I went office shopping at Walmart a few days ago, and needed to buy some rubber gloves. I easily found the section, but had to look through it several times before realizing something: they didn't have any size small gloves. They weren't sold out, there was no empty spot, they just plain old, didn't sell small rubber gloves.
Of course, medium size gloves work just fine. They fit, they are not more likely to slip, and, I must admit, they are easier to slip on and off. So, practically speaking, you could argue that medium sized gloves are superior to size small.
But have you ever put on really nicely fitting gloves? Of any type? I don't know why, but I really like how my hands look in a small glove. It's like I finally have the slim, small hand that I really wish I had. No such luck for my office work though.
Come on Walmart, pander to a girl's vanity. After all, I was stuck washing dishes, at least my hands could have looked nice doing so.
I really don't have an explanation for this. I just want to make that clear before you read this and start asking. Yes, I wrote it with a certain someone in mind, but even so, it isn't really applicable to that person. However, I would love comments. What do you think of this poem? Does it make sense? Does it tell a story, or give a feeling? Is it cheesy/silly/interesting?
If this is the story of Us
Then I am lost
Can we reread the last chapter?
Did I miss something?
Because suddenly a new plot appeared
And it doesn't make sense
Aren't We the main characters?
Where did You go?
Were you merely an actor
That got tired of the part
Or found a better job and left
Leaving the script writer to write you out?
But this isn't a movie
You don't get to walk out
Just because you are bored
And you can't be written out
So where did you go?
You fell off the pages
Was it suicide?
Were you ever even there?
As anyone who knows me well knows, I am a very cautious person. I stay safe, and I tend to follow the rules. I rarely do stupid things (but say stupid things on a regular basis) and therefore have few embarrasing stories to tell.
And every once in a while, I try to change that. No, not the rarely doing stupid things part, I'd like to keep that the way it is. The cautious part. I want to be able to fearlessly do all the crazy things my crazy friends do. I feel like a stick in the mud on a regular basis. I'm boring, and I know that.
But every time I try to do something remotely adventurous, I get myself into physical danger. In not a good way.
For the first event, let's rewind 6 or so years. It was during the spring rains, and because we like walking in the rain, Ellie, Justice and I decided to go walk in our neighbors property. There were several creeks in this property that we enjoyed seeing as they overflowed. The way we wanted to go involved crossing one of these swollen creeks, and since there was no other way across, we opted for the log stretched from one side to the other.
Folks, I hate to admit it, but I am terrible at crossing logs. I'm afraid of it, even. And I knew it. I knew I was no good. So Ellie crosses first. I'm not going to be the pansy and hang back, so I start crossing. Half-way across, I fall... and get stuck on the log with one leg over, one leg under, with a swollen creek the size of a small, and very angry river, pushing against me. Of course, one of the first things I think of is the story Pop had told earlier of someone drowning in one of these swollen creeks because she had tried to drive her car across.
My dear Ellie, always my protector, started wading out into this stream to help me out, after me trying for a frantic minute to pull myself up. Fortunately I was able to pull myself out before she got to the middle (dangerous) part of the stream. We headed back home, and were thankfull that the rain hid the fact that I was drenched, a little more than my siblings. We never told my parents, and this will be the first they've heard of it. :D
I don't know if this next anacdote really counts, but it is another time when I felt quite a lot of fear. On one of our float trips there is a rock that you can jump off of into the middle of the river. It is plenty deep, so dives are "safe" too. Personally I prefer diving. I don't dive too much though, cause I always have to build up my courage for it (seriously, you are throwing yourself head-first off of something into water...). Anyway, I was on a float with Camp David, and I do a dive off of this rock. As I dive, I feel my legs go too far back, hear an awful pop in my back, and experience pain as I hit the water and go under.
My very active and vivid imagination immediately starts working overtime as I claw my way back to the surface. Fortunately I neither drown (as I was worrying), nor cry (as I was tempted). I was, however, in a great deal of pain for the rest of the trip, and subsequent days until I made it to a chiropractor. You know, when you have a hurt back, it is painful to have one's canoe flipped... repeatedly....
This last one was the most recent occurrence, happening just a few weeks ago at Johnson Shut-ins. I was with a lot of friends, and they were all jumping off of a rock about... hm... 6-8 feet high, maybe? They had to jump out a bit from it, as there was another rock at it's base. After several of them had jumped, I went up to the edge, looked over, and then backed away. And my friends, as all good friends will, encouraged me to not worry, just jump. Some suggested I just walk up to the edge and go, without thinking, and others pointed out that you could jump off, without jumping out and still not hit the rocks at it's base.
