Frigidarium: A True Story (Of Sorts)

I was trying to compose in my head

A poem, on my way to the shed

(Or garage, but that's hard to rhythm)

And I was taking my precious time

Being optimistic poetic me,

Not knowing what was going to shortly be.

The male members of our home

Wanted cake, frozen and under a dome

Of the ice cream variety

So I'd gone with female piety

To fetch it from the freezer

(I've been told I'm a people pleaser)

My mother told me to surely go

Making sure not to stub a toe

Through the back door since it wasn't locked

As the normal way between the cars was blocked.

My new poem was meant to rhapsodize

On how the magnolia petals lie.

How they crunch beneath my feet

As I walk on their soft, unblemished sheet.

I wanted to rhyme how the night air

And the cricket's beat transports me somewhere.

While my mind was on that

I pulled the door close so it didn't bat

And bang in the wind annoyingly

And bother my mother worry-ingly

I picked my way over garage-y stuff

Which I can tell you, is tough

When one is in pitch darkness

With only a small light in the mess.

I opened the freezer to discover

There wasn't light there neither!

I exclaimed my displeasure

And then felt around for good measure.

But it was a bigger than normal ice box

And I felt out smarted by the fox

Of my own absentmindedness

It was silly of me, I must confess

Not to remember a flashlight

Yet on went I with all my might

And stuck in both my arms

Never thinking of the harms

But I lost my footing

Horizontally positioning was my ending

And then my wandering hands

Came up empty... oh my Lands!

I was stuck in the cooler

Could I be more of a fooler?

Stuck like Pooh, half in half out.

I was most definitely a lout

And believe me, it hurt

As cold began seeping through my night shirt.

I struggled for a moment

And only manged to get more bent

I stopped and started considering

If nosily yelling and bellowing

Was in any way dignified.

If I told myself it was, I would have lied.

In this moment of self reflection

To my amazement and fun

Found the cake that I'd been sent for

Only to end up stuck in the freezer door.

I pulled at it much too promptly

Considering my task fait accompli

Then the lid came off, and with it the cake

How much more of a mess could I make?

I somehow caught them both right side up

But felt most unhappy and cutup.

I was stuck, in the dark

Balancing ice cream cake, what a lark!

Then, Oh rapturous joy unbound!

The wondrous mother of mine had found

Her daughter gone quite long

And worried something might be wrong.

She called from the entry way

To hurry and not delay!

I begged her to turn on the light

And to aid me in my desperate plight.

But alas, my muffled voice

Did not transport, she had no choice

But misunderstand me

And although I could finally see

For, the light she switched on

But to my aid, came none.

I urged myself out with relief

Happy to get past it with my teeth

Deciding not to go the way I came

In truth, I felt rather lame.

I snaked my way between the cars,

Almost like prison bars.

It was not nice going, I admit.

I was near on at the end of my wit

When on the hitching post

My Pj's caught, (this is not a boast!)

I tugged them free at last

And made my way fast

To the door to get inside

And I do not think I cried.

But then, of course, it was locked,

And I sighed and (loudly) knocked.

Only to have it opened to hear

After everything "The cake is not needed, my dear.”

…

So instead I ate Greek yogurt

(Healthier by far) but I still wanted to blurt

Out my woes to you, my friends

To the trivial my life does tend.

Yet it has it's almost charming in the end,

A funny story, is how I defend.

Such horrid rhythms and no meter

I apologies most humbly dear reader.

At the last you must know

The moral to this unnecessary show

Is that poetry is dangerous

And always cause a ruckus.

Ignore poetic magnolias soft and sweet

If you want to keep your feet!

(*Disclaimer* I have never professed to be anything close to a poet. Mostly I just like thought in short verse and capitalizing words in the middle of sentences ;-P)

*Much thanks to Merrill for her awesome-ness!

Why do We Write? *Evil Laugh*

"Some people assume that authors write books because we have vivid imaginations and want to share our vision. Other people think we write because we are bursting with and therefore must scribble those stories down in moments of propondenty. Both groups are completely wrong. Authors write books for one and only one reason. Because we like to torture people. Now actual torture in frowned upon in civilized society, fortunately the authorial community has discovered in story telling an even more powerful and fulfilling means of causing agony. We write stories, and by doing so we engage in a perfectly legal way of doing all sorts of terrible things to our readers. Take for instance, the word I used above, "propondenty", there is no such word. I made it up. Why? Because it amused me to think of thousands of readers looking up a nonsense word in their dictionaries. Authors also create wonderful loving characters, then proceed to do terrible things to them. This makes the readers feel hurt and worried for the characters. The simple truth is: authors like making people squirm. If this weren't the case, all novels would be full of cute bunnies having birthday parties. So now you know why I would write a book. Ask yourself this: would any kindhearted individual become an author? Of course not. So there.

