FINALLY you may say. After all this preaching to you guys about how you should get in the habit of posting regularly. Hypocrisy really. :).
Well, with the spring hurry with concerts and such, I report that I indeed have survived. Our choir concert was last night (soon to be posted on YouTube) and we have been busy with other spring stuffy. I have been in constant denial about school, neglecting my homework consistently until Thursday night and still slacking on the job (for those of you who do not know this, I go to a once a week school -- on Fridays ). And people wonder why I fall asleep in math class. Hehehe....
I promise to write more soon but for now....I NEED SLEEP!
Pardon my *cough cough* abruptness.
Aloha till --- tomorrow???
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Spring--almost here...
Well, spring is almost here. Slowly but surely the grass is starting to grow and the buds are turning to leaves. As everything comes back to life, spring fever is itching at me. I want to go outside. I want to feel the fresh air. I'm sick and tired of school. I want to be free. So, yesterday I went outside and took a few pictures. Here they are . . .
Buds on our tree outside.
Tulips, barely springing out of the ground.
Kodiak in the grass, watching me in the tree, taking the picture of the buds.
Strong and mighty Sasha sitting straight for me. It rained/snowed today and she and Kodiak are covered in mud now. I'm glad I got the shot of clean Kody and Sasha :).
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
A Winning Title...
Because I have a lot to write but have little time, here is my winning submission from the PBS Storymakers contest. Enjoy!
The Dumpling
In the middle of our land, a single cabin made out of logs we cut down near the creek, sits comfortably. During the day, when the winds rustle in the grass, prairie dust drifts through cracks in our walls like snow. It doesn’t matter much how many times Pa stuffs the walls with rags; the dust still finds its way into the cabin and into our clothes. Sometimes I wonder why Pa decided to take us into the middle of nowhere. When I ask him, he shrugs and says that he prefers the open sky to crowded streets. Some days I agree with him and I try to set my mind to thinking that way too. But, one way or another, I find myself wondering if it’d been better if we’d stayed in Massachusetts. Perhaps if Pa hadn’t brought us out here Ma would still make breakfast in the morning instead of lying sick in her bed. I try to accept that it’s my duty to tend to the cabin instead of plowing with the men. After all, Ma’s sick and Pa claims he’d still leave me here, even if she was well, to learn how to run a home. Sometimes though, it gets awful lonesome out here with nobody for company but the wind.
Ma’s dreadfully sick. As the days pass she gets gradually worse. I’m pretty sure she will die any day. It’s mighty lonesome now and she’s still alive. Barely. I wish I knew what was ailing her so I could make her feel better. The responsibility that she’ll leave me with is overwhelming. I’ve only held the reins for a short time and I’m not doing very well. Making chicken and dumplings for the men always seemed simple when she did it. When I try, the dumplings end up scorched and as black as the coal I fill the stove with. Pa and Jeremy have a healthy appetite but when they see those dumplings, I can see they don’t fancy them much. Yeah, Ma’s illness is real stubborn. I keep trying to get Ma to start moving around, but she just sweats and lies there. Rumor has it typhus is going around. Maybe that’s what she’s got.
Ma started acting real funny today. It scared me enough to go run and find Pa. When I told him she was panting real hard he didn’t even finish listening to me. He jumped on his horse and rode off towards the cabin. Jeremy and I had to run behind him. By the time we reached the cabin Pa was already inside, but told us to leave straight away. I obeyed him despite my eagerness to see Ma. I’m plain positive she’ll die. I keep praying that Pa will let me say goodbye before she leaves us. Every time I hear her speak, I am worried that I won’t get to kiss her before she goes. Then again, her yelling means she’s still here. I don’t know why she keeps doing it though. Maybe she’s reluctant to go and leave the men in my care; she must’ve tasted my dumplings.
Pa finally came out and beckoned for me to come to him. He looked pale. Ma must be gone already. His face stayed emotionless as he stepped back into the cabin. I walked behind him and began to cry. I had really wanted to say goodbye to Ma. She was in her bed, very still, her back to me. I could hardly breathe. Tears came so fast that I was gulping for air. Leaning over, I stooped and kissed her white forehead. I glanced at her face and my heart stopped. Her eyes were open. Beside her lay a perfect dumpling of a baby, complete with a head of golden fuzz. Suddenly it all made sense. Ma squeezed my hand and smiled for the first time in months. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Well Ma, I only have one thing to say. You sure make one heck of a dumpling.”
__________________________
I hope this doesn't bore you, but I suppose it's better than nothing :).
The Dumpling
In the middle of our land, a single cabin made out of logs we cut down near the creek, sits comfortably. During the day, when the winds rustle in the grass, prairie dust drifts through cracks in our walls like snow. It doesn’t matter much how many times Pa stuffs the walls with rags; the dust still finds its way into the cabin and into our clothes. Sometimes I wonder why Pa decided to take us into the middle of nowhere. When I ask him, he shrugs and says that he prefers the open sky to crowded streets. Some days I agree with him and I try to set my mind to thinking that way too. But, one way or another, I find myself wondering if it’d been better if we’d stayed in Massachusetts. Perhaps if Pa hadn’t brought us out here Ma would still make breakfast in the morning instead of lying sick in her bed. I try to accept that it’s my duty to tend to the cabin instead of plowing with the men. After all, Ma’s sick and Pa claims he’d still leave me here, even if she was well, to learn how to run a home. Sometimes though, it gets awful lonesome out here with nobody for company but the wind.
Ma’s dreadfully sick. As the days pass she gets gradually worse. I’m pretty sure she will die any day. It’s mighty lonesome now and she’s still alive. Barely. I wish I knew what was ailing her so I could make her feel better. The responsibility that she’ll leave me with is overwhelming. I’ve only held the reins for a short time and I’m not doing very well. Making chicken and dumplings for the men always seemed simple when she did it. When I try, the dumplings end up scorched and as black as the coal I fill the stove with. Pa and Jeremy have a healthy appetite but when they see those dumplings, I can see they don’t fancy them much. Yeah, Ma’s illness is real stubborn. I keep trying to get Ma to start moving around, but she just sweats and lies there. Rumor has it typhus is going around. Maybe that’s what she’s got.
Ma started acting real funny today. It scared me enough to go run and find Pa. When I told him she was panting real hard he didn’t even finish listening to me. He jumped on his horse and rode off towards the cabin. Jeremy and I had to run behind him. By the time we reached the cabin Pa was already inside, but told us to leave straight away. I obeyed him despite my eagerness to see Ma. I’m plain positive she’ll die. I keep praying that Pa will let me say goodbye before she leaves us. Every time I hear her speak, I am worried that I won’t get to kiss her before she goes. Then again, her yelling means she’s still here. I don’t know why she keeps doing it though. Maybe she’s reluctant to go and leave the men in my care; she must’ve tasted my dumplings.
Pa finally came out and beckoned for me to come to him. He looked pale. Ma must be gone already. His face stayed emotionless as he stepped back into the cabin. I walked behind him and began to cry. I had really wanted to say goodbye to Ma. She was in her bed, very still, her back to me. I could hardly breathe. Tears came so fast that I was gulping for air. Leaning over, I stooped and kissed her white forehead. I glanced at her face and my heart stopped. Her eyes were open. Beside her lay a perfect dumpling of a baby, complete with a head of golden fuzz. Suddenly it all made sense. Ma squeezed my hand and smiled for the first time in months. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Well Ma, I only have one thing to say. You sure make one heck of a dumpling.”
__________________________
I hope this doesn't bore you, but I suppose it's better than nothing :).
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