It snowed, on Christmas, and my day off. Could timing, or anything else, be better?
I'm also pretty dead right now, spent the night in my sister's room, meaning I slept less then ideal. Not to mention my brothers were up and eager before seven. The day before, I missed my nap. "Twas busy building a classic rock tape, for someone who will hate it, none-the-less ;)". But it was o.k. Because I got to listen to all those great old hits. John Lennon, anyone? Now, after filling up on turkey, stuffing, and Christmas pudding I find I am very nearly content and would like very much to fall asleep.
So, I find I do not get quite so excited over presents as I used to. But I gotta admit, I still love opening gifts more then I ought to. Or, how much ought I ought to?
I got some good stuff. A great world globe that lights up (I know, it sounds weird, but it's awesome). A local judo sweatshirt, which I very much wanted, area rugs, roller blades, coffee table, lots and lots of cool stuff. No music though. I'm starting to feel like new music but I have no way of knowing what Christian stuff is new, out there, and good. I'm thinking Toby Mac's latest? But only if it's not as driven rap as his last one. I like it, but one disc is probably enough. Meg got wow, and I like the single of his that's on there. Any other suggestions?
so, que otro? I get tomorrow off to. Having two days full of family, food, friends, and new stuff makes for a Christmas worth celebrating. However, it still seems a lot more different then ever before. Not quite as magic, a little more stressful, and some of it a little less exciting.
Best to you all, and Merry Christmas!

I didn't peel my first Chritmas orange of the season in one piece.
No!
I always peel them in one piece.
My Christmas is ruined.

I'm a bit worried about myself as of late. Yesterday I put yogurt away in the cupboard and didn't notice until hours later when I opened it to get out a bag of cookies. For three weeks in a row I've forgotten to bring a magazine for my co-worker. Last night I woke up three times and panicked thinking I was late for work. Wrong hour each time. Once I actually got up and started eating a casual breakfast (even though I was "late") before I realized that I was up an hour early. Don't ask me what I was thinking please, I really wouldn't know. I've gone several weeks without milk because I keep forgetting to get it at the dairy.
I've always been forgetful. Used to drive my Mom nuts. But it wasn't bad to the point that it was effecting me much. Last year I never left my gi at judo. So far this year I've managed it three or four times.
I figure I'm getting alzthimers. Or maybe the loss of brain cells from lack of sleep has finally reached a level where it actually effects me. Or maybe I just have so much more stuff to remember as of late that I'm naturally forgetting more too. That, needless to say, is the explanation I like best.
My lack of Christmas spirit is another issue. I blame it on the lack of snow, and numerous other things. But ultimately it's like I don't have time to be Christmassy. Yesterday the radio DJ said, "tomorrow it'll be a week 'till Christmas". I tell you, I just about freaked out. It can't be. I haven't had time to have December. No!
This Christmas is so different then any in my past anyway. Other then the year I spent in Mexico they were all so predictable, crammed with tradition, secrets, thrills, and baking. I liked them that way. Christmas has come to embody family, free time, and, well, Christmas stuff. Anyone know Christmas in the country? That's my usual Christmas to a tee. One of my favourite Christmas songs. Thanks Roger, you're a part of my usual Christmas too. Just, this year, I guess you get eliminated as well.
I haven't hardly started my shopping. Yikes! How am I supposed to get that picture enlarged by next Friday?
Great picture, by the way. The kinda sappy gift I would never give if I lived it home but now that I don't I can be very mildly sappy on occasion.
I love living on my own. At first it was a bit strange. But now that I've grown into it, it's great. My house is so cool. And on. But once in a while I would like to leave it all for a bit and be a moody highschooler with a dorky family that's determined to live the simple, Christian, straight-forward life.
But, to justify my actions, my family has just simply turned a whole lot cooler since I left. I can hang-out with my sister. Go to hockey games with her, and enjoy it. My brothers and I can wrestle, gossip (yup, they're some of the most notorious gossips I know), and goof off for hours when I go home.
Huh.

Well, What do you think? Design by essy. Yes, I know it's a little...autum. But that's o.k. I like it. Specifically the colours.
Thanks ess. And, sorry I took so long to get around to doing it. Kinda no computer type thing.
Other then that, we got our Christmas tree today. Gotta love Christmas!

You know what I hate? Well, lots of things actually. Cows that kick, soggy pathetic snow, getting up way to early, the list could stretch on for a very long time.
Apparently I'm a pessimist. And probably true. Because I don't expect good things to happen. I'm too old, not talented enough, the odds are against me, not a possibility, not old enough, not smart enough, yeah right. You catch my drift. My Dad has a story he likes to tell about me. How I once changed the battery in my watch and exclaimed in surprise, "Hey, it's ticking!". To my defense, the battery was leaking acid and had to be cleaned with an eraser. However, my Dad still seems to find it very good proof of my miserable outlook on life.
But aren't pessimists supposed to be crabby depressed people? Excuse me if I'm wrong, but I don't think I am. I figure I can't be a real true pessimist. And I think this is why, I see the good side of where I am right now. Of exactly what my life is. Of the small town thing, the manual labour thing, the I-have-the-whole-wide-world-and-most-of-my-life-to-go thing.
So you know what I love? A lot of things, actually. Amusing things that make me laugh, falling asleep, fluffy white snow, perfect throws in judo, brothers that like to wrestle. The question really is, do I hate more things then I love? And what do I abide on more? Do I let the things I hate really bug me, or do I revel in the things I love? When I lay awake at night and think, is it all about the nastiness of life? Or how lucky I am to have it?
And that, my friends, is why I insist that I am not a real pessimist.

You have no idea what kind of ultimate ideas I have to write here. When I'm not in front of the computer, of course. And now that I am, I have no time and nothing worth saying. Go figure.

My boss (the younger on), came up to me the other day with that look on his face and told me we had to talk. My initial reaction, Oh, crap. What I said out loud, "Yeah?". He then shared with me that they had the chance to hire a very good experianced herdsman/milker. That made me really happy.
"But we've decided to stick with you."
Quite frankly, I would feel bad laying somebody off because somebody better came along too.
All he wanted to know was that I would be staying for a while, so they wouldn't be left in a month without any milker whatsoever.
So I said I thought I'd be there at least a year. so that's that. There's something that initially rebelled to the idea of having to stay in one place regardless. Ultimately, though, I know that I would be there that long anyway. So it's nice just to have the final, O.k., you're here. So just do it. I now have a year to sit back, and just work, get ahead, whatever. And when it's up, I'll probably stay on anyway. But if I've decided to move on, well, that's the point where I work towards my next goal.
"But don't feel like you have to keep me on."
"No, you're good. Yeah. You're good."
Whatever.

So much news, so little time.
I'm a college kid for two days. No toga parties, frat boys, or final exams though. Just a pretty basic first aid course.
I got a speeding ticket. Hasta suck. But one had to see it coming at some point. Now I just have to keep from getting another one. Can't really afford to lose my license at this point.
I went off sugar for a month. Sure, call me an idiot.
I have a cold. I could swear it's assosiated with the no sugar.
I got silver at our judo comp. Not to happy about it, there were only three competitors. I did beat the blue belt though.
I actually have three days off and got through a novel. Go me!
It snowed. Didn't stick, but did snow.
And there was so much more I have to say, but, of course, I can't remember it at this present time.

Someone asked me how I had changed in the last several years, and then actually stood and waited for an answer. I couldn't give one. I thought and hummed and hawed but I really could sum up whatever it is that's different in me then when I was sixteen. I know I'm different. I even know what some of those differences are. But it's only in my mind. I can't tell you how I've changed.
"Oh comon. You're the one that's so good with words"
*secretly happy* "No I'm not"
Anyway, I got away with saying I'd grown up a bit. But now it's bothering me, the not being able to put it into words. So I bring you this,
I've taken to chewing gum. Nothing new, dramatic, or surprizing about that. I carry it around in my purse (called artillery bag by my dear father). There are, however, several new and surprizing things that I only just realized. And it was sad.
I'm not constantly chewing it. Just, every now and then I'll say to myself, "self, you feel like some gum". This from the girl who never used to be able to make her chocolate Easter bunnies last longer then a few days. But now that gum sits in my purse and only comes out when the mood strikes.
This is what bothers me. I buy the stuff that slides out of the cardboard and comes in squares hardly bigger then smarties that rest in foil covered individual areas. You get the picture. I go for names like dentyne and excel. And every kind I buy is sugarless. I don't do it on purpose. But when I get around to looking it will inevitably state "sugar free". Take that sugar chick! I get flavours like cherry ice, cool spearmint, and *gasp* dentyne intense.
I don't know when this happens. I used to be the queen of bubbulicious. I had all the flavours listed in order of favouritness, starting with paradise punch and ending with lemonade. I would chew a pack at a time, letting it sit on the microwave overnight and making it last a week. I could blow bubbles bigger then my head. So large, in fact, that I would even impress myself. Now I actually throw the stuff away after one chewing and am content with a square at a time. Bubbles, whatever.
I very nearly used to snub the stuff I chew now. Hey, didn't only adults chew it in order to freshen their breath? You couldn't chew it. and bubbles were out of the question. What the heck was gum if not bubbles, sugar, and artificial flavour? Heck, the stupid mint "gum" near burned my mouth. the stuff wasn't even enjoyable!
So that why it scares me. Because that very nearly slipped by without me noticing. And, really, I think I like the idea of being a bubblicious self better.
But hey, I still buy the Juicy Fruit when I feel young and carefree. Small squares, yes. Sugarless, admittidely. But not a hint of mint!

I have about five minutes. That's all of enough time to say,
judo and hockey are tied as the world's best sports.
These are followed by volleyball and basketball,
which are followed by downhill skiing and snowboarding (hey, it's fun to watch).
Then, soccer.
So what if I can't play any of them. They're fun anyway. And it all depends on what mood I'm in.
Now, dare I be stupid enough to post such a stupid post?

