ONE WORD ONLY!

ONE WORD ONLY!

Not as easy as you might think. Now copy, forward, or post this and change the answers to yours and pass it on. It’s really hard to only use one word answers.

1. Where is your cell phone? nonexistent

2. Your significant other? Christ

3. Your hair? Brown

4. Your mother? Married

5. Your father? Married

6. Your favorite thing? Music

7. Your dream last night? Restless

8. Your favorite drink? Water

9. Your dream/goal? Evangelism

10. The room you’re in? Living

11. Your ex? Sin

12. Your fear? Insects!

13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Missions

14. Where were you last night? Bedroom

15. What you’re not? Messy

16. Muffins? Blueberry

17. One of your wish list items? Jogging-companion (Is that fair?)

18. Where you grew up? Home

19. The last thing you did? Sleep

20. What are you wearing? Pajamas

21. Your TV? Largish

22. Your pets? cuddly

23. Your computer? Useful

24. Your life? Grateful

25. Your mood? Content

26. Missing someone? Yes

27. Your car? Ugly!

28. Something you’re not wearing? Shoes

29. Favorite store? Book

30. Your summer? Warm

31. Like(love) someone? Family

32. Your favorite color? Blue

33. Last time you laughed? Now

34. Last time you cried? Sunday

35. Who will re-post this?

I’m a sucker for cute.

The Piano

Yes…the piano. So What?

Imagine 88 individual, pressure controlled levers. Each lever is about 1 1/2” wide and when pressed lowers to hit a set of tightly drawn wires, thus causing the wire to vibrate and emit a clear, single note. Each lever has its own set of wires, and every single set of wires emits a different, unique sound. Below the levers, near the ground, are larger levers. When pressed they either dampen the sound of the wires, making it softer, or the take off the dampers - soft pads pressed against the wire -, allowing the note of sound to linger and be louder. Wooden panels and legs contain all the wires and levers, holding it about thigh to waist level. To buy a decent one of these, the costs all too often reach into the thousands of dollars.

Humans, being the sentient life forms that we are, are usually the only ones to take any interest in experimenting with a musical instrument like this. A select few of us endeavor to master such a contraption. To do so, we memorize symbols that tell us which exactly among the 88 levers do we press, and how long to press it. Once that is mastered, we memorize different sequences of these symbols, most sequences being hundreds, if not thousands, of symbols long, and perform them in front of many other people — Hopefully without a single mistake. As the player progresses, they are expected to follow the sequences without looking down at their hands to see what they are doing, so it becomes instinctual. Then there are instructions, usually in a language foreign to the player, that are written randomly in the sequences, telling us how soft the levers should be pushed, or how hard. Sometimes the instructions tell you to push the levers with excitement, or great sensitivity. The player is expected to truly experience all of these and be able to relate them to the listener.

Then there are symbols that tell you to repeat a certain part of the sequence, or when to skip back and forth. Some sequences are designed for several people to play at the same time. With these, timing is crucial and exact. A single mistake and you have not just messed up your own part, but everybody else’s as well.

Other than the sequences, the player must learn and remember many years worth of the mechanics of music…Theory. Theory is hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t studied it. All you need to know is that it gets more difficult as it progresses, and it is not very fun. Google it if you’re interested.

Now they are ready to master proficiency in speed. Some sequences are meant to be played so quickly, that it is impossible to follow with the eyes or the mind. The sound literally becomes a blur.

When all the before mentioned things are accomplished, the player is expected by relatives, friends, and instructors to play for the enjoyment and pleasure of other people, usually complete strangers. At times they are expected to perform before other, rather intimidating, distinguished musicians who will judge and rank them based on the quality of their playing. When performing, the pianist concentrate so hard and so fully on the sequences, that their faces often contort into rather embarrassing expressions. They will scowl or move around awkwardly on their seat, perhaps wave their heads dreamily back and forth - anything so as not to be perceived as a programmed robot. The curious thing about this is that the audience delights in such displays of utter engrossment in the sequences.

After many years of what you’ve just read, they are considered professional musicians. They can now continue doing it for the rest of their natural lives.

