like I'm confessing to a priest?). I feel like I'm pulling out a bicycle
from the garage after a long winter. Of course the tires have to be
pumped, the brakes tested, and the muscles built back up before I can
really ride it properly, but I trust it will all come back. Why this
desert? Simply there has been far too much that I could write about that
I didn't' know where to begin, so I just kept shoving it away until my
sandbox turned into this oasis-less desert. But now is reckoning time. I
will have to just hit a few highlights of what I can remember out of the
past couple months and then I will be up-to-date to spring ahead into
whatever stories my future may hold. *Deep breath* So here it goes:
I don't really remember what I wrote about last in Florida, but I guess
my neglected history really reaches back to then. Oh what a blissful week
and a half of sunshine and warmth! My thirsty soul lapped it right up.
Okay, so I did have school to do. One day I even did double duty and
worked well into the evening until my head started to hurt, but that was
just so that I could take the next day (Friday) off to go spend the day
at the Demmes. And so we hung out at their place, and took a boat ride,
having all sorts of adventures such as gathering up a dozen or so sand
dollars (that was just my number alone) off the island we stopped at,
petting manatees (or kissing them, as the case may be for a certain
adventuresome lad with a B. in his last name--"I'll have to tell your
wife who your first kiss was with," Mr. Demme joked), or watching the
above said adventuresome lad do something very amazing. This story, I'm
sure, has been spread far and wide, but since it is a story that I
believe I will carry with me for the rest of my life, I must recount it
here.
The weather was perfect. After petting manatees I thought our day just
couldn't get any better, but I was about to be proven wrong. We road our
little boat out to a sand bar, where we all hopped out and waded around
in the knee-deep water, keeping an eye out for conch shells which some of
us wanted to run into, and stingrays which some of us didn't want to run
into. Andrew of course wasn't just walking around, but running, which is
not an easy thing to do in water. However, none of us thought much of it;
that was Bean for you, and his high energy was nothing unusual. Suddenly
we noticed that his running picked up its pace. Also, he was holding his
knife high above his head, with a fearsome look of determination which I
missed but which some of the girls who were right in front of him
described as terrifying to behold (my words, not theirs, but pretty
close). With a final burst of speed and a diving lunge with his knife he
swooped his clenched fist into the water and cried, "I got it!"
Apparently, this fine fellow had just chased down a stingray, or some kin
of one. Words could not express our astonishment. For one thing, those
things are fast, and for another, who would ever think of stabbing a
stingray anyway? And what do you do with it? This last question obviously
hadn't occurred to our dear friend, who now found himself in the
predicament as to what he should do now. The creature was still alive,
and we feared that once he removed his knife it would dart off, probably
straight at our legs, inflicting it's frenzied barbs wherever it could.
This, at least, was my greatest fear, so I maintained a cowardly safe
distance. On the other hand, when Andrew tried to life it out of the
water with a little help from Megan or Dave, the stingray jerked,
threatening to rid its slippery self from their grasp. This action
startled many of us, and I found myself clinging to Bria momentarily, who
clung in return, with mixed demonstrations of pitiful whimperings and
laughter--a very strange combination, but we were very excited. And we
still couldn't quite believe it. At this point blood was seeping out
through the water, and everyone glanced around a bit warily for a dorsal
fin, but thankfully none appeared.
"Aw, I feel kind of bad for it now," Andrew said. Uhuh, yeah, you should
have thought of that earlier. Well, the poor creature soon died, and we
took him back to the Demmes, where Andrew checked on-line how to cut and
grill stingray. I was drawn to the process, watching in gross fascination
as he sliced off a section of meat on each wing which was the only part
fit for eating. Spidery veins ran between the fine layers of meat, which
was in little sections like you see in a fish (I can't think of the right
words right now to describe it more adeptly, but there it is). Biology
class dissections ran vividly in my mind. This was too good an
opportunity to pass up.
"Let's cut it open and see what's inside," I suggested to Bean. He agreed
that we may as well get what we could and turn it into a biology lesson
of sorts. He asked me if I wanted to perform the dissection myself. I
declined. I had already touched the slimier-than-you-can-possibly-imagine
skin and stuck my fingers into its mouth to feel his teeth, but I didn't
really feel like getting my hands bloody like his. I wasn't that brave.
