And just like that, it's over.

I'm having a hard time believe Christmas is already done.

Strange.

I spent a good part of Saturday out doing last minute shopping with Mom (she had all of my gifts already and there were some small things I still needed, so it worked well). Then we went to the Christmas Eve service and proceeded to squeeze all of our family and the Wrights into one pew. (Well, Dad was working, so not everyone, which is the only way we managed without moving a few people onto laps.) That was exciting. Mom said we didn't need to bring our Bibles because it's a candlelit service and we can't see them, and by this point we all have the Christmas story pretty well memorized. So we didn't, and I still felt stupid for not having mine.

A few special songs, the reading of the Christmas story, and a brief message, and then back home.

Then, due to paper routes, as well as a general disregard for normal traditions, we decided to open gifts on Christmas Eve and got our stockings Christmas morning before church. Soon after Dad got home, we all gathered in the living room. Allenna set up her video camera, Mom had her camera, and for a while we had Sasha in her crate while Hershey sat quietly by Mom.

We girls passed out the gifts, and then we debated about how we would determine the order in which the gifts were opened.

I suggested Dad use a die like he did a few years ago. He would roll a die and, based on the number rolled, one of us would open one gift (Dad being #1, Mom #2, and so on). Some didn't want to do it that way, but eventually we pulled Monopoly out from under the couch and Dad was given the die.

My number didn't appear much until the others started coming to the end of their presents. I've been wanted some colored socks so my sisters wouldn't take my socks, mistaking them for theirs and consequently wearing them all over the house and on missions involving paint and dirt. My wish was granted. I think I ended up with a dozen pair of socks!

I also good a fair amount of chocolate, which I didn't expect but was happy with, as well as some jewelry and a watch, fingerless gloves, a hat, polka dot rainboot-style boots, an uber-fuzzy blanket, and an upcoming year-long subscription to ancestry.com!

Apparently I'm usually quite boring to get gifts for. (While I think notebooks, wind chimes, and books are great gift ideas, most people don't seem to agree. Perhaps I'm too specific?) So I tried to branch out and suggest some things that haven't been on any Christmas list before.

I tried to get to bed at a decent time Christmas Eve, because of paper routes. However, Wes is trying to get in a lot of gaming time so he can make progress on his new games before his Christmas vacation is over, and he seems to have forgotten all about the trial of Sunday morning papers, and I have a hard time going to sleep when my room isn't dark, so that plan didn't work too well.

Maybe the whole idea of Sunday being Christmas felt surreal because I was up at 3 to deliver papers, just like any other Sunday. Either way, I was up by 3:30 and not home and in bed for three hours or so. The routes we're subbing didn't go quite as quickly as they should have.

By 8:30 I was back up and trying to get ready, but the skirt I had planned to wear was missing and the only other one I could find that would work with my new boots was dirty. (Pastor had recently mentioned that if the kids wanted to bring a new toy to church, they were allowed to, and I was determined to wear my new boots.)

Eventually I got everything settled. Aside from my shirt, leggings, and skirt, everything I wore was from Christmas: new socks in my polka-dot boots, my fingerless gloves, my new watch, my pink elephant necklace, earrings, and my slouchy hat. (I was informed by one friend that I looked totally hipster in the hat.) 'Twas delightful.

If I decided to wear all my favorite clothes (accessories included) at once, I would look certifiably dorky: blue-striped Peru pants, multi-colored polka dot boots, teal fingerless gloves, and...well, I haven't found a shirt yet that I call my favorite. All I know it is would really clash worse than all the rest. And I'd be happy.

We had intended to have most of the food made and ready to go on Christmas Eve, but we only managed to get the turkey cooking and the potatoes peeled, so we didn't eat as soon as we got home. Mom got the rolls ready (we didn't eat them with dinner but after) and I made apple crisp and helped make a pie. Later in the day, Heather helped Mom make fudge. Now all we need to fulfill the traditional list of holiday snacks is chex mix, but that might have to wait until January.

After we ate, we spent the holiday like any other: quietly, most of us in the living room watching movies and/or napping. I don't know what Christmas is for everyone else, but that's pretty much how it always goes for us.

And I still can't believe it's already over. Crazy. And we still don't have any snow. There's a 60-70% chance of some tonight and all through tomorrow. We'll see.

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

Whether we'll actually have one remains to be seen.

I can't believe it's Christmas Eve.

Granted, I sometimes live a little disconnected from reality and the occurrence of most holidays seems a bit surreal to me. Usually all it takes are some fireworks or songs or a church service to make it sink in, but I'm really having a hard time getting in the Christmas spirit without snow.

We've been listening to Christmas music since mid-October, I had most of my shopping done probably a month ago, we had the Christmas program at church two Sundays ago and the choir cantata last Sunday, we have a tree, we've watched A Christmas Carol, White Christmas, Holiday Inn, Polar Express, It's a Wonderful Life, and so many other classic movies.... All that would settle the "Christmas spirit" firmly in the minds of a lot of people.

But what exactly is the "Christmas spirit"? Here's the part where a loony fuddy duddy would go into a rant about the commercialization of the holiday and how Christmas is a time of giving and loving and peace on earth and all that. In some areas I agree, but that's not my point.

As I said, I tend to live a little disconnected to reality. I'm not in any way condoning my habits. It means I'm behind in school, I can't finish a book, I didn't rake the yard once this autumn, the hose is full of frozen water, there are months-old rotten watermelons in the garden, and a wealth of other things. My mind tends to wander through a hazy fantasy world far too often, and when someone pulls me down for a breath of fresh air, I get mad at them. When a holiday comes along, I do all of the outward things right to try to get that magical feeling everyone else says they have. I don't have a clue what that's supposed to feel like. Sometimes I wonder if I've ever known what the true, honest, original meaning of Christmas is.

Most the time I manage to keep my head above the clouds because I'm riding one giant of a high horse. It really hurts when you fall off one of those, believe me. Matter of fact, I think I may have tied, glued, and duct taped myself to the saddle just to avoid falling.

This is going to sound cheesy and cliche, but I think this Christmas spirit everyone's talking about is something we are supposed to have all year round, but the holiday reminds people about it and brings them back to it for one month out of the year. It is the mindset of giving and love and laughter and family and hope and peace and beauty and the warm and fuzzy feelings we all want in our lives, but it's being crowded out by rushing and cooking and traveling and other holiday activities, at least in my mind.

I started a rant in a post I never finished and published on this blog. It was about how I could really go for a sabbatical of indefinite duration at some cabin way up in the boonies with nothing but my Bible, a notebook, my dog, and silence. As the song goes, I feel like I'm running just to catch myself. People demanding that I have my order ready as soon as I reach the counter rather than letting me peruse the menu for two more seconds; people swearing up a storm and revving their engines when the light doesn't turn green a whole second after they got there; people whining like children when they don't get exactly what they want, or arguing immaturely because they aren't willing to get off their own high horses and listen to each other. In the midst of the rushing around, we can't stop to collect our thoughts and say a prayer or we'll lose our place in line.

I think the Christmas spirit is an attitude that's completely contradictory to the human nature, and that's why it's such a novelty when people are reminded of it every December. They may not know why, but they know it's something they should strive to get. As much as we want it, though, it takes more than some snow, some movies, and a special church service to get it, and most of us aren't willing to spend more than a month a year in the effort.

Some people would puff out their chests and say, "The reason I don't have a change of heart around Christmas is because I already have the Christmas spirit all year long!" Yes, I want to be one of them. Someone please rip off this duct tape, take a firm hold of my boot, and drag me down until I'm tasting solid earth. Yes, this Christmas spirit is a mindset, but the real thing moves beyond the mind to the heart, and then it comes back out in our actions, in our everyday lives. No one is perfect, and as much as I love the thought I don't think peace on earth is possible when it's man trying to create it. We all have our own varying versions of the idea, and trying to define it could launch us into another world war. But that doesn't mean the individual can't strive to live with the hope of peace in their hearts.

I realize I've yet to say anything about the real reason for Christmas. Some people refuse to celebrate it because it has pagan origins. I like to think that the Christians of the time looked around and saw their drunken Roman neighbors praying to whatever gods they had and decided to take the Roman celebration and turn it into another reminder of the True God and His love, so they chose to honor Christ's birth in the midst of pagan revelry.

I'm also of a firm belief that no one can know true peace, true hope, true joy outside of a relationship with God. No amount of man-made peace on earth, of gift giving, of gathering with family, can creating an imitation that can hold a candle to the real thing. For those who have believed the truth, Christmas is the symbol of the spirit they ought to live with in their hearts all year long. God left all and came among His hateful, ugly, proud creation to give them peace and hope like they'd never known. He showed us beauty we'll never find beyond the light of His glory. He gave us love undeserved, unmerited by the best of us; love without limit, without cost, unconditional forever without anything required in return; because what on earth could we possibly give to God, Who is the very thing of love?

The Christmas spirit is not a mindset, but a heartset, defined by the act of a merciful and loving God in giving Himself for creatures who weren't worth it, who will never be worth it. It's an emotion that provokes action, and it cannot be mimicked or recreated by any amount of generosity and peaceful living, of music and empty prayers, of snow and decorated trees. I only pray it doesn't take a special day of the year to bring me back to that knowledge.

