It is no longer Nick-Ig. Note: ours is Charlie, and the one at Anan's house is Igor.
I would say that you may give many many suggestions and i'll pick one, but i think it would probably be better to let Pastor pick. Suggest away!
Also note: Scrubby-do Sue is also taken.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Reading extremely old e-mails
There are places that have giant fans that blow people into the air so that they can really fly.
Agent Delta
I had a dream something like that once. We (Dad, Mom, Naomi, Nick, Nat, me) all visited a space station for Nathaniel's birthday, and they used the jet engines to blow us up in the air, and you have to go straight up or you'll get out of the flow and fall and die. It was pretty hard. Then we played a game where it was put at an angle, and when we were blown we had to fall into the windshield of Nick's new car and catch the yellow crayon there. It was a great game till Nathaniel crashed and died. Then Nick died. Dad and Mom and Naomi didn't want to play any more, but they let me, only they drove away in the late Nick's car, and i had to catch the yellow crayon in midair (i think it floated), and do an air-flip and land on my feet. After that i don't remember.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Throwing things away
I clutched the small piece of paper closely to my chest, running hard and fast away from the group of people. I slowed down just enough to look back a time or two. They were giving me strange looks, and i trembled and picked up my pace. I slowed again a little later, this time to a stop: I had reached where i was going.
I took a deep breath - and entered. Walk slowly, i told myself. Be respectful. My feet were unusually quiet upon the floor, as i was walking toe-heel, toe-heel, always bringing the latter down carefully.
I stopped, just two feet away from the Heirloom Box. It was a lovely thing, all dark subtle green, like the color of a dark pine, just ready for you to decorate for Christmas, full of promise and mystique. There was a black plastic bag inside, to protect the Box itself, and to package up the heirlooms to make room for more. The bag was also a thing of beauty; both Box and bag were made of the finest plastic, picked from the rare and hushed-up plastic trees way up in the Himalayas. A special group of monks, snipers, and upholsterers went to pick and choose the very finest for Heirloom Boxes and bags, and also to nourish and prune all the plastic trees and saplings, in hopes that someday there will be more.
I gazed lovingly at the Heirloom Box, but i was still thinking of the group of people back in the hall, and it would be terrible to approach the Box with angry or frightened thoughts.
Involuntarily, i remembered what had happened…
We (the youth group) were putting Christmas cookie platters together for the bake sale, and we had just finished. I was taking one last plate in to the room where two people were putting plastic wrap (made of cheap, discount synthetic plastic) on them, and when i came back, everybody else was gathered in a sort of group, laughing. I wedged my way in to see what was up, and there it was: the paper. The poor little thing was frightened beyond its wits, and was fluttering at every movement of the plastic-gloved (also cheap plastic) people. At a quarter the size of most papers, the paper was already too tiny to be out on its own, not to mention crumpled up to be made smaller. When i was still for a moment, i saw the holes in one shoulder where it had been stapled to its fellows.
Quicker than i would have thought i could, before i could think at all, i crouched down and scooped it up. It struggled feebly for a moment, but it was only paper, and i held it carefully so as not to spook it further, if possible. Then i ran.
And now here i was. My heart was steady now. I was calm.
I almost took a step right then. When i look back at it, i still shiver a little. How could i have not thought? I forget things sometimes, but this is the most important, memorized from the first. I sat for a moment and pulled off my shoes, then my socks. A small clod of dirt fell from the crevices of my shoe's sole, and after a moment's thought, i collected that along with the paper. It, too, was an heirloom.
Then i stepped. One, two, two and a half steps altogether, taking baby steps. I kneeled to the Heirloom Box and pressed my free hand, my left, to its side, asking permission. I kept it there for the count of six Hippopotami, and as it was still there and intact after the last one, i stood once more, hugging the - my - heirlooms one last time. Carefully, though. That dirt clod could break pretty easily.
I took the lid off the Box and took it smoothly to the floor. And gently, ever so gently, i placed the heirlooms in their Box. I could almost hear them getting happier. They were in their place now, and if i wanted i could go visit them at the Heirloomyard. Oh to be an Heirloomgirl, the glamor! Like the Heirloomman in Dilbert. One of the few who appreciates it openly. I hear they have strict tests for Heirloompeople, though. They have to.
I put the lid back on the Heirloom Box and backed away a few feet, back to my shoes and socks, put them back on, and exited silently. My work here was done.
I took a deep breath - and entered. Walk slowly, i told myself. Be respectful. My feet were unusually quiet upon the floor, as i was walking toe-heel, toe-heel, always bringing the latter down carefully.