So I directed him where to cut, and we were proceeding along all right (I
did end up sticking my fingers in to pull back some skin) but then
Vanlora came along and warned us that we might cut open an organ with
dangerous toxins inside. She had heard about such things from having
hunters at her house a lot. Oops, that had never occurred to either of
us, so we deemed her wise and gave up. Better leave dissections to
biologists who know what they're doing, not to people who tend to act
without thinking. Not that I normally suffer from this, but I did here.
So that was the adventure of the stingray, which I will never forget, and
may never cease to couple it with Bean and make them the brunt of my
jokes. Why, even in Sabbath meeting at Fairwood a couple of weeks ago
Daddy asked us what we would like to have for a pet in the Millenium, and
when I answered, "A stingray," most people could hardly keep back a
chuckle. Yes, that animal will remain in my history books for a while,
poor thing. And what did it taste like? Chewy, and not very tasty. Some
people liked it, some people didn't, and that's that.
Yep, I guess I'll make that the highlight from our Florida trip, oh so
full of happy memories. I returned from that trip quite blessed. Not only
had I had an enjoyable time, but I felt as if I had gained six new
siblings named Katherine, Megan, Vanlora, Bria, Dave, and Andrew. Yeah,
siblings in the sense that since I was the youngest they probably got
even more sick of me than I did of them, but that doesn't matter. I got
to participate in most of their Bible studies, and I felt like I got
something good out of every single one, learning valuable lessons from
each of the students in turn. Of course, they're fun too, and each
contributes something to the group so that I can't imagine what the third
year class would be like if just one of them was missing. I even find
myself picking up some of their expressions, like when I say, "Sweet
deal, " I scare myself because I sound like Davie who says that all the
time. We also had battles of punch buggy (which was mostly everyone
else--primarily Bria and Katherine against me, since I started it)and we
developed inside jokes too. All we need to do to set one of the others
laughing is to say, "What have I got in my pocket?" or "And they're tasty
too," or to quote Napoleon Dynamite at the appropriate moments. I'm very
thankful for this Southern trip because pretty soon these new siblings of
mine are going to graduate and move on, and I'm going to miss them. A
lot.
Okay, in case you didn't already guess, this post is going to be loooong.
Once back from the Southern trip, I had hardly caught my breath before I
found myself being whooshed through the youth weekend and then on to the
Holschers in upstate NY for a week while my parents were away. While
there, Klara and I did indeed try out a day or two of our experimental
"Spirit Week." We did a color day, in which I dressed all in green and
she dressed all in pink, as well as a twin day, in which we both wore
purple sweaters, short jean skirts, knee socks, and pig tails. Also while
at the Holschers I had the pleasure of helping Klara cater food for
Ruth's birthday party, as well as doing the goats in the evening. Pretty
soon I started to learn some of the routine, putting so much grain in one
place for one goat and so much grain in another bucket for another goat
while I rubbed her lame leg. I even had the chance to wrestle with the
stubborn Splash when she got out of her pen. Klara was out getting hay,
but Caleb directed me since he said he wasn't strong enough to deal with
Splash. So I tugged at her with all my might and somehow managed to get
her put away.
"Wow, you're strong!" Caleb exclaimed. I was somewhat gratified for this.
For one thing, just a couple years ago Caleb told me that I was weak. For
another, out of all the possible compliments that have ever been given to
me, I don't think that has ever been one of them. Not that I would have
ever expected such a compliment from anyone--nay, I'm the first to say
that the possession of muscles is the least of my boasts, but it's
gratifying when an eight-year-old acknowledges that you're stronger than
him. It makes you feel flattered even though there's no reason to be.
Also among the chores we did was mucking out one of the goat pens. I
found this to be a lot of fun. There's some sort of satisfaction in
mucking out the stuff eight inches thick while the outdoors is in the
teens or lower and the barn is a toasty twenty some degrees F. Also we
blared Pirates of the Caribbean music, sometimes moving the steaming
wheelbarrow in slow motion like in Craig's apple sauce day movie, and we
sang "Sweet Smell of Roses" when the scents about us were anything but.