Gossip is vicious. Yup we all know that. Gossip is evil, we know that too. And, we all know the argument that it's mentioned in the same sentence as murder when it comes to the bible.
So what is gossip? I have come to the conclusion that it's a deliberate tearing down of someone. There's the telling of facts, maybe it isn't right, but I don't think it's as wrong as malicious spreading of rumours. I live in a small town where "gossip" is rampant. I know everyone else's reputation. I know their weaknesses, what every one hates about them. What they think about them. I know who likes who, who's going out, who's breaking up. So and so smokes, what's 'is face is engaged, those people's wedding is off. Little tidbits float around. Sometimes I hear them later then most, sometimes earlier. Generally I hear someone's rendition of someone else's tale. People generally don't come up and tell me about themselves. I think they'de be smarter to. That way I know it, they know I know it, I know I've gotten facts, and they'de have control over my first immpressions.
I havn't done much worth whispering about. But I know bits of me get talked about to. What annoying traits I have. Why I am this way, what I should change. Weather or not I make good decisions, ect. And I'm even one of the least exciting people around. Not much in the way of scandals here, I'm afraid.
Then there's the real caring gossip. Where you actually want to help somebody (rare).
Or the helpful gossip (watch you belongings, 'cause he shoplifted from my mom's work).
Or the curious gossip (Did she, really? No. Wow.)
whatever of that qualifies as gossip, that is.
Everything is just generally discussed. And backs covered (but I don't think she could help it)(it's not his fault)(but...). Private opinions voiced (it's digusting)(That's something they didn't want to bring out)(Man, the kid is 15).
Everything is generally discussed. And it doesn't really bug me. A friend said "I gossip about everyone and I know they're gossiping about me." It would just be nice if, sometimes, people would just, you know, talk on occasion.

Dang! I just lost a super long post!

For some reason I'm not quite ready to go back to work tomorrow. Not that I reallyreally mind but it feels like it should be a day off. For whatever reason. It will look something like this.
work
hockey
2nd Thanksgiving dinner at friend's (Did John tell you I called?)
work.
But I suppose I didn't really come on here to say that.
Thanksgiving. a few things to be thankful for (and only a few)
my family
my friends
my house
my car
my job
my freedom
my life
my health
sports
books
days off
laughter
icecream
music
and much much more
2 things I wanted to share about work. Positive, of course.
1. When I go to bring in the mastitis cows there are two little calfs in the pen next to them who run up when they see me. I scatch their ears and then they suck my fingers. In a way it almost tickles and simply makes me chuckle in glee (plus, it helps that I'm usually mostly awake by this time)
2. I threw straw yesterday. And it was glorious. The sun started to come up. My breath was creating miniture clouds in the air. If felt so country and farmer. I got in the rythm. place hands, pick up, rotate, set down. It was just genuine, and alive. And somehow right with the world.
But now they want me to do hay tomorrow. To anyone who doesn't know, hay is a heck of a lot heavier.
Ah well. Thankfullness, Kris. Thankfullness.

My back is messed.
I was kneed so hard in judo that my crotch still hurts even though I'm female.
My arm has taken on a stiffness that I cannot explain.
One would think I was getting old, or something. But I'm not. No, I refuse to get old. Young and immature forever!
I live in a society that's fixtated with youth. Civilizations of that past and currently all over the world have respected their elders. Indeed, looked at them as fountains of wisdom. But not in twenty first century north America. Not in this era and society where computer edited faces stare at us from the check-out line. People go through mid-life crisis, women pump themselves full of botox. Aging men who can finally afford it buy themselves hot cars. Stick figures stride down the runway. Our aging, those who struggled to bring us to where we are now, are stuck in nursing homes.
We practically worship our youth. They're not expected to take on responsibility. Crimes they commit are hushed and covered up. They "hang out" wherever and wherever they like. Creative talents, limitless ability, and physical primness is often wasted because they aren't taught how to manage themselves. They aren't expected to be able to think for themselves.
I went to get a cell phone, but no, not possible without a parents signature. So onto the insurance place, where I needed to bring my Dad along again. I'm apparently not capable of knowing right from wrong or taking care of myself. I certainly can't own a house. Not even a full drivers license. All because I'm not yet nineteen.
Yet I can get an abortion and my parents need never know about it.
Something tells me I can thank my peers for all this distrust and stereotyping.
Pick any time in history up until the last hundred years. By now I would be expected to be married and have three kids. Please don't get shocked yet. I'm not trying to insinuate that girls should be packaged housewives by time they hit puberty. I'm just making the point that we are actually capable of more then graffiti and pre-marital sex free of responsibility. Just ask it of us. We've led armies into battle. Created works of art, written incredible music. We've changed time, pushed the norm. And we should. We're young, crammed full of energy, and not yet stuck in our ways.
It wasn't until the fifties when the term teenager even existed. By time you were old enough you were expected to "grow up". Yet somehow about the time we became advanced enough we allowed our young to fall into a new category. We don't need them to help at home or do the labour anymore. Maybe it's easier that way. Easier for them and easier for us. Stuck in highschool for eight hours a day where we are bored, brainwashed, and finally set free tired and sick of "being productive".
So we rebel. But what the heck do they expect?
Now that I've said all that, I really did love my teen years. And I think we should have a shot at that in between time where we're not kids but not quite adults. Just, please. Encourage us show what we've got. To learn where we can, and reap what we sow. And then don't be surprised to see us blossom.
Yes, I live in a society fixtated by youth. I fall into it so easy myself. No wonder we don't want to grow up.
And I refuse to. I'm invincible. Remember, I'm young!

Currently life is a bit different then I've known it for the past few years (go figure). One of the differences is I actually can always find some sort of productive thing to fill every waking hour. Which means reading becomes a novelty. Sitting about is an absolute time waster. Hanging out with friends is a survival tatic. And one which is on my list above cleaning and such. I've letters that were meant to be written weeks ago, books that are months old and still untouched, and boxes sitting on my kitchen floor.
I remember last year I would anticipate judo simply because there was nothing much to fill my time as it came. Now I anticipate it because it's a fun break in a crazy life. Sleep is actually a limited part of life. I never find time to lie on my bed and listen to music. Cooking is and interesting idea of something people with time do. The rest of us eat mini-wheats, yogurt, and chocolate chips. Somewhere along the line shopping, cleaning, and organizing the bathroom wriggled their way onto my "to do" list. Not near the top, admittedly, but there none the less.
I think I can manage it verily well. My priorities are perhaps in different order then most housekeepers. My morning nap (say, 8 to 11) comes in above most other. I always knew that when out on my own I wouldn't be one to panic because the floor needed mopping. And I would certainly never turn down a good time because I had errends to run. I do that enough due to work.

A Fish Story

Yesterday Kristen and I went to nearby city name here, to raid the second hand stores and have a good time. After we had done that, we decided to go for a walk in the woods. So we did. We walked, and walked, and walked, up hill and down, fording canyons, climbing mountains, till we came to a beautiful mountain lake. We waded in the crystal clear waters until our feet almost had hypothermia, and then we decided to go fishing. Now i realize this was an illegal decision, but we had to survive somehow! We had no food. Only our jack knives, the clothes on our back, an etch-a-sketch, and Kristen's purse. By some great good luck we found a fish hook, about 25 feet of fishing line, a weight, a stick, and a pine cone for a float. So we fished. We could see the fish swimming around, great huge things. We could tell they were huge because everyone knows that if fish look small in the water, they are really huge. And they were smart. They kept jumping out in the middle of the lake, taunting us. For bait we had a piece of yellow string on our hook, that looked remarkably like a worm, and a fly that Kris caught. So we sat there and watched the huge fish come closer and closer. They circled. They swam away. They brought their buddies. Then this particularly large one came right up to the hook, and we thought we had him - almost - just another inch - here fishy fishy! - that's right - nibble nibble - SPLASH! A muskrat dove into the lake and scared it away. We were that close! But, alas, it got away.
------------------------------------
okay. who can deduce from that what really happened?
corrianne

She stood next to the stall. Her arms buried deep in the midst of some cow covered in udder rub, iodine, and, well, waste. There was also a pair of gloves if you bothered to look hard enough. She was rubbing vigorously in a futile attempt to cure the poor animal of it's mastitis. It was then she noticed him looking at her. A cheeky smile upon his face. She should have expected his next question. But because she was young, innocent, and different then most, she did not.
"So is Kristen courting anyone?"
the milking machine was turned off, so it was not possible that she had misheard. Yet her reply was unmistakable.
"Who?" Her voice betrayed her disbelief before she had time to hold it down. She knew no Christian. Other then the nine year old in New York. And he could not possibly mean herself.
"Kristen." This time there was no mistaking the name. His smile remained as though he did not fully understand what the shock in her voice had easily conveyed.
Despite a rapidly racing mind she had no time to come up with a more witty reply then,
"No." This time there was she was over disbelief and her voice contained none other then mirth equal to, and perhaps surpassing, his. She found the very idea humorous.
Immediately after the word had passed her full and pale lips she regretted not adding "heck". More adamant.
"That's o.k. Nothing wrong with that."
She returned to her work but something remained on her mind. Was She supposed to think there was something wrong with it? Was every girl meant to yearn after male companionship of a more intimate kind? Did every girl want a boyfriend? How can you possibly have as much fun if you're not single? Especially in the courtship type relationship where it takes forever to get passed holding hands. What exactly was wrong with going through life figuring that if the right person comes along at the right time, that's cool. And if not, more power!
Also another question tugged at her mind. Was it still expected that homeschoolers couldn't possible date? Clearly she was expected to pursue any relationship through courtship. And who freakin cared what you called it anyway. A couple is a couple. Note the period at the end of the sentence.
And what exactly is she doing posting this in her blog anyway?

