You get 'em Conval

The Dessert Banquet has passed. The bibleschool is gone. I could share about either one of those events, but I won't.

Last night we went to a basketball game. Two, in fact. The first was the Conval's JV team, that in case you haven't heard, Clyde is now coaching. The poor kids got slaughtered. . . . they lost 21 to 43. Also one of our point guards sprained his ankle or something. Point guards are usually shorter, and this guy was no exception. He was probably a freshman, or maybe a sophomore, and the poor guy was lying on the floor covering his face with his jersey so people wouldn't see him cry.

The varsity game was sheer pleasure. Oh, wow, watching them just made me remember how much I love watching this sport! Somehow highschool basketball is most enjoyable to me, and it brings back so many memories of the countless games I watched when Clyde used to play basketball. It's especially fun when you know the guys, or are familiar with them anyway. We lost Kuk (nickname), one of our best players, since he's now graduated, but this year some of the other guys have improved. There was Eric, #2, playing as pointguard. Fiesty defense, bad passer. Oh good, he's gotten better! Daddy commented that he thinks he's no longer "strippable," meaning he's not as easy to steal the ball from. Peter "Firebrand," #10, was playing excellently--was it just me or was he taller? Oh yeah, there's Joe and Caleb. Hurray, I can see they've improved too. Somehow it fascinates me how someone like them who are in MY grade can be 6'4"! And they started playing varsity as freshman too! Big surprise. Now I see massive Ian, #32, a good player, but lazy. And Danny, #12, making fouls just like ever, but he made one sweet shot just before the buzzer at half time. Then there were others, ones I recognized but couldn't remember their names, but still others who I didn't know at all, probably since they played JV last year. Now I've bored you going through them, but it's kind of been to illustrate a point. Ever since I started watching a lot of games back when Clyde used to play, I've gotten to know the guys. You can hardly help it when you watch them play so much and hear Clyde and Daddy talking about them. So it's little wonder that I feel as if those guys are my real friends. But what's so strange, is that they aren't!!!! They don't even know I exist, unless if they've wondered at the strange girl sitting behind them who helps her dad keep stats for the team. Nevertheless, it's odd how I feel a kinship with these guys that I'm rooting for, when I don't even really know them.

Anyway, as I said quite awhile ago, the game was sheer pleasure, and I was liking it right from the start. I must have been appreciating the guys' skills after watching the JV, because at half time I almost couldn't believe that they were down by twenty points against Kingswood! Yet in spite of it, Conval made a super come back. It's funny, because sometimes I think I do more praying during a basketball game than I do all day!

The crowd was going wild, as the guys kept stealing the ball and making shot after shot. Pretty soon the score was 58-60. There was only about three minutes on the clock. The other team started toying with the ball. This is an excellent strategy to let the clock run and stay ahead, but the technique drives me crazy nonetheless. The guys started fouling them. This is also an excellent strategy, but this helps gain time, even though it risks letting the other team add a few points at the free throw line. Oooh, I was anxious. I had given up sitting in the last quarter or so. My dad and I had pulled up chairs behind the guys, and sometimes it was tricky to see, even though I was fine until I was at the point where I didn't want to miss a thing. Then things got more tense and exciting, and of course the players in the bench had to stand up too--but this didn't help me to have a row of guys in front of me averaging 6'2", so I found myself pacing with the game. You can do it, Conval!!! There were just a few seconds left on the clock, Pete had the ball and made his shot--it went in just before the buzzer!!!

But we had lost. The score was 63-67 Kingswood. The guys were frustrated and let down. I felt drained. Sure, I was disappointed they had lost, but I think they played one swell game! After all, in the second half they made forty points while the other team made only like twenty-four. That alone is something to be proud of.

And that was the first home game. Thus begins another basketball season.

You get 'em Conval.

Romeo and Juliet

In my last post I had a picture of Klara as Juliet. Well, this is the rest of that act. I am Romeo, having discovered my fair love as dead, and in case you can't tell, the black stick in my hand is a dagger that I am about to use to end my anguish.

For Klara

I think Klara is perhaps one of the most photogenic people in the world (it must be the family she comes from:). Anyway, I've now collected a few shots of her for your enjoyment.

Delivering a dead chicken to its grave. . .

Rescuing the poor soul who is diving into the wave

I persuaded her to pose as Juliet for me--doesn't she look the part?

Cute and sassy as ever!

