Lars and Me

As this balmy weather is at last floating in to delight us, I am recalling something I did one year ago. . .

Thursday, May 26, 2006

. . . I spent the next while making a snowman. The rain dripping off the roof next to me, I knelt at the edge of a small pile of crusty snow. The snow was hard, but it stuck well, almost too well as I tried to drive pebbles into the softball sized head of icy crystals. Soon my little Lars was finished, after difficulties of his face falling apart, and with his leaf bow tie he looked quite sharp--though sadly lacking a hat.

And here is Lars and me together!----------->

The new chewing toy?

I went to the dentist the other day. Whoop-de-doo. I am very enthusiastic
about my dentist *voice drips with sarcasm.* I'm afraid I am getting weak
in my old age as far as teeth work goes, since I haven't been to the
orthodontist for awhile. But actually, it wasn't that bad, though during
the filling process they had to "tweak" some of my gum (which also means
cut it off, but they don't like it to sound too drastic), but luckily I
didn't feel anything at the time because I had some anesthetics working
on me, as much a I dislike them. However, I do like my dentist as a fun
and cheery sort of fellow, but when I was done I still went away feeling
very glad it was over with. However, my recent trip to the dentist wasn't
my main thing of interest to talk about.

My dentist trip actually brought back a very unusual memory. I still
remember a couple years ago when I was going to get sealants, I believe,
and I didn't get to have my good old dentist do it, but a lady instead.
She was whirring her way along inside my mouth, with her fingers thrust
between my teeth, when she said something rather muffled behind her mouth
piece. What she really said was, "You're biting me." But for some
inexplicable reason, I thought she said, "Bite." So what can I say? There
was nothing for it but to obey, since obedience is better than brains, so
unthinkingly I started to bite. Next thing I knew she was crying out,
"Ow!!!" My senses returned to me instantly, and I stopped closing my
sharp teeth around her finger before violently trying to apologize, but
with little success since it is very difficult to talk with your mouth
wide open. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if I ever did
specifically apologize to her afterwards or not. So I suppose now she
must remember me as the dangerous, finger-biting patient and has probably
told exaggerated tales of how my eyes gleamed wickedly as she started to
bleed. Who knows?

I wonder if I should try to keep up my reputation. . .

Peaceful Peter

Here's a story I wrote about two and a half years or so ago. I actually wrote it and gave it to Lisa for her birthday, so I hope she doesn't mind my using it. It just amused me the other day to go back and read it, and I hope it will amuse you as well.

Peaceful Peter

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a nice, young couple. The man's name was Anthony, a poor but handsome acrobat. The woman's name was Diana, she was an extremely beautiful girl, who could run as fast as a deer and shoot an arrow straighter than Robin Hood himself.

Diana and Anthony met when Anthony, who used to work at the circus, helped Diana and her twelve maidens stop Anthony's ringmaster from beating a poor unicorn. After that, he said to her. . . but that's a totally different story that must be told another time.

Diana had a strange power which made it so that she could tell which animals had good hearts and which had bad. In that way, she could safely hunt and eat the bad-hearted animals with a good conscience. She kept this power to herself, however, and never told anyone how she had gained it.

One day, Anthony and Diana had a baby (that is, Diana had the baby, Anthony just waited and prayed). They had a son, and Diana wanted to name him Peter. Anthony hesitated (for who wanted a son who's name meant "rock", they might as well name him "Pebble", it was that ridiculous to Anthony), but he loved Diana very much, and he thought that Peter was a nice name (despite that it meant "rock"), so he agreed, and it was settled.

So Peter grew. He grew into a sensitive boy, who was very kind-hearted and dreamy. He also was very smart, and he invented all kinds of things, some of them useful, some of them ridiculous, and one or two of them cleverly "harmful" (Diana found out this through some ingenious booby traps that "were around to help protect everything"). But Peter's inventions didn't hurt anybody, and if they did, Peter would go and so earnestly apologize that nobody could stay angry at him for long.

Peter was not spoiled, however, and he soon grew into a hard-working young man, and he decided to become an inventor, which nobody took as a surprise and all thought that he would be quite successful at it.

