True Living Fountains. . . . . take my advice and don't drink!

Zarah was the one who started it. Why am I not surprised? We were in Concord, MA, in a rather stately courtyard with a large circle of stones in the middle, when Zarah perched herself on one of these and took the elegant pose of a fountain. Instantaneously this inspired Diane T. and me also, so much so that when I looked over at Diane I was rather horrified to see a little foam trickling around her lips. That sure wouldn't do for me! So instead I leaned out and added a more Grecian flare by shooting a graceful stream of spittle out from my mouth. This amused, and not to mention shocked, everyone. As I was doing it again for the sake of Meredith's camera, Andrea, who was on the other side of the circle, jumped back with a squeal.

Oops.

I must have spat a little farther than I meant to.

I was just apologizing when Zarah turned to me and said in an impressed, conspiratorially manner, "Hey not bad--that was like nine feet man, slap me five!"

Only Zarah could make me not feel bad for accidentally spitting someone like Andrea.

The Miracle Purse

My mom brought me home a purse the other day. She picked it up at the PRC (which stands for Pregnancy Resource Center, and it's an organization my mom volunteers at), and since they were just going to get rid of it, she snatched it for me in case I wanted it. I was a bit unsure as I looked at it. It's red, with brown leathery handstraps. I don't have anything against red, but I know there are at least four other colors above it in my favorites list. Besides, I actually have two purses that I like quite a bit: a purple one that I picked up at Good Will in Florida, and a colorful striped one that Diane R. gave me. So I was a bit skeptical as I took the purse, although I was grateful that my mom thought of picking it up for me, and I still liked the purse even if I don't really need it. Supposedly it was brand new, though I don't know where it came from, and opening it up I saw some white tissue paper inside for stuffing, plus something else. . . . .

"Why is there a twenty-dollar bill in here?" I asked my mom. She didn't know, but we promptly took it out and she put it in an envelope to return to the Care Net (or PRC). I wondered a little bit at how it almost seemed divinely appointed that there should be a twenty-dollar bill that I certainly could use with my trip coming up. . . but I never really questioned that it should definitely go back to where it came from, that is to a good Christian organization that I'm sure could always use the money. So I let the event pass from my mind, with only a little wonderment.

Yesterday after my mom got back from her volunteering, she said to me at the dinner table, "Oh, I have a nice surprise for you." I honestly had no idea what it was. Did she buy me the environmentally shampoo I had been thinking about getting so I can wash my hair in the lake? Was it candy? Were my reprints in early at Ritz? Or what? I sat in suspense as she went over and fumbled in her purse for what seemed like ages. She came back and handed me something. You guessed it. The twenty dollars. Then she explained that her "boss" had said that we could keep the money, because as far as she knew it wasn't given to the PRC, and if we hadn't taken the purse it would have gone to Planet Aid and whoever would have received it would have gotten to keep the money, so why shouldn't we? My mom didn't argue.

That was a pleasant surprise indeed!

So remind yourself next time you open a new purse or wallet to make sure there isn't any money in it! Maybe God put it there for you.

I'm thinking that just maybe I'll keep the purse now. :)

Convincing Infestations

I was eating my salad, minding my own business. Then I thought I saw a tiny bug crawl under my lettuce.

HORROR OF HORRORS!!!!!

Or, a more eloquent way of describing it is:

Eww!

Then I found out that it wasn't a bug after all. It was just a tiny seed of sorts swimming in my Greek dressing. Isn't it amazing how your brain can convince you of strange things, even for a brief second?

That was anticlimactic.

Winner of the Beauty Pageant

If you remember (or maybe you most certainly do not, with very good reasons) I wrote a vewy vewy long time ago (like a year or more) about A Little Lass Named Olga. If you wish to read that post, you can probably find it in my archives. However, I never posted a picture of my little Olga so I thought I would now. Isn't she a beauty?

For Zarah

While I was in New York, Klara and I decided to have our picture taken and send it to Zarah P. But this isn't just any old picture. Oh no. Of course we remembered one of Zarah's pet peeves: when someone looks at her with their sunglasses/glasses on the tip of their nose.:D Also we're saying "draw," just in case you can't read our still lips.

This is us being--uh, normal??!

Zarah has got to be on my favorite people list, she's just so much fun!

