A day in the life of a jean-yus.

Oh, I know. I'm good, I'm really good.



I woke up today, at the ungodly hour of 8:00 in the morning. A good half hour before I usually wake up. Still in my jammies, I made sure to greet Jimmy with an especially breathy good morning as we sat down to breakfast. He gagged his way over to the other side of the table. Mom had made hot dogs, and I added a few onions to mine because my breath needed some freshening up. Mom and the kidders were already hard at work in the office. They had started their day an hour before, and were already done with several subjects. I stifled the wave of guilt that suddenly welled up. After all, if one's family is given to diligence, one can hardly blame oneself for their faults. I heard Katie enthusiastically answer one of Mom's questions. It was obvious she had been applying herself. I shook my head. Where had I gone wrong? After breakfast, I brushed my teeth. Jimmy nearly fell over himself with relief and gratitude. And on to History. Today's topic: " The Colonization of New France. " Or, if you prefer, " The Frenchies take over the Midwest while the Brits have their backs turned ."(Hmm, people who find this humour offensive could sue me, since I'm neither French nor British.) I pretended to be interested in the exploits of a certain Monsieur Jacques Cartier. He prided himself in leading the expedition that led to the discovery of the St. Lawrence River. It was hardly much of an accomplishment, in my opinion. The Indians around there knew the area like the back of their hands and yet some pompous french popinjay comes along and is given full credit for stumbling across a body of water. Why, everybody would have discovered it eventually! They didn't have to make such a fuss about him. Anyway, moving on...history depresses me.

I've always intensely disliked math, but just recently I've discovered why. It's because we've always done Abeka Math. Whatever they pay those guys to come up with Abeka curriculum it's too much. They twist their words to throw you off, and make up ridiculous equations, basically doing their level best to make the lesson as confusing as mathematically possible; so that if, by some miracle, you happen to understand their explanation, you would never be able to practically apply it to the lesson. One of Mom's friends gave us a book that has been a total breath of fresh air. I don't think I've ever loved algebra as much as I do now. The instructions are clear, concise, and accurate. And, when I plug in the equation...it works! Who'd 'a thunk it? We've started chemistry this year. One of the first things I've learned is that in modern scientific usage weight and mass are fundamentally different. Weight measures how strongly gravity pulls on matter. Mass is an intrinsic part of matter. Although really, the weight and mass of objects that are close to the earth's surface are pretty much the same.

Still awake? Good, good. I had chicken salad for lunch. We make ours with celery, bell peppers, cayenne, and sometimes homemade mayo. I think its better than yours. :-P And we even had cookies for dessert. Jealous much? I thought so. In literature we usually read a poem. They're tragic. Tragically written. I have very little respect for poetry. I mean, yeah, some poetry can be really good... but for the most part its just nonsense that leaves some poor soul grasping at thin air for a small semblance of meaning or logic. Observe:
"Thou Fancy! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days,
Young offspring of fancy, 'tis time we should part; Then rise on the gale this last of my lays, "-- I'm sorry...this is too painful. I can't continue. And some people actually read this on purpose! Supposedly this Lord Byron dude is very popular... *cough* Was...

Sometimes, if I'm feeling creatively inclined, I'll work on one of the stories that I have to send my writing instructor. My last assignment was a little late. I thought he took it rather well.

"Dear Lois,

Of course I understand the lateness of this assignment, but be careful. I've hired a motorcycle gang to harass any of my students who turn in their assignments late, and they don't understand much of anything. They're all midgets, so they aren't really a motorcycle gang--they're more of a motor scooter gang--and it's true that being so short means that they can't do a lot of damage, but if the next assignment is late, one night you're going to be awakened by a rapping on your door, and your house is going to look like a two-foot tornado went through. You're going to have bruises on your knees for weeks.

These guys are mean; they're ugly--Vito and the vertically challenged Vipers, they're called.
You've been warned."

Funny guy, huh?
Anyway, I'll leave you with my verse from Proverbs for today. Verse 26.
"Ponder the path of your feet, and let all your ways be established. "

Fishes

I. Love. This. Picture. It's hilarious. Look at Dad's face. If you've been anywhere near my Dad, you'd know what his life's passion is. Fishing. And, of course, giving a detailed account of his knowledgeable prowess in all matters concerning cold-blooded aquatic vertebrates of the superclass Pisces. My father, fisherman extraordinaire. Hahahaha! The expression on Jonathan's face. And Mr. Iorga, ever the stoic. :-P
Dontcha just love ice cream socials?

Ice cream brings out the best in everybody.


P.S. Oh, hey look in the back...Jonathan S. seems to be describing some kind of aquatic animal as well. Fascinating.

I'm bored, therefore I post.