So Peter worked. But one day Peter got very sick. In fact, so sick, that the doctor ordered a trip to a wild, rain-forested island with a warm climate. So, he paid for the fare for the boat trip that he was to take (which he got the money by selling a man a burglar system that if set, and if anything on his property was touched, the lights would pop on and there was a surround sound system that a recorded voice would say: "Get off my property! If I don't see you gone in five seconds- well, let's just say that I have a brand-new gun and I'm longing to use it if given the chance!" By that time, the owner would have had the chance to hear the alarm and get up and see to the rest, if the burglar hadn't taken off already. He also got it by selling lots of pairs of glow-in-the-dark sunglasses, but lets get back to the story).

When he got there, he had a wonderful time. He had been there about four weeks, and he was just feeling all better, when he decided to take one more camping trip before going home. So, gathering the supplies that he needed, Peter went one fifth of a mile into the rain forest for a camping trip. When he got into his sleeping bag for the night, he had been there for only five or ten minutes when he heard a hissing sound, so opening his eyes, he saw before him a cobra snake before him, hissing vilely under his hood.

"Sssso," the snake said in a slippery voice, "you came here into the rain foresst, well, ssssss. How about you and I have a little match, sssss. Whoever winss will live, whoever losess will lose his life, sssss. A match to the death, sso you might ssay, sssss."

"What would be the gain of that?" Peter asked doubtfully.

"Nothing," the snake said, "Nothing at all, ssss. You sssee, I would just kill you anyway and get it done with, sssss. But I feel like I want a little fun, sssss. Sso you ssee, I'm being fair and giving you a chance to defend yoursself, ssssssssss."

Peter, not knowing what to do, being taken by surprise, spoke, "Well, all right, I guess it's every man for himself, or every snake for himself if you catch my meaning." The cobra replied with a "sssssss." So they began to fight. The fight was very uninteresting, and it went on for a very long time, so I won't go into details. Let's just say that Peter was just about to die, when he took a knife and cut the cobra into twelve pieces and threw the pieces into the fire.
Immediately, he wished he hadn't, for one reason, burning snake really doesn't smell very nice, but for the real reason, Peter realized that maybe he had just killed a good-hearted snake, whose coils were only temporarily crooked, and therefore, it would have been just as bad as murder in killing that snake (so Peter thought anyway). So Peter wept, and did what any sensible man would do…… run home to his Mommy (or Daddies are just as good, but in this case Peter ran home to his Mommy).

When he got home he told his Mother what he had done, and explained how sorry he felt, and how he wished that he could have been able to tell if the snake was good at heart or not. Diana listened thoughtfully, and knowing that Peter wasn't trying to have her tell him how to own such powers (for she knew that Peter did not know the power that she possessed) she said to him, "Peter, do not be troubled, for I know how you may attain such powers to tell if an animal means good or evil so that you will not make the same sort of mistake again (though I, personally believe that you did right in killing that snake, but one must not judge too quickly)," Peter looked up hopefully, "Go to the great Himalayan mountains of Nepal, and gather some snow there and put it in a jar, then, go to the muddy Nile river in Egypt, and gather some of the water in that same jar. Next, go to the jungles of South America, and put a shoot of sugarcane in your jar. Lastly, go to Italy, and put some of the finest dirt in the jar. Then you must drink the ingredients that you have mixed and then you will be able to tell if a creature means ill or not by if you see a certain green gleam in their eye, that will make the creature looked hideous and evil in your sight, then you will know that the animal is bad-hearted. If the animal has no such gleam, then you will know that the creature has a good heart, and harm them not. You shall tell this if you gather the ingredients that I have told you of in just the right order and if you drink all of it." Diana looked at her hopeful son and smiled as he kissed her, "Farewell," she said, and Peter left.

Peter did just as his mother told him to, and he found out that she was exactly right, as he had believed (he found out this, by seeing two mice fighting, one bad mouse that was attacking, and one good mouse that was defending himself. Peter had helped the good mouse that was exhausted, and then had a nice chat with him). Peter also found that the mixture didn’t taste as awful as he had anticipated. First the drink had been bitter, but then it had gradually gotten tastier and sweeter until it was the best drink he had ever tasted.

As Peter sailed home to tell his mother, the ship he was sailing in got caught in a ferocious storm, and the ship was tossed about like a toy boat. Just then, a sea monster decided to attack the ship, and Peter was battling off the sea monster with the other men when it occurred to Peter that maybe the monster wasn’t evil. So, going closer to the sea monster’s eyes, he saw that there wasn’t any evil green gleam in them. So Peter spoke to the sea monster and said "I say, old chap, why are you attacking us?"