~Alcatraz Vs. the Evil Librarians
By Brandon Sanderson

NOTE: I am posting this quote purely because it makes me laugh, I do not in any way agree with the statement above and I can't actually recommend this book out right. It mentions magic and can be quite silly. I enjoyed it as a light read, but I can guarantee that not everyone will.

"Life is either a daring adventure...or nothing."

I hate change. Okay, too strong of a word for you? Greatly dislike, do not prefer, detest, would rather not have to deal with, it is not my favorite thing in the world. In plain English?

Don't like it.

I just don't like it. I always knew I didn't like it, but yesterday I realized how utterly deep my hatre- excuse me, great dislike for it is. You see a very terrible thing happened.

I lost my hairbrush.

Yeah I know that isn't so unusual. Especially for me, I lose things very often. But you have to understand, I liked my hairbrush, I use it a lot, it was exactly the kind I like, I'd had it for a while, it fit my head and my hand, it was perfect.

Then I lost it. You're going to laugh at me because of this, but it's true, I seriously went through some mental distress when I couldn't find my hair brush. It's not like there wasn't a hairbrush around, I simply borrowed Susie's for a couple of days, but it wasn't MY hairbrush.

After finally deciding the hairbrush was officially LOST, I bought a new one.

Which didn't solve anything. The new one was... well it just didn't feel right, it was too big, it felt weird on my head and it... was just not my hairbrush.

Now you all officially think I'm the most trivial person in the world. I just spent. 1...2...3...227 words talking about my anguish over losing my hairbrush.

Pitiful, I know. I do have a point, I promise.

The point is, I was upset because something steady in the life- namely my hairbrush - changed. This made me realize how much I don't like change.

We were watching You've Got M@il last night, Kathleen Kelly said something I thought was interesting: "People are always telling you that change is a good thing, but all they're really saying is, that something you didn't want to happen at all, has happened."

In some ways I really agreed. Find me someone who truly LOVES change and I'll faint. What human wants what they like to change?

The again (I say that a lot, has anyone noticed that?) what would life be like without change? Change is life, change from a baby to a adult, and then to, you know, an old person. Change from a carefree teenager to a "young adult" with responsibilities and a job and weird feelings and and expectations thrust upon you. I fit into this last category. It seems like yesterday I was a child,(and I'm sure a great many people reading this blog believe I am still a child) now I have a job, and like it or not, and I'm graduating this spring, and I have to think about higher education.

I have to grow up.

I'm immature, I'll admit it, I still clutch my baby blanket to me when I'm upset, I dearly love to sleep in on Saturday mornings, and yes, I will purposely avoid work because I'd rather read my book. But deep down inside, I don't want to grow up. I don't want to have to worry about bills and the economy and gas prices, I don't want to go to bed at the same time every night, because I'll always have a full day tomorrow, I don't want to read only textbooks because I don't have time to read anything fun. I'm not ready to give up on childhood ignorance. I don't want to have to think about all the unborn babies that die everyday legally, I don't want to think about the fact that with the way the economy is going I could not have a job next year. I want to still pretend that Mommy and Daddy will always work things out.

But I can't do that anymore because, honestly (sorry mom and dad) they can't fix everything anymore. I have to think about these things. I have to grow up, I have to mature, I have to... well, I have to change. If I planted my feet in right now, locked my bedroom door for 5 years, and refused to grow-up I suppose I might accomplish it, then maybe I'd be happy.

Then again (there I said it again) I'm sure I would be miserable, I would be a idiot 23 year old who couldn't face life, and therefore I would have missed out on every wonderful thing life does have to offer. Now I'd have to be a real idiot to do that, because growing up is something we all have to do but would like to put off. We know eventually it's going to be good for us but we don't want to do it. It reminds me of when I was learning to read. Boy did I put up a fuss! Everyone told me I would like, nay, love reading! I agreed with them and I knew, someday I would have to learn. Still I put up a big fuss while mom tried to teach me. Why? Because It was HARD.

Hard.
That was my only reason.
I simply did not want to out any effort into it.
How more selfish and self-centered can a person get?

Yes, I was a yellow belied coward. Now, if there's anything I hate being called, it's a coward. So, yes, I learned to read, and yes, I'm going to become an adult one of these days, mainly because I don't have choice, but also because I know that I know that I also disagree wit this quote, "People are always telling you that change is a good thing, but all they're really saying is, that something you didn't want to happen at all, has happened." Because weather we realize it or not, we want change, it's hard but we want it because we would be miserable without it, so in that essence, change can be, and is a good thing, Why?

Because there's a God, who, strangely enough, cares about me.

Yeah, little ol' me.

