Poodles

So, here I am locked up with two madly barking poodles for a week.

Obviously, I'm house sitting. Romeo is a standard poodle, and Bucky is a toy. At least they don't have sissy haircuts -- I don't know if I could handle that! They're really sweet dogs -- until they see a neighbor. Then they go crazy. I wish there were no windows.... But then, they'd probably want me to entertain them.

I poodle-sat these two once before, last month. The lady of the house called my house looking for me for this time, and told my mother that she was glad the dogs liked me so much and I was so good with them. Of course, my mother promptly told her that I kill animals. Well, ours seem to like her...

I can't blame her too much. It's true. My first experience was with a kitten. I must have been about 5 or 6, so I really wasn't responsible. I locked the poor kitty up in an old clothes-washing-detergent 3 gallon bucket, and it asphyxiated. I didn't know what had happened, and I was quite shocked when I realized it was dead.

A few years later I was doing an experiment with mealworms, and similarly left the lid closed for too long.

The next really traumatic time was when I was about 14 or 15. I had two little baby goats, or kids. I was putting them out on lines to eat the grass, and I let them sample some clippings that were lying on the ground. Fatally, they were boughs from a Japanese yew. Deadly nightshade family. They were both dead after a next day and evening. Since then I must have been more careful, because I haven't killed anything else. Or maybe my mother just doesn't trust me anymore.

I'm really not that great with plants either. This last year I've been trying for the third or so'th time to keep a pot alive for more than a month. I've only succeeded thus far because I've been away from home so much that my mom's been looking after it. Oh, well.

My grandfather, mother, and brother all have extremely green thumbs. I got skipped, somehow. I don't especially care for dirt or sweat. I can get along with them, I just won't go out of my way to get there.

I did eventually, successfully, keep 11 goats at once, and milk 3 for a year or two. I've since sold most of them and given the others to my sister. Agriculture doesn't pay very well around here unless you're a big operation -- or at least a teeny tiny bit dedicated!

So far I haven't killed any pets I've house sat, but I did once leave a whatsit in its little rolly ball thingy for a whole day. Whatsit...I can't remember what it was called. Some sort of little rodent thing with really soft fur and a bottlebrush tail...Aha! Chinchilla. That's what it was.

I really do like to house sit other people's pets. I get the benefit of having a pet for a few days, but don't have to work for it for their whole lives. Luckily for me, animals seem to like me. Poor, deceived little beggars.

All Is Quiet - Then the Sprinklers Come On - Then Go Off

Well, the reporter meeting was a bit of a flop. We all gathered at Johnny Carino's, eager to catch any words of wisdom dropping like the gems of the fairy-touched stepdaughter from the lips of seasoned court reporters. No one showed up. Well, one of our teachers did; she's been a court reporter, but she hasn't worked this last year. She didn't talk about reporting -- she does enough of that in class.

There were about 13 or 14 students, though, so it was a success as a social function. When I got there they had swing music playing, so I got up and taught Donna a bit of swing dancing. I really don't know much, but she thought it was fun.

One of the male students showed up, and the husband of another girl in my class, so we had their input on our discussions. They were both rather quiet; for some reason, our conversation seemed to revolve around weddings. I kept my mouth shut, not having any experience in that line.

I only stayed for about an hour and a half. I ate my calamari, and when a few of the other girls started to consider going out for more drinks (they had beer with dinner) I bowed out. Not that I wouldn't like to socialize, but I just reached legal drinking age in January, have never gone out for drinks, had to drive 20 miles home, and just didn't feel that they were a very responsible group to hang with right then.

On the way home I sang rock and roll, and then country. Songs about lost love, current love, ever-after love, and, finally, love me or else.

I saw a neighbor watering flowers in her yard, and since I haven't seen her lately I stopped to talk. Louise turned 94 on August 19 or 11, I can't remember for sure. August, anyway. She likes to talk to me; sometimes I have a hard time tearing myself away. I turned off the water for her and walked her back to her house, and she told me what had been going on in her life. It's kind of rambling, especially in the order she told it, but interesting.