I'll get off my soapbox now. None of this was running through my head before I sat down to write this. As usual, writing gets my mind working better than anything. I didn't mean to preach; I just had to get it out, even though I wasn't quite sure what it was until now. I suppose it's kind of a self-evaluation and mental beating-head-with-Sunday-newspaper.

All that said, I would still like some snow, and not just on the 24th and 25th like so many silly friends say. If we're going to have winter, let's do it right and have snow. As it is, we got a very light dusting last night (it took five hours of "flurries" just to stick and layer the ground) and there's something like a 47% chance of more today, and maybe tomorrow. We'll see.

Christmas party, Christmas trees, Christmas time...but no snow.

Hershey is sitting proudly in his chair by the window, watching the world come to life. Sasha's restless in her crate, moaning and grunting because, for once, Hershey is out of the girls' room before 9 and she can't be up to "play" with him.

It's a nice change to the morning routine, if you ask me.

For the last...probably at least the last month, maybe more, I've had my alarm set for 7. I don't think I've actually been up by 7 more than 5 weekdays in the past month. I keep hitting snooze, and then that's deactivated I reset the alarm a couple times. (Usually my excuse is that I'm in the middle of a good - or at least interesting - dream and want to see how it ends. But after a few hours of being awake, I wonder how I could think it was that interesting.)

Sure, sometimes I climb out of bed around 7, but that's only to take Sasha outside so she'll sleep a little longer.

Today I got up to take Sasha out, as usual. When I put her back to bed, I went to the girls' room to get my computer cord, thinking I might make an effort to stay awake. (I really should clean my room, but that's beside the point.)

Hershey was wide awake and standing by the door expectantly: not normal for him. Usually he's curled up as tightly as possible on one of the beds and refuses to move.

I got the cord and decided to let Hershey out, thinking he might just be thirsty and would go back to bed after I gave him some water. He downed nearly a gallon of water, then asked to go out. After that, he wouldn't go back to the girls' room but wandered into the living room.

Sasha wasn't happy, and waited for me to let her out. When I didn't, she barked a few times to remind me she was there.

I went upstairs to get dressed and grab my phone. When I came back, Hershey was gone. No where in the kitchen, living room, bathroom, or girls' room. I briefly wondered if he'd gone stealth mode and sneaked past me on the stairs and was hiding in Wes's room, but quickly dismissed that idea. Hershey can't be quiet about anything.

Then I remembered Mom's light had been on. Sure enough, he had pushed open her door and was curled up on the bed. She didn't let him stay for long.

So I gave him his medicine (buried in a heel of bread slathered in peanut butter so he couldn't pick it out like he usually does) and sat down to check a few of the games I had downloaded to my phone yesterday. Mom came out and cleared off Hershey's chair, opened the curtain, and invited him to hop up. He stared outside for a while, but now he's snoozing. And Sasha's quiet, too.

And yes, I said all that both because I wanted to change style a little and because I don't have much else to say. Even living in a family with comparatively eventful lives, sometimes those lives can feel pretty unremarkable.

I'm trying to remember everything that's happened since my last post.

Oh. Christmas party. It was fun. I'm glad we girls got the chance to get dressed up, and we ate something besides paste or taco shell-wrapped Mexican food. It was a big change from last year, when we all collapsed on the floor in jeans and colorful socks and drank dangerously bright Kool Aid and messy enchiladas.

This time, we pretty much sat around. After all of the pictures were taken, that is. (There were a grand total of 2 Sr. High guys there without girlfriends, and at least a dozen girls, so the youth pastor's wife suggested the girls pair up for pictures and the guys be in every one. Some girls were not in favor of this plan, but we did it.) I know this group of Sr. Highers typically does just sit around at activities, but usually we can lounge or sit on each other and throw pillows or something.

Anyway. Even gift time was quiet. I started out with a cool stationary set (stolen, because I was 23 out of 30 people and there weren't any exciting-looking gifts still wrapped) but that got taken and I ended up with a set of juggling balls. I could have had the pancake maker (a tube with a special tip on the end, which you fill with pancake batter and can use to make neat designs) but the girl who had it wanted to keep it and I'm nice like that.

And yes, my hair stayed curly the whole time. I was happy. And now I have a new technic for styling my hair. Yay me!

After that....

Well, on Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day ancestry.com offered free viewing of their WWII records, so I went and searched for a bunch of my relatives. I couldn't find my dad's dad anywhere, which is really strange, but I did find his dad, who enlisted when he was 63!

Searching those records prompted me to finally transfer the rest of the information from the family tree booklet I have onto the one I started online. It's done at last! Now whenever I decide to use the free 2 week trial of ancestry.com I can start filling in the past 40 years.

I can't really think of much else. Co-op and Institute are out for Christmas break. I failed terribly at memorizing Ephesians, so I'll have to deal with it and pay for the classes and look for a job (or because a best selling author in the next 6 months).

Last night we got our tree. We got a real tree last year, too, our artificial one finally so old and worn that we got rid of it.

It was cool and really windy last night, so we weren't in the mood for browsing every tree in the place. Mom wanted a tall, slim tree, but we couldn't see any of those. Heather found one she liked and was determined to have it, whining anyone else even looked at something different. "Mine doesn't cost as much as yours does" and "Mine's prettier than that one". Eventually we gave in and let her have her tree.

Then, courtesy of some nice route customers, we went to Logan's, and I made a note to never get Balsamic vinaigrette for a salad ever again. Sweet dressing on salad = yuck.

I can't believe we have 9 days until Christmas! Since our first snowfall, we haven't had anything. It's been gray and rainy this week. We got a dusting of snow last night, but it didn't stick. Tomorrow Mom's taking us girls shopping, so maybe a few hours pushing my way through a crowded mall to the sound of Christmas music will get me in the spirit. (I doubt it, but we'll see.)

Strange dreams, hair curlers, and pet rivalry

I was going to do a post on pictures, because I haven't posted very many pictures yet, there's a recent one of Sasha that I managed to snap in a rare moment where she's not moving, and the pictures have been accumulating on my phone and I need to take care of them. But either Blogger or our internet (or both) doesn't want that to happen, because the pictures simply won't be uploaded, no matter how long I wait for it. So that's for another time, I guess.

I do have some stories to tell!

I have this thing similar to recurring nightmares, but it's not actually the same one over and over. It's not even a series. (Yes, some of my dreams have sequels.) It's more of just a strange theme running through them. I don't know when I had the first one. Years ago, I guess. But I had another yesterday night. In the middle of the dream I was thinking to myself, "Oh, no. Not another one of these."

The dreams? My wedding.

This last one must have been number 7 or 8, though I'm bad at remembering most dreams so I'm not sure. Every one is different. Different people are in it, a different location.... There's only one thing that's consistent: I never see the groom's face. In one of the first ones, he even looked directly at me. There was nothing there.

It drives Mom crazy, though I'm not really sure why. She wants to put out a notice on facebook along the lines of: "Will the man stalking my daughter's dreams please show yourself?" Yeah, that'll go well.

The crazy dude always has his back to me and pretty much never speaks. Well, I only assume it's the same guy in each. What I have seen of him is pretty average.

Hang on. The pup is attacking my hands as I type. I should probably take her out.

That took longer than I thought. Where was I...?

Oh, yeah. Mysterious, faceless dream stalker.

As far as looks go, what I can see of him is pretty average. Average height (by my standards, not my brother's), average hair. I think once someone said his name, but I don't know what it was.

So that's what haunts my dreams. After the fifth one, it started to get old. This last one was super boring.

The Sr. High Christmas party is tonight, and, for the first time (to my knowledge) it's formal. Mom took Heather and I shopping yesterday for shoes and some accessories. At Payless, we were served by a girl who seemed either seriously starved for human interaction or just overly friendly. Either way, she came by after I had found some shoes (only $11, though they seriously up my chances of killing myself) and was browsing around while Heather hunted for her own pair. I kept pulling out the gaudiest shoes I could find and showing them to Mom, and Ms. Friendly asked if I was getting married!

Yeah, I'm actually still talking about my dreams/nightmares, not shoes, because the irony is so funny.

My first reaction was to blush. Second was a slow, quiet, "Um, no."

She went on to ask what the occasion was ("Prom?") and then decided to ask how old I was. When I told her, she kind of smiled and said, "Oh. The way you carried yourself, I thought you were, like, 21."

Is this a good thing or bad thing?

If nothing else, our interactions with her provided some humor.

Okay, onto something else besides my crazy dreams.

Yesterday Mom took us to get our Level 1 licenses. We left around 9, which had Heather up at 8. (Yeah, Mom called her to get her up and asked, "Are you up?" Heather said, "Um, no." She told me she was staring at the dark window and wondering why on earth she'd be up so early.)

We wished for two miraculous things as we headed to the Secretary of State office: a short line and a nice person to wait on us. Neither has happened any other time Mom's been in there. The service could make bridge trolls look friendly and helpful, from what I've heard.

But miracles do happen! When we arrived, there were only two people in front of us, and the person who helped us was apparently the manager and wasn't so sunshine deprived as her colleagues have all appeared to be (in regards to their temperaments, not complexions). She was friendly, she was patient, and she didn't give us any problems. (And she was wearing a very cute jacket.)

