Easter is a wonderful holiday. I love to reflect on the sacrifice that Jesus made and the victory He won. This year our family did a devotional walk through Jesus’s life leading up to the resurrection.
We had to straighten out Shain, who, on hear “Christ carried his cross to Calvary hill.” Chimed in with: “I thought he died on Boot hill?”
“Uhh… no.”
“Well who did then?”
“I don’t know, John Wayne maybe.”
And then there was Lance who had the creative idea of building our own cross to put in the front yard. It was nice. Dad and the boys worked hard building that cross and placing it in the front yard. I never suspected he had alternative motive till later when I heard mom yelling out the front door:
“Hey! Don’t crucify your brother! Put that hammer DOWN!”
Saturday evening we read about Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection. It was no surprise then that the boys knew the story well enough to correct the pastor, on Sunday morning.
Happy Easter everyone, I hope yours was as exciting as mine.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Brad Paisley-I'm Still A Guy (With Lyrics)
“Girls are harder than boys.” I heard a young mother tell her friend at the soccer field the other day. “With boys, you don’t have to deal with all the drama.”
I snorted in an attempted to conceal my laughter. It became clear to me as the two young mothers continued their conversation, simultaneously agreeing that girls were harder AND there was no mental difference between girls and boys besides how they are raised, that these women had not been parents long enough to know what they were talking about OR taken basic anatomy. Living in a large household, I have been able to witness firsthand the differences between girls and boys. It has NOTHING to do with how they are raised. Girls play house while boys fight zombie bears and girls dress like princesses while boys dress like ninjas and cowboys. There are times when the two seem to get roles mixed up and my little sisters play batman and robin or the boys demand a tea party. The idea that their minds work the same though, the idea is absurd to me. An example: yesterday while we were drawing pictures at the kitchen table, Lysee, Natylee, Naithen and Layne were all diligently designing their master pieces. After several moments of hard work, they brought them to my inspection. The conversation is as follows:
Natylee: “See! It is a princess and her knight in their castle. That is me and Nate!”
Me: “Is that his crown?” *points to bubbly thing on Nates head* where he hung suspiciously suspended several feet above “princess Natylee’s” head.
Natylee (age 4) : “No.” *rolls eyes* “That is his helmet. He is an astronaut!”
“OHhh… Lysee, what is yours?”
Lysee (age 2) “Natylee, Nate, me, flower, goat, baby…”
Naithen (age 6): “Mine is a man!”
I examine his carefully crafted picture for several moments, puzzling over the large black bump on his head.
“What is that bump?”
“Oh, he was bitten by a vampire.” Naithen flips the paper over to reveal a bloody battle scene on the other side.
“Ohh….”
Layne (age 8): “Do you know what mine is?” I glance at his image. The picture appears to be shot from the view of a man looking down the scope of a rifle at a very anatomically correct naked man.
“Uhh…”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Laughing giddily he explains: “It is a naked man shaking his bum at another man, but the other guy has a gun… which he doesn’t know because he is to busy waving his bum.”
These children have all been raised by the same to parents in the same house with the same basic stories, schedule and nutrition.
Another example of the differences in the way men and women think is portrayed in this song which I find highly amusing by Brad Paisley. Country music never bothers to butter up the worlds issues or cater to the whiners. Men and women are different.
I snorted in an attempted to conceal my laughter. It became clear to me as the two young mothers continued their conversation, simultaneously agreeing that girls were harder AND there was no mental difference between girls and boys besides how they are raised, that these women had not been parents long enough to know what they were talking about OR taken basic anatomy. Living in a large household, I have been able to witness firsthand the differences between girls and boys. It has NOTHING to do with how they are raised. Girls play house while boys fight zombie bears and girls dress like princesses while boys dress like ninjas and cowboys. There are times when the two seem to get roles mixed up and my little sisters play batman and robin or the boys demand a tea party. The idea that their minds work the same though, the idea is absurd to me. An example: yesterday while we were drawing pictures at the kitchen table, Lysee, Natylee, Naithen and Layne were all diligently designing their master pieces. After several moments of hard work, they brought them to my inspection. The conversation is as follows:
Natylee: “See! It is a princess and her knight in their castle. That is me and Nate!”