(Now, please — do try to be understanding when your 11 year old is attached by sudden stage fright, or when your 8 year old is intimidated by lessons. Simply rejoice that your child is intelligent enough to comprehend the enormity of the task.)

Snorg Tees

Uhh…yummy?

meat face

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:(

Knit Kitty is gone. . . I purchased a little leather collar for her, but it had a little dingle bell on it. I was stupid and put it on her. I knew we had bobcats, coyotes, and cougars were I live. I thought she would be able to manage. She’s fast, right? She’s little and able to climb trees in an instant. But she never came back.

goodbye Knit baby

How to properly hug a baby

	If you think you’ve spotted a baby, verify by employing classic sniffing techniques. Baby powder is a dead giveaway.
	Flatten the baby before actually beginning the hugging process.
	Simply slide paws around baby and prepare for possible close-up.
	If a camera is present, you will need to execute the difficult and patented hug, smile, and lean in order to achieve the best photo quality.

Sweet as. . . Part one.

Well. . . honey.

My dad is a beekeeper. We’ve struggled for several years to keep up the hives, but an epidemic has swept through the country— bees are dying, entire hives, hundreds of hives at a time, and no one knows why.

Honeybees are unappreciated. People run and squeal at the sight of their furry little bodies humming around for a nice flower, little pollen sacs hanging of their hind legs. Most don’t realize the impact bees have in the USA. Every Spring Beekeepers haul hundreds of their hives over hundreds of miles to California. There the bees pollinate almonds, mostly, but also oranges, grapes, spinach, etc. But with the bee epidemic, California is worried. They grow a lot of produce. . . but how will that produce actually grow without pollination?

I’m dead serious. My dad started over twenty hives last summer and only four are still going. But many have not realized that the bees are dying.

But. . . Bees are scary. They. . .They stings you and chase you! They wait for any offense, ready to stick their poisonous, barbed tail into your skin. Not to mention that horrible buzzing sound they emit. *shudder*

Hhmp. A lesson is needed, I see.

==============================

Above you is a regular worker honeybee. It has six legs, four wings, two antennae.

Here we catch the bee gathering pollen.

Five million pollination visits later, you have one teaspoon of honey.

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Okay, you do the math. I have faith in you mind’s abilities to grasp the ultimate meaning of what I’ve just shared with you. I hope that from now on you will be filled with a sense of wonder whenever you see a jar filled with honey. Bees are very, very busy. They are more concerned about finding flowers than hanging out with you. They do not wait for a chance to sting you, because if they do they are fully aware to the fact that their body will be torn in two, and that they will die. I love honeybees — their deaths are never pointless. Their one and only thought is to protect the hive without inhibition. I see them as stout, fuzzy little amazons, boldly marching out to fulfill their duty selflessly, without hesitance.

Who and the heck would look at grapes and think…

…”Wow! Those would look good with googly eyes!”…

Grape babies: “Don’t eat us! We love you!“

…And be right?

Chivalry

Last Saturday I volunteered to help with a local debate in my home town. I had attended some debate classes earlier this year, so I was familiar with the people hosting it, and understood somewhat what was going on during a debate. They gave me the rooms where I was going to be the timer. I was all set.

The thing is…I was really tired. I had stayed up late and gotten up even later. My mind was kinda foggy when I got to the church  so I decided to quickly jog a few times around the parking lot. I started down the hallway with many young, dressed-up, home-schooled young men blocking my path.

One boy saw me, and then immediately called down the hall way, “Make way! Everybody get out of the way!” One boy hadn’t heard the command and was chatting with a friend.. “Tyler! I said get out of the way!” He hurriedly scooted aside. All the young men had pressed themselves to the wall so that I could walk through and respectfully waited for me to pass.

I don’t care what feminists say. . . I loved every second of it.

Chivalry is almost a dead concept. Even at my old church most of the boys bumped into girls as they went to the door, but never bothered to say ‘excuse me.’ They never held the door open, but rather let it shut in a girl’s face. They didn’t care. The age we live in know–It’s strange if a man goes out of his way to treat a female like a lady. When I’m at a large youth event, like a concert or a high school play, I’m usually jostled and shoved around. I have to ‘fend for myself.’ I can’t remember the last time I was treated with as much respect as all those debaters had shown me. It made me feel. . . good.

