The End is Nigh!

Well, 2016 is almost over. Soon it shall be 2017 and I will have a hard time dating all my letters. (When you try to turn a 6 into a 7 it looks an awful lot like an 8.)

A lot of people are claiming 2016 was some sort of dreadful catastrophe. I'll be the first to admit that there were a lot of pretty bad things that happened. The election, for one (if you're an American). But honestly, we lived through all the other elections, and we've voted in some pretty wretched presidents before now and we've lived through them, so we'll batten down the hatches and do it again.

There were terrorist attacks. There were shootings. There were earthquakes. There were riots. There were epidemics.

I'm not really a person who keeps up with celebrities, but several famous people have died this year. A lot of people looked up to them and are grieving now.

There were personal tragedies as well. In our own church we have had several deaths. People have lost jobs. Someone broke their foot. There were a few surgeries. Earlier this year our dog died of nicotine poisoning (smoking kills, people). My family moved twice. My uncle's family lost just about everything when their house burned down.

I know the phrase "God is in control" can get a little worn, but it's true. He is in control, planning things our tiny, finite, little human minds can't comprehend. It's a bigger picture than we can see. And it may involve suffering. It may involve our suffering, but there is still a bigger picture that is far grander and more beautiful than we could ever imagine.

Good things happened this year too. We moved closer to family. A new cousin was born to my family. My Dead Grandma (there's a story to her nickname that I'll have to write sometime) had a successful surgery and recovered in record time. Some of our cousins came to visit not long after we moved and helped us decorate for Christmas. One of my Aunts gave me all her clay and a big tub of things to go with it and now that I have a toaster oven I can start learning to make clay jewelry.

I also discovered some new books this year to add to my shelf. Which is good because I can add new authors to my list of favorite authors. (Which is a real list, by the way. There are forty-seven names on the list, if I remember correctly. I made it to prove to my Excellent Mother that I read more than just Austen and Tolkien.)

I reached my goal of reading over a hundred books this year with a total of 118, and there might be one or two more before the month is out. We shall wait and see.

I also found a blog that so inspired me that I started my own. Wonderland Creek is such fun. Naomi Sarah is so sweet and her blog is adorable and uplifting. I can absolutely recommend it. (Also it's gorgeous. I feel bad at how slapped-together mine is when I see hers.)

Overall, 2016 wasn't super bad. A little sad and a little disappointing maybe, but not altogether bad.

Here's to 2017, and may it be as good (or, God willing) better than 2016. Happy New Years!

Grown Up

Dear Folks,

Growing up is dismal. When I was little I used to dream of being a "grown-up." I wondered what the magical secret to adulthood was and when I would make this exciting discovery. I have made it.

I mean, I've known for a while that people think I'm grown up. Little kids call me "lady" and my parents have started saying saying things like "you should be more responsible, you're an adult!" but I never really felt like a grown-up until the day before Christmas Eve, when my family was finishing all the Christmas shopping in one fell swoop. It was then that the fatal stroke occurred.

I had to choose between a roll of pretty ribbon and toothbrushes. People, I chose toothbrushes.

At least it's not as bad as it could have been, I almost choose pot-holders over nail polish. Who knows where I would be today if I'd chosen responsibly in that matter. I'm sure you are all very relieved that I survived the transition into adulthood with my vanity intact.

Other depressingly grown-up items that I received for Christmas were a toaster oven and a pair of winter gloves (both of which I asked for) and a pair of winter boots, which I did not ask for, but filled me with great joy all the same. The depressing part about these gifts is how excited I was about receiving them. Little person me would have been so disgusted. Big Girls are supposed to like exciting things like cars and perfume, not cooking implements and puffy gloves. 

But the most distinctive proof is this: My parents gave me makeup for Christmas. That absolutely settled the question once and for all. I am officially a Big Girl. I have to figure out how to do this "grown-up" thing for reals now. Wish me luck, y'all!

(In all honesty though, if I were a really grown-up Big Girl, I would be doing something productive and character building--like washing windows or folding laundry--instead of sitting here writing this and eating starbursts.)

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!!!

Guess what peeps...It's almost Christmas!!! I know, I know, this is a bit early, but hey, it's Christmas Eve, so humor me. I simply cannot wait for it to be tomorrow. I caught the Christmas Spirit quite late this year, and add a result my case is very bad. If I could sing right now I'd be singing Christmas carols.

Alas, I cannot sing. I was sick all last week and most of this one. Being sick during the holiday season is very terrible indeed. Being an optimist...who am I kidding? I am not an optimist. Bring depressed in spirit I thought, "Well at least I'll get a lot of writing done, yes?"

No. It turns out that being sick is extremely uninspiring, despite the extra time you have on your hands. So instead of doing some of the loads and loads of writing that needed done (blog posts, letters, stories,  etc.) I wallowed in self-pity and read several books instead. Two very good books, one rather bad, and I started two mediocre books that bored me so intensely that I was forced to abandon them.

However, I am recovering (I only have a cough and a slight sore throat) and for the last three days I just couldn't bear the wait for Christmas. Now it's Christmas Eve and I've got jitters. Today I went over my presents, shaking the ones that weren't "breaky" and counting them carefully. There are thirteen. I also wrapped some newly bought presents for my family. I ate peppermints and listened to Christmas music. Christmas time is lovely. Tomorrow will be here soon.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

(P.S. I have a recommendation. You should go check out "Christmas 1915" sung by Celtic Thunder. That song will give you chills. It's so beautiful and heartbreaking.)