The sea monster looked surprised, but replied "The fish can see me from a good ways off, far enough away to escape before I can get to them anyway, no ship has come through here for eight months, and I’m starving! I don’t have anything against you, you know, but a fellow has to eat."

Peter listened to this thoughtfully, and he said to the sea monster "I understand, completely, but maybe I can help. What’s your favorite kind of fish?"

The sea monster, surprised again, replied, "Salmon."

"Salmon’s hard to come by, but I’ll see what I can do, if you’ll put off eating us for a sec," said Peter, and he disappeared. He came back several minutes later with a huge net of wiggling, wet salmon that he had just caught on the other side of the ship where they couldn’t see the sea monster. "Open up!" Peter said, and as the monster opened his mouth he poured all the fish into its gaping mouth.

"By Jove, thanks!" the sea monster replied with his mouth full (which was rather rude, but he meant well, and he really was grateful), and the large creature slid off into the sea.

Peter kept on doing such things to preserve peace between man and beast. Like, one other time, a wicked man in China wanted the throne in China, so he decided to get rid of his nephew, the prince, who was the rightful heir to the throne. So the man secretly tied up the prince and hung him over a small pond that was filled with starving crocodiles. And, putting a fire under the rope that held the prince suspended above the crocodiles, he left him. Peter heard of this, and hastened there quickly, and, noticing that the crocodiles weren’t evil, just hungry, he said to them "I say, have you ever thought of becoming vegetarians?"

"Why, no," the crocodiles replied in surprise. Five more threads in the hot rope snapped.

You should try it," Peter said to the crocodiles, "Here, come over here to the edge, and I’ll give all of you some carrots, I wager that you’ll find them much tastier than meat." More rope snapped.

The crocodiles came over, and opened their big jaws and let Peter pour a barrelful of carrots into each of their mouths. "Not bad," one of the crocodiles said thoughtfully, " You know, I think I’ll take your advice, this is pretty good," he said to Peter. The other crocodiles nodded in agreement. More rope snapped.

"Good," Peter said, "I’ll keep about two hundred barrels of carrots over here, you can have them anytime." More rope snapped.

"Oh, and by the way, could you please catch that boy that’s about to fall and bring him to me?" Peter asked casually. The crocodiles nodded and went and waited for the prince to fall so that they could catch him. "SNAP!" The rope broke and the prince was carried safely to shore.

Peter did many, many things similar to these things, both great matters and small. He did such a good job at keeping peace between man and beast, that Peter became known as "Peaceful Peter". And so it was, Peter kept on helping to keep the peace until he died at a ripe old age of 427 years.

The End

Repeated Reminiscing

Now I hope you don't mind humoring me again. You see, as you can very well imagine, whenever you make a huge trip to some far off place that you may never visit again you have the tendency to reminisce when the anniversary comes round. I did that a little bit with Israel, now I'm going to do it with Norway. (*sigh of bliss*) So to celebrate this momentous occasion, I have some of my journal recorded here for your perusing:

Thursday, May 19, 2005

My body struggles with traces of tiredness, as its accustomed time is 1:46 a.m., but as the sun is up I don't think I should sleep too much.

The Sandford family is travelling again, though sadly lacking Chad's presence, and this time we are bound for Norway. I know--how random is that? Of all Europe, why pick NORWAY???! The tribe of Naphtali is believed to be in Norway, and since we're praying for that tribe we're off to get on the front lines for a battle in prayer. Of course this would not do without a little sightseeing too.

We left the airport a little while before 4 p.m., driven by the gracious Uncle Tim. We arrived at the Boston airport without incident and with a sincere hand shake all around Uncle Tim left us. In the meantime we happily reunited with our dear Kendra, and proceeded to check in our baggage. I was proud to produce a simple, compact suitcase that weighed a mere 17 pounds.

. . . . Finally at 8:55 p.m. or so [I wonder if I was a little over-exact, but you must remember that this is for the sake of the factual, not just the interests'] they called us and I scooped up my 12 pound carry on and light blue fleece and prepared to board.