Although, really, I don't know why I bother. :)

The McIntires had me over last weekend. It was a total blast, and I would post more about it, except Sarah hasn't gotten the pictures up yet. *COUGH* (Isn't it wonderful when you can blame your laziness on other people?) Apparently, Jonathan and I had the same bright(I use the word loosely) ideas as kids that got us into tons of trouble. Perhaps this stems from that fact that both Jonathan and I are ENTP's and are the first-born. Our childhood was eerily similar, although Jonathon had more toned down versions of my ideas. Do I care to elaborate? Not particularly. Suffice it to say that it had something to do with bell peppers, mud, flinging, a fence, and neighbors yards. Feel free to ask me about it sometime when I'm at my leisure.
Anyway it was the most fun I've had for a while....and that's saying something. BTW, all of you doubters out there (you know who you are) I went to Target...and didn't buy anything!!! Not one solitary thing! And I even had a gift card. So there! (It's my blog. I reserve the right to occasionally post things that make me feel good about myself...however few and far between they are. If you don't like it you can leave. :) )

I'm not looking forward to starting harder math problems. Yuck.
I am looking forward to driving. Hello freedom! (Well, as much freedom as can be attained with a responsible adult riding shotgun.) It's a crying shame I don't know any irresponsible adults.
Laugh, twas a joke. Or don't laugh, it's not like I can hear you anyway. My, my, Lois...where's all this cynicism coming from?? I dunno. Don't you ever get like that for no reason, and then start randomly babbling away on your very public blog? Oops. Good thing it's my blog...and not yours.
I suppose it has something to do with the fact that Summer is rapidly drawing to a close and I have a whole 'nother 9 months of responsibility, accountability, and punctuality to look forward to. Torture. Yes, I know I need to grow up, but Jonathon said people like us are the "fun type" anyway, and NOTHING is fun about school. Except for, maybe, those moments when you've been studying hard and you have a light bulb moment as suddenly you figure out how to solve the problem. Otherwise, it's not fun. :-)

Oh, yes, I may as well mention that I'm more than a teeny bit jealous that my "cousins" are up visiting my aunt and uncle in Big Sky Montana, and quite possibly riding horses, while I am not. I am, however, happy that they got to go. That's as much christian spirit and brotherly love as I can wring out tonight, in my present mood.

Come to think of it, the Lord knows how I'm feeling about everything, and He knows that the best possible situation that I could be in, is the one He's placed me in now. Oh, how often we aren't thankful, content, and happy. It really is something I need to work on. To be content. And really, after such a blessed, fantastic weekend, what am I complaining about. Really, I'm ashamed of myself for moping for no reason. Thank you, Lord, for family, friends, and wonderful weekends to remind us of how your love constantly surrounds us, even when we're thankless and don't deserve it.

Oh, and Daddy would really appreciate your prayers...despite his best efforts, he's caught the flu. We don't know if its from us, or from somewhere else, but he's sick. We're all praying that he gets over it very soon.

Baby's First Fever

*cough* *cough*
On three....everyone feel sorry for me. 1...2....I'm getting over the flu. Yesterday, I was running a temperature of 102. I've never had a fever before, so this bug sure was a doozy. I don't usually get hit this hard. I've never had a migraine headache before, and now I know why, its awful!!! It's like there's this little man inside your skull and his sole purpose for two days is to pound your skull into pudding. Actually all of us were sick, and running pretty high temperatures. Marky got up to 104 before Mom decided that was high enough and dunked him in a tub of cold water. You should hear him parading around the house now that its over and done with, like a fox with two fat pullets in his mouth.
(Glancing at the thermometer that's sticking out of my mouth.)
"102, huh? Not too shabby, but that's nothing...I got up to 104." He waggles his eyebrows at me, pats me sympathetically....and goes off to give some other poor sufferer grief.

Dad is really scared that he'll catch it....It's pretty funny. I didn't think it was possible to eat so much garlic and not wilt everything around you. (For the record, we've been trying to steer clear of Dad just in case.) If he does catch it after all, I will have lost all faith in the healing powers of garlic.

I discovered something new while I was sick. Advil does nothing to relieve pain....neither does Tylenol. (The commercials lie.) I was just desperate enough to try Motrin, but Mom didn't let me because I refused to eat anything. In the end, NyQuil saved my life. For two days all I had was 5 doses of NyQuil, vanilla ice-cream(Breyers), and blueberries. It worked like a charm.

I got my Chspe results today. Naturally, I flunked Math, that came as no surprise at all. I passed my Writing Test with a 5.0 score, which nearly made up for my failing Math. And, I was a little surprised that I passed reading as well...that was great because I didn't really read through a lot of the questions before I answered them. Now I'm looking forward to taking it again in two months. :P Lord willing, I won't fail again.

Well, I'm getting dizzy again, so adieu, fair reader, adieu.