Along the cliff walk in Rhode Island

You know, sometimes I think that people don't really know Klara. Some might think, "Oh, there goes good little Klara." Excuse me? "Good little Klara?" You have no idea! We're talking about the girl who would be the most likely to try doing the "dip" by herself and fall over backwards. We're talking about the farm girl who is an expert at handling barn animals. We're talking about the girl who now finds herself the little mother of four younger kids now that her older sisters are gone. We're talking about the girl who shared in a girls' meeting that she liked the verse where it says "and she took the spike and drove it through his head" (probably those of us who knew her the best were the first to start chuckling, as everyone else sat there puzzled as to whether she was joking or not). We're talking about the girl who is fun to be with, if only just to prance about the hayloft with. We're talking about the girl that suddenly says some of the most random, hilarious things. And we're talking about the sweet girl who just as quickly will be willing to pray and seriously focus on God.

And, as Mr. Adams once said, Klara is a lady.

There is a lot more that could be said about Klara. And whoever gets the pleasure of having her as their friend, they'll find they've discovered a unique treasure.

Three Beautiful People--In Disguise

The Youth Weekend: the girls were split into two teams (the guys made up one) and we got to dress up our victim with certain suggested items. Look what we came up with!

Rebecca costumed as a crazy artist

We went liberal with the mousse and dubbed Meredith as a person who got up in the morning and went wrong (personally I think she would have won if we had thought to say instead that she was pretending to be Andrea:)

The Harvest Party:
The Lady of Shelot (alias: Andrea) in her fine boat accompanied by a contented Tigger

Biology and Festivity

I actually tried to e-mail this to my blog just over a week ago, but it didn't go through and I've been too lazy/busy to get around to posting it. So here it is:

I'm feeling festive. We just finished a chapter in Biology about bacteria, so now I'm really bacteria conscious (okay, now I need to sing all of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" whenever I wash my hands to make sure I do it long enough!:). Now you're wondering how I can write a sentence about festivity and in the next breath start prattling about bacteria. I'm crazy, right? I may be crazy, but there is method to my madness. Now we're studying Kingdom Protista, including amoebas and paramecia and stuff. Now, it was bad enough when my teacher told me that I have bacteria in my mouth, but did she have to tell me that I have amoeba swimming around in my mouth as well??!!!! Maybe there's a link as to why my blog is called The Flapping Lingua, like maybe I have amoeba on my tongue or something? Oh dear, now I am rambling and getting more and more random. . . . .

But my Biology teacher sang a song to us in class this morning. She said she couldn't believe she was actually going to do this and hoped she wouldn't laugh, but she thought it would be a good idea to spread a little Christmas cheer for us.

(To be sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells")

"Single Cells"

Single cells, single cells,

See how they divide,

There was one on Christmas Day but now it's multiplied--oh!

Single cells, single cells,

Nothing much to do

But sit around the petri dish dividing into two!

Now wouldn't YOU feel festive after a song like that? Of course it's a cute little ditty, if you like corny little songs like me (though even I have my limit), and my teacher justified it by saying that at least it has a little educational value. So now you and I are never going to forget that amoeba reproduce asexually, right?

But really, I am feeling festive. Who wouldn't in my position? Why, at long last we've gotten our long-awaited for snow and frigid teens weather that we have been desiring. Naturally we've already had snow, but it never lasted more than a few hours, but even though it's only two or three inches it has now lasted for a record of over 24 hours! Though I hear it will melt over the weekend. Forgetting that measly little prospect, we have also gotten our Christmas tree! In fact, after a comfortable candle lit Sabbath meeting, Mom and I decorated it. It's a little shorter than usual, but it's just as lovingly laden as ever with lights, beads, gingerbread men, bows, candles, and ornaments. And that is what makes it beautiful of course: all the old familiar decorations enlivening it into beauty. Especially the lights! Actually, although I think this discussion has been had before on other blogs on other years, but which do you prefer: white or colored lights? I've found that everyone's opinion seems to be based on what they're used to. As for me, I find that white lights are gorgeous, but for some reason I prefer them to be everywhere else but on our own Christmas tree--now that has to sparkle with color and glamor! But each to his own.

