Saturday, October 14, 2006
On trial
Wow, I was experimenting, and I finally figured out how to put this picture on my heading! It leaves much to be desired, perhaps some cropping or change in size, or a different picture, or skipping it all together. However, it's late now and I'm going to bed, so I'll leave it up on trial.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
We went up to Sky High with Amanda and her dad. This was a mountain that had a great overlook of Melbourne and it's suburbs. So here we are:
"Strolling by a green bench chair, Mr. S. told us that it was made from recycled plastic, and as we walked over a spongy walkway, he informed us that it was made from old tires. . . " What next?
Kendra, Amanda and Me at Sky High (this is actually from Amanda's camera--Amanda, you're famous!:)
Mr. S. showed us a "little" chair "just my size"
I have to warn you now that I did enjoy taking pictures of trees and plants!
"Strolling by a green bench chair, Mr. S. told us that it was made from recycled plastic, and as we walked over a spongy walkway, he informed us that it was made from old tires. . . " What next?
Kendra, Amanda and Me at Sky High (this is actually from Amanda's camera--Amanda, you're famous!:)
Mr. S. showed us a "little" chair "just my size"
I have to warn you now that I did enjoy taking pictures of trees and plants!Ham: The Crushing Word
Once upon a time, I had an embarrassing moment. Is there anyone who hasn't had one of these? But I am about to disclose this embarrassing moment to the entire blogging world, and as most embarrassing moments are never nearly as embarrassing years later or considered very embarrassing by the rest of the world, I'm afraid you will not understand my trauma. Nonetheless, I will share it anyway.
When I was about eight years old, I entered a spelling bee. This bee was unlike any other bee, however, because it didn't buzz--meaning that it wasn't a real spelling bee, since it wasn't big and official, and the honor of winning wasn't huge and tremendous. However, it was at the Family Convention, in the dining hall with what seemed like a multitude of people, when I went up front with my age group and competed in this bee. A turn or two passed, and I managed to survive all right. I wasn't a terrible speller, so that would explain my beginning survival. Then came the momentous moment. I think Meredith was before me, and after she had spelled her word correctly Mrs. Kathy D. gave me the next difficult word to spell: "ham." Standing up, I was suddenly overwhelmed. Here I was, in front of a large room full of people, asked to spell a word I had never heard of before. Of course I had heard of ham, and did indeed know how to spell it, but I knew that they would never ask me to spell a word as easy as "h-a-m," so it must be a homonym, and therefore a word that I didn't know. Drenched in my timidity and torn by indecision and awkwardness ("a-w-k-w-a-r-d-n-e-s-s!"), I decided that the humiliation of misspelling a word I didn't know would be greater than just being skipped. "Are you sure?" Mrs. Kathy D. asked, all compassion. "It would mean that you would be out." On the brink of tears, I nodded, and sat down. Daniel A. was next to me, and only half standing in front of his chair, as if being afraid that standing up all the way would draw too much attention to himself, he produced the stupendous answer: "Ham: h-a-m."
I was stunned. I was shocked. I was utterly humiliated. This was probably by far the worst thing that could have happened to me, or so I thought at the time. Probably every single person in the room was privately laughing at me, amazed that I didn't know how to spell a little word like "ham." The whole world would probably have heard of it by the end of the day, and then I would be an outcast, not able to lift my head from my weighty embarrassment. I would probably not be able to live it out, and most likely people would remember it for years to come with jeering humor, and would think me a very poor speller. I knew that almost everyone present was not cruel enough to openly ridicule me, but I would never know if they were secretly enjoying it or not, and I would probably live the rest of my life with the suspicion that everyone was laughing at me.
Naturally my mother, ever wise and comforting, tried to assure me. "They won't remember it, Kayla," she said, then added, "You'll be laughing about this in a couple of years." Eventually I dragged myself into believing the first part of her prediction, but I could not make myself trust the latter one. This was not a laughing matter. It was too big for that.
Probably about three years later I had sufficiently recovered in order to laugh about it, but only in a hesitant sort of way. Now I believe I am finally released from my conjured debasement. Oddly enough though, I found that not everything my mom prophesied was completely true. As a matter of fact, at my first girls' week over a year ago, we were travelling in the van from New Jersey and we were sharing embarrassing moments, so I told them this. When I was finished, to my mixed amusement and distress, Amy B. burst out, "Oh, I remember that!" Oh dear. Hey, excuse me, hello, you are not SUPPOSED to remember it! Now you only know it because I've told you, right? Right. Because if you did remember it, maybe I was right to be embarrassed. . . . .