Me: “Is that his crown?” *points to bubbly thing on Nates head* where he hung suspiciously suspended several feet above “princess Natylee’s” head.
Natylee (age 4) : “No.” *rolls eyes* “That is his helmet. He is an astronaut!”
“OHhh… Lysee, what is yours?”
Lysee (age 2) “Natylee, Nate, me, flower, goat, baby…”
Naithen (age 6): “Mine is a man!”
I examine his carefully crafted picture for several moments, puzzling over the large black bump on his head.
“What is that bump?”
“Oh, he was bitten by a vampire.” Naithen flips the paper over to reveal a bloody battle scene on the other side.
“Ohh….”
Layne (age 8): “Do you know what mine is?” I glance at his image. The picture appears to be shot from the view of a man looking down the scope of a rifle at a very anatomically correct naked man.
“Uhh…”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Laughing giddily he explains: “It is a naked man shaking his bum at another man, but the other guy has a gun… which he doesn’t know because he is to busy waving his bum.”
These children have all been raised by the same to parents in the same house with the same basic stories, schedule and nutrition.
Another example of the differences in the way men and women think is portrayed in this song which I find highly amusing by Brad Paisley. Country music never bothers to butter up the worlds issues or cater to the whiners. Men and women are different.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
You can't park on a sidewalk
I don’t speed… let me rephrase. I don’t get caught by cops because cops scare me. I know, I know: Policemen are there to help us and protect us. That doesn’t mean they aren’t scary. Maybe I just have one of those faces. One of those faces that screams “Hey, I should be tossed in prison to rot because I parked my car on the crosswalk.”
But a girl can’t be too careful. I avoid police officers, not only because they stalk me and yell at me, but also because I have one of those faces.
At the library I was approached by a young girl (14 or so) she leaned against the shelf as I was neatening books and struck up a friendly conversation.
“So, they have you shelving books, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I hate shelving. I would rather sort the dvds or anything else.”
“Yeah… it’s kinda boring.”
“So how often do you come for community service?”
“Oh, once a week.”
“That’s IT?! Wow, you got off easy.”
*shrugs* “Well, it’s just going to take me longer to get in my hours.”
“How many hours are you doing?”
“100”
“WOW! That is a lot! What are you doing time for?”
At this point I gave her a puzzled look. “Doing time?” And then I noticed her orange jumpsuit and the cop standing guard at the end of the row.
“Uhh…” I thought quickly. “Poisoning.”
“Poisoning?!” She gave me a slightly fearful, admiring stare.
“Yeah,” I sniffed and put a book back in its place. “A guy was bugging me at work, asking me all kinds of questions. I got fed up and grabbed a pencil from my purse. I stabbed him in the eye. Apparently the eye is especially susceptible to diseases because he got led poisoning.”
“Oh.” The girl backed away. “I… I just remembered I have to go… do something else.” She walked quickly away and her escort followed stiffly. I didn’t have much time to revel in my badness before a crazy cop stormed into the library yelling (and oblivious to the shushing of the librarians) that I could not park my car on the sidewalk and must come move it immediately.
But a girl can’t be too careful. I avoid police officers, not only because they stalk me and yell at me, but also because I have one of those faces.
At the library I was approached by a young girl (14 or so) she leaned against the shelf as I was neatening books and struck up a friendly conversation.
“So, they have you shelving books, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I hate shelving. I would rather sort the dvds or anything else.”
“Yeah… it’s kinda boring.”
“So how often do you come for community service?”
“Oh, once a week.”
“That’s IT?! Wow, you got off easy.”
*shrugs* “Well, it’s just going to take me longer to get in my hours.”