A willing family member relinquished the window seat for me and I perched contentedly in my favorite spot. Kendra sat on my left, Daddy on hers, Mom just across the aisle, then Craig, and then Clyde, who also possessed a window seat. I liked this seating much better than the original plan to have us all sit by ourselves. My mom had exaggerated my mild feelings of dread to Kendra, who had then requested tickets together [I recall that Kendra rather exaggerated it as well, telling the ticket lady that she had a little sister frightened to sit by herself. . . aargh!]

Then came the delightful take off with all its tremendously thrilling speed and I peered out the window to watch the twinkling lights of Boston diminish into hazy patches of light.

As I prepared to settle down, I suddenly noticed streaks of silver darting by the window. My first thought was, "Stars!" as they looked similar to stars blurring by in movies [e.g. Star Wars]. Obviously I quickly concluded that we weren't high enough for them to be stars and realized they were raindrops speeding by. Very cool.

I settled down with my fluffy fleece and Icelandair cushion and just might have been able to catch ten minutes of sleep when at 10:45 the stewardess came serving "dinner." I woke up reluctantly and shoved down. . . . some weird cheesy sweet stuff that looked like cole slaw but wasn't. . .

I settled down a second time and managed to sleep 'till 1:05 (home time), and then I woke to discover that Kendra had opened the shade. Outside the sky was rapidly brightening into a robin's egg blue and ahead a fuzzy pink bar on the horizon foretold the withcoming sunrise. Below I sleepily glimpsed white mountains (probably glaciers), though it took me a second to realize that they weren't clouds. In answer to my confused mutterings, Kendra explained that it was Greenland we were crossing. Shortly we left that behind and as I gazed far below I saw little chunks of white, and soon thousands of tiny white dots speckling the dull blue ocean. Icebergs, I quickly determined, and scanned their numbers excitedly as I had recently studied glaciers.

Over an hour later, we began to cross Iceland. Never have I seen a land so brown and barren. Flat except for several jutting mountains and a very few hills, it was pock marked with ravines and valleys. I didn't see a single tree, but I didn't know if I could have missed a few since we were so high up. Bare and desolate, it hosted hardly any houses besides a city-sized cluster I saw and Reykjavik itself (which holds 75% of Iceland's population).

"Well if you were a hermit, you'd know where to come," Kendra commented dryly. I couldn't help but agree.

Soon, about 6:50 a.m. (local time) we were landed safely and soon tromping off the plane and into the cool fresh air (supposedly 41 degrees F according to the pilot but it didn't feel that cold to me). We made our way with the throng into a thick line of people going through passport control.

Eventually we went on to wait in line to board our next flight, after dodging into the restroom (I left my passport there by accident but I was able to retrieve it with no harm done).

At around 7:55, we took off, soon leaving Iceland's haunting wasteland behind [now in Iceland's defense, I think I did see a little bit of green there on our way back, and it did look like a cool place that I'd like to visit someday, even if it is the perfect habitat for a hermit]

. . . Around noon Kendra thought she spotted white mountains below that were hard to distinguish from the clouds, and soon after [that] the pilot announced we'd be arriving Oslo in 20 minutes. As we went below the clouds I admired the large green or brown (from rich soil) farms with a small cluster of buildings in the middle of each, usually including a red barn. I loved the Norwegian countryside already, and we soon found that it was a mixture of Pennsylvania and New Hampshire. Pennsylvanis because of the open fields and farms, and New Hampshire because of the many hills and coniferous & deciduous forest mix.

Before we knew it we were landed and as we glided down an escalator we could hardly believe we were actually in Norway. It was true however, and the folks around us that could easily have been mistaken for regular Americans proved the supposed assumption false by chattering in Norwegian. . . . Fortunately enough, we didn't have to go through customs or passport control, being only regrettable because we didn't get our passports stamped.

. . . we checked through with the rental car place and wheeled our baggage to the parking garage, in search of our new rental car. We found it eventually and were immediately struck by the humorous hand of irony. We had been told that the back of the 6-passenger Toyota Caravel was 18 cubed feet. I think they must have meant 18 feet squared. Let's just say there was just as much room to put the luggage as to put the seats and people, and even though we did have to sit two seats three in a row, its still saying a bunch.

We loaded up and climbed into our bright blue vehicle with the diesel engine and soon zoomed down the highway. Everything was new and exciting, from the cars, license plates, and Norwegian signs (often hard to pronounce, but occasionally resembling English).