. . . . but stories are always better when you're laughing at yourself.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Day 1 & 2: Arriving Down Under
Okay, the good news is that I finished scanning a lot of my Australia pictures several days ago. The bad news is that, although I only scanned a considerable fraction of them, there are still 143 of them, and I so far have managed to transfer about 60 of them to this computer. It involves a whole bunch of complicated stuff concerning lack of time and I didn't know that Craig would take his lap top with him to Rhode Island, etc, etc. Anyway, I've decided to start posting a few pictures (only a few mind you!), mostly in order, but since the thumb drive randomly chose the pictures I have, I'm going to have to later go back and fill in some holes chronologically that it left out.
So without further ado, here are the first of the first:
And as a side thing, here's something I wrote in my journal while on the plane:
If I were at home, it would be about quarter to three in the morning. So in case you haven't guessed, I'm a bit tired right now, but I am going to partially try Kendra's theory of avoiding jet lag. Basically she believes that as soon as you're on the plane, you should pretend to be in the same time zone as your destination: Melbourne. This includes staying awake the first six hours of our nightly flight, and sleeping the rest of it. I think her plan is a good one, but personally I think it is also wise to sleep when you can, so we'll see what I do.
. . . As for our plane, it is huge! Well, I suppose there are larger ones somewhere (like in Flightplan), but this is a 747 [I must also add that my outlook on the size of the plane may have been a little rosy-colored in my excitement].
. . . There is a danger in travelling on such a long flight. Chad helpfully reminded Kendra that on flights like these you can get blood clots and die. Talk about comforting.
. . . I've also noticed the friendly service. . . [later] They served us a yummy supper of chicken. . . . However, when Amanda opened her package, there was no chicken! She mentioned it to another steward, and he started asking her really funny questions like, "You're sure you didn't take it and stuff it in your pockets?" I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy Australian humor.
As for the report on the rest of my flight, we progressed to Aukland, New Zealand swimmingly, and fortunately I mean that figuratively, not literally.
(we landed in New Zealand, and after a couple hours of layover. . . . )
As we waited to board at about 6:15 am, NZ time, the sky turned from black to deep blue, and by the time we took off, the sun had risen, and I snapped some of my only glimpses of New Zealand from the plane.
As we climbed above the clouds, I wanted to make the sky look bluer for my picture, so I twisted my polarizer onto my lens. Then I discovered that my polarizer wouldn't make the sky any bluer. Instead, it divided the light into gorgeous almost pastel-like colors! It was a neat discovery, and I took the picture.
Then eventually we landed in Melbourne, had a great day and blah, blah, blah (I didn't write this in my journal, but I figured that I wouldn't bother weighing you down with lots of details). The next day we took the train into Melbourne and arrived a Flinders' Street Station, a big, yellow building with a dome at one end and a cloc
k tower at the other, and teeming with activity. This was a very photogenic building in my opinion, but unfortunately I only had time to take this next photo almost a week later from the car.
We started walking down fairly busy streets (maybe took a tram) through the somewhat elegant city of Melbourne until we arrived shortly at the Victoria State Library, where Kendra and I spent quite awhile trying to find a newspaper article from 1908 when the Coronet visited Melbourne. We found the right section in the microfilm archives of The Herald, and then we took awh
ile trying to figure out the machine to read it and to wind it to the proper date. Finally we found it, headlined something like "The Mysterious Yacht--the Coronet.". . . The article mentioned how the people from the Coronet said that the people from Melbourne were more civil than its rival Sydney, and Amanda, a staunch Melbournian, said that some things never change. The State Library
And now I bid you good night; if I'm ambitious enough I'll post more tomorrow!
So without further ado, here are the first of the first:
And as a side thing, here's something I wrote in my journal while on the plane:
If I were at home, it would be about quarter to three in the morning. So in case you haven't guessed, I'm a bit tired right now, but I am going to partially try Kendra's theory of avoiding jet lag. Basically she believes that as soon as you're on the plane, you should pretend to be in the same time zone as your destination: Melbourne. This includes staying awake the first six hours of our nightly flight, and sleeping the rest of it. I think her plan is a good one, but personally I think it is also wise to sleep when you can, so we'll see what I do.
. . . As for our plane, it is huge! Well, I suppose there are larger ones somewhere (like in Flightplan), but this is a 747 [I must also add that my outlook on the size of the plane may have been a little rosy-colored in my excitement].