“How many hours are you doing?”
“100”
“WOW! That is a lot! What are you doing time for?”
At this point I gave her a puzzled look. “Doing time?” And then I noticed her orange jumpsuit and the cop standing guard at the end of the row.
“Uhh…” I thought quickly. “Poisoning.”
“Poisoning?!” She gave me a slightly fearful, admiring stare.
“Yeah,” I sniffed and put a book back in its place. “A guy was bugging me at work, asking me all kinds of questions. I got fed up and grabbed a pencil from my purse. I stabbed him in the eye. Apparently the eye is especially susceptible to diseases because he got led poisoning.”
“Oh.” The girl backed away. “I… I just remembered I have to go… do something else.” She walked quickly away and her escort followed stiffly. I didn’t have much time to revel in my badness before a crazy cop stormed into the library yelling (and oblivious to the shushing of the librarians) that I could not park my car on the sidewalk and must come move it immediately.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Goats don’t like nicotine
Goats don’t like nicotine
I always enjoy “kidding season” here on the farm. Every spring our goats have new babies, and it is so much fun to watch them bounce and frolic. As much fun as baby goats are to snuggle and pet and squeeze, my favorite thing to do is take them out… out on the town. Nobody ever gives a dog or a cat a second glance, but you get the most amusing reactions when it is a goat you are walking down the sidewalk.
Yesterday I took my favorite baby goat, Sky, to the coffee shop with me. As I sat outside on the sidewalk with my coffee and my goat, a group of high school kids exited the convenience store down the street. I watched them open a packet of cigarettes and six pack of energy drinks. I was perplexed to see one young man light his cigarette and place it behind his ear like a pencil. Amused I wondered if somehow the nicotine would simply seep into his brain while scorching his Beiber cut. As I recollect this image, an old slogan comes to mind “smoking isn’t cool”… ok, maybe I just made that slogan up, but it’s true. Nothing turns a girl off like “hey babe, I wear cigarettes as accessories and I’ll not only kill myself with these things, but probably kill you with smoke inhalation just by carrying on this conversation because my breath smells like a burning building.”
Anyway, for the 15 minuets I sat watching these antics, they never once seemed to notice me, but the second I started to leave I hear shouts of “Holy F*ck!” (What does that even mean?) “Is that a goat?”
“Dude, it’s a F*cking GOAT!”
The next thing I know I am surrounded by a group of boys with no knowledge of personal space, personal hygiene or the basics of balanced nutrition and exercise.
“Can I pet your goat?”
“… Yeah sure.” As they extend their hands, the goat (a bottle baby) leans out, searching for a finger to suck.
“AHH!!!!”
“Will it bite me?”
“No… well… probably not.”
Three boys pull their hands back quickly, but the fourth seemed oddly brave (or stupid) He extended his hand to the goat. She sniffed his finger curiously and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Good girl.
So kids,smoking is bad for you. It will make you smell so bad even a goat won’t want to hang out with you.
I always enjoy “kidding season” here on the farm. Every spring our goats have new babies, and it is so much fun to watch them bounce and frolic. As much fun as baby goats are to snuggle and pet and squeeze, my favorite thing to do is take them out… out on the town. Nobody ever gives a dog or a cat a second glance, but you get the most amusing reactions when it is a goat you are walking down the sidewalk.
Yesterday I took my favorite baby goat, Sky, to the coffee shop with me. As I sat outside on the sidewalk with my coffee and my goat, a group of high school kids exited the convenience store down the street. I watched them open a packet of cigarettes and six pack of energy drinks. I was perplexed to see one young man light his cigarette and place it behind his ear like a pencil. Amused I wondered if somehow the nicotine would simply seep into his brain while scorching his Beiber cut. As I recollect this image, an old slogan comes to mind “smoking isn’t cool”… ok, maybe I just made that slogan up, but it’s true. Nothing turns a girl off like “hey babe, I wear cigarettes as accessories and I’ll not only kill myself with these things, but probably kill you with smoke inhalation just by carrying on this conversation because my breath smells like a burning building.”
