http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/ en-us Homeschool Blogger Sun, 30 Aug 2009 06:57:00 -0500 Sun, 30 Aug 2009 06:57:00 -0500 Sorry, guys, I'm away again - touring the country with my dear twin. I'll try to blog when I get back. Because I'm sweet, however, I'll leave you a few pics, just to prove we're enjoying ourselves and make y'all green with envy... Ok, ok, I have to admit.... I'm jumping my guns a bit. These aren't taken technically now, they're pictures of us in another years time, when we're actually touring in the flesh rather than just the imagination.... *sigh* Happy Birthday, DENT. Remember, depressing as it is to see oneself grow old and stodgy and wrinkled right before one's eyes, each day you grow older brings us closer to the joyous time when we may at last meet face to face! I am working day and night, Bithy - $2000 says next year is the one. PS. I finished all that entry and realised I had not said one single soppy, cute or cheesy line about how much you mean to me. But I could fill this thing with neverending cheese, and it would spoil both the post and my reputation. And I should hope you know how much you mean to me - I'd have been a pretty pitiful failure as a friend if you needed the birthday cheesings to tell you so. But thanks for always being there, Bithy. *hugs* http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/722166/ Sun, 30 Aug 2009 06:57:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/722166/ I have just driven home in my sweet little car which is finally home from the mechanic, watching the sun rise over the misty hills all pink and blue and gold. Now I'm snuggled up with a hotwater bottle in my lap and a plate of hot banana toast and cinnamon buns all dripping with butter in front of me, sipping a huge cup of steaming milky coffee.... I'm just so happy right now. The early mornings are so worth it for this. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/714942/ Thu, 6 Aug 2009 13:32:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/714942/ Wow. Last time I posted I was simply an innocent schoolgirl – now, I am a Working Woman. How utterly grown up and prestigious. *feels important* Not only that, but I have not one but two jobs. I am well on my way to being a workaholic career woman. *feels even more important* Actually, I’ve been meaning to become a working woman… well, since the beginning of the year, actually. I just… uh… kept chickening out. *blushes* I’ve been wanting to work at the local newspaper Mail office for ages, and I keep meaning to go talk to them… but yes. It was writing the CV (or stressing over writing it) that distracted me for the first part of the year, and then it was going to the South Island for a bit, and then it was Mum being pregnant and having the baby and all that stress and babysitting… and, before I knew it, it was the middle of the year and I had frittered away another six months of my existence. Of course, once I figured that out I was thoroughly freaked out and determined to do better, so I told myself that I would just go into the newspaper office to look at the archives for the newspaper since I hadn’t seen the last ad I did for Dad and wanted to know how it had turned out… and then once I was there… well, I could cross that bridge when I came to it. So after spending half an hour freaking out about what to wear (I don’t want to look dressed up… but… gah! I can’t look scruffy!) and what time to go (should I go after school hours or would that be juvenile? Would they be more relaxed and friendly after lunch?), I finally gathered my courage and got in my car, and started the engine and drove to Waipukurau and parked and got out of my car and shivered a little and looked at the building and locked up my car and then walked into the building. I think it was right to come after lunch, because the receptionists were very friendly, and after spending far too much time looking at the archives and looking at more archives and looking up really old newspapers just to remember what exactly I did, I finally gathered my courage and walked up to a receptionist, and then she looked at me inquiringly and I had to talk. I had decided that I couldn’t just walk up and ask for work, because after all it’s a recession and why would they want to take on more staff? But I didn’t really need the money I just wanted the experience, and once I had a foot in the door then if a job did come up then I’d be far more likely to get it, right? So I asked the nice lady who I should talk to, and she took down my name and number and told me that she was sure it could be arranged and Bruce would ring me the next day, and she didn’t bite my head off or do anything scary! And I walked out with the hugest, stupidest smile on my face and was on a happy high for the rest of the day. Well. I could go on and on over all the little joys and terrors of those weeks, but I shall spare you. I think you get the idea. Anyway, the outcome of the whole fiasco was that I went in to the Mail offices for an afternoon to do a bit of work experience. It was quite fantastic, and I learnt quite a bit and got to do up a couple of ads with them and a couple on my own, and talked to people and got a bit of a feel for the system. Then I gathered my courage again and talked to them about what I wanted to do and did they think I could volunteer a couple of afternoons every week? And of course they surprised me with their sweetness and complete unscariness again (I really need to get over my being deathly afraid to ask favours) and said they’d see what they could organize, and as long as they had a computer free they would be happy to and they’d see what they could find for me. So again I left the offices utterly elated. *grin* Of course, it was only after that that I realized that actually it was going to be a bit of a stretch to last just doing volunteer work, and I was going to have no free cash at all. Which was, of course, just when Lucan rang and offered me his job merchandising bread. I had no idea what that was or what it involved, but apparently the money was good so I was all ears. Apparently the bread companies don’t just sell their produce to the supermarkets like you’d expect, they actually hire space in the uh… grocery stores, sorry… and then they have to also hire their own people to keep the shelves stocked and tidy. Don’t ask me why they do it that way, because I don’t have any idea and it doesn’t seem to make any sense at all, but it was work and the pay was fantastic, so I wasn’t complaining. The catches – I’d have to start work at 4am, and I’d have to work on weekends. The early start didn’t really bother me – it’s all part of the experience, right? The weekends though were a problem, but when I talked to the boss he said I could do the training and if we couldn’t arrange something I could just do relieving and work on the days when the other lady is too busy, which happens a lot. So I agreed to do the training, and Lucan was organized to take me out the next morning. It was all a bit surreal to have work just like that, after my experience with the Mail of months and months of psyching up courage and weeks and weeks of organizing and going through various bosses and finding time slots and days and days of phone calls back and forth. Anyway, most of you know how late I normally go to bed… so after fluffing around and finding keys and clipboards and pens and setting a couple of alarms at five minute intervals just in case and tossing and turning trying to get to sleep, it was about 12:30 by the time I actually dropped off. And you know how when you know you’re going to have to get up early you never sleep very well? Yes. At about 3 I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I just dozed a bit until fourish, when I braved the cold and dragged myself out of bed. It was weird, getting up in the dark. The house was silent and sleepy (which never happens – usually there’s someone awake somewhere in the house