. . . There is a danger in travelling on such a long flight. Chad helpfully reminded Kendra that on flights like these you can get blood clots and die. Talk about comforting.
. . . I've also noticed the friendly service. . . [later] They served us a yummy supper of chicken. . . . However, when Amanda opened her package, there was no chicken! She mentioned it to another steward, and he started asking her really funny questions like, "You're sure you didn't take it and stuff it in your pockets?" I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy Australian humor.
As for the report on the rest of my flight, we progressed to Aukland, New Zealand swimmingly, and fortunately I mean that figuratively, not literally.
(we landed in New Zealand, and after a couple hours of layover. . . . )
As we waited to board at about 6:15 am, NZ time, the sky turned from black to deep blue, and by the time we took off, the sun had risen, and I snapped some of my only glimpses of New Zealand from the plane.
As we climbed above the clouds, I wanted to make the sky look bluer for my picture, so I twisted my polarizer onto my lens. Then I discovered that my polarizer wouldn't make the sky any bluer. Instead, it divided the light into gorgeous almost pastel-like colors! It was a neat discovery, and I took the picture.
Then eventually we landed in Melbourne, had a great day and blah, blah, blah (I didn't write this in my journal, but I figured that I wouldn't bother weighing you down with lots of details). The next day we took the train into Melbourne and arrived a Flinders' Street Station, a big, yellow building with a dome at one end and a cloc
k tower at the other, and teeming with activity. This was a very photogenic building in my opinion, but unfortunately I only had time to take this next photo almost a week later from the car.We started walking down fairly busy streets (maybe took a tram) through the somewhat elegant city of Melbourne until we arrived shortly at the Victoria State Library, where Kendra and I spent quite awhile trying to find a newspaper article from 1908 when the Coronet visited Melbourne. We found the right section in the microfilm archives of The Herald, and then we took awh
ile trying to figure out the machine to read it and to wind it to the proper date. Finally we found it, headlined something like "The Mysterious Yacht--the Coronet.". . . The article mentioned how the people from the Coronet said that the people from Melbourne were more civil than its rival Sydney, and Amanda, a staunch Melbournian, said that some things never change. The State Library And now I bid you good night; if I'm ambitious enough I'll post more tomorrow!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
More Random Photos--Graduations
The lovely bibleschool graduates
The not-quite-so-lovely Caleb and his tongue (remind me not to have blue frosting at MY graduation!:)
At Craig's gradutation. . .
The noble graduate marches out, diploma in hand
Craig & me (now he is that much taller than me;)Random Photos
I have begun the massive project of scanning Australia pictures, now that I finally have a bit of time to do it. However, now that I've baited your hopes (or increased your worry), I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to start posting them. However, I hope to pretty soon, so keep checking back!
But since right now I do feel like putting up pictures, here are some ones that I meant to put up sometime but never got around to it:
Sabbath sunset at my aunt and uncle's in Virginia (spring break) 
The girls' "team huddle" on class trip when trying to thwart Dave and Adam in basketball (it's Bria, Kimberly, Katherine, and Elizabeth by the way)
A few noble SWAT team comrades when we went out to Applebees the last week of bibleschool
spring leaves
But since right now I do feel like putting up pictures, here are some ones that I meant to put up sometime but never got around to it:
Sabbath sunset at my aunt and uncle's in Virginia (spring break) 
Kenny and me when she came home in April (by the way we are sitting on a slanted rock and I'm on the slanted side; she is NOT that much taller than me!:)
The girls' "team huddle" on class trip when trying to thwart Dave and Adam in basketball (it's Bria, Kimberly, Katherine, and Elizabeth by the way)
A few noble SWAT team comrades when we went out to Applebees the last week of bibleschool
spring leavesRandom Quotes
"This is a fault common to all singers, that among their friends they are never inclined to sing when asked [but] unasked they never desist." ~Horace :D
"Whenever you point a finger, three fingers are pointing back at you."
"Those who try to do something and fail are much better off than those who try to do nothing and succeed."
"People are like stained glass windows. They glow and sparkle when it is sunny and bright but when the sun goes down, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."
"Whenever you point a finger, three fingers are pointing back at you."
"Those who try to do something and fail are much better off than those who try to do nothing and succeed."
"People are like stained glass windows. They glow and sparkle when it is sunny and bright but when the sun goes down, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."
October
In case you didn't realize it, or you're in your own little world, it is now the month of October.