Anyway, for the 15 minuets I sat watching these antics, they never once seemed to notice me, but the second I started to leave I hear shouts of “Holy F*ck!” (What does that even mean?) “Is that a goat?”
“Dude, it’s a F*cking GOAT!”
The next thing I know I am surrounded by a group of boys with no knowledge of personal space, personal hygiene or the basics of balanced nutrition and exercise.
“Can I pet your goat?”
“… Yeah sure.” As they extend their hands, the goat (a bottle baby) leans out, searching for a finger to suck.
“AHH!!!!”
“Will it bite me?”
“No… well… probably not.”
Three boys pull their hands back quickly, but the fourth seemed oddly brave (or stupid) He extended his hand to the goat. She sniffed his finger curiously and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Good girl.
So kids,smoking is bad for you. It will make you smell so bad even a goat won’t want to hang out with you.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Creeps on the street
Creeps on the street
Everyone knows there are some creeps out there. Some real weirdos. Today as I was driving down a deserted country road with Shannyn and Layne, I wondered across two little boys, no more than 10 years old. They were just wondering down the street, and as we drove past, one of the little boys stuck his thumb in the air, hitchhiker style. As I drove past, I got an idea. We were in the black crown victoria, a mafia car if I’ve ever seen one, and the trunk fits two bodies (intact). Well, I convinced Layne to hop in the trunk and Shannyn and I turned back around and drove back to the boys. As we got close, I slowed and rolled down the window. The sun gleamed off my terminator glasses and Shannyn flashed them a creepy grin.
“Hey, need a ride, boys?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
I got out and walked around to the trunk explaining as I rounded the car. We don’t have any room in the back seat, but you can ride back here if you want.” As the trunk lid popped, Layne let out a scream.
“Oops!” I called as Shannyn came join me. “I forgot about him. Shannyn, get the ‘forget me’ stick.” Shannyn came around with her club and smacked the inside of the trunk. Layne shut up instantly and I turned to the boys.
“Where too?” I asked beckoning in an open and friendly manner.
They must not have needed a ride very badly because they turned and ran back the way they had come.
Everyone knows there are some creeps out there. Some real weirdos. Today as I was driving down a deserted country road with Shannyn and Layne, I wondered across two little boys, no more than 10 years old. They were just wondering down the street, and as we drove past, one of the little boys stuck his thumb in the air, hitchhiker style. As I drove past, I got an idea. We were in the black crown victoria, a mafia car if I’ve ever seen one, and the trunk fits two bodies (intact). Well, I convinced Layne to hop in the trunk and Shannyn and I turned back around and drove back to the boys. As we got close, I slowed and rolled down the window. The sun gleamed off my terminator glasses and Shannyn flashed them a creepy grin.
“Hey, need a ride, boys?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
I got out and walked around to the trunk explaining as I rounded the car. We don’t have any room in the back seat, but you can ride back here if you want.” As the trunk lid popped, Layne let out a scream.
“Oops!” I called as Shannyn came join me. “I forgot about him. Shannyn, get the ‘forget me’ stick.” Shannyn came around with her club and smacked the inside of the trunk. Layne shut up instantly and I turned to the boys.
“Where too?” I asked beckoning in an open and friendly manner.