Happenings

Little siblings are too cute....sometimes. :)

Katie, running the appeal she was going to give to Mom by me: "Lo, you've heard about that explanation about taste buds, right?"
"Uhh, what 'explanation'?"
"Well, little kids taste buds are different than adults....the more older you grow your taste buds change, when you're younger your taste buds are the same. So, the more older you are, the more wrong your taste buds are, and the more younger you are, the more your taste buds are right. See, that's why Moms like zucchini, and kids don't."

You learn something new every day. :)

Also, Dad just got me some test materials for the DMV Learner's Permit Test. Yay! So, I'll be studying for that sometime next month.


Beware: TEEN DRIVER!

The CHSPE

Dun da duuuun.

Well, I'll tell you straight out, I haven't a prayer of passing the Math section. Somehow, I'd gotten the strange idea that it would've been easier. I mean, what are the odds that out of seventy kids and eight different tests, I'd get one of the hardest?? And Jimmy... JIMMY!, Mathematical Genius summa cum laude, gets one of the easiest tests. *groans* Life is not at all fair.

Oh, it started out beautifully, I grant you. I created a simply smashing essay. Five exquisitely cohesive paragraphs, including a thesis that brought tears to my eyes because of its sheer perfection. I had written my entire outline in ten minutes, thinking I was set. But, by the time it was finished, one hour and ten minutes had elapsed. Jimmy was giving me dirty looks the entire time...I knew he wanted to tell me to hurry up, but I could hardly just botch up my last two paragraphs when the rest of the essay was so inspiring. (Talking risked disqualification. ) It was a persuasive essay that we were to "send to the City Council" suggesting one improvement or change that would better the community. I thought up this brilliant idea of having a once-a-week Family Activity Day, hosted by any one of the city's parks. Families participate in various recreational activities, grow in harmony, and meet new people, drawing the community closer together. Naturally, I concluded with the rousing "A stronger family results in a stronger community, which contributes to a more united America--bla bla bla. " Really, it was quite good.

Rachel had told me previously that she and Andrew had to write about the same topic. Jimmy followed Drew's example and wrote about planting trees. He figured that if he was going to play the part of a rabid Californian environmentalist, he'd go all out. So, he devoted an entire paragraph to explaining the global benefit of a community's efforts to reduce their "carbon footprint" on the earth, going green, and other such rubbish. The EPA would've hired him on the spot, had he used his essay as a resume.

Ah well, back to me. I glanced at the clock. First mistake. Then, I turned to the Mathematics Sub-test. Second mistake. It took me at least an hour to work through forty or so problems, until I realized that my essay would be worthless if I didn't pass the rest of the Language Sub-test. The sad thing was, given enough time, I could have finished. I just didn't have enough practice doing quadratic equations, and figuring out distance between coordinates. I should have studied harder, so really it was my fault. There were also some probability/geometry problems in there that really had me stumped. I finally felt understood what those poor little ants feel when I go outside and drown them in a flood of Raid. I gave up and moved on to Language.

That was pretty easy, but its no fun working against the clock. Reading was actually a difficult section for me, and one of the most stressful. I took my time doing Language, but that left barely an hour to answer around fifty questions for the Reading Sub-test. Oh joy. I mean, I consider myself a pretty fast reader, but there was no way I could read all the poems, stories, and articles and answer everything. But the Lord was gracious, and I finished everything. Towards the end, though, I was bubbling in what seemed to be the most logical answer, and barely skimming the article.

(Ex.)In the paragraph above, who is the author attempting to portray the character as?

a) A hero

b) A dimwit

c) A well-intentioned old man

d) An elephant

c) The Villian

Ehh, well, d) appears to be the most logical answer to my jellied brain. Yep, gotta be d).

By the way, do yourself a favor, and don't try to figure out the system by looking back on your previous answers and trying to find a pattern. It doesn't work. There is no pattern. Drop it. I win this argument, hands down. In fact, I will mop the floor with you.

Thankfully I finished with time to spare, 30 seconds to be exact; leaving just enough time for me to bubble in the rest of my math answers as C. Who knows, maybe I got lucky and beat the system. ;)

In all seriousness, the Lord knows, and if He wants me to pass...I'll pass. I'm glad it's over, and, even if I don't pass...I can take it again in October. Summer Vacation, here I come!!!

"Casting ALL your care upon Him, for He cares for you." - 1 Peter 5:7

Chapter XXI

An excerpt from Tom Sawyer, by Mark Twain.

VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon aplan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would goon a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death"speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early."The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor.

The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to"expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted";"Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language";another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl inthe school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable.

Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it:

"In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly."In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!"

And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do:

"A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA"

"Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now!
Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell,
And burning recollections throng my brow!
For I have wandered through thy flowery woods;
Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam.

Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part,
'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs.
Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me. And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete,
When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!"

"There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone:

"A VISION"

Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror bythe illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene."At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof,

"'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side.

She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadnessrested upon her features, like icy tears uponthe robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented."

This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come.