If all my friends jumped off a cliff, would I jump too? No, actually. But if all my friends told me to go ahead and try it, then I might. :P Anyway, I decided to jump. I took a few swift steps, planning for my last step to be on the edge, working to launch me over. Only problem is, one step from the edge I slip. Entirely. No going back. I kick out with my other foot hoping to catching the edge with that and push me farther out. But that foot slips too. In the process I get flipped over and I hit the water with my shoulder, my legs missing the rocks by less than a foot (if I correctly remember what the onlookers said).
Well, that was rather terrifying. For everyone. Apparently there was a collective gasp, and Ellie, who was lower down and had not seen, turned around to see me in the water and shocked looks on everyone's faces. And when she asked, "Did my sister just almost die?" they answered, "Yes". Way to put her mind at rest.... I came up laughing a rather hysterical laugh, climbed back up, and sat huddled for a while. No one else jumped until quite a bit later, in fact, until someone who hadn't seen what happened came up and jumped a few times.
I didn't realize until writing this post that all of these stories involve rivers (or rushing streams that almost qualify as rivers). One might think that I would fear water. I don't. In fact, I love water, and swimming, and canoeing, etc.
I get sunburned a lot. And almost every time I get a sunburn it turns a very bright red. Fortunately, I don't really mind sunburns, they tend to amuse me. The more red, hot, and even swollen they are, the more amusing I find them (which is good, because those are the particularly painful ones). I will often get cold in the evenings of days where I have gotten a sunburn (not sure why, feel free to speculate), but instead of getting a sweater, I'll just try to curl around, or hug, the sunburned area. It works, kind of.
Sunburns also seem to work well for me as conversational topics. I once went to a dance after getting a sunburn (actually, this happens about once a year. Or more), and people would skip the hellos and just shoot straight into "Wow, you're sunburned." I've had people interrupt me to inform me that I got quite the sunburn today (this was a family member, at dinner. One would think they would be used to it by now).
I really want a shirt (I'm thinking bright red) that says "Yes, I'm sunburned." But it sounds too snarky, so I doubt I'll ever make one.
I guess it isn't too much of a problem for people to tell me that I'm sunburned, cause I always forget. Sadly, the reminders never come right when I need them, which is when something itches, so I scratch
it, and then realize that my skin is terribly damaged in that area, and I
just wounded it even more deeply.
I suppose I could wear sunscreen, like a normal, intelligent person, but as noted in my hike post, sunscreen doesn't always work for me.
I celebrated Memorial Day by going on a 20 mile "hike" along various roads in Rolla. This was Fine Linen's 6th annual post-production hike, which I think is a really cool tradition, and this is the first time I've been able to go on the whole thing.
The first 10 miles went pretty well. Rests were welcome, and occasionally the spray painted mile markers were a little farther apart than seemed right as a walker, but I was fully enjoying it. At mile 10 we took a pleasant break for snacks and restrooms, as we still had three more miles until lunch. Those three miles went well, except for the horrid hill right before the house where we stopped. I had feelings of anger towards that hill.
At lunch I considered (and pushed aside) thoughts of calling it quits. The bridge of my left foot was hurting. The best way to describe it was that it felt like I did not have enough cartilage to cushion the joint between two of my bones. I reasoned within myself that I was not likely to do any permanent damage, so I may as well walk on it.
The next 7 miles to the finish line are a pretty good testimony to my pride and stubbornness. I wanted bragging rights after this, and 13 miles (or 16... or 17... etc) just wouldn't have cut it. It needed to be the full 20 miles (and a little bit more, but not quite certain if it was a full 1/2 mile farther than 20).
I learned a few things on this trip, though some of them I "knew", just not from personal experience:
20 miles is a long way
The left side of my body is weaker than my right side
I can still get a sunburn on my face even if I have sunscreen on and am wearing a ball cap
It is still possible to run/jog after walking 20 miles, and in a weird sense, it even feels good
Bobby pins are indeed how females mark their territory, as I found some in my backpack from college (that had gone in to storage a while ago, and that I had "thoroughly" emptied out)
Hocker Gas closes sometime before 9 p.m. Or else they don't even open on Memorial Day. That hadn't even occurred to me until now.