Louise (approximated):
I just turned 94.
Isn't it awful how quickly those young people drive? There's one guy who goes past here at 100 miles per hour all the time. They should catch him. He goes by at about 60 miles per hour, and you can't even see who it is.
There's a lady who walks her dog in front of my house every day. She's about 40, but she looks like she's 20. She walks her dog past every night, and young men try to pick her up. She's a grandmother! She doesn't look it. You can see why they'd try to pick her up. (I saw her while we were talking -- she is in excellent shape.) She got permission to carry a gun from a friend of her's who's a policeman. Her dog is just medium sized. (I asked.)
I was real nervous yesterday. I had a hard week. I went and took my driving test. Now I have a license for one year.
I had a real hard time. I was getting in the car, and the key just broke off in the lock. The metal part was stuck in the door. My friend got it out for me. She brought me some spuds from her garden. (How did she get it out?) She just used a sharp knife. I thank the Lord she was walking her dog, because I didn't know what to do. I had to take my driving test, and this happened! She's a good friend.
It's hard to take that test. Especially with that man there in the car with you. He watches every move you make.
See the key, where it broke? I don't use the car much. It's an old car.
(End)

I like Louise. She uses a walker now. She can get around with a cane, but she has a fear of falling and not being found. A pretty viable fear, I think. That's by no means our whole conversation. I weeded it down to the story about the key.

My mother is still fighting with the educational system to let my sister play soccer. We had a law passed last year or so that basically said that any student who is 'fully enrolled' in the public school system has preference in any class/team/event sponsored by the public school system. So, because there were 36 spots on the team, but 38 public school students tried out, Starry-eyes doesn't even get to try out for the team. They automatically filled all the spots required by 'fully enrolled' students, regardless of aptitude. More on this later.

For now, I'd better go to bed. It's a prep day at school tomorrow -- no classes. Three cheers for sleeping in -- but I have a headache, so no exclamation marks after them. Whisper.

'night, all.

Yes!

I did it! And I'm successfully customizing my page!

Ohh, my, I feel special!

Apostrophe Protection Society

I have now set the link on my page.

Happy Apostrophizing!

I'm going to try to link the APS forum here as well:

Apostrophe Protection Society

I'm just learing about how to make web pages; I was working through a book at home, but I got overwhelmed, and now I think it's been misplaced. I want to see how much I can customize this page. I'm going to try to figure out how to fix the font for the 'links' section.

Thoughts

Just a few minutes ago I had all kinds of things to say.

School's going all right.

Family seems to be fine.

I'm reading good books.

There's a court reporter get together tonight at a restaurant nearby. Maybe I can finally have some pasta.

I'm at the interning stage in my schooling, now. I've been out with two different reporters. One's a court official, and the other does deposition work. Neither have returned my calls. I don't believe I've offended anyone into ignoring me -- I think that the message isn't getting through to the official, and the deposition reporter is probably on vacation, 'cause I'm not the only one who can't reach her.

I've got to prepare for this test in November. It's put on by the National Court Reporters' Association. I'd better remember to sign up; the deadline's swiftly approaching. I'll have to pass three tests to receive my certification. I already passed the Written Knowledge Test, so I have a Literature at 180 wpm, Jury Charge at 200 wpm, and a Question and Answer at 225 wpm.

Literature can be (literally) anything. Ha, ha. Jury Charge is usually rather repetitive, material from a court room setting. Question and Answer is, well, one person questioning and another answering. I have to identify the speakers and keep them straight throughout the test. Each test runs for five minutes. Still, at 200 wpm, that's a thousand words -- not to mention punctuation.

I've been posting to a very informative message board. It's attached to a site called the Apostrophe Protection Society. So, I've just condemned myself to complete geekdom in many people's eyes. I am resigned.

Book reviews...

For anyone interested, I have started a page for book reviews.

I will try to evaluate from a traditional Christian perspective and give what I think might be good age guidelines -- however, parents are always responsible for the acts of their minor children. Please don't take anything I say as gospel. I've been wrong before!

Straws

I always have trouble trying to say anything in print. Who will read it? Who cares? Will I want to read it later? Do I want anyone to know this, anyway?

So, I just finished letting my nine-year-old sister (I'll call her Rose) cry on my shoulder -- something triggered a memory about our sister (aka Bluebird, here) who died a few years ago. It still amazes me how incredibly deeply that event affected my younger sisters; they weren't very old when all of that happened.

Bluebird was sick for two years, and my mother did much of her nursing at home. We had a lot of support from church, family, and friends; still, what do you say in that kind of a situation? I've been through it, and I still don't know. You just live a day at a time, and suddenly you look back, and what do you know, time has passed.

I feel much more mature than my last post already, ha, ha. I'm in a much better mood since getting all that off my shoulders. I still have a lot of things up in the air, but I'm not completely lost.

You know about the straw that broke the camel's back? Well, I just keep getting straw after straw laid on me, and I start to bend.

I've also been studying Ecclesiates, so that doesn't help. We've only read the first two chapters, and they're all doom and gloom and 'all is vanity.' I think the next part will be better -- we get to read the part about 'there is a time for everything.