Speaking of being in your own little world, we met someone in Australia who is kind of like that. I'll call her Mary. Anyway, Amanda told us ahead of time what Mary is like. For instance (and you can correct me if I get this wrong, Amanda), you know how you can get an extra hour of sleep when you're coming off daylight savings time? Well, Mary decided that instead of getting an extra hour of sleep on Sunday night like everybody else, she wanted to get it on Monday morning before she went to work, so she basically lived an hour ahead of everybody else for an entire day before re-setting her clock. But that's not all. Another time, when there was a holiday on Monday, she decided that when she went to work Tuesday morning that she would convince herself that it was Monday, Wednesday was Tuesday, Thursday was Wednesday, etc. That way, when she came to "Thursday" afternoon, she would suddenly "remember" that it was Friday and therefore the weekend, and boy what a pleasant surprise that would be!!!
So then we got to meet this incredible girl Mary. She is very friendly, but she had hardly met us when she unwittingly proved Amanda's stories to be correct by making an announcement: "I've decided that since my twenty-sixth birthday is coming up, that I'll tell myself that I'm turning twenty-eight instead, and that way when I turn twenty-six it will sound so much better! In fact, I was talking to my sister the other day and I told her that I was about to turn twenty-eight, and she said, 'No you're not, you're turning twenty-seven!' and I said, 'No I'm turning twenty-six!' hahaha!" Oh me oh my, how that dear girl cracks me up! I think it must take talent to be able to do things like that.
Anyway, as I was saying. . . . in case you didn't realize it, it is now the month of October. You might not have thought that I knew this however, for until today if you had walked into my room you would have observed that my calendar was still on the month of September. Why so? You see I have a Narnia calendar, and last month I had a fine picture of Peter with a cut on the side of his head and looking intense, but this month's picture is no Peter. In fact, it's this black, swarthy-skinned monster with an ugly snarl stretching out his face and crouched on a rocky hill like a frog trying to stand up. To the best of my knowledge, you don't even see this shady character in the movie! To make matters worse, I keep this calendar right above where I lay my head and night, and if anyone thinks that I'm going to let this crazy creature leer over my head until my dreams are scared silly, then you are much mistaken! Sooo. . . . now I have finally solved this problem and brought myself to the current month by putting another picture from a different calendar over it, so instead of this hideous thing, I get a more serene glimpse of a pinky-blue sunset and a Bible verse on God's might. Much more soothing on your dreams, don't you agree?
Somewhere along the way in my predicament with the grotesque being, Craig made the sardonic comment that it probably has something to do with all the people who are born in that month. Hmm. . . that would be giving a bad name to Meredith, Van Lora, TJ, Nika, Cara, Pedro Martinez (Craig might be right in his case), and Amanda (plus I'm sure there are more but those are the ones that come to me right now). Do I let this slander continue? Never fear! I, Kayla, now come to the rescue to save the month of October and all those who were born in it!
Honestly, as I came to the beginning of this month and became more fully aware that summer is over, my disappointment was overcome by the anticipation of the enjoyable things that often occur October. Here is a list of but a few of them:
First though, as I already mentioned, some wonderful people were born in this month, so of course I'm thankful for all of them, including Meredith, Cara, and Amanda, for what would I do without these great friends?
October means. . .
the Dublin Rummage Sale
the Trinity free clothes giveaway
the Salvation Army sale
artist palettes smeared all over the brilliant trees
Apple Sauce Day
the Harvest Party
leaf catching
raking (which actually can be fun)
jumping into the piles you raked (which actually can be even more fun)
Indian Summer--this means the gorgeous warm days that you weren't expecting inbetween the cool ones
fresh cider, and juicy apples that don't taste like they've been artificially preserved
grapes on Fairwood's grape vine--and grape juice!
warm pumpkin candles cosily burning during the longer evenings
marigolds lending special warmth
delightful crisp mornings
shuffling through dead leaves and drinking in their familiar scent
getting to wear bright orange when you take a peaceful walk through the woods
pulling out your camera several times in a week
Mt. Monadnock seeming prettier than ever--if that's possible
pumpkin carving
candy corn
trick-or-treaters
Lots more could be said but why bother? I've made my point: I'm loving October!
p.s. confession time: I'm afraid I didn't take these pictures THIS year, but that's because I haven't gotten my film developed yet, and these are from the digital camera.