And then we were done, and very happy with our finished job. Satisfaction
indeed.
The day before I left the Holschers, I got to go snow shoeing for the
first time. After toiling up the small mountain in front of their house,
we (that is, Klara, Rebecca, Ruth, Caleb, and I) decided to go the East
Pole. In a desperate race against the formidable Russians, we battled
deep snow, rolves (fearsome creatures that are rabbit-like in their
appearance but are more like wolves in disguise), and sting pods (deathly
plants for which the only remedy if stung by one is chocolate, which
posed a problem because then Caleb wanted to be stung by one too).
Finally, with the motto, "Ever onward, never backward," we reached our
destination: the East Pole, which looked suspiciously like an evergreen
tree, but appearances can be deceiving. Our mission wasn't complete,
however. We still had to retrieve the valuable encoded microchips hidden
in the branches, which contained countless top secret information, such
as making nuclear warheads. When each of us had one in hand the race was
on. The Russians were in hot pursuit, but somehow we made it back to home
base (a vaguely familiar large red house) in one piece and victorious
with our respective prizes. Each of our trophies looked like a flimsy
little evergreen branch barely six or seven inches long, but we knew
better. Each needle contained about a hundred tiny microchips with the
info already stated. Our task not yet done, we proceeded to place the
"branches" in boiling water and then we drank it, therefore becoming the
five most brilliant scientists in the world, since all the information in
the microchips was incorporated into our brain cells. Beware, our
intelijunse might surprise you!
Once back from New York, the Feast came, I got sick, and we had spring
break, but I think I'll skim over that. Although I must mention that I
was happy to have Clyde and Kendra back for awhile, and was very sad to
see Craig go. During the weekend of spring break, I got to go with my
parents to see Clyde play volleyball in Utica, NY and I took lots of
pictures with his camera of him and his teammates making sweet moves. I
got back, continued school, and have recently decided to take the SAT on
May 3, so I've been pretty busy trying to finish stuff up, study for the
SAT, and learn how to write an essay in 25 minutes, a feat that seemed
nigh impossible at first but is gradually getting easier. Oh yes, and a
week ago we played a game of volleyball with guys against girls. They got
pretty worried near the end--they only won 26-24. (sorry this paragraph
is pretty hectic but I'm trying to cram random stuff in near the end)
So that brings me up to last Thursday. This is the day that I managed to
get myself stuck in my violin teacher's driveway. After my lesson I
clambered into our van and started to manoeuvre the vehicle around
another car and the narrow drive way. Thinking that I might be able to
finally pull forward and clear the snowbank (which ran from six to
fourteen inches), I slowly moved the vehicle forward--it would be tight,
but I thought I could make it, and even if there was a little snow in the
way, I could just go through it, right? Wrong, I pulled forward, and my
front right wheel stuck fast in the icy snow. I tried backing up. No
luck. I tried rocking the vehicle, like they teach you to do in drivers'
ed ("Aha! My driver's ed. comes in handy!" I thought), but when I tried
to pull forward, I didn't move. Hmm. Scratch that theory. I tried
everything again. My tires spun. Snow went flying. I tried borrowing a
shovel and digging myself out, to no avail. My teacher's twenty-some year
old daughter even tried pushing me out, but that didn't work either.
Finally, my violin teacher's husband arrived on the scene with his truck,
planning to pull me out. He was puzzled by the angle of the vehicle and
said he didn't think he could do it; he told me I might have to call AAA.
I was horrified. Imagine how embarrassing that would be! Calling AAA to
tow me out of half a foot of snow was the last thing I wanted to do, and
it would all be because of a stupid little mistake too. Fortunately I
didn't have to. Mr. C. kindly dug me out and spared me the embarrassment.
Now, people, I have some experience with getting stuck (my first time!),
and I proved during the episode that I had no experience in that area
whatsoever. But next time I will. And that ends my little fiasco.