I want to make it clear that at no point did I stop enjoying it, it just turned into a painful enjoyment after a while. I was always surrounded by nice, fun people, and had a caring, helpful, and upbeat hiking buddy (Jeni Steele is always fun to be around, but I could especially appreciate her cheerfulness at mile 20). My knowledge of the words to "What Makes You Beautiful" came in useful as we sang that towards the end (much to the chagrin of the gentlemen in front of us).
At dinner and afterwards, I was in enough pain that I decided to leave a bit early. Considering the fact that two people offered me painkillers (one because I was limping, the other was because I was swaying back and forth in my chair as I was sitting), that was probably a decision that everyone else could understand. I was pleasantly surprised that my soreness did not keep me awake at all that night.
Yesterday, my muscles were still rather mad at me, every time I moved they responded something like this: "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? YOU DESERVE ALL OF THIS! I WILL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU IN A NORMAL VOICE AGAIN!"
Today has been a bit more reasonable. It has gone down to the level of, "Hey, you had a lot of exercise on Monday. I just wanted to remind you that maybe you should STAY IN SHAPE! Have a nice day."
I'm eagerly looking forward to next year's hike...
I get Fridays off of work, something for which I am extremely grateful. A couple months ago, Tracy asked me if I could come over Friday afternoons and teach some sort of lesson or do some sort of activity with the boys. A few weeks in I decided to go outside and identify various plants for them.
This worked pretty well, despite the fact that I had forgotten my wildflower book, and that there was one flower which I was almost sure was Henbit, but not sure enough to impress it upon young minds (it was). To make up for it, I brought my wildflower book, our wild edible book, and our bird book to our next meeting.
Now, every time I go over Edmund will have new flowers to show me. "Did you bring the flower book?" Last week I visited with them for a little while, and we saw some field sorrel (or wood sorrel, not entirely sure on the difference), so I told Edmund it was edible. When I came over on Friday I again told them it was edible, and we all ate some. I also showed them clover, telling them that it is edible too.
After I taught the 6 year-old, the 4 year-old and the 3 year-old that these flowers were edible, I realized my mistake. Jack (Jeremiah) started picking every yellow flower in sight saying, "I tan eat dis. I tan eat dis," and popping them in his mouth. I then told him, in a very serious voice that he should only eat plants outside if he asks someone if they are fine. After all, some plants can hurt you.
He then went on picking every yellow flower and eating them, changing his chant to, "Dis not hurt me. Dis not hurt me. Dis not hurt me."
I'm very glad that the only yellow flowers in that area were clover and field sorrel.
While on our trip out to Georgia I was constantly drafting blog posts in my mind. Pretty much anytime I was thinking through something, I was wording it how I would for a blog post. It seems to be getting into my head.
That being said, I don't really have anything to write about at the moment. Oh, except for a billboard I saw in Georgia. But before I tell you what the billboard said, I need to prepare your thinking.
First of all, let's say I treat a group of kids with ice cream cones. Or ice cream sandwiches, you choose.
But then someone tells me that ice cream cones aren't healthy, so they treat most of the kids with balloons.
And now the billboard: "We treat the most kids with broken bones in the state of Georgia."
Let's just say it hit me wrong. And I hope my little exercise ensured that it hit you wrong too. If it didn't, I apologize to you for trying to make you take a perfectly grammatically correct statement (as far as I can tell) incorrectly. It isn't their fault I assume the worst.
I've been pretty busy recently. At least on weekends. I've had a luggage bag in my room for four weeks now, having used it for three weekends in the last four (I'm already talking about this upcoming weekend as something in the past. You'll have to bear with me on that, cause that's how I've been thinking about it.)
The busyness started with a wedding in Texas. Kimberly and I drove down on Wednesday the 10th, and we got home on Saturday the 13th. The next weekend was tolerably free: only Saturday was booked with two soccer games and a dance in Rolla.
Then I did something all by my lonesome. Doesn't happen often, folks, even though I am an adult. I went to a craft weekend from Thursday to Sunday. It was crazy. And fun. I think I'll take pictures of everything I made and make another blog post about it. I'll give you my thoughts on crafters, Hobby Lobby, and soldering.
Tomorrow, we are off to Georgia for my cousin's wedding, and we will be staying out there until sometime next week (Wednesday or Thursday). By "we" I mean Mom, Pop, Justice, Kimberly and myself. Ellie is staying home, and Jaired and company didn't want to take such a long haul with a wee one.