practically 24/7), and the streets were silent and sleepy, and being winter the sky was still utterly dark. I made myself a cup of super-concentrated coffee and sat in the dark trying to wake up until Lucan arrived. Lucan used to work quite a bit for my dad and they would geek out about cars together and stuff, so he’s at our place heaps and he’s been over for dinner and I knew him pretty well. It’s been awesome to spend time with him, though – he’s really fun and very cheeky and has a great sense of humour. He’s been great at teaching me all the tricks of the trade, too – he gets me to do everything myself rather than just letting me watch the complicated stuff, and he’s very patient when I stuff it up, too. He’s been educating me about all the people to watch out for and suck up to, too, and all that essential workplace safety stuff. Anyway, he’s a bit of a boy racer with a passion for racing and racing cars and going fast and zooming and serious acceleration and all that. His car is one he races on the track, so it’s all fitted out with the racing seats and racing engine and has all the normal fittings stripped (apart from the stereo, of course – he isn’t quite that dedicated), and it’s very convenient since I can hear him coming about two blocks away. It’s rather… loud. We were taking our big MPV, though, so as to spare the neighbours a bit of noise, so we zoomed off in that. Well, zoom being a relative term – Lucan didn’t think much of the zoom after driving his car, that’s for sure. But anyway, it got us there. I have to work three shifts and cover three supermarkets – about three hours in the morning, checking all the bread and throwing out the old stuff and recording it all and then loading up the new stuff once the truck arrives, and then two trips later on driving around and refilling the shelves and tidying it all up. There’s quite a lot to remember at first – where to take stuff and where everything goes, and we do pies and pizzas and muffins and Turkish wraps and slices and stuff too, so there’s all that to remember. There’s the practical side, too – there’s quite a bit of skill to juggling heavy trays of bread and steering the high-packed carts around the displays and up and down ramps and in and out doorways and through the mazes of boxes out back. Driving the stacks are the most fun. They’re on little roller wheels, so no way are they easy to steer. When you go around corners you either have to speed up and give it a little spin just as you reach the corner so it flicks around and angles out, and then you can guide it in and accelerate out and zoom down the aisle. Of course, it often goes wildly off course and you’ve got to clutch at it and dig your heels in or it’ll go spinning out into the nearest display… but I haven’t had any accidents yet. Of course, you could slow down sensibly, too… but there’s no one around to crash into that time of the morning anyway, so why not go for it? Already I am being enveloped in workplace gossip and relationships and interesting personalities. There’s the baker who unlocks the door for us when we come early, and is utterly expressionless and zoned out and just gives a sort of a grunt when you bounce up with cheerful greetings. There’s the two managers of New World, one of who is very happy and always has about a million pieces of gossip to discuss about all the supermarket workers anywhere around, and the other who has a thing about Lucan because of the boy-racer thing, and will rant about car crushing and jail sentences with great relish whenever he’s around. And then there’s Sandra, who completely ignored me the first day and sent me death glares every time I spoke and utterly freaked me out, yet now treats me perfectly friendlily.  There’s the truck driver, who bounces out of his truck and goes everywhere at a run, pushing two huge stacks at once, and is generally more cheerful than anyone has a right to be that early in the morning. Apart from the silly new kid who isn’t used to it yet, of course. There’s the TipTop bread merchandiser lady, who’s really sweet and friendly and always greets me with a smile and remembered my name from the first day. There’s the grumpy manager of Waipawa NW, who keeps getting mad at me and saying I can’t work until my boss sends him a letter asking nicely if I can, and my boss who never, ever rings me when he says he will or returns any of my messages, and still hasn’t sent the jolly letter. As you can imagine, it’s all enormous fun. It’s just amazing to be around all that… it’s like stepping into a whole new world. Yeah, sorry for the utterly pathetic and cheesily simile, but my brain is dead from all these early mornings and I’m afraid you’re not going to get anything original from me at all. But anyway, all the independence of it… meeting new people and learning new things and having so many new experiences… it’s just so cool. I’m mostly working on my own, too, with just enough interaction with other people to make it interesting without having them all over you. I’m really, really loving it, early mornings or not. Then I’ve got a completely different experience, working for the mail – in a professional, businesslike atmosphere, with everything very technical and lots of paperwork and customer interaction, where I’m very much being trained and doing what I’m told, and I must look nice and be polite and make good impressions. And that has the whole creative side, and so, so much to learn. The funny thing is that at the moment I think I’m enjoying the simple stacking bread more than all the design work I always wanted to do… which is utterly weird, and I expect will probably change once the novelty wears off and I start to get over the huge learning curve of the Mail. And I’m really enjoying both. And… this post is getting huge, again, so I shall restrain. Anyway, there you have it – the working experiences of the Gaby-goose. It’s utterly amazing how much I have discovered about myself and humanity in general through this experience – but then I always have waxed very philosophical when I’m tired, and I definitely am that. It’s actually (gasp) worse than NaNo! I’ve been going to sleep quite easily at 7pm at night, and that’s even after falling asleep on the floor and in the car and at the table and generally anytime I sit down anywhere… Which is why I am typing this post standing up, of course. *grin* http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/712501/ Wed, 29 Jul 2009 15:26:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/712501/ Well. I have been trying to write up an entry on the criminal dude, but as usual I lose inspiration for anything that anyone else wants me to write. So while you are waiting for that, I have a rather random and disjointed entry for you, packed with the thoughts and experiences of the last couple of weeks. Also, we went off to an ATI conference this weekend in our trusty new bus. We aren’t an ATI family yet, but we’re possibly maybe considering it, and in the couple of years it always takes us to make up our minds about this sort of thing they’re quite happy for us to tag along. I think ATI in NZ is largely rather different to how it is in America. Less formal, for one thing. The skirt wearing thing sorta illustrates the atmosphere – everyone does wear them on campus (uh… the girls, anyway), but they mostly couple them with gansta hoodies. Which I gather isn’t the normal attitude your way? *grin* Not to mention the fact they have a rehab type ministry on campus, so everyone consorts happily with criminals and Delinquent Youths. Despite this (or perhaps because of it?), they’re all fantastic people, and I made some awesome friends in the couple of days we spent there. They’re just so inspired for God and so active and focused in serving him and others… it’s great to see. Also, we got to know our bus rather well, in the two days and nights spent in it… Impressions of our new bus: -    Wind. The wind plays a very big part in the bus experience. As do the