I stopped, just two feet away from the Heirloom Box. It was a lovely thing, all dark subtle green, like the color of a dark pine, just ready for you to decorate for Christmas, full of promise and mystique. There was a black plastic bag inside, to protect the Box itself, and to package up the heirlooms to make room for more. The bag was also a thing of beauty; both Box and bag were made of the finest plastic, picked from the rare and hushed-up plastic trees way up in the Himalayas. A special group of monks, snipers, and upholsterers went to pick and choose the very finest for Heirloom Boxes and bags, and also to nourish and prune all the plastic trees and saplings, in hopes that someday there will be more.
I gazed lovingly at the Heirloom Box, but i was still thinking of the group of people back in the hall, and it would be terrible to approach the Box with angry or frightened thoughts.
Involuntarily, i remembered what had happened…
We (the youth group) were putting Christmas cookie platters together for the bake sale, and we had just finished. I was taking one last plate in to the room where two people were putting plastic wrap (made of cheap, discount synthetic plastic) on them, and when i came back, everybody else was gathered in a sort of group, laughing. I wedged my way in to see what was up, and there it was: the paper. The poor little thing was frightened beyond its wits, and was fluttering at every movement of the plastic-gloved (also cheap plastic) people. At a quarter the size of most papers, the paper was already too tiny to be out on its own, not to mention crumpled up to be made smaller. When i was still for a moment, i saw the holes in one shoulder where it had been stapled to its fellows.
Quicker than i would have thought i could, before i could think at all, i crouched down and scooped it up. It struggled feebly for a moment, but it was only paper, and i held it carefully so as not to spook it further, if possible. Then i ran.
And now here i was. My heart was steady now. I was calm.
I almost took a step right then. When i look back at it, i still shiver a little. How could i have not thought? I forget things sometimes, but this is the most important, memorized from the first. I sat for a moment and pulled off my shoes, then my socks. A small clod of dirt fell from the crevices of my shoe's sole, and after a moment's thought, i collected that along with the paper. It, too, was an heirloom.
Then i stepped. One, two, two and a half steps altogether, taking baby steps. I kneeled to the Heirloom Box and pressed my free hand, my left, to its side, asking permission. I kept it there for the count of six Hippopotami, and as it was still there and intact after the last one, i stood once more, hugging the - my - heirlooms one last time. Carefully, though. That dirt clod could break pretty easily.
I took the lid off the Box and took it smoothly to the floor. And gently, ever so gently, i placed the heirlooms in their Box. I could almost hear them getting happier. They were in their place now, and if i wanted i could go visit them at the Heirloomyard. Oh to be an Heirloomgirl, the glamor! Like the Heirloomman in Dilbert. One of the few who appreciates it openly. I hear they have strict tests for Heirloompeople, though. They have to.
I put the lid back on the Heirloom Box and backed away a few feet, back to my shoes and socks, put them back on, and exited silently. My work here was done.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Seminary
Ah, the Seminary is a great place. In the chapel i can sing as loud as i can and not be heard, at the library i can check my e-mail or read terrifyingly thick books, and this time i spent a lot of time at the clothing bank, shopping. I got three pairs of jeans (i've been marveling ever since at how warm they keep my legs), six skirts (hehe), and four sewing patterns. Blouse, skirt, skirt, jumper.
I got asked today again if i'm a Sem-wife. I don't look that old, do i?
Yesterday at Grandma's i helped move a bunch of furniture. She was having the carpet in one of the upstairs bedrooms re-stretched to get rid of the forming mountains, so we moved out two chairs, a floor lamb, several stacks of books, three large boxes, a nightstand, two mattresses, two boxsprings, and various other bits of stuff. The other things, three dressers and two bedframes, the carpet people were able to work around.
And i got to pick my first Christmas tree. Every year we use the fake one in the attic. But i went with Grandma (and cousin Ben, two years old) to the place, and they were looking at trees with my Uncle Dave, who was proving every one to have gaping holes or rabies or something, and i just picked a tall-looking tree (always a plus) and showed it to them, and it was a good tree. Grandma and Aunt Amy and cousin Brandon (Ben's family) and i had to move a little furniture in the living room for the tree, but it wasn't that much.
Benjamin has bright red hair, bright red eyebrows, and even bright red eyelashes. He's pretty big for his age, and doesn't say much. He said Dindin for Brandon, barn which is exactly right, tthurt for church, and tree, once again right. He might've said Maggie once, but it's doubtful, as he wasn't sure if i could be trusted. Oh yes, and we played a game involving shooting little metal balls across a board, and he kept saying something that Grandma was convinced was guy, but i'm pretty sure he was saying, die, die, die! Also he half-screamed when i dared to pick him up of the couch. Which he was standing on.
I got asked today again if i'm a Sem-wife. I don't look that old, do i?