When Mom went to do the same thing with Wes, they gave her trouble over the documents she brought to prove residency, legal presence, etc. We have friends who brought in six or seven things just to make sure they weren't missing anything, and the people got mad at them for bringing too much, while they said the four items Mom brought to cover the four required areas weren't enough. (Fickle, much?) But not this lady. Mom brought two or three extra things for each of us and she didn't ask to see any of it.

After we filled out our forms and she got our names straight, she had us take the short vision test. Heather did fine, even though she's been saying she needs glasses. I, who have glasses, didn't do so well. Evidently my left eye is much worse than I had believed. They split the thing into three sections: left, middle, and right. I could barely tell the left section existed, but the right was clear.

Little things like this make me blush, and, of course, I did. But no worries. I survived.

After that adventure, we went for a little drive to see the snow. Thanks to routes, that didn't last long. Then, because we were nearby, we grabbed papers, and I ended up sitting through the whole route because it was easier than Mom dropping me at home. Cold is the only word there. The heat didn't kick in until near the end of routes. Again.

Then we did a little shopping and headed home.

Mom decided I needed a curly up-do for the party, and she is determined to make my hair curl. (It might just be me, but it doesn't hold a curling-iron curl if I use a whole bottle of hairspray and sit like a statue in an air-tight room all day. [Not that I've tried.])

So I took a shower, towel-dried my hair, and silently submitted myself to Mom's hands. (She can get borderline-violent when it comes to doing hair.) She loaded it with this weird smelling gunk and then loaded the top part with curlers, twisting the bottom in small strands and holding it all together with bobby pins because we ran out of curlers. Then I had to sleep with it like that.

And do papers routes with it like that, because Heather is at a friend's.

We had to get gas first, and I knew Mom wouldn't let me pump after the fiasco on Thursday (I'd rather not talk about it), but I assumed I'd go in to pay. Turns out even Mom isn't (usually) so cruel as to subject me to that torture to my pride, so she paid. Then to the paper office. No one in sight!

Actually, I almost made it through the entire routes without anyone seeing me (to my knowledge). Until we were three minutes from being done. We pulled up to one of the apartment buildings. There was a guy standing outside smoking.

"Do I have to do it?" I groaned, sinking down in my seat.

Mom insisted. I tried covering my head with my hood. No good. The hat Mom had brought? It wouldn't fit.

"He's probably already seen you. Just go."

So I went. I walked quickly up the sidewalk. He glanced at me, muttered a good morning, which I responded to, and turned away to pace up and down the grass. I rushed inside. Down stairs, trip on top step, drop paper, up stairs, smack self in face with paper, drop paper, mumble to self, back outside. The guy wouldn't look at me, and I hurried back to the car.

When we got home, I took Sasha out and then went to bed, drifting in and out of sleep for three hours before I decided I should probably get up. Sasha was two hours overdue for breakfast, and she wanted out.

I've been avoiding mirrors, windows, and puddles because every glimpse of my reflection I've had makes me cringe. Ah, the things we do to look nice. Now my neck and shoulder hurt because I couldn't curl up on my pillow, but the curlers are still intact. And they must remain so all day.

My hair better curl well, and it better stay that way until I take a shower tonight.

What else to say? Um, on Thursday one of the girls at co-op came up to me and remarked that I was wearing a NaNoWriMo hoodie. I excitedly asked if she knew what it was. When she said she did, that's she'd done it, I bounced and nearly squealed. She probably regretted saying anything at all, but it makes me really happy that someone else knows. I'm still waiting for the day a random stranger at the store will say, "You do NaNo? So do I!" But I don't see that happening any time soon. I keep trying.

I made a remark the other day while Sasha was in terror mode that I should have chose the fat, sleeping puppy. Let's be honest: she was in the middle of a nap, and when she did wake up it was because two of her sisters were sitting on top of her biting her tail and face. She didn't even have a chance to come when I stuck my hand in and called because she couldn't move.

And then Sasha calmed down and took a nap and I decided I could live with her. But I do have to wonder what would have happened if I had chosen any of the others. They didn't have very defined personalities at that point, but they were each different in subtle ways. What if I had chosen the sweet one Allenna picked up, or the cute one Heather grabbed, or the biggest, laziest one who didn't even look up?

Who knows?

Who cares?

Sasha's about 13 weeks now, and she is getting better. Now most of her accidents occur because I know she needs to go (she's only been barking in my face and pacing around for five minutes) and I ignore her for too long, or she's been in the crate for an hour too long and just gets too excited when I walk in. She's still not getting very far in training, but what puppy really learns much outside of the very basic commands before they're a year old? Hershey still doesn't obey unless he feels like it.

Yeah, it's not really the best idea to compare them. Not to be mean (though it'll come out that way) but Hershey is kind of...dense? He was crazy as a puppy, but now he's a laid-back, totally mellow, lazy dog who isn't too fond of copious amounts of fresh air and chasing a ball. Sasha could spend all day outside if the weather is good and is always demanding to be played with, and she picks up on things much faster than Hershey ever did. Granted, she's still a puppy, but they really aren't comparable.

Also, our household does not support pet equality, which really frustrates Sasha and makes Hershey smug. Hershey is allowed on the furniture and Sasha isn't. Hershey gets human food and Sasha doesn't (though she still thinks any and all food is hers by rights to take as she pleases). Before Hershey got angry and destroyed them, there were some toys that only Sasha could play with, but his heart was not off limits to her. (Oh, the things we could do with that rubber heart of his. Another time.) Hershey sleeps in the girls' room on a bed, and Sasha sleeps alone in her crate. Sasha has to eat at a specific time, but Hershey is free to eat whenever he is inclined to. (Don't worry, he doesn't over eat in any way. He just doesn't like eating if he's all alone. Especially lately, someone has to stand within sight of him before he touches his food.)

Okay, enough about the pets. (All three of which, by the way, are napping in the living room as I type this.) Actually, I can't think of anything else to write at the moment. And any way, I think this post is long enough now.

So a little cleaning, a little writing, and then probably two hours of preparing before the part tonight. I should be back tomorrow to write a little about that, and maybe I'll even manage to post a picture or two.

Every Time I Think I Have it, I Skip Three Weeks

I started writing a long, confusing insane ramble of a post, but it didn't even make sense to me and wasn't helping me sort my thoughts, so I abandoned it.

I'm not going to bother with a long recap. These last couple of weeks have felt pretty unproductive and quite wasted to me. Passing drivers ed, a little Christmas shopping with some ladies from church, a bowling/potluck activity with the youth group, working a couple days at Dad's store and getting exhausted in the process, fighting a cold stemming from allergies, enjoying a quiet Thanksgiving with four pies, four types of homemade pizza, breadsticks, hot chocolate, and cinnamon rolls.... That's pretty much all I've done.

I feel like when I stopped to collect myself life piled up behind me and I don't know how to clear away the wreckage so I let it sit there, mocking me. It's that same old issue of priorities that I'm always dealing with. I keep expecting at least one week - one day, even - will turn out like the ideal image engrained in my mind, but life doesn't work like that.

There. In two paragraphs I summed up all of the rambling that was 10 paragraphs and counting in draft post #1.

I've wasted so much precious time sitting in confusion after life tripped me up, and now I'm being trampled by all of the stuff I kept putting off. Overwhelmed, I remain on the group, dusty and tired and worn out even though I haven't done anything.

In a word: pathetic.

Okay, self pity/griping - check. On to better things!

(Aaaaaand this post takes me four days to write. Let's just say life's been a bit crummy. Ah, well.)

Things have been looking up, however. We're officially in a Winter Wonderland here! We've had a bit of snow once or twice already, but it barely stuck. Yesterday it started out as a mushy freezing mix of rain and snow, and then turned to true snow. I'm not sure how much we got exactly. Over 5 inches.

Upon first seeing it (read: being dumped into it) Truffles seemed to be a walking mixture of joy and confusion. Sasha tip-toed around a little before promptly gamboling in ecstasy. She's Hershey's opposite in that regard as in pretty much everything else. Now she doesn't want to come inside, but stay out and play in snow up to her chin.

Hershey took one look at it, huffed, and trudged out dejectedly. I don't know what his preferred climate is, but this surely isn't it.

However, Allenna gladly offered to take out the dogs all through the evening just so she could galumph right along side Sasha, so I'm happy.

So I woke to a beautiful frosty sunrise (sure, sunrises can be frosty) and was greeted by the ever energetic puppy. She's in an extra mischievous mood today, trying to wiggle her way into every off-limit nook and cranny we've worked so hard to block. She's also trying to make a toy out of the sock basket and her bedding. Ah, well. (Oh, yeah. I still need to put up a picture of her, don't I? It's so hard when she can't stop moving, even in her sleep.)

Me, I'm still not accomplishing very much. I'm an trying, but I think this will be one of those life-long issues. Why couldn't it have been OCD or being extremely unorganized?

Yeah, I don't really have much to say. I just knew I really needed to pop in and say something. So many half-profound thoughts I meant to blog about, but those are weeks past now. One day I'll figure it out.

Future World Traveler...and her dog

One very important detail was far from my mind when I picked that puppy out of the back of that truck and brought her home: the future.

Seriously. What have I moaned and groaned and puzzled over for the last couple of years? What I want to be when I grow up. When I started to figure it out, I decided a fair amount of world travel was likely to be involved. While the idea is romantic in a way, world travel with a dog can get confusing and difficult.

