Eggy Tales

I feel like I have been having some new experiences with eggs lately. Nothing startlingly new, but it is funny how they seem to be creeping into little recent occurences. For instance, on the first day of spring a friend in orchestra told me that they had been practicing balancing eggs that day in science class because supposedly it was the only day in the year they could do it! Fascinating, is it not? However, since she didn't elaborate and I don't really know what she meant, I am also reminded that this is the same girl that claims fiercely that she has sneezed with her eyes open. It doesn't matter how many people tell her that it can't be done, but she persists in saying that she did (now maybe she really did blow her brains out in the process however and that could be why she doesn't have brains to admit that it could be impossible!). So anyway, that puts her information in perspective as to its truthfulness. But as I have no other reason to doubt her, I still am curious. Does anyone know about balancing eggs?

Occurence number two. That very same evening (during the Feast as some may know) Katherine and Jane were uh what-do-you-call-it to eggs--cracking them I guess. They had to do seventy--quite a whopping number--so of course it was very interesting to watch. The sea of yellow yokes bobbed becomingly like graceful blobs, or threatenly like exotic jelly fish, or pathetically like doomed embryos (man, it's amazing how many comparisons one can draw with egg yokes). Anyway, they bobbed. You get the picture. Okay that was really random, Kayla, you may be saying, but never fear. That isn't the only part of my story.

I also learned, as we watched the girls crack those many eggs (egg cracking is so much fun by the way, don't you agree?) that when squeezed a certain way, it is impossible to break the shell of the egg. Most likely you intelligent or even the common knowledged ones out there knew this, but as of then I didn't. This amazed me. It even took a little courage to actually try it, squeezing the egg as hard as I could, but over the bowl to be on the safe side. It didn't even give. And just to prove that it wasn't just me being wimpy at egg-squeezing, others tried it in a similar fashion and couldn't accomplish the task. It was then that Dennis came along and though he said that he had heard that, he didn't quite believe it. We persuaded him to try it, but he, rather than being safe, decided to be hazardous as he experimented and held it over the arm of Cara's new coat. Then, all of a sudden, the shell collapsed and the contents within shot straight up like Old Faithful itself, dousing the cupboard and ceiling in its slimy touch. Bits of spray went everywhere, but luckily Cara's jacket seemed to be safe and only Katherine's burgundy sweater was slightly offended.

What happened? You may say, but that remains a mystery. Dennis may believe that he proved the theory wrong, but many more hold that there was a crack in the egg, while still others think that his hands were so big they encompassed the more vulnerable ends of the egg. Who knows?

Well, other than that I'm afraid my recent egg stories are limited. Though it is true that just this morning an egg rolled off the counter and my mom recalled that happening last time we were here (we're in VA at my Uncle Bob and Aunt Joy's), and of course the other morning Craig and I (both phlegmatic as you may know) did have a seemingly stressful time as to whether I would eat a second egg or would he eat it if I didn't. But that's hardly worth mentioning.

My desperate stand against evil

Now I probably really got you scared by my title, but really this is nothing but a little writing project I did. I'm studying point of view in my writing course, and I got to pick a favorite scene from a movie or a book to write in first person. Hence, this is "my" stand against evil. I think you may recognize it. This is by no means perfect, as not another eye but my own has read it, but I thought I would still post it here for the fun of it. You need to keep in mind that although all the feelings and emotions that occur may seem like they are drawn out, they really do fly by in only a matter of seconds; this is just more clearly describing how "I" felt as this was happening. Also I need to warn you that my words that included an accented "e" or "u" didn't turn out right on blogger, so you won't see them as you should.

So sit back and pretend to enjoy!

“Begone, foul drimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!” My voice sounded more confident than I felt as I sized up the Nazgõl lord. A cold shudder ran through me as I felt his dark, gleaming gaze upon me. Tears stung my eyes as I lifted my shield to hide myself from that piercing stare of hatred.