have you ever had this feeling that you're playing house on a very major level. Only my current game is a bit different then the ones I played as a kid. First of all, no husband or kid's of my size and intelligence, I need not spend my days cooking. And somehow I don't ever remember needing to go to work in those childhood senerios.
But there definitely are similarities. Heck, I own a house, I drive a car. I shop, do cook on occasion, and even bother with a bit of cleaning now and then. All the same, it's just life in a slightly different way. A different place to come home to. A different set of rules, and a bunch more freedom accompanying that responsibility. Only, I don't think it's quite a fair trade, because it looks like this. I have the responsibility to get up and go to work. I also have the freedom to sleep in if I want to. Somehow the responsibility always wins out.
What else? The Fall Fair came to pass between now and my last post. Ahh, country fairs. Somewhat dull, low quality, and time consuming. Somehow I remember them being a highlight of the year. And it was still o.k. Just not as good as I remember. Probably has something to do with,
A. Not having my typical Fair friend (Cor, and possibly Rach) to wonder around with. Cor got sick (how you feeling, by the way?).
B. Not having entered anything for the first time in absolutely forever.
Anyway, this morning I got up an hour early (meaning 2:15) on accident. Proceeded to get dressed and drive to work before finally realizing my mistake. Blond! So I huddled in my car for an hour until it was really time fore milking. However, the result is currently a very tired me. I did get the afternoon off, and used it to wander the fair. But work went late in the morning. Had to help throw a couple hundred bales of straw. My part on the line was the easy one though, just moving them from belt to belt. Sometimes being the girl comes in handy.
Also a tad sore. Judo has started up again for the year. It's good to have something like that to keep me going. Or not. But yup, I enjoy it. Also remotely thinking of starting hockey this year. Setbacks, I don't think Meg would appreciate me joining the team (she's goalie). I don't want to pay for the priviledge, and I'm not outfitted with equipment. Oh well, it is a great sport though (speaking of which Canada just beat out Russia for the world cup in sudden death ot tonight). But I probably won't even be able to play homeschool hockey this year as work tends to interfere with things I want to do. Oh well, Maybe I'll be able to get it off.
Anyway, perhaps I ought to go be social. So I suppose that's it for now.
And to give me a little more motivation, WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE COMMENT (even a fake person would be nice *G*)?

We're being way too crazy and having way too much fun. Here's what we have to say.
Cor-It's good to be home and having a good time with all my good dear weird and beloved friends.
Me-Meg, what do you have to say?
Meg-I don't know
Me-(she's somewhat boring)
Rach-HeyKristen is crazy. Her cell phone just went off and she couldn't figure out how to get it out of her bag to answere it. Yup. oh wait, she got it :) She's still crazy though.
Jen-Kris is awsome, but she should do some serious thinking on the subject of deoderant and personal hygein, I think it would inprove her chances ;P
Me-Jen has to do some serious spelling. She even asked how to spell about three words. And, improve my chances for what?
Sarah-The only reason I am writing on this is because Kris said that she would write and say that I was dull if I did not.And as if that was not enough, she added insult to ingury and stole my chair.If I was not so darn
hyper I would be thoroughly mad.I will go now.Goodbye.
Joy-I don't have a lot to say.

Oooh yes. Great time with cousins. But simply no computer time.
Anyway, I'm still alive up here. And I'm sorry my blog is so deathly boring as of late.

Well, it's now official. I find myself computerless. Currently at the library. Which is o.k. But I don't have the time to think of anything decent to write. I have the afternoon of work. Very nice. Gives me time to hang uptown, even if it need be only with my sis.
Cousins coming soon. I'm taking a full five days off work to camp up the lake. Rock on. I haven't been up there yet this year, but I've been determined to go. It's always fun hanging out with cousins. Very much a part of summer since they've come every year except maybe one or two. I happen to be the third oldest of nigh thirty. Order, guy, guy, girl (me), guy, guy.
Meg just tells me that a friends friend is going to the next winter Olympics for skiing. I think her name is Leanne. Watch for her. My Dad worked for a guy who was on the juniour soviet union team. But it was back when they were commies so they couldn't compete with other nations.
Speaking of sports in general, Nicolas Gill is out of the Olympics, eliminated in his first fight. Big disappointment, but he wasn't expected to get better then bronze. Just so you know, Nicolas Gill is a judoka. Biggest name in Canada for the sport, and placed silver at the last olympics, I think. I'm working on educating the world. I'm very upset with CBC judo coverage. Despite looking at several schedules I have yet to watch a match.
Anyhow, that's all I have to say. I suppose I'll try to get out another post next time I'm here, even if it's just a newsy rambly one like this.
So, better worse? I'm assuming you'll like the old blog better. But who knows.
Best of luck to the rest of Canada's athletes (we have, like, one bronze so far. Pathetic no? We do so way better in the winter sports).

Tonight my boss and his family are off to see a movie, my sis is also baby-sitting for someone off to see the same movie (that kinda happens when you've only got one theatre in town). Apparently the flick has been packed every night it's played.
Fahrenheit 9/11.
Why the controversy? Why are people so eager to see it? Heck, this is Canada. As close as we are to the States it's surprising that an American movie on American politics and issues would be so well attended. A documentary none the less. This is no Titanic or Lord of the Rings. One has to wonder how eagerly Americans are flocking to theatres.
Not to mention the movie doesn't seem to be very well accredited Even the people (see judo forums discussion) who said it was good said that they felt it was screwing the truth. Then again, there are the miscellaneous bloggers I've read who have said how eye opening it is and how it should be required watching for every American before the election hits. I tend towards the opinion that they would be of the group of people easily swayed to base their vote upon that type of thing. The group who somehow thinks that any documentary must be based entirely on fact and fall for one-sided arguments.
I myself am no Bush fan. But I wouldn't want to be American, because given the choice of Bush and Kerry I'm afraid I would be obligated to go with Bush due to his stands against abortion, gay marriage, and other moral issues. Not to mention the simple fact that he sits as head of the conservatives. But his involvement in many American problems seems very low key and in admirable unless it somehow involves terrorism or missile protection. Still, the biggest issue for me is his war in Iraq which, for various reasons, I don't support. Kudos to Chretian for keeping us out of the mess in the first place.
So there's my once a decade rant on American politics. I don't suppose I'm even allowed to have an opinion on it, especially as I don't claim to be overly educated in the area. But what is a blog for if not to let people know your thoughts?

Oh yeah, and speaking of people who are swayed by one-sided documentarys,
I don't think the American ever landed on the moon.

I've never claimed to be much of an Elvis fan. Glittery white suits and bushy sideburns don't do much for me. I can't sing any of his songs and can only name you the big ones. Heartbreak hotel, Blue suede shoes, Jailhouse rock.
Still, my Mom, on one of her library excursions, picked up a movie on his life and performances. It was well watching it that I learned to make a distinction between the young Elvis and old Elvis. The pre-married pre-army Elvis was the one with the young face, jean jacket, and black Elvis-hair falling over his eyes while strumming a guitar and shocking the world with his moves. The after-divorce, addicted-to-prescription drugs is the older Elvis with the oversized gold belt and bellbottoms.
My point is the younger Elvis doesn't necessarily go along with the whole Elvis stigma. He still has the Elvis hair but I never saw him in anything overly gold. And is the Elvis hair all that bad? It probably has something to do with my whole attraction to the fifties, but I don't find it revolting.
And on his music, if you happen to like old rock it's o.k. It's beyond my parents age, more my grandparents. The whole beginning of rock and roll. Before the Beatles, U2, Pink Floyd, or Bob Dylan. The last music frontier. And I suppose he led it.
But I still like Buddy Holly better.

I had the most horrible afternoon at work today. And I don't want to talk about it.
But I will, just because it's what happens to be on my mind at present.
See, often cows will get mastitis (city folks (Sped, if you ever come by again) it's a sickness from not getting milked clean). After you find out they have mastitis you treat them (stick needles or whatnot into them) and then milk the treated milk into a separate bucket so it doesn't go into the tank. My biggest fear has always been putting the milk into the tank. And today I did it. I still don't know exactly how it happened. I was pretty sure I had the bucket hooked up to the machine. But it went into the tank somehow, a whole quarter gallon or something *gasp*. Almost half the milk was ruined, and we had to drain it.
The sight was incredible. Fifty gallons of milk pouring from the tank, flooding the floor, and swirling down the drain. I have never seen so much milk in my life. I would have been quite impressed except for it just made me feel sick.
I have prayed earnestly and often that I never put mastitis milk in the tank. So I don't know exactly why it had to happen. Admittedly it doesn't make a girl very grateful.
How honest do you think God likes you to be with him. Does he like you to think, "You know God, I didn't appreciate that. I'm a little annoyed" if that's how you really feel? Because, I, personally, think you better say how you feel, because he knows anyway. But you have to have this constant reminder that, hey, don't get thinking you know better then him.
Still...I really see know reason I had to have that happen...
Beyond that, I'm living in someone else's house again. And they didn't leave internet, so I'm not home very often at all. Lot's of interesting thoughts pass through my head though. I just don't have the time or resources to record them for your reading pleasure. So I guess they'll just have to settle for my real journal, as they have been. Plus, I can say a whole lot more there *evil grin*.

What do you think about spirit?  I don't mean soul, as in the part of you that heads out after you're dead.  I mean that something in you. 
Does spirit only refer to the rebels in us?  The dreamers and doers.  How about the term "free spirit"?  Can someone's spirit be their piousness or gentleness?
Can a spirit be broken?  Is it wrong to break someone's spirit?  Is it better to have your spirit broken (I'm speaking mostly to the rebels here)?  Doubtless it's easier.  Can any spirit be broken?  If not how come it's in the young that the stuff seems to abound?  Does it naturally mellow out with age and experience?  Is it broken or just contained to the point where it seems natural.
Does this spirit even exist?  Is it just the fiestiness of those who won't bend and don't know their limits?  Maybe it's just a term for those who still have fight left in them. 
Is it actually something your born with?  Why do some of us seem to have more then others?  Can you learn to resist it early?  How do we know if we have "spirit".  Or do we all have spirit, just different kinds?  Is it something we should try to keep?  Even think about?  Or is it natural? 
Heh, I don't have the answers, but enough opinions to last awhile.  But I'll let you come to your own conclusions.