As weird as it may be, I didn't want a puppy for the sake of having a puppy. If I could skip the stage where it's all fluffy and bouncy and curious and hyper, I honestly would. I want a dog: a steadfast companion who follows me gladly with tail wagging, catching a ball in the park and curling up beside me in bed while I read and making people ooo and ahh over how pretty and well-behaved it is. But to get that, you have to survive the puppy stage so you can make sure the little (demonic) fur ball is learning the way they need to, looking to you from the start as their friend, and immediately understanding the rules. (Like the fact that, hard as it is to believe, not everything [including me] is edible, and not every creature will bow in submission before you, and when I say 'come' I honestly want you to come. Like, today.)

Sorry for that pretty much pointless rant. As usual, it's easier to write than it is to say, and as yet all attempts to explain it have failed. Mostly because I don't have enough patience. So I skip the face-to-face vent and bring it to you instead. :) Also, it's been "one of those days" (read: months) and my brain is being a bit slow sorting through the jumble of thoughts rolling around in my head, and then I'm too lazy to see if they actually are coherent when they come out.

So, moving on.

The first few days after getting Sasha, I suffered the teary-eyed remorse while I pondered how this one little (rather expensive) choice had altered all the plans I was starting to form.

Then I got over it and decided I may have stumbled upon the thing that would make my adventures even more amazing. It didn't change my daydreams; only added another layer of depth and color to them.

So one minute I'm picturing myself standing on those seaside cliffs in Ireland or sitting on the grassy slopes of a Scottish countryside or walking down a country road in England. And then there's one little addition to the picture: a dog.

How cool is that? Yeah, it makes me happy just thinking about it.

Of course, then I google "world travel with a dog" and reality throws me a line, tells me to hang on, and tries to haul me back down to earth. Turns out now isn't quite the time to start worrying about how all this will work out. I have years, in fact, because before the world traveling can commence, there's the little issue of monetary means to deal with.

Keep your life line, Reality. Don't you know I just have to get one of my books published, become a famous author, and fund my way around the world?

And then I remember: I haven't really written in a year.

I know I've said it before, but I'll reiterate: this whole growing up thing can certainly be a messy business. There are so many other variables to factor in that alter everything, which is frustrating for a person like me who likes to know the where and when and how of it right now.

Sigh.

If that didn't make much (or any) sense to you, it's okay. I'm probably as much or more confused as you.

Along the same lines as world travel and the future is my dream of finally uncovering the truth about the elusive and confusing history of Robert Royce. Compiling the family tree, I'm never sure what to enter about Robert or those in the generations immediately before and after him. Pretty much no one agrees on the name of his wife, the number and names of his children, where he was born, or even when he was born. (Seriously, between 1603-6 and 1562 are very different.)

At first, I planned to go to Somersetshire, England and dig for records there, but some dispute that Robert didn't even live there or, if he did, it wasn't for long.

These are the times when I wish I could time travel. I'd find Robert Royce and at least figure out where to start searching for information. I'd learn the names of his kids, his wife's maiden name, his birthdate. How amazing would it be to meet an ancestor who lived four centuries ago? Who honestly thinks about what will happen when they're dead and a few generations have passed and people start wanting to know their family history? I bet Robert never considered he would cause so much trouble to his distant descendants.

As it is, I think my starting point will have to be where he was buried in Connecticut, relying on no information but what I learn for myself. I know I can take a dog there without too much fuss.

Once I finally figure out the truth about his life (and I intend to), I'll be able to go back further and figure out how close my family comes to royalty. I'd be happy with a duke!

So much going on, yet life sees so dull....

It's been a full week!

Even if I had wanted to do NaNoWriMo this year, there's not way I would have been able to. Between memorizing Ephesians (like I was supposed to have done in August...), Institute, driver's ed, school, training a puppy, and renewed efforts to get my writing moving in a serious direction.

I meant to post on Friday but only got one paragraph in before I walked away and forgot to come back. So, recap! (Yay.)

Driver's Ed has been going well. (At least, as well as can be expected.) Heather and I drove for the first time on Friday. Just a country cruise. I have an issue with breaking (especially knowing when to slow down) and staying in the middle of my lane. I'm a poor judge of distance. We also had to work around routes, which wasn't fun.

We just got back from our second time out. This time it was in the city and on the freeway a little, with parallel parking. That was exciting. At least our instructor is patient. I have to say, I think I did far better the first time. This time was fraught with blonde moments and silly blunders, like turning left when I meant to go right and my right turn signal was on and he had told me three times to go right and I'd double-checked the directions.... Sigh.

I'm not enjoying having to miss Pastor's class, mostly because it means I have to wait to get the DVD and then I have to remember to make time enough to watch it and do whatever assignment he gives. Thankfully, Bro. Mark is allowing for our being 5 minutes late or so and he's making it easy. (He had breadsticks and brownies ready for us when we rushed in last week.) Class is early on Wednesdays because it's at a church, which is great for us. It makes for long days on Thursdays, especially because we drive on a Thursday evening next week.

Wes left Bible study in the middle of it to get us, and we were able to get about the last 30 minutes of the lesson. (But it's really confusing coming in on the middle because it's in Revelation...). So we're figuring it out.

That was pretty much our week up until Saturday, when we went to a wedding for a couple from church. (Scary thing is that I was in youth group two years behind them.)

The bride had a whole bunch of Peter Pan references tied in here and there, lots of color and patterns, old books and buttons and candles (ha!) on the tables, a "wishing tree" where guests could hang little notes.... It was awesome, and beautiful.

I think that about sums up my week. Between all of the activities, I've kept busy with writing (distracted by my superhero project instead of more important things, but at least I'm writing), Sasha (she's brilliant, but she doesn't apply it positively), and trying to keep hold of what little sanity I have left.

Sad as it is, that's about all I have to say about my life right now. I feel so unaccomplished.

As always, I shall try to return within a few days to post something meaningful. We'll see how it goes. Perhaps I could share a story excerpt.

Driver's Ed: as if I needed one more thing to endanger my sanity. (Plus: a rant about superhero flicks.)

I think I may be the only one surprised that I did fine during the first class of Driver's Ed. I'm now also much braver than Heather, because I stood up to bring things to the front two times.

Yeah, I'm pathetic.

I wish I knew why I always get so worked up about this sort of thing. My stomach was a queasy mess, my lips were dry from me licking them too much, I was shaking.... All because I had to sit in a classroom and listen to a teacher tell us how to be good drivers. He isn't even a mean teacher!

Anyway. Heather and I were some of the first to arrive at class last night. We headed to the row of desks furthest from the door and sank into our seats. Except for when I was in my first years of school, this is the only time I've actually sat at a legitimate desk, where the chair is attached to the too-small-desktop and there's a rack underneath to store possessions. I don't like it. But maybe I'm just spoiled.

By the time class began, there were 35 kids in the class and it felt a bit crowded. Not one of the kids actually attends the church where the class is being held. I think that added to the terrible state of my nerves. What was nice is that the teacher turned out to be a friendly guy with a decent sense of humor.

To help me calm down, I kept busy scribbling notes and observations in my notebook. First about some of the books I saw on the shelves next to me; then ideas for one of my stories; a note about how names seem to have a fair amount of impact on personality (and a prayer of thanks for my name); an observation that "people with nice handwriting don't write for fun. :)".

The first hour involved the teacher collecting checks and writing receipts for them, passing out attendance sheets, and having everyone put their information on one side of an index card with a map of the area around their house on the other. (That was fun.) Then we were each give our Driver's Ed "bibles". (Yeah, at one point he said "take out your bibles" and I sat in confusion until I finally realized what he meant by it.) On the subject of losing these, our teacher said, "If you lose it, the state of Michigan has authorized me to beat your with a bag of oranges."

I think I'll like this teacher.

By the last half hour, I'd recovered my usual (though still considerably unstable) state of mind. I also found my humor. While we were learning about the different kind of licenses, the teacher told us that if anything happened to our Level 1 license, we were to get it (or what remained of it) replaced. (His examples being if it was ruined or the dog ate it.) My note for this was "(but if the dog ate it....".

So, despite my doubts, it looks like my chances of survival remain optimistically high.

If we can work out the schedule, Heather and I will begin driving this Saturday. I'm glad I get to drive with her. We can go insane together.

When we got home, we had a movie to watch. Another superhero movie. (We'd watched Captain America on Sunday.) This one was Thor. I'm really starting to get sick of superhero movies.

WARNING: The rest of this post is a brief rant on why I hate superhero movies. You can stop here without missing anything important.

I like stories with complex plots and defined character development. Every superhero movie I've seen recently lacks both of these. (Iron Man was great, but they totally destroyed everything they accomplished when they made the sequel.) The plots are shallow, held together by explosions and terrible beasties and killing off the best friend or awesome black dude. Seriously. I felt terribly unsatisfied at the end of both Captain America and Thor because there wasn't anything important happening. Nothing to cheer for. They didn't spend enough time on the characters for me to be sad when they died. For Captain America, it was a blur of action interspersed with scenes full of empty dialogue or fight scenes or sweaty buff dudes strutting around without shirts. Captain America could have been an amazing character, but they spent more time having him throw around his shield and shoot people than actually watch him develop as a person.

As for Thor.... That's a whole new level of pain. The main characters share a couple of bashful glances and all of a sudden they're kissing? And it's not excusable like Enchanted. And what about Darcy? She was my favorite character and she didn't get the attention she deserved.