Zarah taught us how to do the monkey walk at the girls' week.

Zarah commented on how she loves to sit with her skirt all around her on the floor like a flower, and before we knew it, everyone was doing it!

Zarah makes me laugh.

Zarah is the only one willing to have a silence contest with Diane T. just to keep her quiet for an hour.:) (I'm just kidding Diane)

Zarah is the person that is most likely to complain the loudest about visiting cemeteries and not mean it one bit.

Zarah is the only one who would try to change the subject tactfully by saying, "So what do you think of Scooby Doo?"

When I was trying to call Zarah by her middle name (which she has two of: Darline Frances), I got mixed up and called her Francine, so that is now my nickname for her! Luckily, she doesn't mind.

A lot more could be said about Zarah.

If you can't tell, the "tattoo" on her arm is a heart that says "Mom" with an arrow through it. Just another picture of Francine's refreshing humor!

We love you Zarah!!!


(If you love Zarah, you can comment lots and lots!;)

Some Strine

Ever since I heard I might be going to Australia, I've been looking forward to educating myself in the Australian accent. There is something appealingly amusing about that splendid dialect, and I am delighted at the prospect of being able to get myself thoroughly exposed to it (although I imagine I will form a new appreciation for the our normal accent by the time I return). It is quite intriguing also how Australians have their own words for things. Their language, called "strine," (since that is how you say Australian with a heavy accent) has a whole dictionary of its own! They have a tendency to abbreviate words and add an "o" or "ie" to the end, or also give inanimate objects a gender. Some of their words are unusual, and here are but a few of the many for you to enjoy or feel bored over, depending on how interested you are:

Arvo: afternoon
Barbie: barbecue
You beaut! or beaut: an exclamation of delight (I'm looking forward to trying to use it!)
Beg yours?: excuse me, say again?
Billy: cooking pot
Blue: fight; also a red-haired person
Bonzer: good, a good thing
Buckley's: no chance; as in "hasn't got a Buckley's"
Bunyip: Monster of Aboriginal legend; bogeyman
Chook: chicken
Chunder: vomit (I'm sure you were dying to know that one!)
Crim: criminal
Cut Lunch: sandwiches
Dag: nerd
Daggy: unattractive
Dinkum: true, honest, genuine
Fair dinkum/Dinky di: honestly, truly
Give away: to give up or resign; as in, "I used to be a garbo (a garbage collector) but I gave it away."
G'day: Hello, hi
Gutless Wonder: coward (haha)
Jackeroo: male station hand
Jilleroo: female station hand
Lollies: sweets or candy
No worries: it doesn't matter; it's okay; don't mention it (this is actually a phrase that I picked up from Andrea or Kim when we were playing volleyball:)
Thongs: flip-flops or sandals
Wacko!: exclamation of enthusiasm
Warm fuzzies: feeling of contentment
Waxhead: surfer
Yabber: to talk or chat

Well, Jackeroos and Jilleroos, I hope you're all having warm fuzzies this fine arvo now that you've read my bonzer list! Now I really am yabbering on. . .

The Mischevious Blender

Aargh. When I was eating my lunch today, I decided to fix myself a nice cool shake-like drink. Yesterday I steeped some raspberry tea and put it in the fridge, so using this I poured it into the blender and added other ingredients to sweeten it up. Milk, sugar, vanilla, ice cubes, and a scoop of vanilla icecream. . .

How was I to know that someone didn't screw the bottom of the blender on tightly? Here I was, minding my own business, innocently concocting a little drink just for my own little pleasure. Then I was blending away, oblivious to my imminent danger. I think I must really be very unobservant. I didn't notice a thing until suddenly there was a rather large purply white puddle around the blender. Oh dear! Of course I stopped blending (though I may have been finished anyway) and then in a mild panic ran to grab a bowl for the still dripping container to sit in. Well there was no point in letting that puddle still on the counter go to complete waste, so I gamely snatched a spoon and began sipping up the liquid on the counter, testing its flavor. I moved the machine part of the blender (whatever you call it), and then rusty brown stuff came sloshing out of it and into my creamy pond. Suddenly it was not so appetizing, and considering my dad's advice, I decided to stop sipping and just wipe it all up. *sigh* How very aggravating!

At least the salvaged part tasted pretty good.