And he's declared that: "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."(Rom 8:28)

Somehow all these things I greatly dislike will turn out okay because even though Mom and Dad can't fix everything anymore God still can. We won't always see how they worked out for good or understand, sometimes we do, I.E. learning to read was one of the best things that's ever happened to me, I understand that now. So if we understand it or not that promise is always there, it's a promise from God, and he doesn't break his promises. It's a nice thought.

Another thought I find comforting is that life is an adventure. Adventure means "an exciting or extraordinary event or series of events". Adventures consist of, for the most part, hard times, and fun. I like fun things, I don't like hard times. But hard times give us the fun, so if I do have to start worrying about the stock markets and gas prices I vow that I won't let those worry lines crease my face. I will make my way bravely through the hard times. If I do have to go to collage then I'm going to learn about something I like, something FUN! Because I think life is too short to live unfulfilled and God didn't create us to live life that way.

So even if I have to grow up I refuse, absolutely REFUSE to get somber and worried and old seeming. My life is going to be an adventure. I'm going to join Helen Keller in the belief that "Life is a daring adventure, or nothing."

The best part is? In my book adventures always have happy endings, because I have a God who cares about me.

You want to know what? I found my hairbrush (under a pile of clothes, where else?) Also, if you actually read this whole thing kudos for you! Thanks for listening.

Wordy Wednesday English Assignment About a Social Evil

Evil, it’s a hard word to pin down. The dictionary defines it as “profoundly immoral or wrong.” But what is immortality? Many would say it is what is right or wrong. But what is right and wrong? 200 years ago this would have been an easy question to answer. Then white and wrong was black and white. Even in underdeveloped countries and lands wrong always followed that same similar guidelines or laws. These laws can be boiled down to two basic principles (1) Do all you have agreed to do. (2) Do not encroach on other persons or their property. This sounds simple, no? The 2 laws cover about everything, and you could say that anyone who breaks these laws would be doing evil.

In modern day United States Of America, the 2^nd law is broke many times each day. No, I’m not talking about, acts of violence by criminals, I’m talking about murder. Murder, you must agree with me is encroaching on another person. But I’m not talking about the kind of murder that a person can get tried for. I’m talking about legal murder, our justice system accepts it, even protects this type of cold-blooded murder. There are professionals in this area of murder, and they are proud to tell you what they do for a living. Every day they kill humans, real, thinking, and functioning people, with fingers, toes, and feelings.

These professional killers?

Abortion doctors.

This evil?

The killing of 100,000 of innocent children.

The unbelievable part is, they find no evil in it. They find not wrong in doing what a child from most primitive nation on earth could tell you is wrong. But some how, in today “advanced culture” it’s suddenly right. Black and white are mixed, and all you have is a muddled gray, where no one remembers that there was a black and a white. Morality becomes something derived from personnel preference. In this thought I am the final authority on everything, there is no higher law or law at all. The 2 basic laws are ignored. When it is legal to take life from a tiny precious child, for selfish reasons and it is legal, law no longer is a “divine”, there is no accountability, there is no right, wrong, or even a point to life. Life is cheap in a society where it is casually extinguished. Life, which is the center of everyone’s beings, yours mine, everyone’s, how can it be “right” to hold your own life in such high esteem as to assume there is no one higher, but at the same time, put down another’s life, just because they are weaker than you. This is truly evil.

How to Check a Book in at My Library in 8 Steps.

This was an English assignment where I was supposed to explain a process that was familiar to me, but that I was supposed to assume my reader knew nothing about. Enjoy!

Libraries are a part of modern life. It is a place to gain knowledge, or even just to enjoy some entertainment. Libraries are places of order, but do you ever think about the people who keep it that way? You randomly pull a book off the shelf check it out and bring it back. You drop it in the return book and think nothing else of it. After you leave a librarian must check the books in. Here how she might do it:

(We are of course assuming this library has updated to computers, instead of the old card catalog, which, while having it’s merits, is now old technology.)

First we must look at the quantity of book in the return bin, in this particular case; we have a square hole in the counter. Below is a hollow wooden box of the same size of the hole with a top on springs, the heavier the load of books in the return bin the lower the top. If there are only a couple of items in on top of the bin I advise taking checking them in with not much fuss. Easy.

If, as it is the norm, the return box is quite full of items, I advise going about it in this orderly fashion:

1.) Take everything out of the box. (If there are especially a lot of books and the top is way down you might have to go below the counter to remove the books more easily, especially if you are shorter than the average human.) Check for items that are wedged between the top and the lip of the box. Also when the bin is empty (and if it has wheels) roll it our from under the hole and check around the area for anything that might have fallen off the over-stuffed bin onto the floor. Replace the bin.

2.) The items you have removed should be placed in stacks around the hole on the counter. Divide them into sensible categories: The VHS tapes, DVDs, CDs, Books on Tape, Large Print, Children’s, Paperbacks, Teens, Mystery, Adult Fiction, Non-fiction and Fantasy all go into several assorted piles.