By the end of each movie, I sat there wondering what I'd missed, because, at least to me, pretty much nothing had happened. What they showed in a whole 1.5 hours was what ought to have barely been the first three chapters, prologue included.

/end rant/

Sorry. I had to. No one wants to hear me go through it out loud, and I ran out of room in my journal, so I had to share it here. Don't you love me? :)

I suppose it bugs me so much because it's exactly what I fear will happen with my own writing: empty one-plot stories held together with a few good lines, some special effects, and a bunch of flashing lights. It's one of those peculiar phobias I can't explain. I'm sorry you had to endure that, but I did warn you. (Or maybe it made you laugh, in which case I feel accomplished.)

I don't say this to encourage you to avoid any superhero movies. By all means, watch them, if only for decent special effects and the awesome Viking armor. I probably will watch them again.

But meanwhile I have chores to do and my own superhero story to write (if I can ever get past that dreaded first chapter).

Puppy Woes

Guess I should post one more time before the month is over.

I can't believe this is the last day of October! Weird.

'Tis been a busy week. (I'm not sure if that's even grammatically accurate, but I love "'tis', so there.) Sasha is a ball of energy galumphing through life with teeth barred and puppy eyes sparkling. She may be the bringer of sanity's departure around here. But I love her. (Now that I've recovered from buyer's remorse or whatever it was possessed me the first couple of days.) Especially in the morning, she's all energy. She'll bounce around obnoxiously for a couple hours (literally, she pounces and bounds all around the floor), crash in the middle of the floor and army crawl into a comfortable position to snooze, and start over with tormenting everyone and everything in sight. Especially Hershey. She's a brute to him.

We still have to find a kennel for her, and then a carpet shampooer for us. The whole only-go-potty-outside concept hasn't quite clicked yet.

Speaking of clicking, I bought a bag full of tasty puppy treats and a clicker with which to train her. We started this morning with sit. Another concept that hasn't quite computed is click = treat. She noticed the treats, realized I wanted her to sit, and started sitting pretty all over the floor and looking curiously at me out of the corner of her eye, totally disregarding the clicker. Yeah, this may take some work. She's quite intelligent, but her ADHD and the darker side of her personality take over a lot.

I really need to get a decent picture of the fluff ball to put on here.

Any way. My week.

Well, on Thursday we had to bring Sasha to co-op because leaving her alone with Hershey for 6 hours was not going to work. (He's still perpetually irritated at her. It's like how the cat treats him.) So I hid out in a back classroom no one was using, occasionally pulling in pals to ooh and ahh over the puppy, who was doing a remarkable job of looking perfectly innocent and sweet. Such a little actress. Mrs. Johnson was away with her youngest at a wedding, so I got to teach class. Thankfully the experiments were comprised mostly of water, though I had to comb my hair to get the comb electrically charged and felt rather like Rapunzel, only there wasn't just a cute chameleon watching me. While I was buy with science, Heather took charge of the puppy in her class of four.

When Mom came to get me to do routes, we brought Sasha home and headed out. When we returned around 2.5 hours later, both dogs were still breathing.

Friday through yesterday we girls joined most of the rest of the youth group at a camp a few hours NNW of here. 'Twas cold and gray most of the time, but in weather only. The youth retreat event itself was an adventure (a tiring one). Our youth pastor's wife deserves free hugs for a year and a bucketload of chocolate for the cabin in which she put me. It stayed clean and mostly quiet and we were drama-free. Lovely.

On the ride home, everyone in my van slept (except the driver, of course, though she was close).

We got back just before morning church let out. When everyone in the family was gathered, we had to drop off a paper Mom had forgotten about on routes that morning, then went to PetSmart for my puppy training tools, then McDonald's. As it was the 5th Sunday of the month, we had an afternoon service starting at 3, so didn't really have time to nap.

By the end of the day yesterday, it didn't feel like Sunday. We were home by 5 and watched a few movies and had a lazy evening.

This week I'm doing something new: Driver's Ed. Yeah, I'm freaked. It starts today. 13 days, Monday-Wednesday, or something like that.

So this is a really short post, I know, but it's taken me a good hour or more to get it finished because I'm busy keeping Sasha away from Hershey's new bone. I'll try to come back with something more worthwhile to write about next time.

The Beginning of the Holiday Season

I have an excuse for not getting back sooner: exhaustion. Up until Saturday, the week was normal. Church, co-op, a lazy day on Friday.

On Saturday, Mom and us girls headed out for a drive, just because. We headed up toward the Amish stores. On the way, we drove by a sporting goods store, and I commented that they sometimes had puppies. Mom (yes, I blame her) suggested we stop by to see if there were any puppies at the moment.

By now most of you know how the story ends. We saw yellow labs and some sort of Dachshund/chihuahua mix and something else I can't remember before we came to the truck where the lab/Aussie mixes were.

$40 for an 8-week-old, 1/4 Australian shepherd and 3/4 black lab puppy. For the last couple of months I've considered asking for a dog (even did at one point), especially now that I actually have some money. Suddenly, I was calling Dad and telling him to check out the message Mom had sent him: a picture of each of us girls with a fluffy black dog in our arms. And then he was okaying me to get one.

10 minutes later, as we drove away, me holding a puppy, I wondered, "Did I really just do that?"

Out of the four girls there, I couldn't pick one. Mom suggested I put my hand in the truck and call them over and take the first one that came. Only one came. The others kept playing and ignored me. That was easy.

Naming her was not so easy. It took a lot of time, but we eventually settled on Sasha.

It took about two days for reality to finally set in. Now that it has, I still wonder what on earth I've done. The first night, I started out with Sasha in a box in my room, but she wouldn't stop whining and it was late, so I let her sleep on my bed. She didn't stay still all night, and I got maybe two hours of sleep, between that and routes.

Sunday night she whined all night and I honestly didn't get a wink of sleep. By last night I was literally ready to cry I was so tired. We did everything we could to keep Sasha awake for the first few hours leading up to bedtime so she doesn't turn nocturnal. Then I pulled her box over to my bedside and keep a newspaper nearby. 20 minutes of getting a rap on the nose every time she made a noise made her quiet, and she went to sleep.

Ah, sleep.

(Seriously, on Sunday night we had our afterglow, and lack of sleep had put me in a very strange mood. Totally embarrassing.)

Now that I can think clearly, things are looking a little better.

Mom and Dad are convinced that by the time we get through her puppy stage, Hershey as a puppy will look like a field trip. She bites everything (even the shoes on your feet), she gets into everything, she picks on Hershey, she chases the cat.... The Aussie in her blood comes through in her intelligence. I'll be honest, how quickly she picks up on things compared to Hershey shocks me. We were living with a dog of slightly-less-than-average intelligence, and now we have one with high intelligence, as well as a saucy attitude. I'm scared.

So life hasn't really been boring, but I haven't done much else besides get a puppy. I made more laundry soap yesterday and managed to make an apple pie without Mom's help. I need to make another one today, because the last one is already gone.

Speaking of apples, I've become addicted to them lately. Mom got some a while ago from an orchard, and we've collected some here and there from paper route customers. But even with the three or four types of untreated apples from customers, I've found that only one doesn't give me any reaction at all. So I eat one or two a day now. I'd forgotten how good they were!

I can't think of anything else that's happened. Life progresses pretty normally.

As usual, I had something to share a few days ago but didn't, and now I've forgotten it. I suppose I'll try to come back in the next few days. I'll try to have pictures of my puppy ready to share by then. She hardly sits still long enough to get a decent picture.

Wait. I remember what it was! Last Tuesday Mom and I took most of the day to cook up a bunch of the apples we've collected. We finally turned on the Christmas music (normally we start in August, but not this year) and set to work. Mostly apple sauce and apple butter, but it helped me get into the holiday spirit. The perpetually gray skies and successive rainy days hasn't helped.

Now I'm suddenly remembering my week. My brain still isn't functioning at 100% capacity, if you couldn't tell.

During our drive on Saturday, after we got Sasha, Heather and I both got our first driving lessons. We start Driver's Ed in November (scary!). It wasn't too bad, though I was so nervous and tense that my shoulder got sore.

Also, last night, I saw northern lights for the second time in my life (that I can remember). Someday I might go someplace where they're bright and clear, but even here they're beautiful. There was a large patch of red and ribbons of white in a clear sky full of stars. Amazing.

So this week has been super crazy, and also a bit of a learning week for me.

I was doing so well for a while there.

I'm not even going to try to make an excuse for my negligence. Granted, the past couple of weeks were eventful, but I still had plenty of time most days to blog.

And it seems my computer doesn't want me to blog. Right as I started writing, it shut off on me.

Anyway. I'll stop making excuses and waiting to forget about blogging and finally do it.

Okay, October the 3rd.... Wow. A lot has happened since then. Okay, speed recap! (Ha!)

That was the start of the Revival Meetings at church. Well, I guess Sunday was. Sunday through Wednesday. That's my first excuse, though they didn't start until 7. At 5:30 Monday-Wednesday a bunch of us kids headed out to sell coupon books. We made some good progress, though I think we'll need to start looking for a new method of fundraising. Three or four other groups are selling coupons, too, and they get started a couple weeks before we do every year.

Because of Revival, we didn't have Bible study or Institute.