windows, which slide slowly open as one travels. -    Cold. This is pretty self-explanatory, in the middle of one of the coldest winters we’ve had in years. I’m pretty sure it would have been snowing if it wasn’t raining so hard. -    The wipers go squeak, screeeeeeeeeech, click. Squeak, screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech, click. In some ways the click is the most irritating part of all. -    The door is cool. There’s this little button at the front that pressurized it shut, and when it is you can open it but it’s jolly hard work. Sometimes you have to brace your feet against the wall to tug it open, and then you need to get someone reliable to hold it while you squeeze through or it will trap you halfway through. -    We’re trying to convince Dad to let us all spray paint it in bright colours. Wish us luck with that. -    We’re also trying to convince Dad that he doesn’t need to remove one of the seats and install a toilet. The smells alone are enough to put me off the idea, let alone the noises… And… moving right along. Just in case you were under any doubts about the chaos and general sinfulness reigning supreme in our household, I shall proceed to illustrate it now for you all, in the following examples: -- First up we bring you a day in the life of our new homeschooling system (AKA Dad teaching)… Dad: So on your average set of accounts you have your income statement documenting your assets… Ione: (whining) Dad, you still haven’t even told me what assets are. Dad: …including your starting stock and your purchases, minus your ending stock… Ione: Dad, you’re standing in front of the blackboard. Dad: (ignoring her) …that’s called your net profits or your gross profits… Ione: I can’t even see what you’re writing, Dad… Dad: …then you have your vehicle costs and your wages… Ione: (mutters) Fine then, I just won’t write it. Ben: (farts noisily and snickers) Gabrielle: (raises her pen threateningly) Ben: (snickers to himself obliviously and farts again) Dad: …so your current assets, your stock- Ben: Ow! Gabrielle, go away! Gabrielle: (glaring) Go away yourself, you loser. Dad: (looks up) Ben, are you farting again? Ben: She stabbed me in the head! Dad: (exasperated) Ben, are you even listening? Would you rather I just sent you to school? Ben: Would you rather I just went to school? Gabrielle: Yes! Please do! -- And here, a snippet of Dinnertime conversation from the Stuart household, staring our very own Liviyaya… Livi: (starts tipping her food off her plate) Heather: Livi, Mummy will be scary if you do that! Livi: (keeps doing it) Mum: (sneaks up behind her and roars) Livi: (bursts into tears) You're a mean mummy! Mum: And I have to keep being a mean scary mummy if you don't eat your food. Livi: (glaring) I'll tip a cup of water on you if you do it again! Mum: (trying to be stern) (failing) Well, I've got a whole jug of water to tip on you, so you'll end up wetter. Livi: (still glaring) I'll cut your head off! Dad: (bundles Livi off to bed without any more dinner) -- And… we interrupt this broadcast to provide you with a snippet of a story by Keren, acted out by the infamous pencil family: (Small pencil shoves her parent pencils off the side of the boat) Parents: (climbing back onto deck) "Now we're all wet, little one." Daughter: (chucks them back in the water) "No treats for you now, parents!" -- As you can see, our lessons are profitable, our parents are highly venerated and peace and harmony reigns supreme in our Good Homeschooling Home. -- And lastly, our quote of the week: Gabrielle: Livi, you're the man. Livi: *enthusiastically* Yeah, I'm the big, huge, fat man. -- Heh. Signing off, yours, etc, etc... and you should see the proper entry soon. Well, my kind of soon. Maybe. *grin* http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/701271/ Sun, 21 Jun 2009 23:22:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/701271/ Firstly, a disclaimer: Many of you, I'm not even sure how many of you, got very random and weird comments recently. This was not me, but my sweet and thoughtful little brother, who, knowing I was stressed about having so many comments to reply to and being sick and having to leave you all in the lurch, came and replied to them all. It was very nice of him, of course, but some of them were... well, rather random. So my apologies for that if you were thoroughly creeped out. Well. So much has happened in the last month I don't even know where to start. There are many things I could blog on... - My new baby sister, Moana; - My stressful and terrifying hunt for work; - Our new bus; - Our trip up to Hamilton and across the country to pick it up; - The night we spent with a criminal just out of jail who we didn't even realise was a criminal; - Writing and my newest story about University students blowing up the world; - The weather; - My bedroom and how I've been doing it up with fabrics and face masks and butterfly wings; - All the awards I've had in the last year and haven't passed on; - Jerusha being rushed to hospital at midnight... And... well, that's just the beginning. I don't even know where to start. Actually, I have an idea - why don't each of you vote for which you want to hear about? Or anything else not on the list, too. Then I can write for my audience and put into practice all those delightful principles I've been learning recently. Alos, it's so good to be back! I have seriously missed y'all, and am resolved as always to be a Much Better Blogger in the future. Isn't that nice? Of course, I can see everyone who knows me rolling their eyes at that and wonderign how many mintes that resolution will last... but it's a nice sentiment, right? http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/697198/ Mon, 8 Jun 2009 19:36:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/697198/ Himmmm I wonder if SHE will ever get me to reply to all her comments agane? WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Pip knows who I am, ask her, if she don't tell you dump a shushie on her head. WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/692567/ Mon, 25 May 2009 21:22:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/692567/ I have a new baby sister! She was born on a Friday and Moana is her name. She has a red, shrivelled little face and a fluffy nose and cheeks from being born early. She is already an obvious Stuart – her favourite expression is a scowl. She dislikes social interaction and replies to any friendly attempts with a forbidding frown, a screech in extreme cases and a poked out tongue for minor offences. She is quite remarkably ugly (in a perfectly cute sort of way) and would probably be a total social reject were it not for her small size and lack of speech. After all, even a fool appears wise until she opens her mouth. Especially if she frowns thoughtfully at all the right moments. In short, she is perfectly wonderful. I would post pictures, but I really don't have all that many yet, so I shall postpone them to the next post (joyful news! You'll get another post!). To tie you over, I have something special for you... (drumroll) A family story! This was written several months ago, and is one of my favourite pieces of writing ever. It was awesome fun to write, and perhaps you'll get to know my family a little better through all the family jokes... -- The whole family gathered solemnly around the car as Mum put her last bag into the back seat. She shut it and stepped back, and smiled at her gloomy family. “We won’t be gone long,” she said encouragingly, “and I’m sure you’ll have a very nice time with Gabrielle.” She climbed into the car, and everyone watched glumly as Dad finished washing the car and began applying the wax. “Be good for Gabrielle, kids,” he said as he polished vigorously. “Make sure you help keep the house tidy. Ben, don’t forget to vacuum the dining room, alright?” He put away the rag and polish and climbed into his seat. Everyone gathered round and he offered a short prayer. “Dear