3.) Pick a pile and start with the item on top. (I usually start with the DVDs because they are high-demand.)

4.) Locate the barcode. (A barcode is a series of parallel vertical lines, or bars used yp assign a unique identification code.) Depending on the item and who it belongs to the barcode could be anywhere. On our DVDs the barcode is usually in the right side of the case above the DVD. Other libraries have the barcode on the front, some on the back. CD cases almost always have the barcode on the front.

5.) Place the barcode under the scanner’s red laser light. (A scanner is an input device that puts something into digital form.) Now this is the most difficult of the process, I can’t really tell you how to do it because it’s a “touch” one must learn how to do. You must place it in the exactly right place and pull it out quickly. There can’t be anything too close, even your hand, or the scanner will become confused. If the scanner reads the barcode correctly the name of the item with appear on the screen and the computer will give you a reassuring “beep”.

6.) If, indeed the barcode is on the inside of the case, when you open it you will be able to see if the DVD or CD is there. (You’d be surprised how many people return the case but leave the DVD or CD in the player.) If the DVD/CD isn’t present use your mouse to click where the name of the item appeared on the screen. The name of the patron who had had the item will show in a pop-up window. Write down the name and put aside to call later.

7.) Place the item on put it on the correct cart. In my libraries check-in area there are three carts surrounding the counter. To the left of the hole there is a two sided yellow cart with two shelves in each side. On the inside cover of most items is the month and year which the library purchased it; if it was purchased in the last six months, place in on the top shelf of the left side of the yellow cart. The top right shelf is where all the other books go (no matter if they are children’s, teens, adults etc.) Magazines go on the right and left sides bottom shelves. Adult DVDs, VHS tapes, CDs and Books on tape go on a single sided three shelved black cart behind me. DVDs on the top shelf, VHS tape on the middle and CDs and Books on tape on the bottom. There is a low one sided yellow cart to your right. Children’ DVDs, CDs and Books on tape go there.

8.) At our library we trade books with some neighboring libraries. If one of these borrowed items is returned the computer will tell you who to send it back to. You then put the item in the crate on the shelf below the computer that is there for just such a purpose. It is also possible that an item might be requested by a patron of the library when checked in the computer will tell you. You can then print out the slip of paper and tape it (with removable tape) to the spine of the item and put it on another shelf below the computer in the area marked “To Call”.

It is a possibility that a personnel item may be returned, or even an item from a church or school library that your library is not associated with. If it is a church or school library item return to the library. If it is a personnel item you can try to find the owner by searching the names of people who have just brought items back.

Sound complicated? Well then would you like to know then that the item is not even half-way back to it’s proper spot. From the carts it must go to the shelves in the staff room where it will sit until someone takes it and puts it on a different cart, takes it to the right place in the building and puts it on the right place on the shelf. (All this is has a system unto it’s self.) Often enough the item doesn’t stay there for more than a week, when somebody checks it out, takes it home, utilizes it, and drops it into the return bin. Here we go again.

Trials, Tribs, and Trying to be Thankful for Them

Most of you read the Bella and Bob story that I posted on The Blank Page. I wrote that story for a writing contest that was being sponsored by the Library. I entered this same contest last year and won 2nd place. (Not a big achievement, there were only 6 or so entries.) The contest went all summer but I just couldn't get an idea for the life of me. I was taking a writing class and I really felt my skill improve as the summer progressed. Finally the day after the last class, 4 days before the deadline for the contest, I had a flash of inspiration, and out of that came Bella and Bob. I worked very hard on the story to get in done in time, staying up late, e-mailing people for opinions. When I was done, and turned it in, I was happy. Bella and Bob was much better than the story I'd written for the previous contest and I was confident of winning something. Karina (the Librarian in charge of the contest) had even told me a couple weeks earlier that there were hardly any entries as it was. I even considered not entering, because it wouldn't seem fair to win just because there was no one to beat. But Mom convinced me to enter and I did, feeling quite confident.

Yesterday was the morning Karina said she was going call the winners. I stayed relatively close to the phone all morning. By the time 11:30 had rolled around I decided that Karina had known I was coming into work today and was going to save a phone call and tell me later. Unless I didn't win... I ended up having a debate with myself.

No Lydia, bad thought, bad thought! But hey, it could happen, you're not a sure-in or anything. But B&B was really good! Remember that Sara (friend of mine who won last year) entered something too. Maybe I should just keep my options open... Be prepared for both.

So I imagined what it would be like to lose, it was a very brief thought, imagining winning was much more fun. I had my post all written out in my head about how the Olympics having so many medals, but my writing contest ribbon being just as special to me. By the time I got to work I had everything but the punctuation worded out. After about half an hour I worked up the courage to ask Karina, a funny feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

If you hadn't already guessed, I didn't place at all. They even added a third place because there were so many last minute entries.