Thursday, of course, was co-op. Nothing special there. Well, at least, not out of the ordinary, but the whole experience can be very awesome. Mrs. Johnson needs an award for coolest science teacher. I rarely dreaded coming to chemistry, as much as I hated it, because she's great at making the whole thing fun and as easy as possible.

Friday and Saturday I was up early to go to work with Dad. Heather came with me on Saturday. We mostly worked in the back room, unpacking product and sorting and storing it in preparation for the remodel.

On Sunday afternoon, a couple of us Sr. High girls spent the day with one of the awesome ladies who works in the youth group. We made cookies and soup and listened to a 2-hour recording of the testimony of Darlene Diebler, a missionary who'd been in prison camps during WWII. Wow! What a powerful testimony. I think it also had something to do with one of the girls deciding at church that night that she wanted to be a missionary, which makes it doubly awesome and exciting.

I'm going to pause in my recap to say this: I truly do have an amazing youth group. Yes, we're all human. Yes, we most certainly make some terrible mistakes and we are very capable of doing stupid things (as I realized yet again this week). But I don't know where I'd be, or who I'd be, without the awesome people God's put in my life through this. I don't thank Him nearly enough for it.

So last Monday was normal. Just coupon books and Bible study. Tuesday was also normal, with Institute. On Wednesday and Thursday, we did the remodel at Dad's store: myself and Heather, Vanna and Mrs. Wright, and Abby S. and her mom were all there. That was exciting! I spent a good deal of my time organizing books in the Christian living, charismatic, parenting, and marriage sections. Oh, what fun! Seriously, trying to alphabetize that many books makes my brain ache, and it shut down half-way through so I couldn't remember where anything belonged. Not fun.

Also we'd called of co-op for the week because so many of us were not going to make it.

We didn't do a whole lot on Friday, except Vanna came over to spend the night so she could come to the church with us on Saturday to help prepare for the Chili Cook-off.

We arrived at the church around noon on Saturday. There were 7 of us in the group, though for a while only four of us were there working. Our theme was Italian, as we were doing pizza soup (it's become very popular in the youth group). Saturday was tiring in many ways, some of them not really related to the cook-off, though I really don't want to go into that. I did have a pretty decent headache by the end of the night, though thankfully it wasn't nearly as crowded as in past years. Must be because we did it two weeks earlier than normal and it came up kind of suddenly.

So a few of us wore (or drew on, in the case of one) mustaches, some had aprons, some had hats, and one was a mime. We had bread and soup with bacon bits, cheese, and olives as sides and decorated with a giant sign framed by curtains (shower curtains, no less), a checkered table cloth, candles, and peppers. It was fun, though I didn't really get around much and only had chili from one table.

Bro. Mark's brother and niece were the judges. That was fun. They judge chili, soup, and presentation. When Pastor stood on a chair to announce the winners, he did 3rd for chili, soup, and table, then 2nd for all, then 1st. When we weren't called each time, we got more and more nervous. He got to 1st place soup and called our table. Abby S., Heather, and Tonya marched up to get the prize (a gift card), and Pastor said, "How could you not give it to them? Look at them!" Then he told the girls to stay up there because we also won for presentation!

Yeah, I jumped up and cheered like an idiot.

$50 isn't really much between 7 people, but it was a nice way to end an exciting day.

On Saturday I also decided it was time to take a break from facebook. I have numerous reasons for doing this, one of them being messed up priorities. And, sad as it is, it's hard to do. But in 2 days I've already seen how helpful it'll be for me.

Sunday. Wow. I think I should write a book with all of the adventures I have early in the morning. Mom had 80 papers added to her routes this past week. (Being former walking routes, they're all condensed, so it only adds 20 minutes tops.) Sunday was the first time I'd done them, because I was working at Dad's store on Thursday.

So we're about halfway through routes, working on the new route. Everything's going fine for me never having done the route. Then we notice a fire on the side of the road. One of the leaf piles that had been raked (too far) into the road was on fire. Happening to glance back at where we'd just been, Mom saw a larger fire in at the end of the court we'd just done.

We got to call 911 and report it. Oh, yay.

While we're waiting for help to arrive (they told Mom she could go but she wanted to make sure it was taken care of) Mom started wondering how it could have happened, and then she wondered if we could have started the fires on accident. She didn't dare ask the policeman when he arrived if this was even possible. (Yeah, the policeman came a good five minutes before the fire truck cruised in. He got an extinguisher from his trunk and doused the larger fire. The first one had dimmed to smoldering ashes.)

We left to finish routes. When we were done, Mom quickly drove through the new route and a few other streets to see if there were any other fires, me all the time trying to assure her that I honestly didn't think it was our fault.

Mom later learned that she wasn't the only paper carrier to see fires that morning. Apparently somebody had been going through and lighting leaves on fire. Nice.

That brings us up to yesterday. It was a quiet day for me, because I wasn't feeling good. I ended up napping, and then opted out of coupon sales and Bible study. Not much to be said about yesterday.

I'm thinking a (not so short) recap is all I'll write today. Now that it's taken me almost an hour just to write this, I think it's enough for one day. That, and I really don't have anything else to day. I know I had thought of something to write yesterday, but I didn't even make a note of it and now I can't remember what it was. Oh, well.

The Songs Stuck in My Head

I still haven't finished that song.

Actually, it's more like four or five songs. A few weeks ago I sat down to collect and organize all of the bits and pieces I had accrued over the past year or more. I ended up arranging them a tack board (see the picture above) in hopes that if I had something visual to off of which to work I might have more success.

It didn't work, and I'm still where I was weeks ago.

For some reason, the words aren't falling into place. It's rather frustrating. But I'll try again and again until they do.

Mom and Dad took their missionary training this past week. We're now working on putting together our presentation, which includes a video. Mom commented yesterday that she wants me to write a song for Heather to sing at some point during the video.

I'm sure the song we could use is someone in that jumble of words on my tack board. If only I could find it.

I've always balked at forceful creativity in the past. Mostly from stubborn foolishness. I don't have an honestly decent reason. Lately I've been trying to train the creative part of my brain to work whenever, not just when I feel like it. I suppose this is a great opportunity to teach myself to just be creative at will.

It might sound silly, I know, but I used to think that I could only turn out something creative if I was in the mood and "felt inspired". I'm learning that all it takes is sitting down and doing it and I can usually find the creative mood in the process.

I have a favorite quote by Frank Tibolt: "Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action."

So I'll force myself to take action and finally get these songs out of my head and onto the page. Hopefully I'll soon be able to post them.

In other news, we have revival meetings at church this week. If yesterday is any indication, it's going to be a fantastic week. Also, because of meetings, we don't have Bible study or Institute, which means I get an extra week to study for the biweekly test we have in Ephesians class.

I know it's a short post, but I can't think of anything else to talk about at the moment. I guess I'll stop here.

A Day in the Life: Thursday

It's Friday now, but it was too late to post this last night when I finished it.

I'm writing this from my new phone! I feel so special.
Anyway, I decided a while ago while contemplating this new blog that I should have certain topics for posts. For example, I've done a few "What I Do" posts about my different hobbies. One of the topics I wanted to try is "A Day in My Life", where I record the events of one whole day. Boring, you think? I'm having fun! (Yeah, I tried the whole swype thing and didn't look back. You were right, Dad.)
So. My day.
I new phone has an option on the alarm clock where I can limit the number of times I can hit snooze or eliminate the option altogether. For my 6:45 alarm for Thursdays, I removed the snooze.Turns out that I didn't really need it anyway, however, because I woke five minutes before it went off.
Pp been struggling with a head cold that has moved into my chest and brought a cough with it. I woke with a groan. Get dressed, eat, play, with my phone, take the dog out, and away we go.
I had missed church last night. They'd had a birthday party, and though they hadn't returned everything to normal, how they'd left it was better in my opinion. We set up tables, and I sat down to do my devotions and writing. I got a call from one of the moms explaining why they wouldn't be here today. She spouted off a lost of instructions and whatnot. At the end, I said, "You do know you're talking to Amber, right?"
She laughed and said she thought I was Mom.
So I returned to this. Heather told me to stop texting. When I informed her I was blogging, she looked at me funny.
The day progressed without incident. Until physical science, I didn't do much. In science, we did two experiments, one of them with fire. 'Twas fun. I couldn't think of any movie references to link to class, so no candy for me. (Mrs. Johnson gives everyone a small piece of candy whenever someone quotes or refers to a science-related movie, because she's just that awesome.)
After that, I ate some yogurt and someone gave me some KFC mac 'n' cheese because it was "too cheesy" for them. Soon, Mom and Dad, who had been working at the church all morning, were ready to go. We dropped Dad off at home, I got changed, and then routes.
Like the past two Thursdays, I bagged everything because it looked like rain, but out didn't until we were done.
We stopped to get the mail, then got the girls and headed home. I didn't do much for a while. Per usual, Jess and Colin came by for a couple of hours just to hang out. Mom made salsa, I made apple crisp, and we sat down to watch a movie.

FedEx: Round Two

This month is shaping up to be "get-a-new-phone" month at our house. First Allenna, then Mom, and now me. I was due for an upgrade and, though I despise the forced SmartPhone charge, I decided I might as well get a new phone. (I need a job.) It was due to come in today. This time I was ready.