Last Saturday those boys reminded me that chivalry exist, and that there is hope.

Obi Kenobi and light up swords

Good morning

when I woke up today, my cold was at that phase where my throat was was all junked up, and I couldn’t breath or hear anything. I was a little stiff from sleeping on my back for so long. I opened my eyes and lifted my head to see my clock.

1:11 . . . pm.

‘Well…that explains the stiffness,‘ I thought. Then I put my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes.

—

Don’t you just love Saturdays?

Where I live

Hi, everyone! This is just a post about where I live with some picture…welll…not exactly where, but what it looks like. Can’t be to careful. This is what I wake up to every morning and what I live everyday.
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The view from the side of our house looking out at the ranch lands. (Yes, and the cows only make look prettier.)
Hills rise up on both sides with the valley in between…it’s beautiful. On the left of the valley, next to the barn, is a nice, winding, country road that I like to use for taking walks with my dog, Smokey. Forrest, birds, flowers. Nice smelling hay and cows that eagerly follow you until they meet a fence. Even sometimes a cowboy or two, with boots, hats, horses, dogs, the whole deal. We get cool ocean wind that flows through the valley from the sea. It’s wonderful.

Our little apple orchard in our front yard. One little apple tree gives these small, red apples that are THE sweetest!

A county road. (That leads to the landfill :P)

One of our black walnut trees. During the summer our black walnuts burst into lush greenness, but they’re a little sorrier during winter. Black walnuts grow tongs of shaggy, spear shaped leaves that give it the feel of some ancient jungle tree. During the fall, their leaves change from green to yellow, and it’s beautiful. Our tire swing hangs on this tree.

Honey Bees!

The ‘Christmas tree farm on the loose.’ We have a whole forest of Christmas trees for our wood stove (we heat exclusively with wood). To the left is the old gout shed. The goats kept eating our garden, so they had to go.

Chickens.

Our rooster. Yes. He crows.

The “I love our camera!” pictures.

Our front door…all the junk is off it, now. I’ve settled on the word ‘unpretentious’ rather than ‘messy.’

Why to Go to Public School…10 Amazingly Good Reasons

Okay now. . . I don’t judge people who go to school. But a lot of people who go to school judge me. These are all the things I wish I could tell the ones who gives me that ‘look’, but never actually get around to sharing for the sake of keeping the peace. (Boy, people get offended easily!)

Enjoy!

(I did NOT write this, I got it from a blog of a girl who went to school!) 

Why send your kids to public schools rather than home-school? Here are ten good reasons…

10. Skill development: Public schools do a great job of teaching children to sit down and shut up while the teacher engages in crowd control and mindless administrative duties. The ability to put one’s mind on hold, sit there and do nothing is a skill that will be in high demand in the competitive marketplace of the future.

9. Lack of ability: I could not teach my own child, I do not know how. After all, anything meaningful in life can only be taught by those properly trained and certified to do so.

8. Financial aspects: We cannot financially afford to home-school. Without the school based health clinics, how could we afford to keep our children supplied with birth control?

7. I want my children to learn all the correct stuff: Given how fast history changes, I want to be sure they are up on the most recent version.

6. Scheduling benefits: Staying on the same schedule as everybody else has its benefits. That way, when we go to Disneyland, we can make sure that we spend our time waiting in lines rather than wasting it on all those rides and attractions.

5. Close friendships: I like the fact that my children are spending so much of their time with people not in their family. I would much rather my children’s closest friendships be outside the family rather than within.

4. Separation of church and state: As long as we keep church and state separate, then the more time I can keep my kids under the control of the state, the less time they can possible be under the harmful influence of a church.

3. Socialization: What possible better way could there be to give your children the social skills they will need as adults than to stick them with children their own age all day. Besides, the best influence on your child is the one randomly assigned to the seat behind him or her in home-room.