My friend Sara won and the 2nd and 3rd place entries were written by high schoolers I recognized from the community. I seriously felt like I got hit with a pile of bricks.

I was somehow able to keep a fake smile on my face and act like it was fine and the contest meant absolutely nothing to me. I continued with my job trying hard not to cry and telling my self what an idiot I was for being so confident.

I hope you don't think I was being proudful when I thought I could win, I don't think I was, I was just being my optimistic hopeful self, with dire consequences.

Of course right after my dreadful news I stared to feel really sick, I hadn't felt well all week and have been having bouts of stomach trouble, and of course then it had to hit full force.

You know how sometimes you come out of a situation and you realize "Hey! That was a trial! I got through it! At least it's over now." Well this was different, The second I started to feel sick I knew this was a tribulation I was going to have to work through, I knew I had to keep a smile on my face, I knew I had to pretend I felt peachy-keen and be happy when all I wanted to do was go home and lay and my bed and cry on my Mommy's lap.

But I realized I'm 17 years old and I had to work through it like a woman. That next hour was pretty bad, I was feeling so sick I couldn't concentrate on the computer screen, partly because of blurred vision and partly because my brain refused to remember how to check a book out. Of course in that hour all the most annoying library patrons had to come in.

But I kept going, I refused to cry and I plastered on the fakest smile imaginable. After an hour my medicine started to kick in and I became so busy I didn't have time to be "woe is me"-ish.

On my break later that day I picked up People magazine to look at a article about Steven Curtis Chapman (that is the ONLY reason I would read that magazine, don't worry.) Mr. Chapman lost his 5 year old daughter a few months ago in a tragic accident. As I read the article I felt really guilty, this poor family is morning the lose of a little girl and I'm blubbering about a contest. I should be thankful I'm alive. At the same time I felt special that God cared about my little disappointment, even if it was silly.

So I'm not quite sure were this is going, I'm still not as happy as I should be. But I'm peaceful and submitted to God's will. Who knows, maybe my losing this contest is some great test, and someday I'll look back and realize this was a turning point in my life. I don't know. But I am able to say this:

I'm thankful I lost the contest because it gave me an opportunity to submit to God's will and be happy about it, even when I really really didn't want to.

Poem Sweet Poem

We discussed this poem in my creative writing class today. At first I thought it was odd, it not rhyming and all, but after discussion it's humor appealed to me. It was written by a Doctor who wrote his poems on prescription cards (thus the rather short lines) while he waited in between his patients. I love how it has the "note stuck on the refrigerator" quality to it.

This is Just to Say


I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox



and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast.



Forgive me,

they were delicious,

so sweet

and cold.

So, what do you think? Is the speaker apologizing? Is he sorry he ate the plums? What is the poem really about? Most importantly: what type of plums??

Please comment and let me know what you think!

Grammar, To Being or Not to Being

Remember the English assignment from the beginning if the school year?? Well I've written more assignments since then, but nothing too interesting. Last week's chapters assignment was to write a piece supporting a subject, but completely mean to oppose it. I was to write something by meaning something else. It's an interesting venue of the written word. Although often used in sarcasm, C.S Lewis used it in his classic "The Screwtape Letters" which I am currently reading. By writing from the view of a demon, and through that trying showing evil to be good he was actually showing how sickly evil, evil really is! I'm not aspiring to be be C.S. Lewis, but when I learned this venue was to be used in my assignment I decided to enjoy it by attack a pet peeve of mine, (a pet peeve I am ashamedly guilty of..) BAD GRAMMAR!



Hey’s me is so happy your is reading this here wrote paper. I is written it to speaks to all you that good grammer ain’t worth at all the work and trouble and all that. You who wants to messy with pronouns and nouns and verbs and proper tenses. Why you worry about the difference in seen and saw? What matters is it was looked. Was were what were the problem with it if it was that a way or were that way. Past present and future make none big deal, ain’t they the same? and in that there thought whats with capitalization and punctuation all big trouble i’s say I could be ,any trouble to figure which of whole much tenses to use when you is written when you’s could just wrote what you feels like and let the reading person figure out what you’s meet hisself that’s how come i’s going to being start a club for non-grammulacerists calling
“grammer ain’t worth it none”

Care’s to join i?