I was dressed by 9, knowing FedEx comes between then and 1, and while I sat on my bed writing I kept my eyes open.

Just now, the truck arrived.

I walked downstairs, calling Heather to get the dog. This time she did. Hershey had started to whine at the door, but Heather dragged him off to her room and shut him inside. I stood by the door, watching the truck back up into our driveway. The side door slid open, and I commented, "I think it's the same poor lady we had last time."

Heather said, "Really? Oh, no."

When she knocked, I opened the door with a smile. Yup. Same one. "Hello again!"

"Hi," she answered. "Yeah, I was just thinking, 'They're the ones with that crazy dog who ran away.'"

Ouch. So she didn't forget. I laughed and took that horrid device to sign my name. And once again, my 'o' looked like an 'a'. I hate cursive.

She verified the correct spelling, gave me my package, and walked away with no incident. Much to Hershey's chagrin. (I never cared to correct her that our dog is a he, not a she, as she referred to him on her last visit. I felt some small satisfaction in a stranger mistaking his gender. Haha, dog. Small victories.)

Feeling very satsified with myself, I carried my package upstairs to open it up. Why is it that some people get excited at anything new, no matter what it is? It could be a toaster and I'd still be giddy with excitement. (Though perhaps with good cause, because we haven't had one for a year or more.)

A pamphlet loaded with things about my new phone, a bit of bubble wrap, and a pretty little box. How much money must Verizon spend each year just on the production of their phone boxes?

I open the box. (Yes, I'm seriously writing this as I do it. I'm such a dork, I know, but you love me.) Phone, battery and two pieces for the cord, all wrapped in plastic. Way to draw out the suspense.

Yeah, I'm excited. But I'll stop here so I can focus on playing with my new toy.

I don't have any updates because I've managed to post regularly for the past couple of weeks. Yay me!

Runaway Dogs and Badminton

When it comes to our dog Hershey, there are times I'm convinced that he's determined to be rebellious and simply not learn what we try to teach him.

In the four (five?) years we've had him, we've taught him sit, shake, beg, lay down, roll over, play dead (sort of), crawl, and how to identify certain words. But two things we cannot teach him: how to come when he's called, no matter what he's doing, and how to sit quietly when someone comes to the door.

Today, FedEx came by with a package for which I needed to sign (Mom and Dad being gone). I'd been sitting on my bed in my PJ's, listening to music and happily typing away at my story, when I saw the truck pull up. I dressed in record time, pulling clothes out of the pile on the floor, and darted downstairs. Hershey was whining at the door and the Fed Ex lady was getting ready to leave with the package because I hadn't come quickly enough. Heather poked her head out her bedroom saying she couldn't answer it because it's school hours. I waved away the comment and told her to get the dog. She didn't.

I opened the door and immediately felt stupid because Hershey bolted straight for the FedEx truck, expecting a ride. (He loves car rides.) I was torn between chasing him and attending to the FedEx lady. Allenna appeared in her bright red silk pajamas and took off after the dog, and I signed my name terribly on that little plastic screen. ("Is that R-a or R-o?")

So much for keeping my cool. Allenna dragged Hershey back (thankfully he was too fixated on that car ride that he didn't run off), I told the lady to have a nice day, informed the dog that I currently hate him, and went back upstairs.

They say "Don't sweat the small stuff", but something I hate is looking like an idiot in front of strangers. It's pointless, because I'm sure they probably don't care and will soon forget the weird girl in a neon orange shirt and royal blue striped pants trying to chase a dog and sign for a package at the same time and then breathlessly saying, "Have a nice day", but I still get embarrassed about it.

Ah, well. I'll get over it.

We had an eventful day yesterday. (Whenever I say "eventful day", it usually just means I spent most of it away from the house, FYI.) I've been feeling a bit icky lately, with a sore, scratchy throat and some headaches that are in part because of the head cold thing going around and probably also in part because of allergies and my inability to regularly take medicine. So after 3 hours of being awake for routes and two hours of sleep between that and having to get ready for church, I was feeling rather crummy. Church was pretty normal, which is always good. Then we girls spent the afternoon at our youth pastor's. Heather and I had been commissioned to make the meal for the Sr. High afterglow yesterday night: pizza soup. (It's not as bad as it sounds. Just tomato soup, some spaghetti sauce, pepperoni, and cheese with bread for dipping.)

We walked in like it was home, which is how all of the teens have been taught to treat the youth pastor's house. It's kind of nice. All of the lights in the entry way and upstairs were on and I could hear a TV ringing in one of the boys' rooms, but we didn't see anyone. I called out, "Hello? Anybody home?" and we thought we heard Ms. Amy answer from her room, but we didn't hear anything else and assumed she'd come out in a minute.

I went outside to greet their horse of a dog named Riley (a fat, simply adorable yellow lab who likes to jump), and then we stood around awkwardly for a few minutes wondering what to do. Then we heard a really weak voice calling out and realized Ms. Amy was waiting for us to come to hear.

No one had told us she was sick with a sinus infection. We found her curled up on her bed with her computer, the curtains pulled and the lights off, barely able to speak. She gave us our instructions: help yourself to the food and feel free to hang out.

Apparently the supplies for supper had yet to be acquired, and Ms. Amy had to get somebody to take us shopping. So we found some munchies and headed outside to play a little badminton (which took me all day to get even partway decent at playing). Then we went shopping, made the soup with only a few small difficulties, and hung out until church.

After church, we headed back to Bro. Mark's for afterglow. There were only about 10 people there, and we had planned on more than twice that many when we bought the food. But it was fun. While the Jr. Highers have organized playtime, we Sr. Highers catch up on our social lives, which usually means crashing in the living room and chatting for the entire event. Sometimes we may toss a ball around while we do this, or maybe pull out some coloring books (seriously), and on occasion a few of us will do something active (like play badminton, which is difficult to do in the dark). That's pretty much how all Sr. High activities go. I like it.

Now it's Monday again. I have a list of things to accomplish, so I should probably get to that.

Visions of Autumn

Is it just me, or does autumn seem to be synonymous with "wishy-washy"? At least in Michigan, the other three seasons can each be defined by a certain picture. Spring is wet and colorful, with a bit of gray slush on the roads and flowers popping up through the snow, as well as the occasional flood; summer is warm and bright and full of activities and adventure; winter is cold and full of snow and the sound of cars spinning on icy roads or of shovels pushing into snowdrifts. However, I can't pin autumn with a stereotype. Every day I look outside and say, "This is the epitome of autumn" and the next day I say, "No, this is". Maybe I'm the one who's wishy-washy.

For example, the last few days have been gray and drizzly and cold. The trees, shifting from vibrant green to warm red and gold, with the backdrop of looming gray clouds, is one image of autumn. But then there are days like today. I stepped outside to check the mail and was greeted with golden sunshine, blue sky, and birdsong. I like this vision of autumn far better, and right now I'm wishing I had a camera so I could capture it.

Autumn is the season where you blink and it's suddenly there. One minute all is green and warm and the next the grass is brown and the trees are red and the fields are gold.

I've never been able to decide which season I like best. Lately, I've heard people say they prefer autumn over the others, but I don't think it's that way for me. I like autumn, sure, but I much prefer watching flowers bloom and crops grow to watching the plants wilt and fade. Mom grimaces at the thought of spring, no matter what time of year we're in, but I think spring is my favorite. (Considering my birthday is right at the beginning, I may be a bit biased, but still.) I like the rain washing away the snow. I like seeing life sprouting up all over the place. I like the first glimpse of warm sunshine on a world returning to color.

I don't know what's put me in such a poetic mood. Maybe it's the fact that I greeted the day early with tea and cinnamon swirl bread. Maybe it's because I finally, really started Book 2 and I'm finally excited about it. Maybe it's because I spent the last hour browsing awesome pictures on 365project.org. (Like this.) I don't know. Anything is better than the mood I was in when I wrote yesterday. (Glad it made you laugh, Grandma.)

I guess I should get back to writing. One page down, too many more to go.

Which season is your favorite? What's your perfect vision of autumn?

Four hours later... (Or: Writer's Block: My Recurring Nightmare)

WARNING: RANT!

I've been dealing with Book 2 for years now. To me, this story is the epitome of writer's block. No matter what I do, I can't find a way to get over it. Once upon a time I actually liked the story, but now I'm scared of it. It's like I'm being haunted.

Whenever I sit down to work on it, I end up with a page full of scribbles or nothing on the page at all. My mind just goes blank.

I've suffered one serious writing slump for a good year or more, and I'm starting to think Book 2 deserves part of the blame. It's cramping my creativity. So I decided recently that I'm not writing anything else until I take care of this frustrating book.

I know. It's bad for a writer to hate what they're writing. Thing is, I hate hating it! But I don't know how to view it except with extreme loathing for all of the trouble it's putting me through.

Maybe it's just that I'm still trying to find my writing style, and my issues with Book 2 stem from the fact that I'm not really sure what needs to be done about it. I don't know.

So last night I decided to see if morning writing could help. If I woke early enough and forced myself to write while still half-asleep and not thinking completely rationally, maybe I could clear some headway so when I finally became coherent I could get some work done.

That plan bombed.

I set my alarm for 6:30 and woke to find myself too tired to get out of bed, so I reset the alarm for 7. When 7 rolled around, I hit snooze 5 or 6 times before finally rolling out of bed. (Not like this is unusual or anything. I hit snooze a lot.)