So picture this. After a delightful evening shopping at the mall you drive home and watch the snowflakes dart at the wind shield like passing stars. Skipping ahead, it's Friday evening. The powdery snow blankets the dark, icy cold world outside and you sit, snug in your wood heated home, watching the candles flickering in the dark. Except it isn't dark. The Christmas tree, almost bare but for some twinkling lights and beads, bravely casts its glimmer on the dim room and waits for you to decorate it. The only sound is the Alert Men's Christmas choir, all contained in your little Panasonic sound system. Pretty soon you're decorating the tree, choosing from an assortment of angels, snowmen, drummer boys, and the like. Ah, "We've had this ornament since before you were born," your mother says, as she fondly hangs it on a scented bough. As you're hanging things up, you hear that an elderly friend has passed away. Feeling genuinely sad, you're also happy for them that they're spending a peaceful Sabbath evening as well, in a much better place.

Hmm, these candles are too close together, and the white ones should be switched with the burgundy ones so that there isn't too much repetition. At last you're finished, your masterpiece as heavy yet smashing as ever. Your mother pulls out the final box of chocolates from last Christmas, since she kept on saving them for a more special occasion, but now that the next Christmas is coming what can be more special than this? They're a little stale, but they're still chocolate: as rich and satisfying as ever. Then you settle down cosily with a bowl of popcorn and engross yourself in watching It's a Wonderful Life, and it is a wonderful life, isn't it? Now you laugh and cry, and are pretty much convinced that that's got to be one of the best movies ever! And with that happy thought in mind, you write to your brother who is far away, and finally finish up your evening with a blog post. Perhaps now you'll go and start reading A Christmas Carol since you've seen the play millions of times and now own the book.

So now you bid me good night, and I do the same.

The Messiah Sing

The Messiah sing was yesterday. I say this merely to inform you as to something particular that I've been up to, not to do a whole long narrative about it. If you've sung in the Messiah, you know what it's like. If you haven't, it's your loss.

Well. . . . . I do have a friend or two that might not know much about it. Maybe for their sakes I'll talk about it, but I won't go into great depth, unless I get carried away. Just in case there is a sliver of a chance that you don't have any idea what the Messiah is (Philip R. asked me what it was today, so now nothing can surprise me), I'll tell you: the Messiah is an oratorio written by Georg Frederick Handel, and it contains Scripture concerning the Lord's coming, His birth, His death, and Jesus' triumphal return. So this Handel guy wrote a whole bunch of pieces combined together for soloists and choir accompanied by orchestra, and we only do part of them during the Christmas season since it would take forever otherwise. And now I shall continue as if you know exactly what I'm talking about.

The Messiah was a lot of fun, though I missed various people. Craig, for one, and Kimberly, since she's been there every year that I've sung in the past. I sang soprano for my fifth time, even though I'm wondering if I should sing alto some time to spice things up and not strain my voice on those high squeaky notes; however, fun is fun, right? Of course right.

We started with the usual two and a quarter hour section practice, and I think the sopranos were better than last year, thankfully. Our leader was fairly impressed that we seemed to be getting the runs pretty well, which was gratifying. However, I felt like we got a little more lost when we sang with the large group. Or at least I know I did. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The cookies were scrumptious as usual after our rigorous singing exercise, and then came the arduous task of seating us. It has always been a rule, sometimes spoken, sometimes unspoken, that you (or at the very least, the women) are not allowed to pick a seat before the set time for the whole group practice. Naturally though there are always those that break this sacred law, and this year was no exception. In fact, I think half of the soprano seats were already claimed when he told us to take our seats. I was with Cara, and after a little debate we hastily chose two vacated slots in the second row of the middle section, right next to the tenors. Someone warned us that they thought those seats were for the tenors, but I was willing to take the chance of getting kicked out as long as I got a good seat. I settled down with relief, recalling a time a few years ago when Kim, Bethany and I went plowing into the middle section for seats, found none, and then got tacked on to the back of the side wing, where I did not enjoy my view at all. So I was content with my prime position, close to the conductor and near enough to observe the orchestra and my beloved violin players. I wasn't perturbed when the seat next to me was filled by a boy tenor, but rather I was intrigued with the idea of hearing how well or how horribly he would do.

Never count yourself cosy before the noose settles.

As people settled down to their seats, there was a stir. A tenor was lacking a chair. Promptly I was booted out and once again, found myself tacked on to the far side of the soprano wing. Of course the conductor was nice about it and I tried to take it well as people sympathized with me ("Aw, just as I was getting attached to ya," a tenor wearing a Santa hat joked kindly behind me), but frankly, it was hard not to be mad. I understood, and I wasn't really mad at anybody in particular, but I was still kind of mad and disappointed nonetheless. What's more, of all the people in the world who could have snatched my seat away from me, it was one that I recognized well from the Conval chorus, which was somehow a bit of irony, especially since Cara (who had to stay and sit next to him) said that he shouldn't have been a tenor but a bass and that he was frequently messing up, then kicking his leg and swearing in frustration. Oh my.