They must not have needed a ride very badly because they turned and ran back the way they had come.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Mean as Nellie Olsen
Our family has a great Sunday tradition. In the afternoon, after church and lunch and naps (Our other Sunday traditions) we watch “The Little House on the Prairie”. We own the entire set series all thirty thousand or so episodes. The story as I can tell follows a little girl “Laura” through her life on the prairie where she lives in a town full of dear friends and those unfortunate enough to guest star. (They are as doomed as the unaccredited extras from the original “Star Trek”)
Of course, no little girl’s life is complete without a rival, a nemesis. Laura’s adversary through the entire show is a spoiled brat named Nellie Olsen. Nellie seems to have only one purpose in life, to terrorize Laura and make herself look like a bumbling nincompoop in the process. The other day as I was getting ready to go out to check the animals water Naithen stopped me and remarked thoughtfully “Mikaela, you are mean.” (This was totally random. I had not said anything to Naithen all morning, so he wasn’t even mad at me) “You are as mean as Nellie Olsen.” (This child (age 6) sees life through TV shows and books. It appears to be his only connection to reality) I considered the remark briefly. How should I react? Anger? No, that is what Nellie would do. Laughter? I chose denial.
“No I am not.”
Naithen raised an eyebrow in reply.“You are pretty mean.”
“Yeah, but I am smart about being mean. I think a little bit. And I don’t whine as much.”
“Yeah.” Naithen considered that for a moment; clearly remember the last episode he had watched of his beloved TV show. “If a bull ran at YOU, you would probably just grab it by its horns and throw it on the ground. Not run away like Nellie Olsen.”
So there you have it. I am mean. I am mean like Nellie Olsen, but like Nellie Olsen if she could wrestle down a slobbering ton of horned beef.
Of course, no little girl’s life is complete without a rival, a nemesis. Laura’s adversary through the entire show is a spoiled brat named Nellie Olsen. Nellie seems to have only one purpose in life, to terrorize Laura and make herself look like a bumbling nincompoop in the process. The other day as I was getting ready to go out to check the animals water Naithen stopped me and remarked thoughtfully “Mikaela, you are mean.” (This was totally random. I had not said anything to Naithen all morning, so he wasn’t even mad at me) “You are as mean as Nellie Olsen.” (This child (age 6) sees life through TV shows and books. It appears to be his only connection to reality) I considered the remark briefly. How should I react? Anger? No, that is what Nellie would do. Laughter? I chose denial.
“No I am not.”
Naithen raised an eyebrow in reply.“You are pretty mean.”
“Yeah, but I am smart about being mean. I think a little bit. And I don’t whine as much.”
“Yeah.” Naithen considered that for a moment; clearly remember the last episode he had watched of his beloved TV show. “If a bull ran at YOU, you would probably just grab it by its horns and throw it on the ground. Not run away like Nellie Olsen.”
So there you have it. I am mean. I am mean like Nellie Olsen, but like Nellie Olsen if she could wrestle down a slobbering ton of horned beef.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A bad story with an... interesting moral
Today is Thursday. That is right, Library Day! Well today Shannyn and I sat in the back room where only the Librarians are allowed. (We get to wear special passes around our necks that say we are allowed. They are in the cabinet by the information desk if you ever want to scope it out) It is possible we were on a top secret special mission for the Amazing Librarian Ladies… or it is possible we were hiding from creepy crow nosed boys in hoodies. Whichever it was is irrelevant.
After hours of ripping stickers off of books so that Shannyn could put them back on, I came up with the brilliant idea of telling stories to entertain ourselves. (Libraries are so quite)
Shannyn: “Once upon a time-“
Me: “That’s no good. You have to make it original.”
Shannyn: “Fine. One day… not so long ago… far far but not to far away lived three little… frogs- blab la bla” – interesting story about three little frogs with a fear of mushrooms.
Me: “No good. It didn’t have a moral. Yesterday there was born on earth three human children. Boys (because 53% of the children born are boys.) They grew up to be very different. One little boy worked hard. He was highschool quarterback and got straight As in all his classes. The second little boy was a nerd. He sat in front of his computer all day long and played games till his eyes bulged out of his head and his back stooped and his fingers were constantly in a slightly curled position, poised to press the space bar at a moments notice. The third little boy was a rebel. He dyed his hair black and had to many earrings. He liked to dress in baggy clothes and deal drugs in the ally behind the school. They grew up. The first little boy became a doctor. He cured the common cold and cancer. The second little boy developed a social network for nerds like himself who had no real social life. The third little boy became a bank robber. Which one made a billion dollars first?”