Lord, thank you for the beautiful day we’ve had and the work we’ve been able to do. Please help the kids to work hard for Gabrielle and keep us safe as we drive. Thank you for the opportunity we have to share with the families at ATI and for all your blessings on us. Amen.” He started the engine and zoomed out of the drive. Jerusha shut the gate. Livi burst into tears. The rest of the afternoon was spent by the little girls in tidying up as many things as they could to earn various treats. By six the house was pretty tidy and everyone settled under the table to consume their meal of raw pasta and frozen peas. Heather made everyone hot drinks which they settled down by the fire to consume. Afterward Gabrielle put the girls to bed while Heather filled the jug countless times to make the whole family hotties. At last she finished her monumental task and settled down exhaustedly to read the first chapter of Good Wives, while Gabrielle and Ben were soon absorbed in their various computers. It was almost one o’clock by the time they finally headed off to bed, and Gabrielle was shocked to find Heather still reading. At last, however, everyone dropped off. Heather was the first to waken, at about ten thirty. Springing out of bed, she skipped down the hallway and into the dining room. Surprised to find none of the breakfast things out, she wandered into the formal lounge, expecting the girls to be playing with Duplo. The Duplo was scattered all over the floor, yet there was no living soul to be seen. Panicking a little, Heather ran to the bedroom and, with considerable difficulty, roused Gabrielle from her slumber. After finally managing to communicate her worries to her sleepy sister, the girls explored the house together. It was Ben who found the first of the missing siblings. Stumbling into the bathroom he discovered Keren asleep in the toilet with her pants around her ankles. His disgusted yells could be heard from one end of Waipawa, and his sisters soon arrived. Keren knew nothing of the wherabouts of her missing siblings; she said that they had all been playing Duplo when she had left them, and had heard nothing else. Very worried now, Gabrielle checked the front door and found it unlocked. She couldn’t remember locking it the night before, either. Gabrielle and Heather searched outside while Ben went to feed his chooks. He returned excited, with Arwen on his shoulder, a chick on his head and Neinor in his arms. “I know what happened to them!” he exclaimed, “I forgot to lock them up last night so they were in the front yard this morning. They say they saw a blue convertible ute pull up in front of the house. Four men jumped out, a tall one, a short one, a bearded one and one with an idiotic hat. They ran straight up to the front door, barged in, grabbed Ione, Jerusha and Liviya, threw them in the back under the canopy and drove off.” His sisters were horrified. “Oh no, this is awful,” Gabrielle wailed. “What are we going to do?” Ben consulted Arwen. “They took off down Takapau Road about four hours ago,” he said. “We’re going to have to go after them!” “But how?” Heather asked, “We don’t have the keys to Dad’s car and Gabrielle’s has only got two seats for the four of us!” “No problem,” Ben said, “this’ll be a chance to try out my new invention!” He disappeared into the bottom paddock and emerged with a strange kite like thing, which he took up to the highest part of the roof and began to harness his chickens to. “Two people can lie on this,” he called down, “So long as they aren’t too heavy. Chicken can glide for a very long way if there are enough of them, and with my solar powered motor to lift them for short bursts this can go for miles!” He finished harnessing the last of his hens and surveyed it proudly. “I had better take Keren,” he called down to his gawking sisters, “I don’t want to put too much weight on it.” “You’ll kill her!” Heather exclaimed indignantly, hugging her pet owner. “No! I want to go!” Keren exclaimed, her eyes shining. “It’s perfectly safe,” Ben assured her. “The only problem it has is landing, and it’s fitted out with parachutes in case something goes wrong!” Finally, with many misgivings, Gabrielle and Heather helped her onto the roof and made sure she was securely strapped in. Then they stepped back cautiously and watched as Ben flicked a switch and the motor whirled silently into action. The chickens flapped their wings with all their might and the whole contraption lifted slowly into the air. Keren cheered exultantly as they rose high. “You’d better get in the car,” Ben yelled down to them, “I don’t have any way of slowing this thing down!” Gabrielle and Heather scrambled down and jumped into the convertible and took off after them. -- Meanwhile the girls had been taken to a huge castle at the foot of the ranges. There the Man with the Idiotic Hat laughed evilly and rubbed his hands together as he surveyed his prisoners. “Men!” he screeched, “Take the children and question them! I want information!” He gave another evil gaffaw and wandered away to his underground laboratory. Each of the men picked up one of the sisters and carried her off to a separate room for questioning. The Fat Man, feeling exhausted by his mornings efforts, picked the smallest one. He set her down on a chair and leaned back in a massive armchair behind an enormous desk, feeling important. To his irritation he discovered that he couldn’t see any more than the top of her head from that position, and heaved himself forward. “Now,” he said imposingly, settling his elbows on the desk, “I want information.” Livi stared at him, scratching her stomach meditatively. “Your daddy made some locks,” he tried again. “What can you tell me about them?” Livi stopped scratching and silently put her thumb in her mouth. “Come on, you must know something,” the Fat Man insisted. “Your daddy went up to a locksmithing conference recently to sell it. He must have made something from it, because he returned in a Very Flash Blue Convertible.” Livi stared at him a moment, then deliberately removed her thumb from her mouth. She narrowed her eyes menacingly. “It’s not blue, it’s green.” “My sources say very definitely that it’s blue.” “It’s green!” Her voice rose in pitch. “But I saw it with my own eyes, and it was very much blue-” “It’s green,” Livi insisted forcefully. The Fat Man wiped sweat from his brow and changed tack. “Well, whatever colour it was, what I want is information about your father’s invention. What do you know about it?” “Ask Ione Yovella,” she retorted, glaring at him. “Ione Yovella?” the Fat Man asked, confused. “Don’t you mean Ione Ruth Iri – uh… Idi… Iriha… Idio… hahapeti?” “No! You’re mean!” Livi said indignantly. “I’m not mean!” the Fat Man said, “It isn’t my fault you all have such unpronounceable names!” “No! You’re mean!” Livi insisted. “I’m not mean! It isn’t my fault! I’m just doing my job-” “You’re mean!” “I didn’t mean it!” “You’re mean!” “I’m not mean! You’re the one being mean to me!” “I’m not mean!” Two big tears welled in Livi’s eyes and her lower lip began to tremble. The Fat Man stared at her helplessly. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” The tears overflowed from Livi’s eyes and she bit back a sob. “You’re mean!” “I’m sorry, ok? Don’t cry! Don’t cry! It’s ok!” “You’re mean!” The sob broke forth and she began to wail. “No! Please stop! I didn’t mean it! Stop crying and you can have anything you want!” Immediately Livi’s sobs halted and she stared at him with tear filled eyes. “I want a banana.” “Ok, ok, I’ll get you a banana. Just give me a sec, ok? You sit here and don’t cry, and I’ll get you a banana.” Livi obediently settled down and put her thumb in her mouth. He scurried from the room and she immediately slipped off her seat and followed him through the winding corridors until he reached the kitchen. She hid behind the door and watched through the crack as he grabbed a banana and hurried back the way he had come. Satisfied, she slipped from her hiding place, pulled out the whole bunch of bananas and settled down to enjoy them. -- Meanwhile, Ione had been lead into another small room and was also being questioned. “I’ve heard your Dad has invented a marvellous invention,” the Tall Man asked her, his eyes glinting greedily. “Yup, he sure has!” Ione said eagerly. “He’s very clever! Sometimes he dreams about them. Once he had a dream where he got some bicycles and a moterbike… or maybe a scooter. You know, an electric one, not one that you push with your feet. Or maybe it was a moterbike. I don’t really know. And he got some bits of other metal… I don’t know what they were from… and he got Nanna’s trampoline mat and chopped it up to make seats. Then he got them and welded it all together and made us a really cool go-cart with it that could hold our whole family.” The Tall Man smiled and nodded slightly dazedly. “Except Mum ‘cause she doesn’t like go carts.. We had the dogs pulling it. We used to have two dogs, you see, but then one of them was ferocious and when we took it down to the park and we had her pulling a log and a guy came up and untangled her and told Ben and Heather off and then he bent over to pat her and she lept up and bit him on the arm and he had to have about fifty stiches… or twenty or thirty, I don’t really know.” The Tall Man was going slightly crossedeyed. Ione continued with renewed vigour. “But then we had to get her put down because it’s illegal to have dogs who bite people… and he dreamed all of it! Mum has really funny dreams when people come to our house and all her friends do weird things, but Dad just dreams about building things.” Ione paused, and a grin spread over her face. The Tall Man had collapsed in exhaustion, and was gently snoring. She leapt to her feet and searched the man’s pockets, emerging with a cell phone. Tucking it in her own pocket she rushed out the door and down the corridor, where she met Jerusha coming down the hallway. Jerusha had not wasted time. The moment the Bearded Man had stepped into the room she had stomped on his foot with her cast, and as he screamed in pain and hopped around the room she had taken a swing at him with her crutches. She hit him straight over the head and knocked him stone cold, and emerged with a ring of keys she’d removed from his belt. The girls had a quick discussion over the route to the garage. The place was a maze of twisting corridors and giant rooms, and it was difficult to keep one’s sense of direction. “Oh, if only Dad was here!” Ione muttered to herself as they took off down a promising looking corridor. Eventually they found themselves in the kitchens. “Surely there’s a way out from here,” Jerusha said tiredly. Behind them they could hear the furious yells of the men as they searched for them. Ione ran to a window. “Come on, I can see the garage from here!” She called. “We can jump out the window and we’ll be out!” “But what about Livi?” Jerusha asked. “That’s right, we can’t leave her here,” Ione said. “What can we do?” At that moment they heard footsteps behind them. “Ione?” “Liviya!” They were about to hug her, but noticed the banana coating her from head to toe just in time. Instead they turned back to the window and quickly opened it. Jerusha jumped down, and Ione carefully picked Livi up and, holding her at arms length, passed her down to Jerusha, who almost dropped her due to her coating of slippery banana. Then they hurried toward the garage, where they all jumped into the ute. They could see guys jumping out of the window and sprinting across the lawn toward them as they struggled with their seatbelts. Jerusha finally found the right key and the engine roared to life. She shoved on the accelerator and the engine revved wildly but the car didn’t move. She shoved down the handbrake, but it made no difference. The closest man was less than four metres away, sprinting furiously toward them. “It’s in People!” Ione screamed. “Changed it to Dog, quickly!” Jerusha slammed the gearstick downward and the car roared forward. She slammed the accelerator to the floor and the ute zoomed down the driveway. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and narrowly missed the gatepost as they zoomed onto the road in front of a surprised mid-sized diesel MPV driver. Behind them a truck skidded out of the driveway after them, dangerously overtaking the mid-sized diesel MPV and rapidly gaining on them. “Faster!” Ione screamed. Livi peeled another banana and casually threw the peel behind her. It landed with a splat on the windscreen of the truck, causing The Boss to skid all over the road as he was temporarily blinded by it. Jerusha quickly changed down to Dinosaur and took off, leaving the still writhing truck in her dust. Ione pulled the cell-phone from her pocket and quickly dialled the Harrier. Heather picked it up. “Heather!” Ione exclaimed. “We’ve escaped, and we’re heading home! Only we don’t know where we are!” “Where are you in relation to the sun?” Ione glanced outside. “It’s forward and to our left.” “Just a sec,” Heather, said. She motioned to get Ben’s attention above her, and, by forming each letter with her arms, communicated the information to him. He gave her a thumbs up and soared up into the sky with his chickens and there surveyed the surrounding countryside. Arwen spotted the ute first and quickly pointed it out to him. It was about ten ks out of town, followed closely by the bouncing truck. He hastily scribbled a note and gave it to Keren, who attached it to one of her hair ribbons and lowered it to the convertible below. Heather untied it and read out the instructions. “Ok, you need to turn left at the next intersection. Right after that and you’ll be in Waipukurau. We’ll meet you there!” “Righto!” Ione said, hanging on as Jerusha swerved around a bend. “Left at the next turnoff!” Ione told Jerusha breathlessly. Jerusha just nodded, intent on her driving. The intersection approached and Jerusha braked hard, then accelerated around the corner, getting back up to speed in less than three metres. The truck behind them lurched as the driver braked too late and overshot the turnoff. The mid-sized diesel MPV overtook him, honking rudely. Cursing, the driver attempted a U turn that turned into a 7 point turn, and angrily shot after them. They were almost in town before the truck caught up with them again. “It’s a 50k zone; we have to slow down!” Jerusha said in despair. “The others better be here soon!” They slowed down as they reached the outskirts of the town, and the truck bore down menacingly on them. Livi put her banana down deliberately and reached into her nappy. “Ew,” Ione said, “Get your hand out of your nappy, Liviya!” After a moment of intense concentration Livi obeyed, pulling a pistol out of her pants. Ione gawked at it a moment. “Where on earth did you get that?” she asked in a awed whisper. “I stole it,” Livi answered, brushing it off carefully. “Uh… Livi, I think you should give me the gun.” Ione said. “No! You’re mean!” Livi exclaimed accusingly. Turning around in her seat she quickly shot out each of the front truck tyres, and as it swerved across the road efficiently took care of the back tyres. Ione clapped admiringly as the truck skidded into someone’s garden, crashed through their fence, and landed with an enormous splash in their swimming pool. Jerusha zoomed away as the kidnappers surfaced, gasping and spluttering. -- Meanwhile, Ben and Keren had just caught sight of the Convertible Ute zooming toward them, as well as the truck bobbing in the pool behind them. He dropped altitude until he was flying just above the convertible. “They’re over to our right a block,” he yelled down to them. “I see a Fat Man, a Tall Man and a Man with an Idiotic Hat running down the street after the ute. I’m going to take a shortcut and take care of them. Meet me there, ok?” Gabrielle gave him the thumbs up and he flew away. In less than a minute he was hovering over the criminals. “Keren, parachute down and take care of