Brain Stoppers

Here are some unusual questions that I found online over two years ago. Try 'em out--they're more interesting if you answer them without thinking twice. If you like, you can comment and leave your answers or first impressions for some of them.

1. Is there a 4th of July in England?

2. How many birthdays does the average man have?

3. Some months have 31 days; how many have 28?

4. In baseball, how many outs are there in an inning?

5. Can a California man legally marry his widow's sister?

6. Divide 30 by 1/2 and add 10. What is the answer?

7. If there are 3 apples and you take away 2, how many do you have?

8. A doctor gives you 3 pills and tells you to take one every half hour. How long
will the pills last?

9. A farmer has 17 sheep standing in a field and all but 9 drop down and die.
How many sheep are left standing?

10. How many members of each animal did Moses take on the ark?

11. A clerk in the butcher shop is 5' 10" tall. What does he weigh?

12. How many 2-cent stamps are there in a dozen?

Preventively & Informatively

To all who may or may not be interested to know, I have an announcement. I am going to Australia. Or, if you don't quite believe what I just said, I'll put it in plainer terms. To Australia, I am going. This may come of no surprise to you, as I may have informed you of it personally myself or maybe you heard it through the wee grape vine, but I thought I would announce it officially so that you're not in the dark. Since Australia is now definitely a part of my life and planning, I may end up mentioning it in a future post, and I don't want you to be like, "Eh, what?" Then you might be all angry at me for not telling you a blooming thing. So this is a preventative post, as well as in informative one.

Now, for the more curious ones, I shall mention that I am leaving for that Down Under continent to which I have been referring to on August the 27th, and am returning September 12. Also I am going with my sister, who happens to have friends there, so that is very convenient in that respect. I know it is rather random that I should be going, but it is quite amazing how events worked out. First, I studied Australia in Geography near the end of the school year and it was one of my very favorite chapters, and I thought, "Huh, I'd love to go there someday." Then I was talking on the phone a couple weeks later with Kendra and she said she was going to Australia. This hit me as rather coincidental, even though I had heard months before that she was going but had completely forgotten. So I said, "Do you mean that if God plopped X amount of dollars into my lap, I could go with you?" Things gradually culminated after that.

Okay, now I'll say it one more time to make it quite clear. I am going to Australia. Savvy?

Concerning Sick Ducks and Hypnotized Chickens, among other things

I am not going to tell you what happened at the Family Convention. For one thing, it's practically ancient history, since two weeks have passed since it ended. For another, it would take a large quantity of time, and why bother writing (or reading, for that matter) about it when you can read a perfectly good account of it on my dear brother Craig's blog? The subject then remains closed.

However, I would like to mention how content I felt after the mile run on field day. There is a feeling that is remarkably satisfying when you have just finished running a mile, particularly THE mile, meaning the race. I was rather relieved to have it over with, and I enjoyed cheering on the people who arrived after me, even though at first it was more like a weak croaking, as I was too exhausted to throw my shouts into the chaotic wall of encouragement. Then it was over, and after reporting to Gretchen with my popsicle stick numbered with a ten, we all dispersed. Clutching my prize popsicle stick, I stiffly but elatedly climbed up the exit drive with everyone else. Ryan was beside me, having completed his first mile race. I then commented on how it was interesting that last year I got a popsicle stick with the number nine on it (meaning, for those of you who don't know, that I was in ninth place) and this year I have a ten to add to my collection.

"Oh, well maybe next year you'll get number eight," Ryan replied.

"Yeah, who knows?" I answered.

There was a pause.

"You know I could have said that maybe you'd get number eleven," my dear cousin informed me.

"Aw, thanks Ryan, you're a pal."

Not too long afterwards, I was sitting on the grassy hill in front of the playground, enjoying a calm moment of relaxation with a few other young people. It was Stephen A. who started it. Blowing on a blade of grass, he made a creaky cry to the world. It was an instantaneous hit. Next thing we knew a bunch of us were blowing away (it was even discovered that it can be done on a starburst wrapper!), chortling, screeching, bleating, and squealing to our hearts' content. If you can imagine listening to a flock of sick ducks, or even being in a jungle, you'll be able to get a picture of what it sounded like. I enjoyed myself immensely, and although I wasn't the best at it, I could add my squeaky screams to the fray with pride. Sometimes my eyes would bulge as I poured out the contents of my lungs, and this brought chuckles from a few people, Cara probably being the loudest. Soon this happy choir of sickly birds ended, however, and we left to go consume our lovely dinner. Released from tension after this highlight of my day, I found that I had regained my appetite (luckily the whole bird thing didn't wear off on me too much), which I had misplaced for awhile, and so I vigorously set to eating probably my largest meal in days.