Where is everyone, my blog is seemingly going through the wilderness.  Few items of note.
1. I bought a car yesterday.  Yup, she's awesome, light blue, Civic.  Older then me, rusty on the back fenders.  But yeah, I'm pretty happy with her so far.
2. I'm eighteen today.
3. I'm housitting again, no computer, which is partly why I'm not posting as often.  Also, I'm also still working like crazy.
And that's all I have to say right now.  Good-bye days when I could write nice posts everyday.  See you later.

Let me tell you about my boss.  He's an older fella, and such a character.  His name...well, maybe I'd best not tell you his name.  But it's quite good.  Whenever he brings out a cookie or whatnot well milking he calls it a morsel.  He makes a point of scratching his cows, and rides around the farm on a rickety old bicycle.   
Here's the part I want to get to.  Today he asked me if I was into natural .  How do you answer that?  He proceeded to tell me about this great natural stuff called Willards Water and how it was so good for burns and scrapes and things.  He had a book he was going to lend me, but decided somebody else needed it more.  Five minutes later he returned with a spray bottle of the stuff and said he'd give me some to try.  I was kinda interested, sounded interesting anyway. 
He then started telling me how he uses it to brush his teeth.  Makes them whiter and makes gums healthy.  And how if you put it in your hair it will detangle faster.  Ect.  I must admit that's the point I started to get somewhat skeptical.
As I left I grabbed my sample of Willards Water and sprayed some in my mouth.  The stuff looks, tastes, and smells exactly like, well, water.  I could almost swear that's all it is.  I don't know what he mixes in there.  The website says something about road salt and canola oil (?).  Also some Scientific lingo and stuff that I don't get.
Now, tell me that's not a scam.  But my boss, he swears by it.  And I'm not the only one he's trying to convert.  Well, I'll try it, why not?  The stuff was free, and water doesn't hurt anyone.
Edit: sorry, my link isn't working.  http://www.dr-willardswater.com/ is where it is.

I'm so tired I feel like I'm about to fall off my chair.  And nobody look at the time, because 8:00 is maybe a little early to be feeling this way.  At least until you hear that I got up at four.  Picked/milked 'till 1:00, and returned for another stint at 2:30.  But I think I should at least stay up till 9:00, then that way maybe I can sleep my way to 4:00 to do it all over again.
I've decided the two biggest drawbacks to working regularly are:
1, Not nearly so much free time.  Hey, I love my free time.  I mean, there is way to much stuff to cram into it.  Like, maybe sitting around or reading a book.
2, Missing out on stuff.  As I left for work Meg headed to the river with friends.  As I stayed home family went camping.  As I sit here now, too tired to move, siblings play soccer.  It's gotta suck.
I've think my ideal job looks something like this.  Get up at an hour suitable for my interests.  Eat a leisurely breakfast followed by any other things I want/need to do.  Spend an hour working from my home, or, if I want to go to my workplace, Spend an hour with luckily employed friends.  After feeling fufilled for the morning (of course, this job involves only doing things I love), I take a lunch break meaning I can meander around town and try various restaurants.  Afternoon involves several more hours of work after which I return to my inviting house to spend my time as I please, free of errands and chores.  Days off are chosen at my whim.  I am self employed, of course.  I make enough to keep myself comfortable.  Maybe all friends are employed by me so I give them days off when I want.  Oh yeah, did I mention that this job also requires me to take trips around the world for no apparent reason except observe various cultures and improve my understanding of people in general?
If anyone hears of a job opening like this that doesn't require any secondary education let me know and I'll send in my resume.
For now, let's see if I can make it for much longer before it's off to bed with another long day ahead.

Most of my family is off camping. Well I slave away. My schedule has just taken off again including about a twelve hour work day. Ah well, it's only for a couple weeks. I'm young, I wonder how far I can push that. My knees are already nigh those of an old lady's.
My eating habits aren't real good either. I don't eat much fast food, drink much pop, or whatnot. But they could still be better. Heh, for lunch I had a fudgicle. When I'm on my own I really eat a nasty diet. Plus, not a lot of excercize since judo ended. Some hiking and biking but that's about it. Oh, and soccer when I can fit it in. I must've put on ten pounds. I'm not weight sensitive, but I feel better when I'm in shape and eating right. Maybe if this milking job keeps up I'll be able to take judo again in the fall.
Anyway, another pointless post by yours truly. Wish me luck *yawns*.

O.k., I'm still typing from our home computer. See, nobody happens to be around the school, think it could have something to do with summer vacation? Anyway, so we haven't returned it yet. We might have to wait until fall. What a pity. Anyway, just thought I'd right my wrong and hopefully get back to posting.
I'm tired, my sleep schedule is all messed. Here's why, I spent Monday morning 4-7 a.m. on a dairy farm. I don't know that it's going to turn into a job yet, but maybe. Also have to get up early tomorrow morning. Cherry season approaches.
That's all I'm going to bother saying at this point in time. Maybe I'll get some sort of decent post out next time.

Dear avid readers and adoring fans:
I regret to inform you that for an unspecified amount of time my blog will be less frequently updated. I will attempt to bring you insightful posts at least once a week, but I am uncertain as to how often I will actually be able to manage it. Lest you require and explanation, my computer, which has served me so faithfully for a number of years, is to be returned to the evil school from which it came. This will pass in the very near future leaving me to my own devices. I will now be required to venture to our beloved public library at times of inspiration. The aforementioned inspiration is calling me to post at this moment, but I anticipate this being the final one before I am thrown into the waning masses of those without personal internet connection.
I thank-you ever so much for your faithfulness in reading this blog. Please do not be discouraged from continuing to pursue it,if it only need be less often. You all have my best wishes and I eagerly anticipate continued communication with you in the uncertain future.
Yours truly
Kris

When I was little I invented this dream of walking across Canada by rail. Yes, I suppose I was a much more ambitious youngster then I grew up to be. Still, the dream persists, although I know it will never happen. Oh, don't give me any comments about the impracticality of it, I'm quite aware. I suppose I'm pessimistic enough you probably shouldn't fuel it. I know it would take far too long, it would be dangerous for a young girl (one part of being a girl which desperately sucks), I would get caught in awful weather, ect.
Still, every time I wander down the tracks they seem to call me on. They have this certain allure. There's something so intriguing about seeing this country by the route on which it was built. The railway evokes such a sense reminisce, adventure, and sunshiney days. I guess it comes from spending my life growing up next to the tracks. I don't ever remember being woken by the train whistle but if I hear it at night I simply find it a very secure sound. On our first trip to Mexico I missed it, but didn't realize 'till my first night home when I heard it.
So I'll never walk across Canada by rail. Through the wilderness, the small towns, and the cities. But it's still fun to think about. Man, the adventures, trials, and triumphs one would experience.
Now hopping freight cars, that would be a whole experience on it's own...
Yeah, I'm a dreamer, and not much else.

We got up at six thirty, grabbed our icecream buckets and headed down the tracks. Why? Today was saskatoon berry festival in the neighborhood. We at stacks of Saskatoon pancakes and saskatoon waffles with saskatoon sauce and whipping cream. In the end we have saskatoons to freeze and use in the future for muffins or whatnot. A pretty fun tradition we started years ago. It's gone through pie making contests and the whole neighborhood to just a couple families. Yeah, it's one of those things about growing up around here. Strange traditions that no one remembers starting.

Everyone, my hair is about as short as I remember it being. Here's the comments I get.
a) Oh! It's so cute! (not sure I was going for cute, but whatever)
b) Is that natual curl? (all, my hair is not curly, it's just got a little extra wave. I guess common folk can't tell when it's braided.)

1) I'm through with housitting
2)I'm doing backstage at the summer melodrama
3)I'm through with my housecleaning job
4)I'm convinced that chocolate is good for you
5)I'm tired and need to go to bed

I'm scaring myself again. Because tonight I'm realizing that hanging out and goofing off are only really associated with highschool. And that better not be fact because I haven't made enough of it. I'm worried. Do graduates get away with it too? I mean, of course you can always have friends at all walks of life. But I'm getting this feeling that highschool friendships only really take place in highschool. And I know my reasoning doesn't make a lot of sense. But really, when I look at almost all the adults I know they never really seem to just hang out. It's probably offensive to punch your friends past twenty. Yeah, I can hear you laughing, but I'm worried about it. I mean, man, if your really expected to grow up I'm in trouble here. I suspect getting married is part of it, and most the adults I know are married, and I won't be, so maybe I'm safe. But anyway, if it really is true. If I'm really supposed to look at friendship over a cup of coffee from now on, God help me.