Speaking of being in your own little world, we met someone in Australia who is kind of like that. I'll call her Mary. Anyway, Amanda told us ahead of time what Mary is like. For instance (and you can correct me if I get this wrong, Amanda), you know how you can get an extra hour of sleep when you're coming off daylight savings time? Well, Mary decided that instead of getting an extra hour of sleep on Sunday night like everybody else, she wanted to get it on Monday morning before she went to work, so she basically lived an hour ahead of everybody else for an entire day before re-setting her clock. But that's not all. Another time, when there was a holiday on Monday, she decided that when she went to work Tuesday morning that she would convince herself that it was Monday, Wednesday was Tuesday, Thursday was Wednesday, etc. That way, when she came to "Thursday" afternoon, she would suddenly "remember" that it was Friday and therefore the weekend, and boy what a pleasant surprise that would be!!!
So then we got to meet this incredible girl Mary. She is very friendly, but she had hardly met us when she unwittingly proved Amanda's stories to be correct by making an announcement: "I've decided that since my twenty-sixth birthday is coming up, that I'll tell myself that I'm turning twenty-eight instead, and that way when I turn twenty-six it will sound so much better! In fact, I was talking to my sister the other day and I told her that I was about to turn twenty-eight, and she said, 'No you're not, you're turning twenty-seven!' and I said, 'No I'm turning twenty-six!' hahaha!" Oh me oh my, how that dear girl cracks me up! I think it must take talent to be able to do things like that.
Anyway, as I was saying. . . . in case you didn't realize it, it is now the month of October. You might not have thought that I knew this however, for until today if you had walked into my room you would have observed that my calendar was still on the month of September. Why so? You see I have a Narnia calendar, and last month I had a fine picture of Peter with a cut on the side of his head and looking intense, but this month's picture is no Peter. In fact, it's this black, swarthy-skinned monster with an ugly snarl stretching out his face and crouched on a rocky hill like a frog trying to stand up. To the best of my knowledge, you don't even see this shady character in the movie! To make matters worse, I keep this calendar right above where I lay my head and night, and if anyone thinks that I'm going to let this crazy creature leer over my head until my dreams are scared silly, then you are much mistaken! Sooo. . . . now I have finally solved this problem and brought myself to the current month by putting another picture from a different calendar over it, so instead of this hideous thing, I get a more serene glimpse of a pinky-blue sunset and a Bible verse on God's might. Much more soothing on your dreams, don't you agree?
Somewhere along the way in my predicament with the grotesque being, Craig made the sardonic comment that it probably has something to do with all the people who are born in that month. Hmm. . . that would be giving a bad name to Meredith, Van Lora, TJ, Nika, Cara, Pedro Martinez (Craig might be right in his case), and Amanda (plus I'm sure there are more but those are the ones that come to me right now). Do I let this slander continue? Never fear! I, Kayla, now come to the rescue to save the month of October and all those who were born in it!
Honestly, as I came to the beginning of this month and became more fully aware that summer is over, my disappointment was overcome by the anticipation of the enjoyable things that often occur October. Here is a list of but a few of them:
First though, as I already mentioned, some wonderful people were born in this month, so of course I'm thankful for all of them, including Meredith, Cara, and Amanda, for what would I do without these great friends?
October means. . .
the Dublin Rummage Sale
the Trinity free clothes giveaway
the Salvation Army sale
artist palettes smeared all over the brilliant trees
Apple Sauce Day
the Harvest Party
leaf catching
raking (which actually can be fun)
jumping into the piles you raked (which actually can be even more fun)
Indian Summer--this means the gorgeous warm days that you weren't expecting inbetween the cool ones
fresh cider, and juicy apples that don't taste like they've been artificially preserved
grapes on Fairwood's grape vine--and grape juice!
warm pumpkin candles cosily burning during the longer evenings
marigolds lending special warmth
delightful crisp mornings
shuffling through dead leaves and drinking in their familiar scent
getting to wear bright orange when you take a peaceful walk through the woods
pulling out your camera several times in a week
Mt. Monadnock seeming prettier than ever--if that's possible
pumpkin carving
candy corn
trick-or-treaters
Lots more could be said but why bother? I've made my point: I'm loving October!
p.s. confession time: I'm afraid I didn't take these pictures THIS year, but that's because I haven't gotten my film developed yet, and these are from the digital camera.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
A Prickly Saga
Yesterday a rather singular occurence did something very singular--it occurred! What's more, this singular occurence has never happened that I can recall in all of Fairwood history (but since I can only recall about fifteen years of it, I realize that my memory is somewhat limited). Forgive me if you've already heard about it, but I cannot resist the urge to tell it again. Now are you curious?