We made our way through the busy streets and it didn't take long for us to realize that bikers were almost as common as pedestrians themselves.

We went to our hostel. . . at almost 3:30. . . and after unloading left [we] left. . . but this time on foot.

Traversing up streets and down others while pausing to snap pictures (we're SO tourists!), we finally arrived at Karl Johansgata (gata as in street). This was a long pedestrian street, crowded much like Ben-Gurion Street in the New City, Jerusalem, with shops and restaurants on either side.

After eating a couple of hamburgers at McDonalds [and rather expensive ones, I might add], we marched up Karl Johansgata in faith. Then we went and took pictures and prayed at Stortinget, the Parliament building. We strode on up from there, pausing for pictures at fountains and such before arriving at the royal palace building in all its finery with a proud horseman statue in front. We took more pictures, watched the royal guard, and prayed for the royal family.

. . . us kids walked further to the Oslo fjord & city hall. Then we made the long trek home across a good part of the city to arrive safe but foot sore at our hostel at quarter past seven or so. We retired into our bunk beds early, myself settling down in exhaustion (with a lumpy pillow that felt like it contained individual cotton balls), at about ten minutes of eight. Thank God for protection!

Final Flings

Now even though it's practically age-old history, I figure I may as well post about the final flings of the Bibleschool year. In my mind they began when the SWAT team went out to eat at Applebees (and in case you've forgotten, my team included Diane, Kim, Amy, Vanlora, Adam, and Clyde) after sports on Tuesday. We had a high old time together, ordering a whole bunch of appetizers at half price and sharing and splitting the cost. It was thoroughly enjoyable to watch the Sox cream the Yanks, plus just being together, even though we never even talked about decathlon stuff (also ancient history) except to say it was great to be on a team together and to have Kimberly as our captain and all that sweet stuff. We had an occasion where a spit ball fight was almost started, but Diane punched Adam so he wouldn't do it and just after he had decided not to he managed to spill his water all over the table. I guess he might have deserved that one. . . .

The second fling of course was the End of the Year Party. As a staff kid, this is definitely a highlight to the finishing of bibleschool. It always includes goodies that are always fabulous (provided by the fabulous Diane) and skits that are often fabulous, depending on the people and the energy of putting them together. So after stuffing our faces with everything to make our teeth rot, we sat back and enjoyed the show (I video taped it for those who may one day wish to see them).

Of course I have seen many skits, such as the one of Craig being the renowned Uncle Tim in his infamous manner of driving ("Was that a red light we just went through?"), or the violent game of Spoons with Joe B. Jr. when Melissa was in bibleschool. Or Andrea calling Craig down from the Dorm as chore boy to pick up things for her when she dropped them on the floor, or, one of my especial favorites, when Andrea, Amy, Isaac, and Carmelo came together as elderly ones in the future and discussed everything that had happened to all their class mates in later years ("Craig and Kim--who would have every thought?"-Andrea). I even recall the time as a six-year-old being in a skit with other "staff kids" in which we pretended to be our parents in staff meeting sharing information that our kids had spied out about the students ("Jayna says that Eric is taking too many personal days,"-Jayna as her dad) So as you can imagine, I have seen my fill of talent and humor as far as skits and spoofs go. But of course one never tires of these things.

The first skit was a very creative one put on by the first year girls. In my knowledge I don't recall anyone doing a skit on the third-years receiving their diplomas, so this was rather original. As can be expected, the similar characteristics were properly exaggerated. Katherine, as a solemn representation of my dad, started the graduation with Sara Lee coming up to give a testimony. Megan, who was posing as her, began her speech, but her classmates spent the whole time talking loudly to each other so she responded with a desperate cry of, "Nobody ever listens to me!" before then fleeing the scene. Then of course when Bethany's turn came, Vanlora responded with a stimulating swagger and after taking her diploma, giving Katherine a friendly punch on the shoulder before returning to her seat. Next when Sarah Ann's turn came (played by Megan), she came with delighted flapping of her hands in front of her face. Bria, as an excellent over-done imitation of Elizabeth, then started getting all worried and asking Kimberly if her hair was all right and everything. As she approached the podium for the long awaited diploma, she then managed to fall flat on her face! With obvious strain on regaining composure, she accepted the diploma and collapsed in her seat with declarations of how humiliating that was. Lastly Kimberly (played by none other than Amy) came to get her diploma, and as she did so a voice started calling out, "Oh KIMberleeeyyyy. . . !" Then came Megan trotting in on the scene once again, this time posing as a very dashing young man named Jack (Kim's dream guy's name) in which then followed a chaotic babble of his Tacoma truck (another dream of Kimberly's) and Katherine's righteous alarm, with Jack's protestations that she's perfect, Kim's replies that it's okay and the diploma doesn't matter to her, before the lovers fled the scene. "I knew she had been to the chiropractor way too many times," Elizabeth commented and the skit was over.