This weekend will make the second weekend in a row that I haven't seen Ellie. It's really weird. The last time we were apart for this long was last May when she went to Montana, and before that, probably never. It falls under the category of "strange and unusual". Last weekend it fully sank in how long it would be, and that's when I realized something very important: Most people my age don't get to see their family, their whole family, every single weekend. Kimberly and Ellie both have jobs where they live away from home, but they always come back. We usually have a big family dinner with Jaired, Tracy and family at some point over a weekend as well. I am extremely blessed.
Anyway, I should have been packing instead of writing this. Or sleeping. Or something other than writing this.
Well, you may have noticed I've been posting quite a few poems recently. All of them have been from my poetry challenge for 2013. I'd like to reiterate here, I welcome any comments and critiques.
As far as my goal has been progressing, I consider it to be going well. I've settled down to more steady poem-writing (I haven't written eight in a day since the first week, I believe). I try to write one poem every night before I go to bed. And let me tell you something: it's harder than I thought it would be.
Every night. Sitting down with my pencil and my cool little journal. Having to pound out a poem no matter how tired I am. I've missed a couple of nights, sadly. I always feel a little bit of failure when I wake up and remember I didn't write a poem the day before. But I get over it, and write two just to make up for it. I'm up to 164 poems so far.
Writing poetry this steadily, and having them all together, has brought something to my attention. I have certain phrases that I use a lot in poetry. Words I like to work in. Pairs of words that I often use as rhyming couplets. So sometimes I have to make a conscious effort to not use a word in today's poem. If I want to cover the same topic that I've covered before (which happens a lot), I have to find new words for it. Which I like. But also disappoints me that with my tolerably good vocabulary I still reuse words all the time.
The funny thing about looking for something is that it is always in the last place you look. Though it may also sometimes be the first place you look, that does not happen on a regular basis. Even if you know where something is (say, the ketchup in the refrigerator) it isn't likely that you'll find it immediately.
Point is, you are bound to look in the wrong place, and find the wrong thing, before you look in the right place and find the right thing. But if you are searching for something in specific, you will keep looking until you find the right thing.
So why are Christians so afraid to be wrong? I have heard people say (note, this is not a verbatim quote) that they do not want to study the Bible for themselves, for fear that they pick up some theology that is wrong.
In a conversation I had with some Catholic friends of mine, one of them asked me how a home church would work. How could we be sure that we were right? Since the head of my family's church (my father) is not "ordained by God, infallible, and always correct" as Catholics beleive their priests to be (sorry if I am incorrectly translating what Catholics believe, this is what I understood from a conversation I had last October) (another note, I do believe that my father is ordained by God to be the leader of our family "church", but not in the same way that Catholics believe in their Popes, Cardinals, and Priests), how do we know what to believe? What if we translate a verse differently from another family who is doing the same sort of church? Which of us is right? How do we know? What if we are WRONG?
Well, what if we are wrong? We (or rather, I should say my parents) are constantly spending time in the Word, turning over ideas, revelations, connections, and possibilities. I think we've discussed many ideas that have been wrong, and I'm sure it will happen again. But if you keep looking, God has promised that you will find, and presumably He meant you will find the correct answer.
It's okay to be wrong, as long as you keep looking. Seek and ye shall find. If you are looking for your shoes, don't stop when you find your gloves. No one would blame you for finding the gloves. Just make sure you find the shoes.
Hey, and guess what? I have a poem that goes along pretty well with this subject. :D
I want to keep up this blog, but I haven't a clue what I should write about. Okay, yes, I do have "a" clue, since I stated in one of my first blogposts of the year that I planned on talking about quilling and poetry. But there is only so much you can say about quilling and poetry.
I'll probably keep posting poems occasionally, but that seems kind of boring. Is it boring? What do you think I should write about? More poems, less poems, more random pictures (please don't say that one, I dislike working with cameras, either end), more randomness in general? Should I switch over to the more journal type of blog? Should I just stop?
Last year I decided that I wanted a goal for the year. Perhaps a little foolishly, I thought that I should write two friendly letters a week for the entire year, or 104 letters total. For the first half of the year everything went fine, I had plenty of time, and even got a little ahead. But then I graduated and got a job and I slowed down a bit. November and December came and found me writing a bit more than two letters a week. On December 31st, I posted my 104th letter, so I reached my goal, though a little scrambling was involved.