Well, the practice went well despite my miserable location. Soon we were off to pay a visit to Taco Bell/KFC, where we happened to bump into Jeff L.'s girlfriend stopping to eat as well. It was so cool seeing her and her friend stopping to pray over their food--and sometimes we feel like we're the only ones brave enough to do it in a restaurant!

Back at the Franklin Pierce campus, most of us got together and went to their huge bubble gym. We bumped the volleyball around and stuff, and then we got into an unusual game of soccer with one of those huge blue balls with an airy bounce to it. It was guys against the girls, though Ben H. (who is back from Iraq) helped the girls out a bunch. Those things are really fun to "head" with. Actually, once Megan headed it, and I happened to be right in front of her, and strangely enough it knocked me right over under it's impact! I felt kind of silly, but we all laughed as once again I found myself scrambling up pretending nothing had happened. The score was one-to-one when we were informed that: 1. what we were playing with was a yoga ball which was only to be used for such and 2. you were supposed to be wearing shoes while in the gym. There were about three people in our group who were shoeless, and though I won't specifically give their names, I'm sure if you thought about it you could probably guess who they were. Those present were: Katherine, Bria, Megan, Katie, Kate, Cara, Ben, Dave, Andrew, Clyde, and me. Well, needless to say, that was the end of our spontaneous soccer game. Not too long afterwards we dispersed for concert preparations.

As usual, the performance was smashing. Even better, I didn't have to stay in my old seat! Apparently the lady next to Katherine was having difficulties with the basses singing right behind them, so wonderful Katherine negotiated for me and had us switch places. Now I was in the middle section at the end of the row about three or four down from the top. And the basses WERE right behind us, and they WERE a little confusing, but that didn't check my happiness and gratitude to Katherine.

The soloists did a nice job. Although the soprano was better than last year, she still left some to be desired. We had the same excellent baritone as last year, and the same tenor as well. Anyway, as I said, the performance was smashing as usual, and for me it seemed to fly by. I also spent nearly the entire intermission chatting with my teacher, who was actually playing this year for the first time (she said it took her awhile to finally get onto "the list" with her friends). That was neat seeing her, and she also introduced me to the concert mistress, who is one of Diana's good friends. There was also a homeschooled girl about my age or a little younger playing. I've seen her play before, in a solo concerto at a performance of the Keene Chamber Orchestra that my teacher plays in, and she is extremely good. Clyde actually had the nerve to go up to her and say, "Homeschooled, right?" and then introduce himself to her through me! She is friends with my teacher, but that doesn't mean that I know her personally! Leave it to Clyde to do something bold like that.

Wrapping up, it just amazes me once again the solid truths that are present in that classical masterpiece. I guess it shouldn't amaze me since it's taken straight from the Bible! However it is indeed inspiring to take the opportunity to proclaim that real truth, especially like in places where it says, "and with His stripes we are healed," and "He shall reign forever and ever," or even the forever repeating "Amens," in hearty support of what was just said. If only the people in the audience could catch at least a glimpse of the scope of all that incredibility! That is what I want to communicate to them when I sing in the Messiah.

A new smooth move

I did another smooth move yesterday. It seems like I am forever cursed with having my graceful moments. I was on town trip, and as I was running out of Colony Mill out to the bibleschool's big gray van that awaited me, I saw the doors swing open to greet me. Right then and there I decided to try something daring. It wasn't daring really, because I think I've done it before and I'm sure many others have done it as well, so there was nothing dangerous about it, but my decision was to take the three foot leap up into the vehicle, exaggerating my dramatic arrival. As I dashed forward, some thought entered my head that I think was something like, "Oh, I hope I don't bump my head."

 

 

Bad idea.

 

 

As soon as this doubtful thought flitted through my brain, something I can't explain happened to me as I prepared for my spring. The next thing I remember was that I was slipping and then I found myself with my legs outside the van and the rest of me stretched in a half sitting, half sprawling position on the step and floor inside. Chuckles ensued from within, and as people asked me if I was okay, I burst out laughing. "It's okay to jump in, but you don't have to dive in, Kayla," Uncle Tim said with his usual glib cheerfulness. Or at least I think he said that. I hardly even remember, except that I felt like just sitting there, savoring the embarrassment of the moment. Then I scrambled up and plopped into my seat, feeling like the most graceful person in the world.