It all started with my little childhood phobias of being outside alone in the dark. In case you don't know, our house has a bit of woods surrounding it, and a road/driveway goes by and over the hill and down to the more populated--and therefore more well lighted--areas of Fairwood. Well, naturally I have had to make this trek millions of times, and as can be expected, necessity forces me to take it when darkness pervades our side of the globe. Very often there are places at times where you can't even see the ground you walk upon, let alone your feet, and a big field stretches out on one side of this dark pathway, and you never know what could be watching you, or darting silently toward your unaware person until it's practically on top of you. Hmm, taking this walk is one thing to do it when your twenty-seven, and quite another thing to do when you're just seven. Since I think every kid has been afraid of the dark at some time or other, I of course went through my little qualms. A flashlight sometimes assisted me, but most of the time I would brave the dark unaided, all alone except for the comforting sound of my own voice as I fiercely sang to not only comfort myself but also to hopefully dissuade any intruders from attacking me (and I could never decide if they would flee just because I was making noise, or because I sounded dreadful). What I would like to observe as a sidenote is that Laura, who had the same anxiety as me, decided not to sing but to run, and I've noticed how much she loves to run and how much I love to sing. Peculiar, is it not?
Oddly enough, some people may be surprised to note that I wasn't afraid of being abducted or anything. In fact, the only humans I feared in the dark were Craig and Clyde and only because they were known to try to scare me (luckily I noticed Craig's creeping shadow as I approached the lamp post at the end of our driveway, so I was spared from experiencing the undesirable alarm that my wicked brother had designed for me). The things I feared were less wild in nature: mountain lions (one was spotted at Fairwood last summer), bobcats (we've heard them scream in the woods), bears (our bird feeders have been raided by them), wolves (which I don't even think we have any of), and. . . . stepping on porcupines. Sometimes I was even hesitant to eating a cookie on the way home from the Main House, in case a ferocious cat would smell it and come to attack me so that he could devour it himself and then have me for dessert.
One day however, my dad told me earnestly that pretty much all of the animals here in the woods are scared of me. This pleased me, in a fashion, to know that most likely the animal will race headlong away as soon it heard me coming, and basically I have nothing to fear except fear itself. So I think I can say that from then on I was cured of my phobia of the dark, at least along that road, and it never has really bothered me since. But I must admit that I am still wary of things I may see or need to make my distance from. Of course it still has occurred to me that maybe someday a suddenly bloodthirsty mountain lion will maul me, but it is comforting not only to realize that I'm not going to die unless God wants me to, but also such notions are absurd. So to this day the closest I've come to being mauled is when I reached the end of our driveway one time and then I heard something take a few steps in the woods. I don't need to say that I didn't think twice about running all the way to our porch.
My dad's "talk," however, didn't immediately relieve me of my worry of stepping on a porcupine. As I said earlier, there are times when you can't even see the ground, and stepping on a porcupine is probably the most drastic I thing I could think of as a result. However, it wasn't long before I convinced myself absolutely that the very idea of stepping on a porcupine was ridiculous, and the chances of doing it are about 100 to 1. Voila, now I am worry free! Or am I? All this I probably wouldn't have blogged about if it hadn't been that my chances were about to increase to 5 to 1.
So that brings me to a week ago. My dad and I were driving home at about quarter past ten from the campfire on the ball field, and what do we see waddling in front of us at its own sweet pace? A koala! (hehe bet you weren't expecting that one!). Actually it really was a porcupine, as I'm sure you already guessed, and there he was, all bushy and illumined by overpowering headlights. Finally he figured out that he was a little too slow for us, and he scuttled onto the Hansen's lawn. Now this was very interesting, but not too remarkable since we see a porcupine every once in awhile on the ball field or something. But apparently this wasn't the only time this porcupine decided to blaze a trail on our road, because Ruth told me Sunday morning that she had seen also seen one of these prickly critters one night, and I later found out that my mom had as well. Hmm, maybe my distant phobia of stepping on a porcupine in the dark wasn't so childish anymore. All this, however, would have gone on unnoticed and unwritten if it weren't for a fateful evening.