This year I decided to be a little more realistic in my goal. And by that, I mean I set the goal of writing 365 poems in the year 2013.
It all started when I bought a journal in November, 2012. I already own around six journals, but this one was so pretty, and I was on a strict diet, so I wanted to console myself by buying something (I know, really bad of me, but at least I wasn't cheating on that awful fast/cleanse thing I was on). Since I have writing in four of the journals that I own, and have never yet completed one, I set it aside for a brilliant idea for what to use it for.
This last year I hadn't written much poetry, but I found that if I sat down to it, I could jot off several tolerable ones pretty easily, and it was really... I guess fulfilling might be the best word for it. So in the last weeks of December, while finishing up 2012's goal, I started mulling over 2013's goal, thinking along the lines of journals, and tossing in the poetry idea every now and then. I ended up "committing" to filling the lovely new journal with at least one poem per page, so it would come to at least 148.
You may notice that 148 does not come to an average of one poem a day for the entire year. I changed the goal to that after writing eight the first day and eight more the second. I've missed a couple days so far, but my total poem count for the year is 77, so I think I'm well on my way for my goal.
I'll admit, many of the poems I'm writing this year are rubbish. Some are silly, some have no rhyme nor meter. But every once in a while I write one that says exactly what I mean, and says it well, and even if I only get one of those per hundred, I think it's worth it.
Here are several of my earrings. All of these pictured here are original designs that I have made over these last few years. I'll post more designs as I get together more pictures.
Prices range from $8-$22, please contact me (Chava.April@gmail.com) if you have any questions.
Above: I call these my African earrings as I designed them for an African costume I had put together. Price: $8
Above: These Descending Triangles have a very modern look. I can make these with just one color or with any color combination you choose. Price: $12
Above: I have not yet named this design (feel free to give me suggestions), so I'll call them Untitled #1. These were inspired by some earrings I saw in a movie, though I'm fairly certain that those were plastic instead of paper. Price: $15
Above: Again, un-named, so Untitled #2. These were inspired by some earrings that Shaylynn (from http://shealynns-faerie-shoppe.blogspot.com/) made, called Fireworks, I believe. These were designed rather last minute when I discovered that a class I was going to teach that I thought was going to be 2 hours was instead going to be closer to 30 minutes. Price: $8
Above: Free-fall Circles are fun to wear. Each earring is five circles of different sizes, all interlocking and falling down from each other. Price: $18
Above: I'm sorry for the very bad picture, I ended up selling this pair, otherwise I would post a better picture of it. I'll call these Splash, as they are made up of about seven "droplets". Price: $12
Above: Untitled #3. As possibly my "simplest" and cleanest design, these earrings match well with any outfit, being simple enough for denim, and elegant enough for dressier outfits. I have only done these in a single color, but I would be willing to do several colors, or to attempt a gradual color change in these if desired. Price: $15
Above: Untitled #4. These were my first successful earring design. They are made from 1/16" wide paper, so are thinner and more delicate than most of my earrings. Price: $18
Above: These Concentric Circles may well be my favorite personal design. They dance when you move! Price: $22
Above: Water Drops start large and end in a small droplet at the end. Price: $10
Above: These Fuchsia Blossoms were inspired by another artist's quilling. Since they are a particular type of flower, they are made with a dark red and purple. Price: $15
Above: I designed these around the time that some friends and I were getting together a writing group, so I named them Inkblot. You may not be able to see clearly in this picture, they are made with both blue and black paper. Price: $20
When I was 14 my parents sent me to a craft weekend as my birthday
gift. When signing up, Mom helped me pick out things because I wasn't
quite sure what all of the crafts were. We came across quilling and Mom
told me that I would enjoy it, though from the description I was a little
doubtful. Twirling bits of paper? It just didn't sound
appealing. Little did I know how amazing quilling can be.
Over the last 7 years I have developed quite a bit in my quilling. I started
designing earrings a few years back and I have loved the ability to picture
something and then create it. I have also played about a bit with 3d
quilling, creating a living-room scene, a sewing machine, and a few other
On this blog I will post several entries with pictures, descriptions and prices attached. Contact me if you would like to make an order or if you have any questions. My email address is Chava.April@gmail.com, though I'll make sure that information is somewhere handy on the blog as well.