Bracie and I, thanks to Dad, have discovered a foolproof way to always be prepared: Earrings!
You read that correctly, I assure you.
Earlier today, Daddy remarked on Bracie's earrings, which are made of three tear drops of different metals in a layer, saying that if ever she needed fishing lures, she could simply use her earrings. Bracie, inspired, turn to survey my ear adornments. With a grin, she announced that the spheres of my earrings would be delightful bobbers, and that the metal hooks were the perfect thing for (of course) fish hooks.
That incident inspired me to look online in search of even more useful earrings. First of all, I found these: I will state that Bracie and my earrings are not as obvious.
Anyone who knows the first thing about survival will tell you that food is necessary to survive. I found these stylish, REAL chocolate earrings.

And to alert your rescuers, we have these marvelous mirrored ones:

This next pair cannot help you in any way. I just thought I'd throw them in with the rest for Gile's sake. Warmth also being essential, I have found this magnifying glass necklace. Sadly, I was unable to find any fire starting implement small enough to be an earring. Of course, it only works if you have sunshine. (The chain doubles as a fishing line.)


But I did find a thermometer to tell you when you need to start the fire. (And to see if the fish is done)


Finally we see this handy pair, which sharpened a bit, would be a great help in the bush. (To clean the fish)
(To eat the fish!)

So, utilize your ears! Always be prepared!
Note: I am afraid this post is predominately more valuable to my female readers.

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.

A Post on Hair

We ladies at my house dedicate much time and effort to the perfection of our lustrous and beautiful locks.

Not!

Hair is a pain, a trial, and a great tribulation around here, for all of us. Today as I did my schoolwork, I could here Milo screeching while Mom cut his hair. Giles' haircut is going on at this very moment; his face is drawn in an expression of anguish. Last night, I attempted to brush my hair; a venture which resulted in nothing but frizz and screams of agony.
On the particular day this picture was taken, I thought it would be "fun" to try and see what my hair looked like straightened. The (very, excruciatingly painful) process took nigh over an hour. It was, to put it mildly, not an experiance to be repeated. So now I never straighten my hair.
During the summer, I once on a Saturday put my hair in French braids and then I went swimming. Big Mistake! I couldn't get those nasty braids out until the next Friday. So I don't French braid my hair.
My main problem is that have a very tender head. The slightest stroke of a brush produces bellows enough to rival those of a howler monkey.
What do I do with my hair? I wish we were all born bald. Perhaps in Heaven we will be. Can you imagine having to brush hair out of your eyes while you bowed in homage to the King of kings? I don't think so. Or maybe in Heaven hair will never tangle and I'll only have half as much as I do now. That would be a blessing.

Ophelia, the car-jacking hoodlum

The only known picture of Ophelia in a Beanie

is one where I am attempting to look like my non-existent cousin "Asher." The only other times that I wear beanies are when it is below 30 degrees or I am working away at my job: Alpaca Pasture Maintenance. "But why?" You, gentle reader, ask, "Why has Ophelia come up with this unbreakable fashion rule of no-beanies-in-public?"
I'll explain. One morning last March, having an I-don't-care day, I slapped a beanie on my crown and jumped in the car as we were running errands on that particular day. Like usual, I wore a pair of comfy, faded blue jeans. The air had a bite to it, so I pulled on my well-broken in grey hoody. I stayed in the car most of the time, but when Mom approached the coffee shop, she told me to hop out and take Ava to the bathroom while she went through the drive-thru. I did as asked, and then I walked round to our van, which was at the last window of the drive-thru. I opened the car door to put Ava in her car seat when I heard a startled gasp.
"Ma'am! The cashier said shrilly through the window, "some person is trying to get into your car!"
Mom turned around, slowly, slowly. "That person," she stated, "is my daughter." Then, I got in the car, and we drove away, quickly, very quickly.
Since that fateful day, I have never worn a beanie at a public place.