Shannyn: “The robber”
Me: “Wrong. The little boy with the internet did. The moral of this story is ‘geeks always come out on top.’ The thought provoking question is: ‘is it worth it since he has poor posture and no friends?’”
After hours of ripping stickers off of books so that Shannyn could put them back on, I came up with the brilliant idea of telling stories to entertain ourselves. (Libraries are so quite)
Shannyn: “Once upon a time-“
Me: “That’s no good. You have to make it original.”
Shannyn: “Fine. One day… not so long ago… far far but not to far away lived three little… frogs- blab la bla” – interesting story about three little frogs with a fear of mushrooms.
Me: “No good. It didn’t have a moral. Yesterday there was born on earth three human children. Boys (because 53% of the children born are boys.) They grew up to be very different. One little boy worked hard. He was highschool quarterback and got straight As in all his classes. The second little boy was a nerd. He sat in front of his computer all day long and played games till his eyes bulged out of his head and his back stooped and his fingers were constantly in a slightly curled position, poised to press the space bar at a moments notice. The third little boy was a rebel. He dyed his hair black and had to many earrings. He liked to dress in baggy clothes and deal drugs in the ally behind the school. They grew up. The first little boy became a doctor. He cured the common cold and cancer. The second little boy developed a social network for nerds like himself who had no real social life. The third little boy became a bank robber. Which one made a billion dollars first?”
Shannyn: “The robber”
Me: “Wrong. The little boy with the internet did. The moral of this story is ‘geeks always come out on top.’ The thought provoking question is: ‘is it worth it since he has poor posture and no friends?’”
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Homeschoolers are either really good or really bad
Homeschoolers are either really good or really bad – The public school opinion of our secret lives.
So according to one boy I spoke with, there are two kinds of homeschoolers. There are the long haired ones with denim skirts and ankle socks who can’t form an acceptable sentence in a public situation and then there are the druggies who got kicked out of school for terrible grades and threatening letters describing how they want to burn down buildings and beat up small children and kittens. Both kinds I have met, and both are very “homeschooler” but I was amused to find that according to public schooled kids there is no middle ground. The situation:
While working a craft show, Shannyn and I had a little down time to ourselves and decided to take a trip to the concession stand. We had both been working all day and had just had a couple Venti double shot frapp`s…. and the boy working the concession stand was cute (says Shannyn) so we got to talking:
Him “So where do you go to school?”
Me: “We don’t.”
Him *disbelief*
Shannyn “We’re homeschooled.” *glares at me*
Him: “Oh, do you like it?”
Me: “No school? Yeah, it’s great.”
Shannyn: “Yes” *launches into explanation on the benefits of homeschooling*
Shannyn: “I get asked all the time if we get to do school in our pajamas or if I get to sleep till noon…. It gets kinda old.”
Him: “I always thought that homeschoolers were either ‘really good’ or ‘really bad’”
Me *nods thoughtfully*
Shannyn “That’s probably pretty accurate.”
Me: “I always assumed that public schooled kids wore black eye liner and ripped jeans around their ankles. I always assumed they were mentally incompetent and didn’t know how to wear their baseball caps.”
Him: “haha I think it’s funny that you think I know what ‘incompetent means.”
Me: “and… I rest my case.”
Him “So which are you?” *looks from Shannyn to me* “Really good or really bad?”
Shannyn: “uhhh…. Well-“
Me: “Good. I have really never done anything bad in my life. In fact, the only reason I’m homeschooled is because of that one boy in English comp. who wouldn’t stop stealing my answers on tests. I stabbed the jerk in the face and he got lead poisoning. I got expelled and had to spend three months in Juvenile detention… but I escaped. After that I decided to stay out of the public school system.”