“Come not between the Nazgõl and his prey!” The very sound of the bone chilling voice sent pangs of icy fear coursing through my whole body. “Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where they flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

Through all my foreboding, indignation still ruptured my feelings. What right did he have to threaten me so? Every right, a small steely voice gnawed at my consciousness. My anger melted into a feeling of doom, then grim determination. At least this thing was not going to prevail over my king and uncle without feeling my resistance first.

Gripping my sword hilt suddenly I drew it forth, the blade singing as I did so. “Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may."

“Hinder me? Thou foul,” the Nazgõl lord spat in mockery and disgust. “No living man may hinder me!”

That’s an easy one, I thought, as the perfect irony of the situation swept over me. It was so real I found myself laughing, not from joy, but from the mad wryness of it all. The fact that I was laughing, however mirthlessly, while on the threshold of having my life wrenched away from me gave me a strange kind of boldness.

“But no living man am I!” I cried, as I took hold of my helm and yanked it off my head. My hair went tumbling down over my shoulders. “You look upon a woman. E‹owyn I am, ‹Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you if you touch him!”

A bloodcurdling scream issued from the great mouth of the lord’s foul steed, but the Nazgõl lord himself was deathly silent. I shivered, trying not to lose my nerve, for this quiet could hardly mean anything good for me. Standing firm however, I waited, poised for my enemy’s next move.

The seconds dragged by.

All of a sudden, the monstrous beast flapped its hideous wings, and the air they churned stank from unwholesomeness. Then all too quickly it leapt up into the air and fell upon me like a shrieking boulder, but this boulder was armed with sharp beak and claw, and intent upon its kill.

With an agility that surprised even me, I dodged it, swerved about, and with both arms raised I hacked at its neck with all my strength, cleaving it in two. Swiftly I sprang back as the creature crumbled and then fell heavily to the ground.

A feeling of relief spread over me, and I felt the sun shining warmly on my head. But it wasn’t over.

From amidst the wreckage the Nazgõl lord rose, seething in quiet rage. Even as he reached his full towering height, he turned towards me. Cold sweat beaded my brow, and I licked my dry lips. What had I gotten myself into?

With a venomous cry he swung his mace and struck my shield such a fierce blow that it was shattered to bits, while my arm, searing with pain, hung limp at my side. Panic seizing me, I stumbled to my knees under the impact. So this was how my life was to end. I was immersed in the lord’s dark shadow and I trembled under its freezing touch. Despair wrought my numb mind, and I didn’t even dare look up into the face of my executor.

Then, surprisingly, the Nazgõl lord cried out, but now there was pain in his voice. He, too, stumbled to his knees and his stroke swung wide, missing me by many handbreadths.

I was snatched from my nightmare in shock as a nearby voice called, “E‹owyn! E‹owyn!” It was Merry, and as I made this joyous discovery I had no time to think.

Grasping my sword with my one good arm, I stood, tottering forward. Then, using the last of my strength torn from my core I plunged the blade between the crown and mantle. Immediately my weapon was shattered into many shards. The crown rolled off despondently, and I pitched forward to land upon my foe. But no, the black hauberk was empty, and the only thing solid my body met was the ground itself beneath it. Even as an empty scream drifted away upon the wind, I sighed in exultation. Then darkness set in.

Over

The decathlon is at an end. I don't think anyone is disappointed, however, even though I also believe it was enjoyed for the most part. Such things can tend to get a little stressful near the end especially as the heat of competition flushes up faces. The whole thing came to a standstill after the final contest, which was Bible memory. It was rounded up with Bria in first, Aunt Sharon in second, and Clyde in third. I just managed to scrounge up a fourth place, but it didn't do us any good as far as points go. I'm just happy that I did my best and it's all over with, even if it means that the SWAT team came in second and the Joneses came in first. The final scores were 127, 129, and 144.*sigh* Of course I love the people on that team, but as a group they were most certainly our live enemies. Just like you may love a Communist as an individual just fine, but you don't really care for a whole group of them united against you. Naturally if you really know me you know that I am absolutely serious upon this point. ;)

I am just so thankful that we played, did our best, had fun, and now hurrah it's over!!!!