Weak attempts at sparkle

Okay, I've decided that my previous depressing post has been sitting alone for way too long. I'm well over it now (thank you so much for the encouraging comments!), and now how about some sparkle? Sorry, I'm too impatient to describe the Messiah Sing for you eager readers out there. It would take far more time than I'm interested in spending, and besides, the only thing that made this year very different from most years is that a girl in the front row threw up right before the concert. But perhaps I shouldn't be dwelling on that. Still, she did run out, but she left a trail behind her (poor thing), and it was enough to make you feel sick if you are the least bit squeamish. Fortunately the lady in front of us had some Calvin Klein perfume, and it was passed around freely so that many of the sopranos reeked of a scent which, ironically, was called "Escape." Some people in the orchestra even passed out cinnamon toothpicks to stick up their noses. Such ideas may sound unpleasant, but they were alternatives much more favorable than the more unpleasant smells that uh, wafted, or um, assailed those not far away. No sparkle in that story I assure you, though it's interesting in the telling.

Should I talk about the gingerbread house making this year? Craig was going to make one with the bibleschool students, but when he arrived late and realized how dull making a gingerbread house by yourself can be, he invited me to join him. And how freely the creative juices flowed! ("freely, freely, freely, and he that is thirsty let him come . . . ") While Bria and Jane beautifully furnished the inside of their house (including a deer head over the fire place), Vanlora and Katie K. produced a quaint church with stained glass windows. Some made dump trucks in their front yard (what makes me think that was Stephen's idea?:), or just trees, or even a backyard barbecue that very much resembled a bunch of cows sacrificing another cow. But Dave said it was a barbecue, so a barbecue it was.

Although at first Craig and I were at a loss for ideas, our gingerbread house was inspired by the purple house with green trim that you see in Marlborough, and it was complete with a fire pit, a duck pond, and a roofless outhouse (roofless so you could see inside, where the dear little candy toilet and toilet paper were). Actually, we did put plastic wrap over our purple outhouse just so people would stop asking why there wasn't a roof, so now we have an outhouse with a sunroof, which is very convenient if one like star-gazing. However, despite the ideals of such a construction, some students claimed that they would never want to use our facilities. After all, what would they do if an airplane came by? But what I want to know is, what kind of airplane comes low enough to be dangerous anyway?

On town trip on Thursday I told some of the students about NASA's new plan. Have you heard about it? They're going to take a bunch of cows, put them in a space shuttle, and send them to a space station so they can be orbiting the earth. They'll call them the herd shot 'round the world.

"Are you serious?" Bobby asked (or he uttered incredulous words to that effect).

Katherine laughed. "You're not serious, Kayla, right?"

Of course I wasn't. I had heard it that very morning from my wonderful chemistry teacher and thought it was so delightful I wanted to share it. But only one person seemed to think it was funny, and that was Katherine. But then Uncle Tim asked me to repeat it (I was near the back and he hadn't quite caught it) and he laughed quite heartily and asked me if I had made it up. I told him I hadn't, and he informed me that actually that joke was around in his day, only they said the Russians were going to do it. I was rather pleased that someone else besides myself could laugh about my joke, but at the same time I was a little put out that nobody else seemed to think it was funny. I just assumed that my sense of humor must be different. However, later I told it to Craig and when he chuckled sincerely I began to wonder if there was another reason. He suggested that people might not have laughed because of their ignorance of the phrase "the shot heard 'round the world," and I would rather believe that than deny the humorous wit of my joke. So there you have it, most of the bibleschool is ignorant and therefore can't laugh at my jokes because they're so beyond them.

Actually, pretty much everything I say is so beyond people that they just don't get it, unless they also have a higher mind that appreciates puns and other such simple pleasures. Or maybe my first theory is more accurate in that some people just don't appreciate me and my sense of humor. *sigh* But at least I appreciate my sense of humor, which my bursts of laughter at odd moments when I'm by myself can testify. Maybe that's why I get along so well with people like Klara, whose clever jokes more than match my own (which aren't even clever, just random), and who sometimes seems unappreciated just as I am unappreciated. At least we appreciate our own wit (at least I do), and we appreciate the other's, so what more can we ask for?

All right, maybe my vague jesting concerning my sense of humor (which obviously isn't as clever as I'm pretending) isn't exactly sparkle, but at least it's something new, and it's the best I can do for now.