That gives you an idea of the evening. It was followed by various skits of the guys, including demonstrations of some rather brutal games they play (well, do you believe in trying to throw darts at eachothers' bare feet?), they're typical afternoon work meeting, an incident of the girls encouraging Bria (or TJ) in her unfruitful attempts to spit (his mouth was a bit foamy afterward), the story of Uncle Tim beating TJ with a stick (to put it in over simplified terms), and the guys' version of the way girls work. This included them pretending to be sweating and gasping through the most menial tasks of just whisking up stuff in a bowl, mopping the floor, or dusting. Relieved, they take a water break, then return and after a few more minutes of pasted on agony they collapsed in exhaustion with triumphant happiness that it was 1:15 and they were done.

The third years' skit proved to be one based on when TJ and Dave killed some chipmunks with acorns and skinned one of them to keep. Therefore, this was called Revenge, and you can just imagine what happened. Bethany and Elizabeth made wonderful chipmunks, and realizing that they hadn't seen Dale for ages, they then see him around the neck of the dreaded Davie with TJ just next to him. They then plotted their revenge. And that was the hilarious gist of it all.

Now finally, the graduation went swimmingly. I really must say that I will greatly miss the graduates, but as this post has gone on long enough, I shan't say anything more on the subject.

Roses!

Three years ago from today was Mothers' Day. To celebrate this momentous occasion, my family ". . . took cabs to the Rose Garden or the Garden of the Nations. It was absolutely gorgeous, despite the heat. Roses [were] everywhere of [in] many colors, and there were divisions of roses from lots of different countries (Spain, England, Argentina, Swizterland, France, Holland, Japan, and more). There were ones with beautiful names (Lady of the Dawn being my favorite). I loved going there."

Since the roses did have some rather eloquent names (excepting ones named after random people you've never heard of), I recorded a few of them at the time, and here they are for your own interest or lack there of:

Lady of the Dawn

Sunsprite

Golden Slipper

Baby Gold Star

Snow Carpet

Fragrant Cloud

Lady Rose

Rose Dot

Arizona

Golden Fantasy

Gold Medal

New Day

Iceberg

Harmony

Keepsake

Sierra Sunrise

Chipper

Queen Elisabeth

My Valentine

Satina

Some weirdo

Here's an unusual picture that I took of some strange individual. Craig's Pedro Martinez wig does wonders!

My Second Identity

For those of you who don't know, I have a Second Identity. Or some people seem to think so. . . with little incidents dropping here and there where someone thinks that I'm someone else. But that happens to all of us sometime or another, does it not? However, this seems to have happened to me a little more than the norm, and for one particular person, so I thought I would share it with you.

Now you are probably dying to know who it is that I have often been mistaken for (or often enough for it to be worth mentioning). Well, I'm not going to tell you just yet! (Haha! Die! Die! Die with suspense!!! *evil laughter*)

The first incident I shall mention was a bit unusual. I was walking along at night past the Men's Dorm a year or more ago, minding my own business. As I passed by Dave, who was standing there by the side of the road, he gave me this sinister expression (or it may be interpreted as being sinister, but I could only hear him and not really see his face). "Where are you going?" he asked, and his mysterious tone of voice puzzled me exceedingly. So I did nothing but keep on and give him a very odd look as he then he burst out, "Oh! I thought you were Kimberly!" Thus my Second Identity is revealed.