Yesterday at Grandma's i helped move a bunch of furniture. She was having the carpet in one of the upstairs bedrooms re-stretched to get rid of the forming mountains, so we moved out two chairs, a floor lamb, several stacks of books, three large boxes, a nightstand, two mattresses, two boxsprings, and various other bits of stuff. The other things, three dressers and two bedframes, the carpet people were able to work around.
And i got to pick my first Christmas tree. Every year we use the fake one in the attic. But i went with Grandma (and cousin Ben, two years old) to the place, and they were looking at trees with my Uncle Dave, who was proving every one to have gaping holes or rabies or something, and i just picked a tall-looking tree (always a plus) and showed it to them, and it was a good tree. Grandma and Aunt Amy and cousin Brandon (Ben's family) and i had to move a little furniture in the living room for the tree, but it wasn't that much.
Benjamin has bright red hair, bright red eyebrows, and even bright red eyelashes. He's pretty big for his age, and doesn't say much. He said Dindin for Brandon, barn which is exactly right, tthurt for church, and tree, once again right. He might've said Maggie once, but it's doubtful, as he wasn't sure if i could be trusted. Oh yes, and we played a game involving shooting little metal balls across a board, and he kept saying something that Grandma was convinced was guy, but i'm pretty sure he was saying, die, die, die! Also he half-screamed when i dared to pick him up of the couch. Which he was standing on.
Monday, December 10, 2007
La, a note to follow So
First singing lesson this morning. Did various warm-ups and exercises to, well, warm up and exercise, and find my range. I have one piece for practicing, Come and trip it by i think Handel. A minor, originally C minor. I can't put the whole thing on here for copyright reasons, but i can say that the entire lyrics are: "Come, and trip it as you go, on the light fantastic toe," put in different ways. It's really neat, three medium-sized pages long. I'm also supposed to get a book, Mezzo Soprano (Moderately Soprano, which is the high range)(it's Italian). There are two volumes and i'm not sure if i should get the second also, but i probably will.
I've wanted to have voice lessons or be in a more advanced choir since July, when the For You choir sang a Bach cantata. I've been in church choirs since i was probably six, when i learned to read. I won't say my age, but that means i've been singing officially for more than half my life. I was pretty sure i'm an Alto, except for the last couple months. The ranges go from high to low Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass, with generally the top two for women and children, the bottom two for men.
Going with Mom to Concordia tonight. Everything was covered in a thin layer of ice this morning. Storm tonight.
So tired. Not been sleeping well since Naomi's. First my schedule was just off, with going to bed and getting up late, but now it's getting to sleep latelate and waking up regular. Two mugs of warm milk and honey last night, with a headache and a stomachache, the kind i get when i need sleep. Still have that stomachache.
I've wanted to have voice lessons or be in a more advanced choir since July, when the For You choir sang a Bach cantata. I've been in church choirs since i was probably six, when i learned to read. I won't say my age, but that means i've been singing officially for more than half my life. I was pretty sure i'm an Alto, except for the last couple months. The ranges go from high to low Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass, with generally the top two for women and children, the bottom two for men.
Going with Mom to Concordia tonight. Everything was covered in a thin layer of ice this morning. Storm tonight.
So tired. Not been sleeping well since Naomi's. First my schedule was just off, with going to bed and getting up late, but now it's getting to sleep latelate and waking up regular. Two mugs of warm milk and honey last night, with a headache and a stomachache, the kind i get when i need sleep. Still have that stomachache.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
PANTS!!
Need. Tonight was the Candle Walk (candles are placed in paper bags all along both sides of both sidewalks of a fairly short street, and people walk up and down and get emotional and runny-nosed, the second accidental), so Fuzzy and Squishy and Juicy and i walked and got emotional and runny-nosed. And cold in other ways: by the time we got back, i couldn't feel my legs. I probably shouldn't wear skirts (as opposed to pants, not opposed to nothing) for walking outside in December, but it's not really an option for me anymore. Here is probably where i sigh.
Made cookies today. Frosted them with the Peach Slaves.*
I picked my CHRISTmass "recital" pieces just now, which is sad, since the "recital" is in exactly a week. Ah well. Wading through Advent, CHRISTmass and Epiphany pieces is fun, especially when i play so much pedal the heel of my foot goes to sleep.
The reason it's a "recital" and not just a plain recital is that the "recital" is done at the mall. They hook the piano up to the speaker system and sell hours of time to whoever will perform. It's what we've done the last two years for December recitals.
And now for my slightly-edited-for-those-who-know-me-ish CHRISTmass wishlist, just in case… ;D
*(not to Fuzzy or Squishy or Denim) Do you know who the Peach Slaves are?
Made cookies today. Frosted them with the Peach Slaves.*
I picked my CHRISTmass "recital" pieces just now, which is sad, since the "recital" is in exactly a week. Ah well. Wading through Advent, CHRISTmass and Epiphany pieces is fun, especially when i play so much pedal the heel of my foot goes to sleep.