“grammer ain’t worth it none” is a corperation of “spillin shud bee otlaud”

Inspired by a True Story

For English this week I was assigned to, "select one lesson I'd 'learned' or began to learn, as the result of a specific incident and write on it ." In other words, think of some dumb thing I did and write a story on it. Sadly quite a few blunders came to mind. I settled on the one below and finished my final draft this morning. Since you all like to tease me, I figured I could give you some material. BTW, I changed a few names to protect the innocent:-)

An Ordinary Piece of News... ~L.M.S.
…Told with the normal straight face and level voice. Sure, she was smiling, but anyone would think that was due to the fact that she was relating a pleasant article of intelligence, one I had been hoping would happen. As she would know, I believed her.
Later that day I told my sister with excitement.
“Lucy is going to be in my grade!”
“Really?” Deb seemed quite perplexed. “Why isn’t she going to graduate this year? Poor Girl. Who told you?”
“Mrs. S., Lucy’s mom told her. Lucy’s so much fun, I’d be sorry to see her go this year. I think she just wasn’t ready to leave home yet. Now we have two more play years together.”
My sister seemed satisfied with my information, but didn’t share my excitement; she was more prone to pity. Now, I’m not a person to gossip or to spread unconfirmed rumors, but I was excited that one of my favorite home school friends wasn’t going to move off sooner than I was ready for, so I shared it with a few people. All asked about the same questions as my sister, I was never doubted though, because I had it from an irreproachable source.
Now I wish I’d kept my big mouth shut, especially at Track a few days later.
“So Lucy…” I said as soon as I’d caught my breath after catching up to her. “I’m so pumped about the next two years; we’re going to have so much fun!”
“Yeah, I guess so,” She gasped as we rounded the turn. “I’m nervous about my senior year; I hope I don’t get a huge part, or a lot of lines.”
“Oh don’t worry,” I steered around a puddle from the recent rain. “You and I still got a whole year till we got to worry about that, it’s only our Jr. Year.”
A puzzled look crosses her face. That should’ve been ample warning for me but I plunged on.
“Yeah, I was practically giddy when I heard we were going to be the same grade, I couldn’t believe-“
“Lydia, what ARE you talking about?” She abruptly interrupted me and considerately slowed her gait. “Are you graduating this year with me? I’m a senior.”
“What?” I stopped altogether. “But… I… Didn’t… oops.” I suddenly felt quite warm and could sense my face reddening. “Oh, never mind, just ignore me.” PLEASE, I added under my breath. Thankfully just then the coach cautioned us to keep up with everyone else and hurry.
*****************
“Lillian Mae, did or did not your mom tell me Lucy was doing her Jr. Year again, thus coming back to my grade?”
“You mean about last week?” She gave me “the look.” “Don’t tell me… It was a joke, you knew that didn’t you? You believed her?? Lydia!”
“No further comments at this time.” I responded miserably to her pealing laughter.
As I set about setting all the people straight that I’d misinformed I was thankful I hadn’t told too many friends. I reflected on how gullible I could be, definitely something to work on. I now knew I needed to not believe quite everything I heard.

In Anticipation of a Most Happy Return

OUR SUSIE IS COMING HOME TODAY

By Yours Truly

Sung to the tune of "The Ants Go Marching-w/adjustments"

Our Susie is coming home today,

Hurrah, hurrah,

Our Susie is coming home today,

Hurrah, hurrah,

Our Susie is coming home today,

She's been gone so very long,

And we're soooooooo glad,

She's coming back to us.

She was working at the First Fruits,

So far away,

She was working at First Fruits,

so far away,

She was working at First Fruits,

For four whole long weeks,

It's been so boring here,

poor us poor us.

Now we are so glad she's coming today,

Yippee,

We are so glad she's coming today,

Woopee,

I almost didn't survive while my Susie away,

But now she's coming back today.

HURRAH

Adventures of the Babysitter

Picture this: two baby girls, somewhere between 6 months and a year. Playing on a carpeted floor, one dark haired with brown eyes. The other, light blond hair and blue eyes. The light baby is sucking a binky happily. The dark haired one reaches over and with a determined swipe, plucks the binky away, depositing it in her own mouth contentedly. Light looks a bit startled, but makes no verbal complaint beyond a mumbled fuss. Time passes, Dark becomes upset about something and starts up a wail, out falls the binky. The chance Light has been waiting for, grabbing her property back, she plops it back in her mouth and turns away to play more. Dark, with a fuss, goes for it again, now smarter, Light moves off. Who knew being 8 months could be so complicated??

Crankiness sets in, and our heroine Babysitter herself, is forced to make a decision. On the edge of the living room sits a bouncy chair, complete with lights, sound, toys, rattles, everything that could possibly be annoying, also on the front is the most essential element, a button to turn it off. Light is put in it and for the first time all day is content... for 5 minutes. Soon a piercing cry splits the air, Babysitter, playing quietly with Dark, sighs. Out goes Light, in goes Dark. Dark, who loves the bouncy, could be in there for hours and starts cooing happily. Light looks confused, wasn't she just enjoying herself in there a bit ago? She bawls. Babysitter can not figure out what is wrong, she acted as if she wanted out, now she wants in. Another switch is made, maybe she made a mistake. WAAAAAAAA! On the other hand, maybe she didn't. Another switch. Soon Babysitter realizes the problem. Light wants to play with the toys in the bouncy, but to leave Babysitter's lap?? Are you kidding?? Babysitter sits on the floor in front of the bouncy holding Light in her lap while she plays with the toys on the bouncy while Dark jumps around in the bouncy.