I was walking home Sunday night, at about ten o'clock, past the Men's Dorm and right up above the church, when Danny drove by me in their mini van. Now he and Ruth live next door to us, just beyond our house, so occasionally Ruth might offer me a ride or something. Well, oddly enough, I didn't feel like riding, so I fervently wished that Danny wouldn't offer me a ride, even though it had been raining. I needn't have worried, because he didn't offer me a ride anyway (and I'll tell you honestly that I don't expect him or Ruth, or anybody else for that matter, to offer, so it wasn't rude or anything). I continued on, in my own brisk yet plodding way, and watched him disappear over the top of the hill. Nothing unusual. As I neared the top of the hill--wait, is that a dark shape in the road? It was a still, large black lump. Of course if it was a porcupine, it would be moving, unless it was afraid of me. Could it have gotten hit by the car? No, Davie's dog Buffy was sitting by the road too calmly for her to have just witnessed a slaughter. I was probably just making things up. I backed up down the hill a little bit, thankful that the lamp was shining at the end of our driveway otherwise it would be like descending into a valley of pitch. Yes, it did almost look like the light was silhouetting a black shape, on the left side of the road. Or maybe I was just seeing things. Nonetheless, I stayed on the other side of the road as I passed, reminding myself of the priest or Levite who ignored the wounded Samaritan. Except this wasn't a Samaritan, it was just a porcupine, if it was a porcupine which I wasn't even sure it was. Therefore I didn't feel any pangs of guilt to leave the shapeless black thing to its blackness. I would find out in the morning.
However, I had almost completely forgotten about it in the morning, until I was walking up the road and saw it. This was going to be interesting. I ran forward. Wow, so I actually wasn't seeing things last night, and it really was a koala! Whoops, I mean a porcupine. I had never had such a good look at one before. It lay in a spiky hump on its side, with quilled fur that almost looked soft, it's curved paws curled up, it's little black eye (it was his profile remember) open, and bright red blood coming out of--his nose? Already the packed dirt at his head was stained with his blood in a pool about a foot long. Now I actually had a first-hand experience dealing with a literal pool of blood! Oh I'm sorry. . . . too many gory details. You see that although I did indeed feel sorry for the poor chap, my utter fascination with the whole situation far outweighed my remorse. Here was real live--I mean dead roadkill, at Fairwood! I don't think we've had anything larger than a snake or just maybe a chipmunk. No, no, I am not celebrating the fact that Fairwood now has had roadkill, but just that it was about the most interesting thing that has happened to me since Australia. And I had almost witnessed it! Uuuhh, I shudder to think what would have happened if I had stepped on him the night before. . . but no matter.
Now do you laugh at me for worrying about stepping on a porcupine?
It all started with my little childhood phobias of being outside alone in the dark. In case you don't know, our house has a bit of woods surrounding it, and a road/driveway goes by and over the hill and down to the more populated--and therefore more well lighted--areas of Fairwood. Well, naturally I have had to make this trek millions of times, and as can be expected, necessity forces me to take it when darkness pervades our side of the globe. Very often there are places at times where you can't even see the ground you walk upon, let alone your feet, and a big field stretches out on one side of this dark pathway, and you never know what could be watching you, or darting silently toward your unaware person until it's practically on top of you. Hmm, taking this walk is one thing to do it when your twenty-seven, and quite another thing to do when you're just seven. Since I think every kid has been afraid of the dark at some time or other, I of course went through my little qualms. A flashlight sometimes assisted me, but most of the time I would brave the dark unaided, all alone except for the comforting sound of my own voice as I fiercely sang to not only comfort myself but also to hopefully dissuade any intruders from attacking me (and I could never decide if they would flee just because I was making noise, or because I sounded dreadful). What I would like to observe as a sidenote is that Laura, who had the same anxiety as me, decided not to sing but to run, and I've noticed how much she loves to run and how much I love to sing. Peculiar, is it not?
Oddly enough, some people may be surprised to note that I wasn't afraid of being abducted or anything. In fact, the only humans I feared in the dark were Craig and Clyde and only because they were known to try to scare me (luckily I noticed Craig's creeping shadow as I approached the lamp post at the end of our driveway, so I was spared from experiencing the undesirable alarm that my wicked brother had designed for me). The things I feared were less wild in nature: mountain lions (one was spotted at Fairwood last summer), bobcats (we've heard them scream in the woods), bears (our bird feeders have been raided by them), wolves (which I don't even think we have any of), and. . . . stepping on porcupines. Sometimes I was even hesitant to eating a cookie on the way home from the Main House, in case a ferocious cat would smell it and come to attack me so that he could devour it himself and then have me for dessert.