My sisters and one of my brothers have soccer this year, so they have to take showers practically every night. Rose, the same one who was just in tears, likes to sing in the shower. We were sitting down to our staggered evening meal, and suddenly loud, yet muffled, moans started to flow from the bathroom. My mother is aware of the singing habit, so she wasn't immediately alarmed. She sent another sister, Starry-eyes, off to check. We waited, listening for any sounds. There was a pause, then more seeming sobbing. My mother was pretty sure that something was wrong by this time, but then Starry-eyes returned and told us that Rose was standing in the shower, huddled against the still-cold water, head down, singing the 'Cheeseburger Song' from VeggieTales.

I can see you'll need a map to navigate the family:

My Father, 'the Engineer';
My Mother, 'Wildflower';
Me, 'Semi-colon,' the oldest;
Brother 'Tan Man,' just off to college;
Sister 'Bluebird,' forever 13 and 11 months old;
Sister 'Starry-eyes' (I know she'll hate that old nickname);
Brother -- Hmm, I'll say 'Buddy.' It fits.
Sister 'Pixie' (but don't tell her)
Sister 'Rose' (that's who she always wants to be while playing)

Got that? Me neither. I'll probably have to refer back to keep the names straight.

So, here I am up late. I think I'll get up and go running tomorrow morning. Hopefully I'll be better than my atrocious 10-minute-mile this morning. Don't laugh -- I'm really not a competitive/sports person.

I finally finished my latest Ngaio Marsh mystery -- I think I'm catching on to her themes. I guessed the correct criminal in this one, 'Death and the Dancing Footman'; I was way off in the last one, 'A Wreath for Riviera.' Can't win 'em all. I think I'll start a running book commentary. That is, if I can stop reading long enough to actually write something.

So, more tomorrow. Funny, my mother always wanted me to keep a journal...

Soliloquy

What a note to start on, huh? I just realized how many people I've lost track of over time and distance -- I wanted to start this page to have a place to soliloquize. As Belinda thought, it's been a long time since I've soliliquized. I miss it.

So, I'm completely stuck in school right now. I have to pass a test at 225 words per minute - yes, that's two hundred and twenty-five - in November, and I'm still needing so much practice it's not even funny.

Warning-- I use esoteric phraseology.

Soliloquy:

Do you ever feel like you don't know anyone anymore? The people you thought you knew turn on your family, and then, just when you need them, you turn on your family! Sure, you'll say, it was just early morning grumps. Go and apologize. Don't worry, it will all go away. But then I start to think about my character. Is there something I need to look at when I am dismissive of anyone else's feelings? Well, duh. No need to wonder there.

It's a big step to leave a church you've been attending for eight to ten years. Actually, my mother doesn't like to use the term 'church' in that context. She'll say, we're all the church. We're just leaving this congregation, I say. Still, you almost feel lost. So, you marinate in your feelings, and suddenly realize -- Who can I talk to about this? My mother's already stressed out and using me for a sounding board. I want to talk to someone outside my family, but my most understanding friend goes to that church! Then, to make matters worse, you aren't really allowed to say anything that would explain it to anyone.

So, people who were friends with you before: I'm not the glue that holds groups together. My sister was ill, I was starting school as well, and I've lost contact. I hardly know how to talk to any of the girls from that group anymore; sure, it was just highschool, but you have to remember, this wasn't public school. This was a group of homeschooled girls whose families had been in close connection through the graduating class only.

So, now, what do I do? Email my brother, who just went off to college? Sweet, but not exactly what I'm looking for. I don't want to start again. I'm not the kind of person who gets invited places, and I don't send invitations very often. The last party I had was my birthday -- I sent out about 20 invitations and 3 people came.



Whiney, isn't it. Looking over that, I'm tempted to erase it. So much for a pity party -- it's not even constructive, because all I've said is that I don't want to have to work at anything. I want full-grown friends to fall from the sky.

I'll leave it. Maybe I'll come back someday and wonder at how immature I am.

The joy of the Lord is my strength.

So, life goes on.

I do have happy things going on. I am recently finding more and new friends, even though I am losing others. Maybe if I keep my eyes open and I'm not afraid to try a little harder, I'll find a good one.

The adoption of two new little brothers from Zambia seems to be going through. My book-writing effort is encouraging (I'll just have to make sure it's not to sappy with all this emotion I've been feeling!). My family will forgive me for being snappy -- if I promise to clean my room!

I'll keep practicing my stenography; after all, it's not every day that a student reaches the rarified heights of 225 word per minute. And, with these mood swings, I seem to be a perfectly normal, functioning human female.


Aaah, I feel better already. I knew this would help. I believe I've rescinded my earlier conviction not to share this with anyone -- although I still can't think of many teeming thousands of friends. Who needs a thousand, anyway? Okay, I'm still having trouble think of even one friend in the country with whom I could share this. But, this isn't the only country in the world...