I finally have time to sit down and write a blog post.
It's been pretty hetic since Friday, which is when I had my graduation party. It was great. So much of it was a surprise. Since I've been living out here for the past month my family did most of the organizing and everything. They did a really great job. For a basic run-over, it was kinda formal in dress. If I knew how to upload pictures to the internet I would post one here. I wore a plaid skirt and black lace-up top. (the girl in me was insisting I mention that). We had make-it-yourself taco salad. Then we had somewhat of a program. My family put on a crazy puppet play. I laughed till I cried. I sang (Jennifer Knapp's breathe on me, great song). Cor played the violin accompanied by Rach on piano. A sad attempt at twinkle little star (but you guys, I must admit, I appreciated it). A home movie of many of the clips we had of me. My Dad sung. Short serious bit with diploma, roses, and prayer. Tons of pictures. Lot's of compliments. Peanuts (comic book) napkins. Limbo (which, in all modesty, I won). Neighbor boy on the bagpipes *G*. All in all it pretty much came off exactly the way I was hoping. My mom put together a great scapbook for me, I'm never motivated enough to do my own.
Afterwards I took lots of the girls back here for the night. I think there was ten of us although there was supposed to be fourteen, some couldn't spend the night. I was getting tired but we played the much tried and very true dutch blitz. Talked a bit and then went to bed. Abb and I were in the bed and talked until very late, we were of the impression that everyone was asleep. It wasn't until three that Cor raised her tired voice asking us to be quiet. So we whispered instead *G*. It was getting light when Cor gave up and crawled into bed with us. We did end up getting an hour or two of sleep. We were sprayed with silly string in the morning as we were the only ones still to tired to raise our heads from the pillows.
I really just had a lot of fun.
Sarah (B.) I don't know if you ever read this but I don't know if I properly thanked you for making crepes for breakfast. They were great. I'm still eating the leftovers. We watched t.v. and goofed off some more till I took everyone into town and went to my parents house for supper and to open my gifts. I was so thoughly showered with presents. There was so much stuff that I can tell thought went into. So much stuff I can really use when I get my place. I'm totally grateful.
By time I got home I was tired (go figure), so it was to bed and up early to go to church with Jolah. Hour and half drive there and back. Interesting experience. Neat church, boring picnic. Enough said. Straight to park for usual Sunday games afterwards.
So there, a very informative, boring, and unreflective post. I usually try to avoid these kind but since it was my graduation I'm going to be inconsiderate and do it anyway.
I only want to say, I don't feel any different for being graduated. So please don't ask. But there's that little voice in the back of my head which is trying to speak up louder now. It's another step over with, and when I think about it, It's a pretty big step. I won't be going back to school next fall. I'll never be in highschool again. And, although I don't dwell on it much, it's just some new feelings. That's about the only difference I can think of.
I'm not explaining myself very well. And I'm lacking the will to come up with a way to right now. So that's all I'm going to say. I guess it's something you can't understand unless you experience it.
Thanks to everyone who doesn't read this, but helped make it a success. Thanks to everyone who supports me, prays for me, and showed up. Life wouldn't be right without you guys. I really appreciate it.
And if anyone got through this post, don't you have anything better to do? Love you guys.

When I was at work today my brothers and a couple of their friends had a boys day out at my place. Actually, they just wanted to visit my nintendo. Now, they were very responsible. They washed their glasses, and didn't even touch the icecream although I told them to help themselves. If I were them I think I would've dived in with two spoons. But it's weird. I got here and the key was about an inch off from where I leave it. For a split second I thought I'd have to try break in. I never could pick locks. I got in and there was a glass of water on the shelf. I started thinking, heck, I don't even remember using that glass. It took me a few minutes to find the remotes. and when I went to use the washroom the toilet seat was up. Normal stuff when you live in a family of seven, but I'm used to knowing what everything should look like and where everything should be around here already. It was a bit interesting.
Anyway, I think they had fun. That's important. I might actually be a potential big sister who spoils her siblings. Gives 'em rides, buys 'em candy, and, most importantly, makes them feel cool. This is a totally new thing to me. Generally I'm the mean spit-fire sister who beats every-one up. Honestly, I haven't really beat anyone up for years. Heck, Joe gets upset if I sit on him for five seconds now. I can't remember the last time I beat Meg up. I used to sit on her for hours. But I've still managed to retain the reputation. Go figure.
Maybe it's a part of this growing up junk that you don't even notice until it happens.
Dang.

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.


We don't all box. But just think about it.

I was driving back here after a day of work. Big aqua van. Windows down. Barefeet. I occasionally say what the heck and get rebellious. Whoever made it illegal to drive with barefeet but allows heels was an idiot.
Anyway, I also happened to be listening to the local semipop station. Suddenly this song came one. I don't know who sings it, and I don't know what it's called, but the chorus goes,
They say the heart of rock 'n roll is in Cleveland/
and from what I've seen I believe 'em/
ect.
My parents listened to it when I was a kid. Those songs just hit me somewhere. I love 'em. All the old hits I grew up on. And I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it stirs a sense of security, but when I hear them I don't think "I feel like a little kid again". I just grin and think to myself "what a great song".

And carefree Kristen is back. Bring it on baby!

This mind is currently overworked, over-stressed, and over-tired. It may or may not return shortly.

I challenge you to do something different today. If you never put salsa on you k.d. try it. If you haven't gotten the courage to wear those tie-dyed pants in the back of you closet anywhere, do it today. Go hiking, ride your bike somewhere. Learn how to make quality cheesecake. If you never go to the library, I pity you. Do it. If you only ever go to the library to get movies, I pity you even more. Read something besides your seventeen magazine. Check out the local thrift store. Go jogging in the rain (don't wear a white shirt). Do your hair different. Go rock climbing (be safe). Look at your city's tourist attractions. Write an old friend a letter. Call a new friend. Try doing the splits or holding you breath for a minute (I once made two). Play ring and run (but leave something nice on the doorstep). Start a club. Plan a trip. Write a poem. Pretend for a minute that you don't have any reputation to protect.
And if you don't like my ideas, think of your own.

I'm currently wrapping up a research report on the Chinese boxer rebellion. If you don't know much about it I won't think any less of you. I didn't either until a month ago. It was just a glitch in history that had always intrigued me, but not enough so that I actually bothered learning much about it. It's also difficult to find material on the subject. Just so we're on similar wave lengths, the rebellion was basically Chinese civilians wrapped up in mysticism who fell in hate with foreigners and their religion (Christianity). They built up a society to rid the country of them (China had been closed for so long). The empress supported them (the Boxers) in a round about way. At the great end they trapped foreigners (many missionaries) in cities and attacked. Lasted a couple months before the countries the foreigners came from rescued them. There's your history lesson for today. Now I'll get to the essence of my post.
What would I do if I was Chinese back then? Maybe I would be convert fighting to protect myself and my missionaries. Maybe I would just be a peasant trying to stay out of the way. Or, maybe, I would be part of the society. A red lantern girl. Able to float on air and start a fire by waving a fan.
Probably depends largely on the circumstances. And that's scary. If I were born at any time in history how much would it change who I am? This is even scarier, I can identify with the Boxers. If I use honesty and my vivid imagination I can seriously imagine myself fighting with them. I can play this game throughout history. Here's me laughing at Noah and his crazy plans. I can see myself giving thumbs down to gladiators in ancient Rome. I can picture myself jeering at bloody Mary's burnings. Look, there I am hitting my black servant in colonial America. And, maybe worst of all, I can understand the Hitler youth. If I lived back there back then I likely would've worshipped Hitler with the rest of them. Believed in his cause. Been caught up in the power and everything. It makes me cringe. (Parallel journeys and red scarf girl. Recommended reads)
Of course, I can also place myself on the good end throughout history. Basically the opposite of everything listed above. Although quite often I have to make the circumstances different. There's obviously no way I can find out who I'd be. I just hope that's I'd make the right decisions wherever I am. And that I'm making the right decisions now. It all comes down to how much you're born with and how much you grow with.
History teaches you a lot more then history.

I'm jealous of people who can raise an eyebrow. It's something spunky. You can raise an eyebrow in distrust, invitation, dare...So much can be said through one eyebrow. Heroines in movies and books are constantly arching their delicate eyebrows, one at a time, of course. I've been practicing. But so far it's pretty pathetic. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to say what I mean.
Now, on the subject of whistling those piercing whistles where you stick you fingers in you mouth...

Sixty years ago today the allies landed on Juno beach. Thanks to our boys who risked their lives to end fascist rule, to free countries, and most of all, to keep my nation whole.
And to those who actually lost their lives. You couldn't have given more.
I don't champion politics. I don't appreciate the amount of rule forced on us. I really don't like governments who go to war under false pretenses or petty concerns.

"If only the King and President could be here to witness the horror their quarrels have caused."
-A Canadian woman (not a completely accurate quote, sorry)

Still, I am completely thankful to those who faced the dirty work in WWII. I hope the citizens of our country today have the same courage they did. And Judgment good enough to know when to use it.
And I pray to God that he help us.

Yesterday I heard a sprinkler. I think I was standing on a board ten feet above pavement trying to hang soffit. But it gave me reason to stop for a few seconds. Every-one knows the sound of the sprinkler, and man, it sounds like summer. It's probably been years since I ran through a sprinkler (we don't water our lawn) but yeah, summer's here.
Now, let's not mention that today's soccer game was cancelled because of rain.
Yesterday I was also walking down the lane. Not to play with friends or have a picnic in the pasture, just to get to the shop and leave for work. But walking past the "berry tree" reminded me of all the hours I spent climbing it, playing under it, and stuffing my mouth full of berries. Heck, we still have a mailbox under there that's survived for years, and it's been almost as long since it's been used. It's like I was almost back there for a few secs. Almost, but I had to get to work.
Not to mention that the saskatoons are still small and green and hard.
I love summer. Favorite season. I just wish I could have back a few summer vacations. Or extend them for a few more years. Long days with not much to do but read and play with friends.
What a life!

What is it I like about being on my own? I don't know. I think it's just being able to leave the lunch dishes 'till supper and calling all the shots. Not having to worry about anyone else. Being able to dance around the kitchen or eat five cookies. One of my early posts kinda opened this too.
And so, how long would it last? This one I have no idea on. Maybe forever, just as long as I got out enough. But likely not. Maybe only a couple weeks. We'll see.
For now I'll just make the most of it.