Him: *nervously* “Uhh… haha”
Me: *smiles* “Are these brownies free?”
Him: “Sure. Here take all you want.”
So according to one boy I spoke with, there are two kinds of homeschoolers. There are the long haired ones with denim skirts and ankle socks who can’t form an acceptable sentence in a public situation and then there are the druggies who got kicked out of school for terrible grades and threatening letters describing how they want to burn down buildings and beat up small children and kittens. Both kinds I have met, and both are very “homeschooler” but I was amused to find that according to public schooled kids there is no middle ground. The situation:
While working a craft show, Shannyn and I had a little down time to ourselves and decided to take a trip to the concession stand. We had both been working all day and had just had a couple Venti double shot frapp`s…. and the boy working the concession stand was cute (says Shannyn) so we got to talking:
Him “So where do you go to school?”
Me: “We don’t.”
Him *disbelief*
Shannyn “We’re homeschooled.” *glares at me*
Him: “Oh, do you like it?”
Me: “No school? Yeah, it’s great.”
Shannyn: “Yes” *launches into explanation on the benefits of homeschooling*
Shannyn: “I get asked all the time if we get to do school in our pajamas or if I get to sleep till noon…. It gets kinda old.”
Him: “I always thought that homeschoolers were either ‘really good’ or ‘really bad’”
Me *nods thoughtfully*
Shannyn “That’s probably pretty accurate.”
Me: “I always assumed that public schooled kids wore black eye liner and ripped jeans around their ankles. I always assumed they were mentally incompetent and didn’t know how to wear their baseball caps.”
Him: “haha I think it’s funny that you think I know what ‘incompetent means.”
Me: “and… I rest my case.”
Him “So which are you?” *looks from Shannyn to me* “Really good or really bad?”
Shannyn: “uhhh…. Well-“
Me: “Good. I have really never done anything bad in my life. In fact, the only reason I’m homeschooled is because of that one boy in English comp. who wouldn’t stop stealing my answers on tests. I stabbed the jerk in the face and he got lead poisoning. I got expelled and had to spend three months in Juvenile detention… but I escaped. After that I decided to stay out of the public school system.”
Him: *nervously* “Uhh… haha”
Me: *smiles* “Are these brownies free?”
Him: “Sure. Here take all you want.”
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Thursday is Library Day
weird tital huh?
On Thursdays I volunteer at the library which is not nearly as boring as it sounds. The last couple of weeks I shelved books with a girl from juvenile corrections and she thought I was "doing time" because no one in their right mind would volunteer. She is correct of course. I am not in my right mind and more importantly I was volunteered by my mother and dragged into the situation against my will. I do not even have a library card.
The experience has not been as boring as I anticipated though. Librarians are cool. What's more they are robot like machines when it comes to books. They know and have read every book in the library. They know where they are, they know who wrote them and they know what they are about! Librarians are also excellent for kicking drunk hobos off the couch in the teen section which is reserved for teens! And yes, I was the one who told on that old man because I am pretty sure his lumber jack snore was violating the "quite in the library" rule.
Well today as I was shelving books, I got my first digits. Yeah I know, shocker. This kid was reading while I shelved books and must have thought I was totally lost and had never been in a library before or I had OCD. Either way, I have no idea why he decided to talk to me. Our conversation went as so:
Him “What book are you looking for?”
Me: I’ve been straightening books for ten minuets. Clearly I’m trying to work here! “Umm, actually I am just straightening. I’m doing community service.” (Shows him name tag.) He leaves and comes back ten minuets later and pulls a book out of order:
Him: “oops my bad”
Me: I have to straighten that you idiot! ”haha”
Him: “Aren’t you going to straighten that?”
Me: “Nope. But if you do it again I’ll throw you out of the Library” (Which I can’t actually do but it sounded mean.)
Him: “Do you know where I can find the LOTR books?”
Me: “Nope”
The Librarian swoops in and helps him out. I swear she knows where everything is!