them, ok?” he directed her. “I’ll land this thing and join you!” She gave a nod and launched herself over the side of the flying contraption, careful to get tangled in any of the chickens. She pulled out her parachute as she was nearing the ground and flew directly down over the Fat Man, who she knocked flat with a kick to the head as she descended. He began to roll helplessly head over heels down the hill. Instantly she turned to the Tall Man, and ran round and round his legs until her parachute was all tangled around them and he fell with a crash. The Man with the Idiotic Hat turned and ran in the other direction and Keren screamed to Ben to stop him. Ben quickly restarted his motor and zoomed after him. Meanwhile Gabrielle pulled up in her convertible, dragging the Fat Man behind it. Heather had cleverly roped him in with Gabrielle’s scarf as he tumbled down the hill. She was horrified to discover that the only park left on the street was a tiny one with no glass window to even watch one’s reflection in as one backed. Summing up her courage, however, she pulled in in front of it and backed in lining her car up with the one behind; ending up perfectly parallel in the park with barely five inches to the curb. Jerusha followed in the ute just in time to catch a diagonal park someone was just leaving. Meanwhile, Ben had followed the desperately running Man with the Idiotic Hat out into the country. At last the man pulled off his hat, and something small and brown flew from underneath it. Ben narrowed his eyes as it flew toward him, and, with a sinking heart, realised what it was. A flying ferret! He watched as it grew closer and, at the last minute, dropped abruptly downward. The ferret quickly followed, and Ben lead his chickens in a series of spins and dives. He switched on the motor and rose abruptly, then, when the ferret was directly beneath him, switched it off. The chickens folded their wings and the contraption dropped straight onto the ferret, who was pushed helplessly against the bottom of the kite as it free-fell. Quickly Ben slithered out to the edge of the kite and grabbed at the ferret, pulling it toward him. Avoiding it’s snapping teeth he disabled the motor around it’s stomach and dropped it. The chickens spread their wings and Ben switched on the motor and the contraption rose. They all watched in satisfaction as the ferret splattered on the field below. “That’ll be good fertilizer,” Ben commented to his chickens. He looked around for the Man with the Idiotic Hat, then realised that with all his fancy manoeuvres he had lost him. Ben arrived back just as, sirens wailing, Police began to arrive at the scene. Gabrielle and Ione quickly explained all that had happened, and the kidnappers were handcuffed and shoved in the back of the police cars. Ben flew down to report his failure to capture the Man with the Idiotic Hat, much to the disappointment of the police. “We suspect they may have been a notorious gang wanted worldwide and from your description of his hat, I suspect that man may have been the mastermind behind it all.” Heather sauntered up to the group. “Huh, you can catch him no sweat,” she said. “Every item of his clothing came from Farmers. Place a plain-clothes man there and you’ll catch him no sweat, I guarantee it.” Two days later Mum and Dad returned home. The house was spotlessly tidy, and seven happy children met them. No one seemed to get a chance to tell Mum and Dad about their adventure in all the excitement. That night the family got a call from the police sergeant. Dad picked up the phone. “Our man was captured, just as your clever daughter said he would,” the sergeant said happily. “He apparently went in to replace a jacket he ripped on the fateful day, and our plainclothesman nabbed him! He was indeed the man we were looking for! Farmers were shocked that such a notorious criminal should be a patron of their store, and have gifted Heather a lifetime supply of clothing vouchers as a reward for her efforts. The Boss of the gang was so moved by Ione’s account of her lifetime longing for a violin that he’s donated his large collection of antique violins to her. We also found out that your eldest daughter was driving on a Learner licence without a licensed driver beside her, and we’re going to have to confiscate her licence for that offence. However we were following her in a helicopter and noted that she kept to the speed limit the whole way, indicated exactly three seconds before each turn, checked her mirrors every five seconds and indicated as she left each passing lane. We were particularly impressed with her faultless parallel parking. Therefore, although we are required by law to remove her learner licence, we have decided to award her with an honorary full licence to replace it. We were likewise very impressed with you’re your daughters Jerusha and Liviya and would like, as soon as they’re old enough, to offer them places in the police force. And the best news of all is that we have discovered that the gang haven’t a penny between them, so in reparation for your families horrible experience we are gifting you the gang headquarters; the castle they were held in. It has a huge yard for your son’s heroic chickens, and I think it would meet all your needs rather nicely. You’ll have to come over and sign the papers for it sometime.” Dad got off the phone looking rather dazed, and turned to his children. “I think you guys have some explaining to do,” he said. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/683231/ Mon, 27 Apr 2009 02:00:00 -0500 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/683231/ *strides in importantly* I have discovered what it means to grow-up, and in doing so solved the mysteries of the ages, and found the answer to life, the universe and everything. Predictably it began with me being stupid. As usual... I can’t even remember what it was about. Some stupid thing about *cough* spending all my free time on the internet or something. I didn’t even say it, but in my heart I thought, ‘How dare they tell me what to do! I’m a responsible adult now, I can make my own decisions’. Even before I had finished thinking it I was laughing at myself and inwardly blushing, because it was such a stupid and immature and self-contradictory (and teenagerish – but I am repeating myself) thing to even think. But I did think it. And even when I hadn’t been actually inwardly voiced my thoughts – if that makes sense, and I know it doesn’t – I had been thinking them subconsciously anyway. Stupid and immature, I know. Sorry. *blushes outwardly too* But in that moment when I met with the rebellious teenager self I had been trying to convince myself I was too mature to ever be, I had a bit of a moment of self realisation. Yeah, yeah, corny I know. And sort of obvious. But I always seem to miss the obvious things… Anyhow, this obvious thing that I have been missing all my life is that I am not just going to turn into a responsible adult. I know I know… I told you it was obvious. But the fact is, all my life, growing up, I thought that adults were different. As in they worked on different brainwaves; totally different ones. (like, totally) And right up until… well, right up until now and probably beyond now, I have to admit – I’ve been waiting for my brain to somehow change so I find it easier to be responsible and sensible and selfless and stop wanting to have fun and be lazy. I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be dramatic and overnight or anything, and I knew that adults still weren’t perfect… but I still expected it to be easier for them. That someday you get to the point where you at least want to be good and just know stuff. And then I heard myself thinking that I was a responsible adult and heard how ridiculous that was, and then I wondered why it was ridiculous – after all, I am getting pretty old now. *grin* Quite easily classed among the adults, utterly mind-bogglingly terrifying as that may be. And then came the moment