Another time occurred during a Feast. I was coming out from the sanctuary to see Ruth and Paula's sister Mary (you notice I am refraining from using a last name!) holding a baby (I forget whose, but it might be safe to guess that it was Ruth's) and talking to Kimberly as they admired him. As I passed by, I caught Mary's eye and she stopped in mid sentence and said, "--oh hi Kimberly!" then continued her conversation naturally with the authentic KJ. I was captured by surprise, but rather than interrupt her, Kim and I gave each other knowing grins before I continued on. Hmm. That was interesting.

Now, for the next story I must give you a little background. It just so happens that in March I bought a khaki jacket (on sale by the way), that, oddly enough is fairly similar to one of Kimberly's. Also, in the past couple of months I have discovered that I can use hairsticks in my hair, which actually is something that Kim does as well. So perhaps it shouldn't come as a great surprise when at different times two people told me that from a distance they thought I was Kimberly, both happening within the same week. Hence the background for my most recent story.

The fateful time was when I was sitting alone in Shawn's meeting during the Feast just yesterday. I was reading along in the Scripture passage when who should start coming shyly down my row to join me but Gabriel! Now I do play with the little boys here at Fairwood occasionally (mostly in the summer), but although they know me and I am on pretty good terms with Michael and Gabriel, they have never seemed to like me enough to actually come sit with me. So you can imagine that I was a bit taken aback as Gabriel, eyes turned toward the floor, stood in front of me to pick him up. I did it willingly enough, and then Gabriel turned to peer at me. If I had known what was going on in his little head I would have been astonished at how calm his gaze was. But without considering it or even realizing that that look was the first he'd given me just now, I picked up my Bible and continued to read. About ten seconds later he got up as if by whim and with simple composure walked to the front Murray row to sit with his beloved Kimberly. I wondered vaguely if I hadn't been entertaining enough, i. e. making faces or producing a gadget for him to play with, but shrugged it off. It wasn't until after the meeting that Craig pointed out the next to obvious: he thought I was Kim! Gretchen informed me that in the bawl room he had asked to sit with that particular aunt of his, and having her permission she watched as he went down and sat with me! Gretchen exclaimed that she and Amy were practically screaming with delight and she thanked me heartily for wearing my hair up that day so they could have some extra amusement. Anything I can do to help, but I can only imagine how Gabriel must have felt when he realized with a shock that I wasn't who he thought I was. Think of how unnerving that would be!

So now ends the narrative about my Second Identity. I actually am fairly sure that there are a couple more of them, but sadly enough I didn't know how entertaining they would become so I forgot them. Until next time then. . . .

The Unexpected

Okay, be prepared for a long post! This, as you might say, is the sequel to my writing on point of view. Last time I wrote from Eowyn's perspective, but now I am a different character. You should be able to guess pretty quickly. . . .

The Unexpected (until another title is thought of)

Ah, there he is! I spotted the king of Rohan far beneath me—what was his name? ThÀoden, I think it was, but it little mattered what puny name he should choose to call himself. He was still part of the foolish enemy that dared resist my master’s hand.

Even as I drew closer upon my winged steed, the little king’s wretch of a horse was struck by an ally’s dart, causing him to fall with the king underneath it. This was perfect, I thought. Urging the creature upon which I rode, together we swooped down while she chortled with delight at the prospects of a royal meal.

Swiftly she landed and grasped the horse with her claws while stooping her long, graceful neck toward her victim. I didn’t even deign to watch what she would do to the miserable animal, and instead turned my attention to the frail king beneath it.

Then I saw him—a skinny soldier with spindly arms and legs, the only one left standing among his fallen comrades.

“Begone foul drimmerlaik, lord of carrion!” the swordsman yelled at me, taking a giant step forward as if to appear bold. “Leave the dead in peace!”

What was this boy thinking? And why didn’t he quake under my gaze, as greater men did? Perhaps he did not know his rashness, and why must I have to waste my time to prove it to him?

“Come not between the Nazgõl and his prey,” I replied, making my voice sound as menacing as possible in hopes of dissuading him from his fruitless resistance. “Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

That should scare him, I thought with satisfaction. But even if it didn’t, I wouldn’t hesitate to do what I had just threatened; I only wished that the extravagant use of my energy, no matter how little, didn’t unnecessarily honor this common soldier by having it spent on him.

However, the scrawny thing was persistent. His sword clang as he jerked it out of its sheath, a little less clumsily than I had expected for one so young. “Do what you will: but I will hinder it, if I may.”