Him: “Where do you go to school?”
Me: “I don’t. I stabbed a kid with a pencil and he died so I got expelled.”
*dramatic pause*
“Where do you go to school?”
Him: “I don’t but I want to go to trade school and become a welder.”
Me: “Hmm… I knew a welder once. He moved to Alaska and froze to death. His body was eaten by rabid polar bears.”
Him “Yeah… What’s your name?”
Me: *looks dramatically at name tag which reads “Shannyn =)”* “uhh…. Mikaela.”
Him: “I’m Ray”
Me: “Hi.”
Him “Here” *hands me number scrawled hastily on torn piece of library book* “In case you ever want to hang out or talk or whatever.”
Me: “Is it the suicide hotline?”
Him: “That’s my number.”
Soo…. Yeah, apparently my “Ahh you are bugging me go away and leave me alone!” vibes are not working properly. I’ll have to get them checked.
On Thursdays I volunteer at the library which is not nearly as boring as it sounds. The last couple of weeks I shelved books with a girl from juvenile corrections and she thought I was "doing time" because no one in their right mind would volunteer. She is correct of course. I am not in my right mind and more importantly I was volunteered by my mother and dragged into the situation against my will. I do not even have a library card.
The experience has not been as boring as I anticipated though. Librarians are cool. What's more they are robot like machines when it comes to books. They know and have read every book in the library. They know where they are, they know who wrote them and they know what they are about! Librarians are also excellent for kicking drunk hobos off the couch in the teen section which is reserved for teens! And yes, I was the one who told on that old man because I am pretty sure his lumber jack snore was violating the "quite in the library" rule.
Well today as I was shelving books, I got my first digits. Yeah I know, shocker. This kid was reading while I shelved books and must have thought I was totally lost and had never been in a library before or I had OCD. Either way, I have no idea why he decided to talk to me. Our conversation went as so:
Him “What book are you looking for?”
Me: I’ve been straightening books for ten minuets. Clearly I’m trying to work here! “Umm, actually I am just straightening. I’m doing community service.” (Shows him name tag.) He leaves and comes back ten minuets later and pulls a book out of order:
Him: “oops my bad”
Me: I have to straighten that you idiot! ”haha”
Him: “Aren’t you going to straighten that?”
Me: “Nope. But if you do it again I’ll throw you out of the Library” (Which I can’t actually do but it sounded mean.)
Him: “Do you know where I can find the LOTR books?”
Me: “Nope”
The Librarian swoops in and helps him out. I swear she knows where everything is!
Him: “Where do you go to school?”
Me: “I don’t. I stabbed a kid with a pencil and he died so I got expelled.”
*dramatic pause*
“Where do you go to school?”
Him: “I don’t but I want to go to trade school and become a welder.”
Me: “Hmm… I knew a welder once. He moved to Alaska and froze to death. His body was eaten by rabid polar bears.”
Him “Yeah… What’s your name?”
Me: *looks dramatically at name tag which reads “Shannyn =)”* “uhh…. Mikaela.”
Him: “I’m Ray”
Me: “Hi.”
Him “Here” *hands me number scrawled hastily on torn piece of library book* “In case you ever want to hang out or talk or whatever.”
Me: “Is it the suicide hotline?”
Him: “That’s my number.”
Soo…. Yeah, apparently my “Ahh you are bugging me go away and leave me alone!” vibes are not working properly. I’ll have to get them checked.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I HAVE A BLOG?!?!
Wow, that's sad isn't it? I forgot I had a blog until I found it today :)IT has been 11 month since I last posted! So, what has happened in the last 11 months? Well, I wrote a novel, completed my first semester as a Sr in high school and have enrolled in college. Also, kidding season has started here on the farm. We have 11 kids on the ground with 16 does still to kid! Yep, it is going to get really crazy around here :) I wish I had something more exciting to post, but right now I'm just excited to have found my blog!
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