Today I, no, that's not a good sentence to start with. Too boring and extremely unoriginal. Not the kind of blog I intended.
So...
Tonight was the judo bbq. It was a wrap-up bbq in the most normal of sorts. I got one of the two medals for best performance. I got one gold for competition in the Duration of a year. Not a very high profile judo club. But then again, the guy who got top performance, he's good.
I'm going to miss it over the summer.
Anyway, that's all I have to say. Maybe starting with "today I" would have summed up the essence of the post.

It is now official. T.v. shuts down your brain.
Then again, maybe that's what I need right now.

Oh yeah, I'm housitting. Tough day *sighs*.

As some of my friends could tell you, I used to laugh a lot. All the time, over nothing. Largely in the breaks of conversations, when something would strike me funny, and I'd laugh out loud. At sleepovers I would bite my fist late at night in an attempt not to burst out at the memories of a recently read Garfield.
Those who knew me best just didn't bother asking what I thought was funny any more. They would hardly pause, because usually what stuck me was something not particularily interesting, witty, or even, well, funny. Just something dumb. But when I did want to share something it was annoying because I'd chuckle to myself and nobody would even turn their head.
I don't really do that any more. But as I was going down the row planting strawberries (a job, by the way, which I have now finished) I realized I was grinning madly away to myself. Picture me with a smile like that of a chesire cat. And I think I still do that at least as often. Often it will be over a quirk in human nature, or a specific human's nature, that I find amusing. Some small memory or recollection.
And there I'll sit grinning madly away to myself.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."

I was baby-sitting this little kid, four years old. Cute enough, but an absolute potential terror. I put on little mermaid, because he said he wanted to watch it, which he didn't. Anyway, we went through all that, I don't remember watching it other then once when I was a little kid myself. After it finished I was pouring out a few lines of that song she (little mermaid) sings in the movie. I pick up on songs pretty fast. I guess it was suited to my voice well enough, so it was fun.
The kid looked at me, "how do you do that? Do it again" I did, "now do it one more time," I did.
He looked at me dead seriously and goes, "beautiful".

I love little kids, when they're not being brats, which is only a small percentage of the time. Plus, I think this one is going to have a fair bit of musical talent himself.

O.k., I have three possibilities for N. Thanks to everyone who commented (sarcasm, again).
4x6=24
6x8=48
8x10=80
Actually a very simple question when you get down to it. And the math lingo all came back to me as soon as I really read it. Anyway, thanks to Sped for the dare (not sarcastic this time).
Other then that, good day so far. Rained on our parade, literally, but was still fun. Plus stuff. That's all I want to write now though.

If n is a two-digit number that can be expressed as the product of two consecutive even integers, what is one possible value of n?

O.k., anyone, please comment the answer. Think, this is a real challenge, the kind you love. You're up to it! If you don't, I have to post it next post. I have no idea what it is and I don't want to look stupid by getting it wrong. Plus, I don't have time to bother right now.
Thanks to Sped for the dare (I'm being sarcastic).
Please?

There's suppose to be a thunderstorm later. I love thunderstorms. All the loud thunder and the lightening flashing brilliantly, spectacularly, into the dark.
Each crash or flash can be so exhilarating and more impressive then the last. Torrents of rain. The cozy feeling of sitting inside watching it, or the free, reckless feeling of standing out with the rain pouring down your face.
Yesterday I was thinking I would like to be hit with lightening, just once. Not bad enough to kill or even injure me, or course, because that would be horrible for me and the world. Just to be hit. How many people can say they've been hit by lightening? I was reading about a girl who was once, she said she felt tingly and weird for a long time afterwards. Anyway, don't worry, I'm not going to go climbing antennas in an attempt to get electrified.


change of subject
Go Calgary. Last night they beat out San Jose to rule the western league. Now, I'd much rather see Vancouver in that spot. But I cheer Canadian, and Calgary is that last surviving Canadian team. Now they just have to take on Philly or Tampa in the final series. Winner takes the cup.
So, go Calgary!

I just want to be done with school. I have resigned myself to not "officially graduating", but I suspect I have a good grasp on a fair number of subjects. I also suspect I have been changed back into a pure homeschooler. One of the kind who just wants to learn. The kind, maybe, who's right, can reach the stars, if they really wanted to, and the kind who won't put up with any (dare I say it?) crap from the system. And No. Not that I support homeschooling stereotypes that say Moms wear denim jumpers and kids do rod and staff (which I loathed with a passion). I do, however, tend to support any generalization (I like that word, so much softer then stereotype) that says homeschoolers are more unique, unbiased in their opinions, have a stronger sense of morals, and know how to learn or work hard. Remember people, generalization.
Having said that, there's still a secret want inside which proclaims...I wish I'd taken, just maybe one year, of highschool. Or, to go the very opposite, graduated with them. So what if I couldn't think for myself, I'd be "normal", "accepted", and "qualified". But we'll pretend I didn't say that. Because I wouldn't really do it different. Just think, there would go my grade eleven adventure over North America.
June is like a magic month now. Finished with chemistry, finished with report writing, and not having this English provincial hanging over my head. Don't get me wrong, I love English. Report writing, well, it's something I had to learn. Chemistry, I started taking it to get my "grade eleven credit". But it's been very good for me. Bit of structure and discipline. And now I know an acceptable amount of science (my percentage is in the nineties). And know what else? I didn't hate it. But I want to have it done with. Just because I need to get on with life. I'm just tired of being expected to show-up every Tuesday with my homework done. And I want to be absolutely finished with handing in reports to the school.
Yes, I'm learning, and here's the assignments I forced myself to do in order to prove it.
Oh, I'll still read rabidly. I'll still do all my p.e. requirements and maybe even solve the rare math question for the cold hard challenge of it. Heck I'll probably take on something completely new. But school, I'll be able to say I've completed twelve years of education. Get off my back.
And one more thing, I loved highschool. Hate to leave it behind. Suffered mid-teen-crisis. Like learning and living and not needing to pay my own way. But I know I need to move one. So now it's just like I'm waiting.
Remember, I'm the girl who hates set-hard change.

Life comes in phases, I think. Although you don't really notice it until you look back. There's the big sections and then little sections. And they never divide by exact years. Like, I won't look back and see 1-5, 6-10, 11-14. You know? I'll look back and see, little-kid-years, Funnest-years, growing-years, mid-teen-years. They all kind of meld together. Which brings me to here. Maybe confusing-years. Or figure-things-out-years, or mess-up-years.
Why is it that things are always so clearer when you look back? They make a heck of a lot more sense, everything is just so obvious. And the big deals, they don't matter. The hours I used to spend crying over math, big deal. Letting go of my funnest-year's friends, it just had to happen. Why did I make it so tough? It's a lesson I had to learn, and I fought it with left-hook and tackle (since I'm opposed to fighting tooth and nail). Change always bugged me. I'm learning it. But it's a slow process, and I don't think I'll ever be able to embrace it. It's not that I mind moving around, exploring, trying. I just like to be able to go back to how things were. Now I can face it, without flinching, but inwardly I'm mourning the loss when I should be embracing the gain.
I remember standing, watching out the window, and crying. Because Dad was cutting down a tree. It'd been there forever. Things would never be the same without that tree. But somehow it just went on, and I've never missed it much, if at all.
whether they fade out or just go all at once, things rarely stay forever. And the ones that do, they're real treasures. You have to learn the process of saying goodbye and letting go, and how to choose when to hang on.
So when I look back on the becoming-adult-years what will they look like? Will I be glad with the things I did and what I'd become? Will it even be a big deal?
My Dad says, "life happens, you just have to make decisions when they come and pray that they're the right ones." Maybe he's right.
But the choices I have to make now really will affect my whole life.
We'll see. That's really all I can say. We'll see.
Something like ninety percent of people in old folks homes wish they took more chances. I know, the ones who took the chances are all dead.
But it's something to think about.

I'm not in a good mood right now.
Clearly that means I shouldn't be blogging.

Although our midway sucks. There was about three semi good rides.

Today was a magic day off.
Afternoon at the midway and tall chocolate extreme blizzards. New friends and old. Ferris wheels and conversation. Good day. Makes me wish more days could be days off.

I just spent a couple hours making invitations. They're pretty cool though. A bit informal, but pretty cool. Except we didn't have any glue sticks so I'm afraid they'll curl.
I love cousins who are useful. Abb is constantly coming to my rescue. Like, say, helping uncreative me make invitations. She's my social and creative "dear Abby". Actually, the outlay was my plan. Cherries, and whatnot.
And she doesn't have a computer, so she can't read this, hee hee. Heck, she doesn't even have power.
I remember when I was a kid and my parents were constantly looking into back-wood property. I hated it. Even they admit now that they're glad they didn't move. That would've messed up the basic dynamics of my life. Think about it, I might not be so perfect. It seems to be working well for Abb's family though. And plus, I still did grow up a bit of a country kid. I just get the computer, lights, and fridge to go along with it.
The only reason I would've wanted to move when I was little was because I was really scared of the end times. I don't really know why, but it freaked me out. I figured living all self sufficient and without electricity would make it better. It probably would, but I don't think it's very smart to plan your life entirely based upon dread of the end times. I've kinda gotten over it now. *G*.

Last night we had bible study and were off to Behruz and Maria's for supper before we started. Which was good. Good supper, good burning of secret documents, good study.
However, at eleven thirty, myself and several other guests ended up doing the dishes, and cleaning up the mess (and I was tired).
Not that I minded of course. I always thought there's a difference between friends and guests. Friends do the dishes if they think they should and don't if they don't want to.
But...I told Behruz I'd post it in my blog.
So every-one, Behruz makes his guests clean up his dishes.

And now I'm off to get in a little soccer before it's too late.

Mmmm.
Hot bath after a long day at work with a stack of un-read magazines from the libray's free rack.
What more could I ask for besides a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the ledge?