2. Class size: Learning cannot occur in groups of less than twenty students. There is nothing quite like being lock-stepped through material (with thirty other students) to really develop (within a person) that true love for learning.

1. Class pace: I want my child to know how to learn at the proper pace. If a child cannot keep up with the class, then it serves that child right to be left behind in the dust. If the child is learning too fast, then he or she needs to learn to slow down. And besides, what gives any child the right to assume that he or she can learn things he or she wants to learn rather than what the board of education decides should be taught for any given grade level. Anything learned at the wrong time might just as well be left unlearned.

God’s will…

 

 

To the left is a picture of one of my best friends, Amy. Amy’s family moved to Oregon and we attended the same church. We didn’t actually meet each other until my mom made me invite her to my birthday party…after that we just clicked. We’re so much alike that we can’t be around each other for too many days.We enjoy a lot of the same things, and my sister said it was almost creepy, we were so much alike.

Well…A few years ago they felt that God was calling the, back to Kenya. Dan is an eye surgeon and he works with the Christian Blind Mission. So they all moved back to Nairobi, Kenya.

But, as some of you will be aware that, Kenya, especially Nairobi, has been racked terribly with political unrest. 900 people have been thought to be killed. I’ve been following the news at BBC news, of President Mwai Kibaki and Mr. Raila Odinga and their tribes.

But one story caught my eye, today…the story of the innocents and helpless–the story of the children.

I had a dream a few moths ago. There were foreign children in the dark lonely place. I knew I had to leave soon, so I told the children how much Jesus loved them, and I tried to love them, desperately, because I knew we would be parted soon, I knew the place they were in was filled with a sadness I can’t quite describe.

A dream like that doesn’t just ’shake off.’ that’s why this story struck a chord in my heart. I think God is calling me to Kenya. Whoever reads this, will you please pray for me? I need God’s will to be made clear, and I need guidance.

 

Kenya’s children scarred by violence

By Matt Prodger BBC News, Nairobi

Many children are living in camps set up by the Red Cross and the UN

Van is 13-years-old and comes from the town of Eldoret - one of the flashpoints of Kenya’s recent ethnic violence.

As he talks about the events that befell his family a fortnight ago, his voice drops to a whisper.

“My mother was attacked by men with machetes. I didn’t see it - when I arrived, there was only blood on the floor.”

I went to the neighbour’s house - his leg was broken. I was so very scared. He told me to run for my life.”

It is a story that could have been told by any one of thousands of Kenya’s displaced children.

They’ve seen people being shot, houses being burnt, even people being burnt alive Nicholas Makutsa Red Cross

More than 60 of them are here in the SOS Children’s Home - an orphanage on the outskirts of Nairobi.

For the lucky ones, there is a chance their parents may be missing, but still alive.

The rest of them already know that the events of recent weeks have left them orphans.

Nicholas Makutsa from the Red Cross is one of those tasked with tracing missing parents and children.

“They’ve talked about seeing their parents being killed - they’ve seen people being shot, houses being burnt, even people being burnt alive. It’s been a traumatising experience for them.”

Reunited

And even here, violence is not far away. As we speak, there comes a sound from beyond the gates that causes the children to stiffen with fear - gunshots from a neighbouring slum.

It may be police, or a shoot-out between gangs. But after what these children have witnessed in recent weeks, it is enough to send them scurrying for cover.

Since they arrived here only a handful of children have been reunited with their parents. Today, as they shelter in a classroom from the shooting outside, another one is about to get good news.

More than 900 people have been killed since disputed elections

Mary is nine-years-old, with a beautiful but troubled face. She stands apart from the other children and says barely a word.

While we are here, the Red Cross gets word that her mother is in fact alive, and on her way to the orphanage

We meet Rosalind at the gate. She tells us of the day that gangs of youths from another tribe set fire to homes in her neighbourhood.

Mary became separated from Rosalind in the panic. For the past fortnight each has thought the other to be dead.

There are no words between mother and daughter when they are reunited - only silent tears. Rosalind takes her daughter’s hand, walks out of the gate and back into a Kenya that has become a fearful place.

They have no home, no money and only a promise of future peace from their feuding politicians.