Hinder me? This was even more serious than I had thought. The silly fool didn’t even seem to care about his recklessness! It was pathetically disgusting.

“Hinder me? Thou fool,” I answered with contempt. “No living man may hinder me!”

What happened next was something I would have least expected. The lad opened his mouth and from it, of all things, came laughter! Cold and light the laughter was, and I was surprised to hear no trace of that penetrating fear I was accustomed to hearing when others were in my presence. It was anything but unnerving.

“But no living man am I!” he cried.

Was he mad? But before I could wonder more, he was lifting his helm from his head and yellow hair burst from its entrapments to flow over his shoulders all around him. Indeed, this was no lad. A grown woman stood before me, her eyes grim yet flashing, gripping her sword fiercely as she stood in bold defiance. Suddenly I realized that she was still speaking.

“. . . ‹omund’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.”

My mount screamed at her in irritation. She didn’t like her meal to be interrupted. I remained silent, however, regarding the woman before me. It was true, it had always been said that no living man could harm me, but no one had ever considered mentioning the possibility of a woman doing so. Now perhaps the enemy had thought of this and had trained a highly skilled daughter of kings in the slight hope of defeating me. Could this be possible? But even then, as I first noticed the quiet tears streaming down her cheeks and saw her raise her shield slightly to block my gaze on her face, I knew the idea to be absurd. This woman was weak as all others of her race and it was impossible for her to stand up to me for long. The mere thought of it was ridiculous.

A slight movement caught the corner of my eye, but I paid it no heed. Instead, giving no visible sign, I urged my steed to take action. A mighty gust encompassed me as she flapped her great wings. As I reveled in their strength, the woman below me seemed to increase in fragility, like a thin reed being blown by a gale, and I felt like laughing over her slight, vulnerable frame. Then my beast sprang suddenly into the air and dropped with a shriek upon the girl.

Alas, if only the creature’s beak had been a trifle more speedy, then it might have lived to enjoy another meal. But instead, with no hesitation our intended prey raised her arms and hacked mightily on the sinewy neck of my pet. Her stroke was surprisingly deft, and as my unlucky steed’s head fell to the ground, her leap backward was unusually agile. I had little time to notice this however, as I was thrown from my perch to land heavily on the earth.

Anger boiled inside of me; churning, frothing, bubbling, just waiting to spew forth to burn and to kill. The woman’s insolence had gone too far. I confess that beyond the glimpse of a moment I didn’t truly regret the loss of my steed. After all, it was just another tool my master had given me, and tools aren’t meant to be kept for long. But I did hate the woman for daring to slay my fine transportation.

I rose to my full height, seething. Slowly I turned towards the woman. She seemed just a bit taller now, though nothing in comparison with my stature. No hope glimmered in her eyes, yet they were determined, and she didn’t waver under my dark stare. My hatred was kindled, and I despised her with a fierce hatred. The feeling consumed me and quickly spilled over into a cry that contained every ounce of my loathing. Swiftly I swung my mace and with an experienced aim it shattered her shield to splinters. She stumbled to her knees under the impact of my powerful blow. So easy, I thought, stepping forward and raising my mace for the deathblow.

Suddenly a sharp pain jabbed the back of my knee, sending an electrifying tingle through my whole body. I cried out, and dropped to my knees with a shudder. My own rage was scalding me, and I longed to release it by killing the maiden in front of me. But it was too late.

“‹Eowyn! ‹Eowyn!” I heard a voice low behind me call. So that was her name. But before I had time to ponder this, she was wearily grasping her sword. Sweat and grime streaked her brow, and with a desperate exhaustion she stood. The next thing I remember is going cross-eyed as her sword was thrust into my face.

I screamed, as excruciating anguish, hot yet empty, coursed through my every nerve. Then it was gone, and I found myself looking down at my empty hauberk as ‹owyn fell on it, while all the time I rose higher and higher. My anger was gone, and my pain with it, and I realized that I was no longer in bondage to the cruel Master of the Ring. And with that thought in mind I flitted away, to roam the far reaches of the world as I would wish. At long last, I was free.

Taller as you get older

I was sitting with my 99-year-old grandmother the other day and she asked me how tall I was. When I told her that I am 5' 6" (last I checked), she said, "Oh, I think I'm 6'3". . . or I used to be."

I tried to stifle my laughter.