Four days after the completion of the Family Convention, I had the privilege of going to the Hills to visit Klara. We had a jolly time, mixed with fun and work (and some colds, but that's beside the point), and it was a wonderful antidote to soften the "blothpick" after the convention. One day we went swimming in their freezing pond, but afterwards when we got out and dressed we were so cold that we wore pajamas under our skirts, with warm fuzzy socks and sweatshirts. You need to remember that this was a pleasantly warm July day too! We laughed at our warm attire as we eagerly sipped warm Postum in their sunny kitchen. I thought of having our pictures taken this way outside, but we never got around to it.

Another venture Klara and I accomplished was making breakfast. This is our idea of fun work. We got up early ("early," meaning seven o'clock) and whipped together scrambled eggs, crepes, and scones with vanilla glaze (I really wanted to make the glaze because I have such good memories of when Andrea used to make scones with glaze in bibleschool, and I always loved her for it:). With this feast, we all sat ourselves outdoors in the new morning and munched on it with delight. Hurray for the joy of cooking with a friend!

The morning before I left with my parents, I got to have an unusual experience. If you don't believe me, maybe you should try hypnotizing a chicken someday! Frankly it was Cara who reminded me about it. I learned how to do it from my BJ Homesat teacher in eighth grade, and I enlightened my cousin on the steps that it involves. Now of course I had almost forgotten all about it (though I don't know how could I forget something like that!), until Cara told me that she tried it when she was at the Holschers. I was determined to put it to practice, or what I could remember anyway. I confess though, that when put on the spot with those pecking, snippety hens in their smelly coop, I was almost dissuaded. It was Caleb who helped save the day and had a stick with him so I wouldn't have to risk having my finger viciously poked. That was much simpler. So with his stick he approached the chicken's head, much to her pecking dislike, but eventually he managed to get the stick in between the hen's eyes. This is what does it. I don't know if chickens can go cross eyed or not, but maybe it's because they can't go cross eyed that sets them into a trance. So there that chicken sat, staring away, with an infrequent blink now and then. Sometimes her eyes would narrow and she would squint, but there she sat, dazed. And not pecking. Still, we couldn't be too sure that she was really hypnotized, so I tried a test. I think actually you're supposed to do this beforehand to relax them, but because of a certain beak we hadn't dared. So gingerly I brought in my hand and began stroking her head. When she didn't react, I felt easier and stroked more freely, convincing Caleb that she wouldn't peck after all. During this time we had taken turns holding the stick, and soon I decided to do something more. I switched the stick for my finger, and there it lay in between her eyes, as surprisingly safe as it could be. So that is my story of how I hypnotized a chicken, even if Caleb did help me.

I think the family may now have a new method to help stubborn hens give them their eggs.

The Plunk Heard Around the World

"On your mark,

get set,

GO!"

This was the start of yet another vicious game of warball, in all its infamy. I darted up to the line to grab a ball, feeling a bit tentative, because TJ was opposite me and racing for the same ball. Luckily he gave up when he saw my speediness.:D However, I had problems slowing down at the line. In a rush I knelt to pick up the air-filled orb (I think it was yellow). I must have lost my balance from having too much momentum, however, because next thing I knew I saw the ground flying to meet me. "WHAM!" Or maybe it was more like a hollow "plunk," or perhaps it made no noise at all. Anyway, "WHAM!" my forehead met cold floor. I then felt exceedingly stupid, but exceedingly filled with hilarity, though a little sore in the area of my skull. I scrambled back to my side of the line and on my feet, quite aware that in this moment of amusement and pain I would be a likely target for a bullet. Nothing assailed me, however, except TJ's laughter. I couldn't blame him. I was laughing myself, while I rubbed my head incredulously.

Nevertheless, I did end up feeling rather proud of my nickel-sized lump.