One day however, my dad told me earnestly that pretty much all of the animals here in the woods are scared of me. This pleased me, in a fashion, to know that most likely the animal will race headlong away as soon it heard me coming, and basically I have nothing to fear except fear itself. So I think I can say that from then on I was cured of my phobia of the dark, at least along that road, and it never has really bothered me since. But I must admit that I am still wary of things I may see or need to make my distance from. Of course it still has occurred to me that maybe someday a suddenly bloodthirsty mountain lion will maul me, but it is comforting not only to realize that I'm not going to die unless God wants me to, but also such notions are absurd. So to this day the closest I've come to being mauled is when I reached the end of our driveway one time and then I heard something take a few steps in the woods. I don't need to say that I didn't think twice about running all the way to our porch.
My dad's "talk," however, didn't immediately relieve me of my worry of stepping on a porcupine. As I said earlier, there are times when you can't even see the ground, and stepping on a porcupine is probably the most drastic I thing I could think of as a result. However, it wasn't long before I convinced myself absolutely that the very idea of stepping on a porcupine was ridiculous, and the chances of doing it are about 100 to 1. Voila, now I am worry free! Or am I? All this I probably wouldn't have blogged about if it hadn't been that my chances were about to increase to 5 to 1.
So that brings me to a week ago. My dad and I were driving home at about quarter past ten from the campfire on the ball field, and what do we see waddling in front of us at its own sweet pace? A koala! (hehe bet you weren't expecting that one!). Actually it really was a porcupine, as I'm sure you already guessed, and there he was, all bushy and illumined by overpowering headlights. Finally he figured out that he was a little too slow for us, and he scuttled onto the Hansen's lawn. Now this was very interesting, but not too remarkable since we see a porcupine every once in awhile on the ball field or something. But apparently this wasn't the only time this porcupine decided to blaze a trail on our road, because Ruth told me Sunday morning that she had seen also seen one of these prickly critters one night, and I later found out that my mom had as well. Hmm, maybe my distant phobia of stepping on a porcupine in the dark wasn't so childish anymore. All this, however, would have gone on unnoticed and unwritten if it weren't for a fateful evening.
I was walking home Sunday night, at about ten o'clock, past the Men's Dorm and right up above the church, when Danny drove by me in their mini van. Now he and Ruth live next door to us, just beyond our house, so occasionally Ruth might offer me a ride or something. Well, oddly enough, I didn't feel like riding, so I fervently wished that Danny wouldn't offer me a ride, even though it had been raining. I needn't have worried, because he didn't offer me a ride anyway (and I'll tell you honestly that I don't expect him or Ruth, or anybody else for that matter, to offer, so it wasn't rude or anything). I continued on, in my own brisk yet plodding way, and watched him disappear over the top of the hill. Nothing unusual. As I neared the top of the hill--wait, is that a dark shape in the road? It was a still, large black lump. Of course if it was a porcupine, it would be moving, unless it was afraid of me. Could it have gotten hit by the car? No, Davie's dog Buffy was sitting by the road too calmly for her to have just witnessed a slaughter. I was probably just making things up. I backed up down the hill a little bit, thankful that the lamp was shining at the end of our driveway otherwise it would be like descending into a valley of pitch. Yes, it did almost look like the light was silhouetting a black shape, on the left side of the road. Or maybe I was just seeing things. Nonetheless, I stayed on the other side of the road as I passed, reminding myself of the priest or Levite who ignored the wounded Samaritan. Except this wasn't a Samaritan, it was just a porcupine, if it was a porcupine which I wasn't even sure it was. Therefore I didn't feel any pangs of guilt to leave the shapeless black thing to its blackness. I would find out in the morning.
However, I had almost completely forgotten about it in the morning, until I was walking up the road and saw it. This was going to be interesting. I ran forward. Wow, so I actually wasn't seeing things last night, and it really was a koala! Whoops, I mean a porcupine. I had never had such a good look at one before. It lay in a spiky hump on its side, with quilled fur that almost looked soft, it's curved paws curled up, it's little black eye (it was his profile remember) open, and bright red blood coming out of--his nose? Already the packed dirt at his head was stained with his blood in a pool about a foot long. Now I actually had a first-hand experience dealing with a literal pool of blood! Oh I'm sorry. . . . too many gory details. You see that although I did indeed feel sorry for the poor chap, my utter fascination with the whole situation far outweighed my remorse. Here was real live--I mean dead roadkill, at Fairwood! I don't think we've had anything larger than a snake or just maybe a chipmunk. No, no, I am not celebrating the fact that Fairwood now has had roadkill, but just that it was about the most interesting thing that has happened to me since Australia. And I had almost witnessed it! Uuuhh, I shudder to think what would have happened if I had stepped on him the night before. . . but no matter.
Now do you laugh at me for worrying about stepping on a porcupine?
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