of realisation, and I suddenly discovered (or remembered or something) that life isn’t about suddenly becoming a ‘responsible adult’. Life – well, growing up, anyway – is about being an irresponsible adult and taking responsibility for that. If that makes sense. And that’s what I want. What I want theoretically, anyway. To be able to take responsibility for my own irresponsibility, and pay the price for my own dumb decisions. Take staying up writing blog posts until three in the morning, for example. Completely hypothetically, of course. Growing up then is about waking up after only four hours sleep and feeling like sleeping in until 10 the next morning and then acting like a zombie and blowing up at everyone and reading a book instead of doing yours chores. And then it’s about remembering that no one forced you to stay up so late and it’s no one’s fault but your own, and then getting your work done first thing so you don’t fall asleep on the job and taping your mouth shut with duct tape if you feel you can’t control your temper, and then after you’ve done all your work it’s about putting away whatever you were planning for fun in the afternoon and catching up on your sleep then. Or trying, anyway, and if you fail it’s about taking responsibility for it and not blaming other people. That’s what it’s about. Of course, if I really were a responsible adult I would not be here at all, good resolutions for the morning or no. I would have gone to bed at a reasonable hour and would wake up in the morning feeling good and refreshed, and feel alive during the day instead of zombieing through it. And I would sit down in the afternoon and probably write a far more coherent blog post. But I’m not. And maybe I’ll be wiser next time, and maybe I won’t. But I won’t be blaming other people when I’m grumpy in the mornings. Theoretically, anyway… http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/662220/ Tue, 24 Feb 2009 22:51:00 -0600 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/662220/ At last - the long awaited Cinderella retelling! I have written about three different versions in the last couple of months, and at last, thanks very much to you guys, I have found one I'm happy with! Your suggestions were all actually very inspiring (even the dancing mice!), and the fact that I was up to 5:30am last... I mean this morning typing it up is thanks to you. The whole thing is rather stream of consciousnessish and might be a little disjointed... tell me if there are any lines you stumble over. And also tell me what you think about the ending, as I'm still not sure about it. Well, here it is... *nods off to sleep on her keyboard* --- I It began with the invitation. It was gilded with gold and wreathed in red roses, the dark script elegantly waltzing across the creamy parchment. It was like a fairytale from the beginning; red for the lips, white for the soft skin and dark for the ebony hair, and gold to crown it all, because she would be, of course, a princess. They were always princesses by the end. All the ladies of the household, it said. She held it in fingertips that were hard and calloused from work, and it felt like a promise. Come, it said, this is what life is about. All your life you have been waiting waiting waiting for this. This is what you were born for. You will go to the ball and be beautiful at last. You will be a princess, and find Love. This is your fairytale. Maybe it was right. She deserved a chance, after all. Maybe this would be her ball. Maybe she would step in the door and all heads would turn and she would float across the smooth floor in the arms of her handsome prince. Maybe it would all be magical, like the fairytales said. She stood still in an empty room, captivated by the way the dim light touched the gilding. In the hall a mechanism turned and whirred tiredly, and the old grandfather clock rang out once. II She arranged dresses and she arranged hair and she arranged perfume and soaps and powders for her stepsisters. She said nothing, but inside she was burning with longing. She wanted to be beautiful too, to be soft and delicate and elegant and dance lightly and go to the ball- But her time would come. She would get her fairytale, she was sure of it. She just had to wait for the fairy godmother. Upstairs one of her stepsisters – who she said looked ugly even made up in all the finery – called down to hurry, time was passing, they couldn’t be late. And she hurried away. III The shoes caught her eye as she walked past, and then they stopped her in her tracks, and then they drew her right in. The lights glinted off the tiny, finely worked glass prisms encrusting the shoes, so they shone and sparkled and glimmered blindingly. They seemed to catch every piece of light and twist it and glow with it and make it sparkle over everything that came near, dazzling her eyes. For a moment she saw dancing figures in the moving rainbows of light flitting across the walls, herself dancing in the midst of them with the bewitching shoes on her feet and the arms of her captivated prince about her. Just for one beautiful night. Those shoes could make a fairytale come true, she knew they could. Maybe things were different now. Maybe the days of fairy intervention were over. Maybe girls had to make their own fairytales. Maybe they just had to reach out and believe in themselves and follow their hearts and live for their dreams and the world would be theirs. And reach for the stars. That too. She reached for the stars. The shoes blinked in the light as she lifted them, and sent frantic little shimmers over the heavy gold clock presiding over the shop. Its round face peered back at them as they were muffled in a girl’s dirty jacket. Its arms moved, but it said nothing. IV She never thought she would feel so happy as a criminal, especially when she was being chased by at least twenty burly men. But she was possessed by insane, bubbling happiness. She had come to a grand old staircase and they were right behind her, and she had eyed the wide, curving banister and known she couldn’t get down without dropping the shoes. So she slipped them over her dirty bare feet and they had fit perfectly, and then it buzzed right through her, and suddenly she just knew. This was how it was supposed to be. And she had slid down the banisters so fast that she thought she was flying, and landed so fast that she thought she must have broken every bone in her body. But somehow she found she hadn’t, and scrambled to her feet again. She had lost a shoe, but one would do, and she laughed over the rhyme. Maybe her Handsome Prince would find the other one. So she slipped off her shoe and clasped it tight and ran with it, far away, dancing and twirling around lampposts. They were all looking for her, but they couldn’t find her because they were all stuck on the ground and she was dancing on the clouds. A clock struck somewhere, and the chimes were sweet and pure and utterly young, and she danced to them. V It was tiring, this joy and energy. She found a quiet seat in the furnace behind a potter’s shop, and sat down there amid the cinders. She put on her shoe but she was too tired to dance, so she took it off again and put it in her lap. Somehow it didn’t seem quite so magical anymore. Or maybe she was just tired. Or maybe she was remembering that it wasn’t really hers. It was stolen. She had stolen it. And it was probably horribly valuable and she would be arrested when they found her. But that didn’t matter, since they were magical shoes and once they found her she would be a princess and they could do nothing to her. It really didn’t matter. She was probably supposed to go and look for her handsome prince now. Her feet ached, though, and she didn’t know if she would want to dance with him at that moment even if he was right here. Besides, what would she say to him? Maybe she should just wait here for a bit. Maybe when she got her breath back she would go to look for him. Or maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t