The reason it's a "recital" and not just a plain recital is that the "recital" is done at the mall. They hook the piano up to the speaker system and sell hours of time to whoever will perform. It's what we've done the last two years for December recitals.
And now for my slightly-edited-for-those-who-know-me-ish CHRISTmass wishlist, just in case… ;D
- Pants!
- A long stapler, that can staple a regular-sized piece of paper in the middle
- "Tintenblut" by Cornelia Funke, in German (not "Tintenherz")
- Or perhaps "Tintentod" by the same author
- ‘Willow Run’ by Patricia Reilly Giff
- "Enna Burning" by Shannon Hale
- A wallet (full if possible)
- Who What Where (game)
- Killer Bunnies (game)
- The New Yorker Cartoon Caption game
- Something orange
- $1,000,000 (not going to stop trying)
*(not to Fuzzy or Squishy or Denim) Do you know who the Peach Slaves are?
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
My excerpt
If nobody says anything about the excerpt, i'm going to scream and give up editing the story and nobody will ever see any more of it.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
I WON
I won. I won i won i won. Ha. Hahahahahahahha.
An excerpt:
Laudo couldn't sleep sometimes, and he often passed hours by watching people in the streets go by. The third time he found Amala going by at midnight he got up and went outside to meet her.
"Are you okay?" She jumped.
"Are you okay?" She jumped.
"Yes, yes… i'm looking for Altu, you know, one of those flowers best picked at night." She had no gathering basket.
"Amala, about the King," he started.
"What? I'm fine, you know that."
"But not just the king, about the Prince," he said. Small pause. "Edmund."
One sniff. Two. Then came torrents of tears, soaking his sweater. He let her weep for a while, moving them to a small grove of trees.
When her face was relatively dry, he gently asked, "What happened?"
She thought a moment, then: "You know the Queen was barren for many a year? Her husband came to me in the middle of the night to ask for a child. And Queen Snow-White asked for - what else? - golden-yellow hair that grows fast for her child. Who asks for that? Mostly i get requests for healthy children! And hair. What importance is hair? She could've asked that the child will have good eyesight or an unbloodiable nose or- or- something useful. Growing fast. That just makes it worse! You want to trim it each week? What if she wants short hair? And what are you going to do with all that hair, make a ladder?" Laudo positioned himself to hear a lot more of this. "But ask for hair she did, and being a fool, i tried. Not hard, but i tried. Of course she sent but a single hair, probably from her endless trimmings, as she couldn't stand pulling a fresh one. Do you know how hard it is to make a baby from two hairs? It's pretty hard. With most people I'd've demanded a lock more if they want a child, but the King said this was to be secret, and I thought not of this outcome.
"You know Michael was called away urgently the day after Zel- Ed was born? Well, the third day, Her Vain Self came with the Princess and soldiers. She complained of the lack of hair, as though the baby wasn't absolutely beautiful anyway, and she thought greedily of my Edmund. Oh, Ed," and she cried a few minutes more. "I missed him so, after they were switched. I didn't dare do anyting without Michael, and he never came back. The new baby was nothing like Ed. She cried too much and she didn't have a lovely fluffy head and those eyes- but now, now she's my own dear, i'm afraid i love her more than my true child.
"But what am i saying? She is my true child, i wouldn't give her up for anything, not even… not even Ed. He should be happy where he is. They have fresh food to eat at every meal, and never worn-out shoes, and no one dares point and glare. Oh how i wish," she sighed, and stared into space. After a minute or so Laudo cleared his throat and she continued.
"But i was always afraid the Queen would do something, except the King wouldn't let her, surely. But he let her switch the babies. What was she thinking? The fool. He has magic blood in him, likely he'll be a Warlock. And he looks nothing like either Royal Family with their pale skin. He must feel so out of place. But poor Zel, she has not hair. Of course she doesn't, that's what caused so much of this trouble. Hair! I hate hair." And she grabbed handfuls of her own deep brown locks, as though she would tear it out then and there. Laudo said nothing.
"Why Marizel?" He interrupted her thoughts at last.
"I made it up on the spot. Mari- was from Marik, Ed's middle name, and -zel, well… i didn't want her to lose that enirely." She was silent a moment or two.
"How obvious was it? That Zella's not mine. By blood."
"Not very to those who don't know you. We always suspected something, but we're well brought up about those who don't look like family." Laudo had three boys who looked nothing like him.
The sun started to come up over the horizon.
"I best be off," said Laudo. "The bread needs put in the oven."
"And i had better get back before the Princess Rapunzel wakes."
"The Princess…"
"The Princess."
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