Maybe I should have started writing right then, but I didn't. First I took a shower. Then I went to retrieve my computer cord from the girls' room. (My cord is now the only working computer cord between mine and two of my siblings' laptops.)

Of course, Heather had it plugged into the outlet beside her bed. In the wall against which her bed is set. So I had to devise some way to get around her to reach the cord. Meanwhile the dog took my appearance to mean it was time to wake up, and he was begging to go out.

I finally got the cord, started to ignore the dog and felt bad about it, then fed him and took him outside.

Finally, I returned to my room. 8 o'clock now. I started up the computer and pulled out my Bible to do my devotions. That done, I thought to start writing. But distraction after distraction came up.

Now it's 4 hours since I woke up and I haven't made any progress. I wrote a 300-word story for my Word a Day thing I haven't done in forever, but that's as far as I've got creatively speaking. I've checked the mail, eaten a salad, listened to music, stretched, brushed and brushed and brushed my hair, slammed my head on the desk, checked facebook three times, glared at the blank page in my word processor, braided my hair, and written a mini-rant to myself. So I decided to come on here and share my writing woes with you. Don't you love me?

Now Mom's awake and I'm being reminded to take care of the laundry I've been neglected. Just a minute.

....

I'm back. Everything I've read about dealing with writer's block (if that's what I really have) has offered different suggestions on ways to get rid of it, but on two points most of them agree: take a shower and go for a walk. I've already done the shower thing. Maybe I'll take the dog on a walk. Or perhaps I should wash some dishes.

Or maybe I'll just slam my head on the desk again.

However, these things are suggested (except for head slamming) as a way to clear one's head. Considering my mind is already blank, perhaps they'll just serve as outlets for my procrastination. Though I don't think I'll hear any complaints if I procrastinate by washing dishes.

Have I bored you long enough? I'm sorry.

I think my song for the day is "Knee Deep" by the Zac Brown Band:

Wishing I was knee deep in the water somewhere

Got the blue sky breeze and it don't seem fair

Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair

I'm going to go wash some dishes now.

Technological Achievements, Psychological Adjustments, and a Rambling Recap of My Week

I'm feeling particularly technologically savvy today! I finally figured out how to put music on my Nook, all by myself! (Unless you count the various google searches for tips, but I'm not counting that.) Laugh if you will, but it was a feat for me. Nook doesn't read wma (Window's Media Player), which is what all of my music is set to. I could either download some unknown program to convert the music to mp3 format, or I could download iTunes and then magically convert my music through that. (I couldn't just take the CD's and rip them to iTunes because I lost them....)

I tried downloading iTunes months ago, but my computer insisted the process would take at least...58 hours, was it? Yeah. But this time it settled for 15 minutes or so. Silly, fickle machine.

Then I had to change the preferences in iTunes (which I am not all familiar with) and import music from Window's Media. Plug in the Nook, drag the music to the specific file, and viola!

Applaud me or laugh at me, I don't care. That took serious brain power on my part. (And many, many google searches.)

However, with only one CD on my Nook, I'm up to 88% used memory. So until I figure out how much space I have left and how much space a few more CD's would require, I'm stuck listening to the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack over and over (not that I'm complaining, though I long ago memorized it).

So that's the adventure for the day. I know, real exciting.

I think I really do need to do a recap, because last week was an eventful week! I'll try to keep it brief, because I do have a little thought to share after (the thought being in part related to an event of last week).

Well, for one, I've kept busy reading. Friday the 9th I picked up Taliesin (tally-eh-sin), the first book in Stephen Lawhead's Pendragon Cycle (and pronounce Pendragon how you will...). I'm now two-thirds of the way through the third and last book, Arthur. A couple years ago I picked up another of Lawhead's books but didn't get past the first chapter. I'd been eyeing this series for years and finally read them. They're fantastic! Another epic series that I'll be sad to finish. Yes, I've laughed, I've cried, it's moved me, Bob. Thus far, my favorite take on the legends of Arthur. However, I think I read too much too quickly because soon after starting Arthur my brain felt a bit overloaded and I slowed down. Where Merlin took about a day and a half, it's taken me since Wednesday to get this far in Arthur.

Right. Brief.

Well, Wes got a "real" job last week, so until some poor fool takes his paper routes, we're doing them. Even on Sundays. Oh, so horrible. (It may only take 25 minutes, but it's a long 25 minutes.)

Okay. Sunday was the annual Pig Roast picnic. Another adventure. I was nearly killed, but I don't want to relive that experience.

Tuesday was the second week of Institute, Thursday the first day of co-op (around 20 families!). I still haven't really started my own school....

Friday Allenna and I spent the day with Ms. Amy and her boys (all but Zack). We went down (up? over? somewhere) to Houghton Lake, where a lady in our church owns a cabin. She needed Ms. Amy to put some chlorine in her hot tub.

Well, first we ate some giant pieces of steak while they ran their routes, and then grabbed sweet goodies at Wal-Mart to get us through the two-hour drive. When we arrived at the cabin, we pulled out the kayaks and started up the hot tub.

I've said for a while that I'm not really one for any type of craft that moves on water (I'm not really one for large bodies of water in general), but when I tried kayaking a while ago I really enjoyed it, and I was eager to do it again. The lake was calm and the day wasn't too cold. I'm surprised my arms didn't hurt more Saturday with how long I was out there. Allenna joined me for a bit, but mostly she spent her time between searching for stones and shells in the foot-numbingly cold water and the hot tub with the boys.

We were there for probably three hours. We grabbed some pizza (loaded with meat!) and headed home. A beautiful day.

Saturday Mom took us kids and Jessi and Vanna to the Renaissance Festival. Allenna wore my costume dress and I pulled together a decent gypsy costume out of mine and Mom's wardrobes, but none of the others dressed up.

It was a clear, sunny day, neither hot nor cold, and crazy busy at the Faire. It's pretty much all shops (shoppes?) there. No attractions, unless you count the people that come. We saw Vikings (at least I think they were supposed to be Vikings), pirates, the Queen and her court (how many feathers can you fit on one hat?), giant hounds and little dogs in kilts or fairy costumes, ogres, trolls, fairies, a person in a toga, knights, musketeers, a Revolutionary-period reenactment group that some people from our church are a part of, wizards, elves, gypsies, squires, monks.... It's more like an all out historical and fantasy festival, not just Renaissance. But if you want to spend the day people watching, that's the place to go. If you want to spend $70 on a simple skirt you could make for $3, that's definitely the place to go. And while you're there you'll likely trip over someone's sword or get a puff of cigar smoke in your eyes or be graced by a smile from the queen (especially if you have a camera). Maybe one day I'll be able to go dressed totally authentically, but I don't know when that will be.

Yeah, that wasn't brief. Sorry.

Okay! Deep thought of the day. Well, it was from a few days ago, actually. It stemmed from a conversation with Ms. Amy while on our way to the lake. We were talking about the hot air balloon fest going on last weekend and I made the comment that I didn't think anything could get me up in one of those. I mean, come on; when I'm on the ferris wheel I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper like a baby, and that thing's solid.

Ms. Amy agreed that she had a fear of heights, but she said if she ever had the chance of going up in a hot air balloon, she's take it, because who'd want to miss a chance like that for the sake of some fear? She went on to say how she's been forcing herself to get past her fear so it doesn't keep her from having fun.

It got me thinking. I didn't used to be this fearful. I used to ride the high and fast roller coasters with the best of them (being my dad). I loved the thrills. And then one year I got dizzy while trundling up to the top of a roller coaster, and I stopped riding them.

I feel pathetic when I can hardly stand on the second floor balcony of the Lincoln, NE capital building without shaking, and how I almost cried at the thought of riding the elevator to the 15th floor. Don't even get me started on my hysterics display on the high ropes course at the zoo.

I don't appreciate getting lightheaded and dizzy and frozen with fear, but I think a lot of it is in my head. (That or some part of my subconscious is insisting that I need more attention.) Just like my distaste for high bridges and deep water and canoes and kayaks. For the sake of having fun, I once looked past that and went out on the lake in a kayak, and I had fun.

Come next June, ready or not, I'm going to get on a plane and head to Peru. That's got everything I don't like: heights, that stomach-dropping sensation when you say good-bye to the group, and being in something not firmly planted on the ground. I'm thinking I need to take Ms. Amy's advice and start forcing myself to face my fears so I'm not blubbering hysterically when I don't have the choice of stepping off the ride. I want to enjoy myself, and I can't if something so menial as a psychological disorder called unreasonable fear is holding me back. All it takes is some prayer, some deep breathing, and then forgetting about it.

This isn't really how I intended to write this post. I had planned to make some off-hand remark about forcing myself to get over my fears. Ah, well. None of my posts ever go as planned. Sorry if I totally bored you with my self-reprimand there.

Hey! In other news, I'm back to work with Book 2. There's another fear I have to face: the fear of actually looking at the mess I made with the first draft. It's rather embarrassing, but more so when I consider that mess was made back in 2008! Yikes!

Someone slap me.

Once I finally get past this disaster, maybe I'll be able to really write. I'm starting to think my fear of making another mess like Book 2 is what's holding me back when it comes to my creativity.

Whoa! Look at the time! Well, I have to run. Bible study calls!