want to dance with her anyway, when she had only one shoe. All across the land clocks chimed and young ladies climbed into their carriages, hoping to find a Handsome Prince and wondering what to say to him if they did. VI She sat and watched. Six white mice scurried along the top of a wall, and they ran backward and forward and up and down and sniffed each other so their whiskers jiggled absurdly. Once she would have been enchanted. Once she would have laughed and made friends and danced up and down the wall with them. Once she would have sewn them little jackets and taught them all to sing. Now she just sat and watched them until they all went way again, because she didn’t really care about mice anymore. All she wanted was her Handsome Prince. Far away a Handsome Prince placed a gold circlet on his dark hair and proclaimed himself perfect. He listened to a clock strike and the chatter of guests give way to an expectant silence, and set off to a ball. VII She didn’t regret it. She didn’t. Because girls had to find their own fairytales now. Because she had to take control and make her own life and find her own truth. Because she could have sat in her empty home and cried forever for her empty dreams, and the fairy godmother would not have come. She wouldn’t have. Would she? No. So she sat in the ash as the world grew colder and she leaned against unwelcoming stone, and far above a clock began to chime and some girl laughed gaily, and she hated them. And she listened to the chimes go on and on and hated them all, and she tried to ignore them but she couldn’t keep some detached part of herself from counting the chimes like she always had, right from the days she was a child and had been happy just to listen to fairytales. And she hated that, too. VIII It was all a bit sad really. She sat all alone and watched the world grow darker and darker until nothing seemed friendly anymore. She felt in her lap and touched the shoe again. It was hard and cold against her fingers, the cut glass sharp, and she drew her hand away. It was too dark to really see it, and it didn’t sparkle away from the lights anyway. She drew up her legs and the shoe felt cold against them, so she picked it up and set it down beside her. Then she shivered and wrapped her arms around her knees, because she was still just wearing her rags. And the chiming seemed dark and ghostly. She covered her ears. IX It was funny, actually. Not funny in a haha way, funny in a so utterly wrong that you have to laugh or you’ll just cry and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to stop sort of way. She had done all this because she couldn’t bear to sit and wait for her fairytale to begin. But it had all circled around while she wasn’t looking, and now all she did was sit and wait for it to end. Then she wondered how long she would sit, and if morning would come soon, and she strained her ears to listen for a clock. But, perversely, she heard nothing. And that was funny too. X At last the Prince arrived. She knew it was him because he was the Handsome one, and he wore a crown, and she was glad he had come because she was going half mad with the cold and the quiet. It wasn’t really how she expected to meet him, though. Especially since he was leading a crowd of soldiers and one of the glassmaker’s guards. They all carried lights and lit up the darkness and bustled away the night as if it had no right to be there. She watched them silently and just sat and blinked at them as they shone their lights on her. She was too tired and cold to run, and she had nowhere really to run to anyway. So she just sat on the cold stone step and watched the lantern light glitter on the single shoe that sat beside her, and then she watched how the darting little reflections played over her Handsome Prince’s face. And then she watched the surprise in their faces as they stared from her to the shoe and the sound of the glassmaker’s guard yelling that she was her (of course she was her – who else would she be?) and all their noise drowned out the sounds of the night. XI Her Handsome Prince had hold of her arms and they were all staring grimly at her and asking why she was here and what on earth was she playing at? And suddenly she could hardly keep from laughing, because here she was with the Handsome Prince and the glass slippers and the romantic moonlight, just as she had dreamed. And she wondered what he would say if she asked him to dance. So she did. He didn’t even answer, he just looked at her with her dirty hair and shapeless clothes and servants hands, and that was enough. There was disgust on his face, and his hands loosened as he backed a pace away from her. And suddenly she pulled herself free from him and turned and ran, and even now she was half expecting the Handsome Prince to call after her. But he didn’t. He just stared after her with disgust and confusion mingled on his Handsome face, and the glass slipper sat forgotten in the shadows. And she told herself that she shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, he hadn’t recognised even Cinderella without her shoes, had he? XII The clock began to strike as the first of the thundering soldiers reached her. She tried to count the strokes, but the men filled the air with their clanking and shouting and rough hands and voices, and she lost count. “I guess,” she said, “that I just spoilt my fairytale.” http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/661214/ Sun, 22 Feb 2009 17:04:00 -0600 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/661214/ I have news! At last my muse has come back! This is quite something, since I have been doing all my writing without a muse for the last two years at least. He says he only left because he couldn't bear to visit America, especially in the heat of summer, but the fact is that he had been spending an awful lot of time wandering off alone for long periods before that, who knows where. He still won't tell me where he's been all this time. He says he came back because of NaNo, because he said that even right across the Cook Straight (Aha, a clue!) he could feel the panic and hysteria and urge to write coupled with crippling overtiredness, and the whole blast of it all nearly killed him. I can't say I'm particularly apologetic about that seeing as it was his own fault anyway, but he's returned to make sure that I never ever do it again, and I'm going to be sure to make him stay so that I don't need to. Unfortunately, he hates me. Partly because I am lazy and hardly ever write what he wants me to, partly because I'm not skilled enough to give his dramatic stories the brilliance and polish he thinks they deserve, partly because I don't give him the respect he thinks he deserves and partly because he has no sense of humour at all and hates me writing it and absolutely loathes me putting any humour into HIS stories that HE came up with and so kindly allowed me to type down for him... *rolls eyes* He hasn't even told me his name yet, and he's currently hiding away in my bedroom cupboard angsting to himself, and is only sticking around at all because I've agreed to postpone my new work and write something tragic and angsty. It's a jolly pain, since I was really inspired for this story, but much as he denies it I DO value his input, and if another angsty one-shot'll make him happy... well, so be it. I haven't exercised my angsty side for a long time, and he's right about it getting rusty. So, while I am not doing much steady writing or FM, my writing is going somewhere! And I'm slowly but surely exercising my muse back into shape, too. So perhaps I'll post some of it here sometime? Speaking of which, I have a question. Could you guys tell me what you think is the overall theme to Cinderella? (Yeah, I know, I know, Katie - True Love... *grin*) http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/656810/ Tue, 10 Feb 2009 17:49:01 -0600 http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/altariel/656810/