Having twins would definitely be interesting...

Will Babysitter survive till Mom gets home????? Stay tuned for another adventure!!!!!!

Check this out:

http://spentcasings.blogspot.com/

Please comment! When you get there scroll down to the first post to read what exactly Spentcasings is, then read!

Cheerio,
Lydia

P.S. Even shorter!!

Solution to The Case of the Rough Rider

Since Debbie, Rebecca and Erica read The Case of the Rough Rider, I've revised it. So you three don't know everything as you suppose you do. I changed it from 3 to 2 mistakes. One of them was the same and I added a new one. Below is the solution.
You all get your wish, a short post.
Cheerio,
Lydia

Solution to The Case of The Rough Rider

Wilford’s two mistakes were:

1.) San Juan Hill and Kettle Hill are really in Cuba not Mexico as indicated in the letter.
2.) Even though it carries the same effect, Theodore Roosevelt’s actual quote is, “Speak softy and carry a big stick.”
When faced with this proof, Wilford admitted that he didn’t have a great uncle much less one who knew Teddy Roosevelt. He had written the letter himself, but hadn’t bothered to do his homework on President Roosevelt.

I can't think of a name for this post

OK, I got the message, boring post. Only ONE person commented. I know I can't rhyme, and therefore am no poet. But I didn't think it was that bad... I do promise that I will never ever again post any poem I write. *everyone sighs in relief* Which shouldn't be hard, considering, I've only ever written 2 in my entire life that I can remember, the other one you don't want to hear. BUT...(yes, there's always a but..) that promise doesn't apply to something I've written that ISN'T poetry!*everyone groans again, I laugh evily*

Have any of you ever read The Encyclopedia Brown books? Encyclopedia is a 10 year old "boy detective" and really smart. One of those people who never forget anything. His Dad is police chief in their town, and Leroy (his real name) helps his Dad with unsolvable cases that he solves, usually during dinner. Encyclopedia also has his own detective agency in the family garage where he solves cases for the local kids with his sidekick Sally. There are two kids in town who are always trying to cheat his friends, Encyclopedia stops them of course. The books aren't brilliant works, but I used to really like them so I wrote a case. You are all VERY privileged, you get to read my one and ONLY finished piece of work. Enjoy!







The Case of the Rough Rider
Encyclopedia and Sally were sitting in Brown’s Detective Agency one afternoon in late August.
“Bugs haven’t been up to anything in nearly a week,” sighed Sally.
“Yeah,” agreed Encyclopedia, setting down The Spanish Life of Theodore Roosevelt, the book he was reading.
“With him not making trouble, nobody needs detectives.”
“Uh-oh,” murmured Sally under her breath. “Here comes your trouble.”
She pointed up the street. Lucy Fibbs was whizzing by on her bicycle.
“What’s wrong? Was Hambone stolen?” Sally called out.
Lucy lived on a farm. She loved animals, but pigs were her favorite. Hambone was Lucy’s prize pig. Lucy screeched to a halt.
“I hope not!” She cried, “I am going to be rich!!” dropping her bicycle on the sidewalk with a crash. “I could hire you full time for Twenty-Five Dollars an hour! Or a minute!!!!”
“Thanks,” said Sally.
“What did you do? Win the lottery?” asked Encyclopedia.
“I could sponsor the lottery with what Wilford said I will make,” Lucy cried excitingly.
“Who said?” Sally said sarcastically.
“Wilford,” replied Lucy meekly.
Encyclopedia sighed, “I should have known.”
Wilford Wiggins was a high school dropout and very lazy. He spent the day in bed dreaming up ways to cheat little kids out of their life savings, this must be his newest scheme.
“What’s Wilford up to this time?” queried Sally.
“I don’t know,” admitted Lucy, “All he said was to meet him at the dump with my money at five o’clock if I wanted to be rich.”
“I didn’t get an invitation,” Encyclopedia commented dryly.
“I’m not surprised, we’ve stopped his fast deals once too often,” returned Sally.
Lucy was looking troubled.
“I hope this isn’t a trick. Will you come with and tell me if Wilford is telling the truth? But, I will only be able to pay you twenty-five cents an hour.”
“We’ll come. Don’t worry,” Sally assured Lucy.
* * * * * * * * *
The three children arrived at the Dump in time. Wilford stood on a makeshift platform, next to a pile of tires.
“He’s wearing black,” whispered Sally, “and his eyes are red and puffy.”
“He didn’t look that way this morning,” Lucy pointed out.
Lucy turned to Fifi O’Brian. “Do you know what’s wrong with Wilford?”
“Uh-uh,” said Fifi. “Nobody does. Doesn’t he look like he’s been crying?” She sighed sympathetically.
Encyclopedia spied Bugs Meany and Spike Larson, one of his tigers, elbowing their way to the front of the crowd.
“What’s with the get up?” sneered Bugs. “Did you get a job as a’ undertaker?”
Spike and Bugs laughed and elbowed each other.