Tonight I was driving to judo. I tend to do that a lot on Monday nights. I got stuck behind an ancient metallic brown Chevy. Now not that I have anything against metallic brown chevys to start with. But I thought I was running behind. I wanted to A. Get a gift certificate. B. Go to the bank. C. Drop off b-day cards at a friend's. D. Pay at judo.
My driving looked like this. Gas, brake, gas, brake, gas, brake. And it's not even that the truck was going below the speed limit. Because it wasn't. And here I thought I was the laid back sort. I told myself, "why are you driving like this? You're stuck behind the stupid Chevy. So just relax, because you can't pass him and there's nothing else you can do about it." unfortunately I don't always listen to myself.
By the way. I've decided to give my loyalty to Ford.
I ordered my gift certificate via a drive through.
For those of you who want something to laugh at country folks for, I'd never used a drive through before. That and I apologized to someone who stepped on my toe on a NY city subway.
Anyhow, I could swear I would've got the certificate quicker had I just gone in. I sat in my van steaming away and at one point yelling through the window that they'd better hurry up. Of course, being from the country. I first made sure they couldn't hear me. Finally, "Gift certificate?"
"yes."
"Alright, five dollars."
"thank-you"
"Have a nice day."
"Oh, you too!"
We're just too dang polite around here.
Even after banking and dropping around at the friends I managed to be on time. So life is like that. To use a phrase I don't often. Chill out.
And one more thing. I'm posting as an orange belt. Tested tonight. Passed. Rock on. I can't resist the urge to...brag? Show-off? No, inform you. So there, you know.

Happy Mother's Day, be you a mother or not. Actually, I doubt that any Mothers read this.
Anyway, I didn't do anything for it. I gave my Mom plenty of warning that I wouldn't be doing anything. But I still feel a bit guilty, I think. Well, I did say Happy Mother's Day, but no presents, no cards, no breakfasts in bed.
It's not that I don't love my Mother. But Mother's day seems a bit commercial. A bit of a here's-a-day-to-love-your-Mom. Because you shouldn't have to do it more then once a year, right? And remember, we have the best flowers in town!
Mom says I'm boycotting it. She doesn't seem to mind. But, yeah, it might bug her a bit. So, for lack of doing anything better here's a reflection on my Mom.
You raised me the best you knew how. Rules I didn't always agree with, and spankings. I hate to admit it now, but you were probably right lots of the time. You homeschooled me. Thanks Mom, that's huge. I understand you put countless hours into that. You trusted me, and let go of me when she had to. Decisions are important. And although your advice is always there you recognize which ones should be mine. I once told you I hated you, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. When I was little you hugged me when I cried and when I was big you told me I could, even if I didn't listen. You tried to smooth things out when they got rough. You tried to make me into a lady, tried to show me that change has to happen, tried to talk. But in the end I had to learn lessons my own way, and you let me be who I am.
My Mom isn't perfect. I would probably be much more inspired on an anti-Mothers-day, but I'm certainly not a perfect teen, and that's probably why. I'm the Christian rebel. I'm the stubborn daughter. I'm the wild child with morals. It's made some of my life hard. It's caused problems. It's probably not worth it. But I don't give up.
I remember being twelve and wanting a Mother that was a friend. One that planned sleep-overs for the two of us in a hay loft and one that I can tell everything. My Mom isn't that, and I guess she shouldn't be, couldn't be, isn't meant to be. And I'm not the daughter that would click with that now. Maybe it's the way I grew, maybe it's just who I am. I've said it before, I wouldn't tell my parents everything.
1. I wouldn't want them to know.
2. They wouldn't understand.
We all have Moms. Be it Mama, Mother, Ma, Mom, or even one that we haven't met or never knew. Mine loved me even when I didn't cooperate. I guess that's something to be thankful for. And I guess I should let her know that.

I think I have comments. Really, I think I do. Thanks to essy. You rock. Also, many thanks to Hannah, who offered to help me with them should I need it. Your generosity is huge. Now if I don't have comments this will look really stupid and I shall come back and edit it pronto.
I want to write something witty and thought provoking tonight. Something to stretch your mind, make you reflect. Heck, maybe even make you think.
But I can't.
Maybe it's my sleep lacking brain. Who knows? The only things I can think of are how to plant greenhouse strawberry plants, What a homeschool conference leaves me thinking, and how it feels to eat curry at an Aunt's who knows how to cook. none, I'm sure, which will particularily interest you.
And now, should the mood catch you (and even if it doesn't), comment away! (although not necessaily on this post *G*).

Indigo did me the undying favour of nominating my blog for the ri blog of May contest. I'm honoured, really I am. But I'm holding a grudge now. Apparently many of the other nominees are the ri's finest, after Cass, who's blog warranted my vote in April. I was hoping to hang in there until there weren't any good blogs left. mwahaha. Actually, evil laughs look really stupid in typing, I think. So I'll settle for a good, Heh! And comments would be nice to. Yes...comments, the elusive desirable that very ungeeks like me can't seem to accomplish.
By the way (after spell checking) I did not spell favour nor honour wrong!

This morning I hauled myself out of bed with the expectation of heading off to work with Dad directly thereafter. I was sitting there in my badly ripped, filthy jeans when he came in from milking, and suggested I take in a resume.
Now, apparently I have a hard time with decisions. I don't think that's actually it. Well, not really. I just don't get around to doing something until I have to, but when I do something, I do it.
Anyway, Meg got a call from a local restaurant wanting to hire her, but she's already secured a job. So I was going to drop off a resume. Well, the place didn't open 'till eleven so Dad waited to leave for work until I'd gone and done it. I sat typing madly on my resume and picking the remains of blue model paint off my nails. I don't usually tell people when I've applied because they spend the next five months asking me if I got it so, guys, if I get it, I'll let you know. I think I probably won't since they had their help wanted sign up and probably have a lot of choice. Read: I suck at interviews.
Shortly after getting home and heading down the lane Dad's cell rang. I have a job offer for 35ish hours of work in a green house starting tomorrow. Higher then minimum too, which is a draw. I worked out at the guy's green house with my Dad so he knows what sort of a worker I am, so that's nice. Actually, we were pouring and at first he wouldn't let me push wheelbarrows of cement. He would've killed himself grabbing them from me but I got one ahead and was fine for the rest of the day. And don't read that wrong. He's just simply a really nice guy.
I'm supposed to be working with Dad. For at least a good while. I've put in two days so far. Definitely should've put in more. Also, remember that new yard work job I mentioned? I need to be putting in more time there, but I can't. I think I'm starting to push my limits. It's not worth it for me to be holding that job, but I've got it now, so I'll probably try stick with it for the month. I was going to put in an hour tonight, but that's really not worth it. She doesn't like me to work for more then three hours at once.
O.k., I've vented now, that's only on the work front. Then there's all my school junk and recreational activities. Ah well, better then having nothing to do I suppose. Sorry, I should've thought of something interesting to post. But I really don't think I did much deep thinking at work today *winks*.

Today I was driving through town. Minding my own business as usual. Well I was waiting at a stop sign a school bus pulled up wanting to turn, umm, past me, however you say that in proper driving language. So since people, even little kids, are interesting, I watched through the window, as I'd nothing better to do. I had time to notice a little girl with big eyes and curly hair on top of her head. She stuck out, for some reason. I'm not entirely sure why. She was just kind of staring out the window, with fake fur 'round her neck. But she's not the point of my story. I also noticed a chubby little girl. I've seen more of them around more then usual. The kids that ore likely then not will battle obesity for the rest of their lives. Probably part of a statistic on obese children. When you think about it, its kinda sad. What other society has to battle children starving themselves to look good and children without control of their eating habits? However, these two little girls would be lost from memory, but I thought about it for a bit because...
As the school bus turned I was looking through the window for other kids to think about. Near the back I noticed a little boy with shaggy hair, the hyper kind. And he looked familiar so after a few seconds I realized it was a kid from the junior class in judo. So I smiled and waved. He was blank for another second and then his face kinda lit up and he managed to return my wave before the bus swept by. I imagined him telling the kid next to him how he knows me from judo. 'Cause I remember being little and knowing big kids. Even though he probably doesn't know my name and I hardly know his it made me happy for about ten minutes. I drove down the highway grinning to myself. So there, I thought I'd share it with you.
On an entirely different note, my nails are blue. The kind of blue that you can imagine the sky being on the deepest of June days. As much as it's a gorgeous colour it looks weird being on my nails. My brother handed me the paintbrush after he was finished painting his model and told me to do my nails. Apparently it doesn't come off, but I think they're wrong, because it is already. Anyway, those of you who don't know me won't think it's weird that I painted my nails, those of you who do might be at least be chortling to yourselves.
My hair is also wavy/kinky which is cool. I can get away with it because it happened when Mom gave me two french braids and my hair wasn't 100% dry. In other words, It's the product of my being lazy and sleeping with braids instead of a product of my standing in front of a mirror.
But now I must go mow the lawn because I can't take the van to biblestudy until I do. I don't like having it be a control issue. Anyway, like I said...
Kris

Well, I oughtn't to be blogging right now as my life is busy, hectic, and crazy. All the same, I'm one of those people who never seems to do anything but pulls something off at the last minute. Even if that something isn't always very impressive.
Anyway, I am primarily posting to say that I've added a few new links. But I don't know if they'll be permanent. Peculiar people is an interesting site by Christian homeschooling teens and is worth a visit now and then. I don't post at their forum myself but they've some insightful articles and whatnot.
Guide to Canada's full name is an Americans guide to Canada, but that was too long. It is a better one of those Canadian sites you find floating around the web. Canadian's will find it insightful, funny, and maybe even interesting. American's may or may not find it educational. I enjoy all the low profile sections, like, "things every Canadian knows". I found a few things that don't apply in B.C. (you can't get bags of milk here, although you can out East). I also found out a lot of things about the States ("what? You guy's don't have Mohawks?"). Don't click on it unless you have time and nothing to do.
Now, I could take the time to post something mind stimulating. Or of interest to anyone who likes to follow my life (no one). But I think that's it for now.
Kris
I'll probably add google fight to my links too. It's another crazy site, brought to my attention by essy, where you match up crazy stuff an see who wins. Another don't visit unless you're bored sight.

I'm a little sore. Basic mix of new yard work job and a half hour walk to get there. Gorgeous walk though, if you're not jogging so you won't be late.
Went to judo last night. Quite happy about that. I think I can finally consider myself better, if out of condition. The back of my neck just about killed because my gi kept ripping back and forth over it. Oh well, it should go down soon and then be fine for the rest of them summer.

Hello. I didn't get a chance to get on the computer until now since I went to work all morning with my Dad. I was a little worried about how being so physical would go with my sick-worn body. But it was just fine, other then a bit of coughing at first. I also burnt my neck nicely. The back of my neck is really the only part of me that burnt though. I guess burning well crouching in a ditch is a bit different then burning well laying on the beach.
This morning I was busy shovelling dirt and my two-week-flabby shoulders started to burn pathetically. I re-realized that I'll never be a guy (this is the part where you all say, "duh"). I can be a tough girl, I can hold my own, and I can play the part of a tomboy. But in the end I'll still be the female God made me. It's not really fair, at least at first glance. Like, I probably shouldn't aspire to drive cement truck. It's a man's world, through and through. Girls, in general, are smaller, and gigglier and sometimes they look stupider, to my mind, then the guys.
And I think this is why it bugs me. Some women talk about being "feminine". Of "womanly character". And maybe it's because I fight it. Being gentle and everything doesn't attract me. I'd rather play it tough and fight the boys for their own game. However, when you consider it, the "soft character" women are probably the ultimate feminists. The ones who run the show behind the stage, and somehow manage to do it all in their flowing skirts and red lips. Still, I used to hate it in books when the perfectly rough little girl became the "woman she was meant to be", and all were supposed to rejoice.
So what is the advantage of being a woman? Because, ultimately, I would never change (although there were times when I would've considered it). If I can't appreciate gentle feminity then what is there to appreciate? Well, I ask myself, would a guy ever enjoy a good slumber party? The kind where you stay up till 4 talking about everything that passes through ones mind. How many men can curl up with a book and not manage to emerge from it until it's finished? Even the Hardy boys series I loved as a kid. When I climbed trees with the boys, how many got to the top, closed their eyes, and breathed deeply for the pure joy of sitting at the top of a gently swaying tree? There are so many joys in life that I might miss out on were I male. Yet I can still play hockey (although, by chance, I won't be as good). Or tinker under cars, if I want, or yell at the t.v. So maybe I have the best of both worlds.
In the end I stand back and take a good look at myself. I probably am in that group that will forever be considered tomboys. I like to be able to do things for myself and will always compete with the boys, be it in chin-ups or chess. I go a month without washing my hair, to see what happens, and get competitive half-way through a good game of basketball. I can work on a roof or watch a sob show without crying. But when it comes right down to it, and I've already said this, I'll still be the female God made me. And I'm o.k. with that. I'll always be me, the female, the tomboy, the Kristen I'm growing up into. I'll be the rough little girl who grows up into the woman she's meant to be. And it will be exactly the kind of woman that God intended. Maybe never the gentle spirited kind, but maybe the free spirited kind. Whatever it is, It's going to be me. And everything that I am. Because, that's what I'll always be.
Kris
Isn't it funny what you think about when you're digging dirt in a ditch?

I think I'll go out to the park today. It's been a couple weeks. I still think I'd better not play anything unless it's volleyball though. Yesterday we went to a pizza dinner/bibleschool skit night thing at the Baptist church. I was having fun being anti social but ended up playing a bit of 3 on 3 basketball. Which was o.k., except I had to ferociously suck on cough candies, and eventually sat down. Meg and Abb joined me after basketball fell apart and said I looked freaky. Which I did. I was all one shade of yellow with brown bags under my eyes. Almost like I had half my make-up on for a horror movie of sorts. It went down after a bit but warned me that I'd not better enough to do much yet. I'm always looking a little pale but it's been so long I think it's normal.
Yesterday Meg and I were going to have this big lunch thing, and two people showed up. It was still good fun though. But I've probably almost said to much already, since it's secret. But I don't think anyone reads this who will matter (no offense to anyone who reads this).
Kris
yesterday was so hot it felt like late June. It's crazy though, since there's still snow on the mountain. And I couldn't help myself but comment on the weather this time, although I usually try refrain.

Heh, as you can see I've messed up my archive links and now can't remember how to put them back. That's why they both say April when one is really a solitary post out of May. I don't know if my blog shall ever be the same again. But that's o.k. Enjoy anyway. Maybe I should just put it back to the original template. All that work *sigh*.
Edit: fixed? We'll see. I'm brilliant. Actually, I'm an idiot. Since I could've lost my whole blog during my little repair session. But if it's all better it's worth it

I smell like old spice. Sometimes when I don't put on my deodorant first thing in the morning I'll wear my Dad's which only requires going to the bathroom instead of going up to me room. The only problem is I then smell like old spice all day. It's not that I mind guys deodorant, because that's what I wear anyway. But old spice definitely is a guys, I guess because my Dad and all wears it. It's funny how we can identify smells with things. More then just smell actually. Basically any sense. For years Rs. James' c.d. transform reminded me of the Organ coast because that was the first time I really listened to it very often. It reminded Cor or cherry picking, because when we were camping out together was the first time she really listened to it a lot. The only thing that reminds me of cherry picking first round is Mr. Cor's Dad's old house, which I'll probably never go in again. But because I never went in it very often then that's what I associate with it. And there's taste too. Still, now and then when I'm eating something I'll get a definite taste of Mexican and, bang, I'm back in La....secret vacation village...for a half sec. And then it's gone. It's awesome. But I've decided you can't bring it on. I also can't think of anything that I can feel that will bring me back anywhere so maybe that's one sense it doesn't work on.
But for now I'll smell like old spice and every guy that wears it. At least old spice works. Not like that other cheap deodorant I wear (which smells like some guy at judo, I just can't figure out which one).

Lol, quite often when I visit blogger I will stop by one or two of the recently published blogs and see what's up in the lives of miscellaneous people all over the globe. There's actually a lot more that aren't in English then I would expect. Sometimes I'll click on a Spanish one for the joy of trying to stumble through a post or two. Anyway, I just got out of this blog that daily listed the food consumed and the morning weight of someone who's about 175 pounds. It was deathly boring but quite hilarious at the same time. The poor lady has just decided to take up the atkins diet. May her health remain somewhat stable. If I had nothing else to do and no interests or life at all I think I should just follow peoples blogs, without letting them know. I hope nobody spontaneously wanders into mine.
Today I consumed:
two waffles with syrup. One homemade bun with ham, cheesewhiz and mustard. One tuppaware cup of pudding. Numerous glasses of water. Actually, I think that's it so far.
morning weight: this is just stupid. Hang on I'll go check. 126 pounds.
lol, and I hope nobody takes the time to read this post. Because it's even dumber then this mornings.
Also today went second hand shopping. Got funky old coat that I'll never wear and a pair of boxers that I wasted twenty five cents on (at your church rummage sale Cor!) and then directly afterwards realized the crotch was ripped out. Other then that, just bought a chronicles of Narnia book.

I am quite seriously thinking of changing the title to "barefoot in summer", or something like that. The Cherry life of a Tomboy was just supposed to be a working title. Blogger assured me that I could change it at any time but I didn't suppose that it would mean changing the whole blog thing. three cons,
1. barefoot in summer...how long will it be before I'm tired of it. And will it work in winter? Probably not.
2. It doesn't match my url, which I could also change, but then the few people who actually come here might get lost.
3. What was 3 again? I forget. Oh yeah, then the colour scheme doesn't match so much. But that's o.k. since it's just a colour scheme and not actually cool graphics and stuff anyway. I'd also have to rewrite the description but that's going to be happening anyway.
I shall change it. I just have to decide on something decent. And then maybe stick with it. And this has been a very boring post. Which I shall probably re-edit. At some point.
Edit: there. Done. I am, at times, too spontaneous. For example. I probably should've figured out what I wanted to call it before I started a blog. And things. But that's o.k. Now we see how long it lasts as barefoot in summer. And I shall leave the url the same. Because cherrytomboy is still kinda cool. Question, do you wander the lawn of life, or do you wonder the lawn of life? I'm quite sure it's wander. And I shall go now. Before the last of my audience abandons me to have a nap.
Kris

Last night I went to biblestudy and stayed later then intended leaving me in disgrace. But I slept well and all. I keep telling Mom I'm planning to try go to judo tonight. She actually forbid me to yesterday. forbid me, Me, from going. So it looks like I might not be. Which is o.k. It would probably kill me anyway. Joe has got pneumonia and infected lung lining and other nasty things (he went to the doctor yesterday) so I guess it's smart to take it easy. Still, it hurts to have to miss half a month of judo.
Biblestudy went reasonably well despite the fact that we never went in with any particular thing to study. Part of the evening was devoted to discussing immature publicschoolers. I have come to the conclusion that homeschoolers can be quite stuck up. But we have a right to be. And I was half saying that to be funny, so don't jump down my throat. But really. I mean, when you think about it...
Cor disappeared to watch a movie with Maria. I have yet to discover why a movie could possibly be more interesting then us. Since she apparently did last week too I figured Meg would enlighten me on the way home but she didn't seem to know. And since Cor will probably at some point read this, don't worry, I'm not at all offended *G*.
Other then that, I am still very bitter at not getting better yet. But I'm trying to be accepting. See...=D. If I ever become a paraplegic I would be one who mopes around and expects everyone to feel sorry for her. In fact, I would probably wish I'd died. But maybe I could get over it eventually, and be a happy, impacting, positive person. Like Joni, or something. Anybody else read her book?
Kris