Wilford turned toward them, a sad look on his face.
“I am mourning the death of my great uncle,” Wilford said with a tragic air. He wiped away a tear that was sliding down his cheek and swallowed to regain his composure.
“My great Uncle, Wilford the First who is…” Wilford gulped, “was, 104”
Wilford stated the name and age proudly.
“He died of natural causes at his home in Texas, three days ago.” Wiford paused, as if unable to go on. He swallowed bravely and continued. “He was the last of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders.” Wilford sniffed, so did Lucy. “Some of my earliest memories are of him taking me on his knee to tell me about the. …Rough Riders and the charge of …(Gulp) San Juan Hill. He told me that while Teddy Roosevelt ….lived every year at New Years he would send him a …letter.”
Wilford was now openly sobbing, most of the girls were dabbing their eyes. Wilford straightened his back and began again.
“In his will he left to me the bundle of letters from Teddy Roosevelt. The Smithsonian Institute is interested in the letters and is willing to pay one thousand dollars for each letter.
A murmur ran through the crowd. “How can you prove you have these letters,” called out Sally.
“I have one right here,” replied Wilford with a smug face. “I‘ll read it to you.” Wilford took a piece of paper out of his pocket, opened it, cleared his throat and read:


The White House
January 1, 1905
Dear Wilford,
As promised I write you again. I hope the last year has been agreeable to you. How is your little nephew, Wilford?
As you have no doubt heard I have been elected in my own right to serve a term in the office of President. I will endeavor to serve the county we fought for to the best of my abilities. Speak quietly, but carry a big stick and you will go far.
I have been thinking a lot about the Rough Riders lately. The charge up San Juan Hill was unforgettable. I hear that a monument will be erected on San Juan Hill, Mexico commemorating the Rough Riders. The Mexicans obviously don’t hold a grudge against us.
I hope all is well.

Sincerely,
Theodore


Silence had fallen over the crowd of children.
Bugs called out, “What’s this have to do with us?”
“I need money,” cried Wilford despairingly. “I gave all the money I had to pay for the burial arrangements of my great uncle. Yet to get the money from the Smithsonian I have to be there in two days. The only way to get there quickly enough is to fly, and I don’t have enough money to pay for a plane ticket. If you, my loyal friends, help me I will give you 10 dollars for every 2 dollars you give me. I have 15 letters from Teddy Roosevelt. That is $15,000 right there that I can pay you back with a lot of interest. Loan me ten dollars and I will pay you back $20. But I can’t pay you till I get the money from the Smithsonian. Will you, my friends, help me buy my plane ticket?!
“Yes,” cried the enthusiastic children. They lined up to give Wilford their money.
“I wouldn’t help him,” spoke up Encyclopedia.
“Why not!” said Lucy. “He needs our help!”
“Because,” said Encyclopedia, “he made two mistakes.”


What Were Wilford’s Mistakes?



I'll post the solution tomorrow... Any Guesses?????????????

Since I like posting pictures here's one of me and Joe, Susie needed us to pose for a picture she was drawing...here's the result

Cheerio,

Lydia

An Unoriginal poem and a Original poem

Here's a poem I wrote last year. Yes, I'm no poet, but it sums up my mood most school days. (It doesn't rhyme.)

History

Old, but newer each day,

Slow, but fasted paced.

Full, but missing parts here and there.

Sad and happy, (but usually not in the end.)

It's not a fairy tale, it's not a novel;

It's life, now and then.

I learn from their mistakes;

I share in their joy.

History can be fun!

Now Math's a different matter...

~Lydia Sigwarth

(If you are wondering, I don't really like Math, I'm not good at it.)

I'm posting this next poem because I'm sick of doing all the talking here, so I'm going to challenge you all. This Poem is called The Riddle, and that's what it is. One of those "Who Am I" riddles . I'm looking forward to your guesses!

A Riddle

We are little airy creatures

All of us different voice and features

One of us in glass is set

One of us you'll find in jet.

T'other you may see in tin,

And the forth a box within.

If the fifth you should ppursue,

It can never fly from you.

~Johnathan Swift

Cheerio,

Lydia