Bloody Bible Stories

I've been reading through Judges of late and it strikes me that some of these stories would make fabulous movies. Plenty of guts n gore, intrigue and backstabbing (sometimes literally). The bible is not G rated, peeps.

I mean we all know about Gideon, yada yada yada, but man, I want to see something about Shamgar. I mean, that fella killed six hundred Philistines with an ox goad. Let's see Chuck Norris beat that!

You know what, I'd love to see the story of Deborah, Barak and Jael. People say there are no good stories about women in the bible, but they clearly never read this one. Deborah was a judge of Israel, and Jael? Jael was no shrinking violet. She killed a man with a tent stake. I seriously doubt my ability to do something like that, I just don't have the guts.

Let's take a look at the story of Abimelech. That is Hollywood material if anything ever was. This man killed sixty nine of his seventy brothers. (Nobody talks much about Gideon's seventy sons and the fact that he had "many wives." It always gets left out of the sermons for some reason.) Only his youngest brother, Jotham escapes. Once he's done with his killing spree he has himself crowned king.

When Jotham (who wants to name their kid Jotham? Anyone? It might make a nice break from the traditional "Joshua." There are definitely too many Joshuas.)  hears this he climbs a mountain and chews out his brother and the men of Shechem, comparing them to trees and brambles before running off and spending the rest off his days in exile.

Abimilech was king for three years, but God wasn't too happy about all his dastardly deeds and he "sent a spirit of ill will between Abimilech and the men of Shechem." The men of Shechem "dealt treacherously " with Abimilech.

A fellow named Gaal (What was his mother thinking?) starts saying things like "Who is Abimilech, and who is Shechem that we should serve him?" and "If only his people were under my hand! Then I would remove Abimilech." Charming guy, this Gaal.

Now Zebul, the ruler of the city  Gaal and his buddies were residing in was angry when he heard of what Gaal was saying (Gaal had also said a thing or two about Zebul and he took offense) so he sent word to Abimilech about the rabble-rouser, saying "Now therefore, get up by night, you and the people who are with you, and lie in wait in the field. And it shall be, as soon as the sun is up in the morning that you shall rise early and rush upon the city; and as soon as he and the people who are with him come out against you, you may do to them as you find opportunity." Nice.

Abimilech thought that was a pretty good plan.

When Gaal went to the gate of the city, ostensibly to prepare his attack against Abimilech, Abimilech and his people rose up from whet they were lying in wait. When Gaal saw them he said to Zebul, "Hey, there are people coming from the mountains!"

Zebul shrugs it off, "Nah, those are just the shadows of the mountains."

But Gaal is persistent. "Those are people!"

To which Zebul responds, "Where's your big mouth now, hotshot?"

So Gaal went to fight Abimilech and was soundly beaten and driven out of the city. But apparently that wasn't enough for Abimilech. He fought against the city; took it; killed the people in it; tore it down; and sowed the ground with salt. Abimilech didn't do things by halves.

When Gaal's cohorts heard this they holed up in the stronghold of temple of the god Berith.

Abimilech heard this, rallied his men and marched to mount Zalmon (that there is an interesting name. Why don't we rename Mt. Elbert and call it Zalmon?) took an ax, chopped down a bough from a tree and laid it on his shoulder, telling his followers, "make haste and do as I have done."

They all took their boughs, followed Abimilech, put their boughs against the stronghold, and set the whole thing on fire. All the people in the stronghold died, about a thousand men and women.

But Abimilech still wasn't done with the bloodshed. He then went to Thebez, encamped against it and took it. However, there was a strong tower in the city and all the men and women fled there, locked themselves in and went up to the top of the tower.

Having already had success with burning the previous stronghold, Abimilech thought he'd do that here too. Unfortunately for him, as he drew near the door of the tower "a certain woman dropped an upper millstone on Abimilech's head and crushed his skull." Buddy, you should have quit while you were ahead.

Anyway, Abimilech called his armorbearer and told him, "Quick, draw your sword and run me through or they'll call me a wussy 'cause I got killed by a girl!"

The armorbearer obeyed and so he died. "Thus God repaid the wickedness of Abimilech, which he had done to his father by killing his seventy brothers."

Yup. That sounds like something Hollywood would be all over. But no, it's a bible story, and therefore it will never grace the screen with its epicness.

(The story of Abimilech can be read in Judges, chapter nine.)

A Day in the Life of Lissy

Dear Folks,

I'm not sure if you can tell or not, but I am absent minded. (And clumsy. But about half of that clumsiness comes from being absent minded.) As a result of this absent mindedness I am constantly hurried and flurried because I have a million and one things to accomplish and none of it ever gets done, mainly because I'm constantly getting sidetracked.

I'm trying out a new schedule in hopes of remedying this situation, but in the mean time I can at least appreciate how funny it is sometimes. Want an example?

This afternoon I went Christmas shopping and when I got home I was tired out and my throat was sore, so I thought, "Know what, I'll get me some tea."

I put the kettle on to boil, and while I was waiting I decided to do some reading. I got my book (Uncle Lawrence, by Oliver Warner. It's a nice book. Short and a little sentimental.)  and was soon reading comfortably.

Too comfortably.

I was so engrossed by my book that I forgot about my tea. The kettle must have whistled for ten minutes before I realized it was hot and finally wandered out to fix my drink. The water had boiled down to nearly nothing.

Once my tea was made I wanted to sit down and read while I drank it. Alas! I had lost my book when I went to fix my tea. So I set my tea on my desk...and realized that I didn't have a coaster to protect the wood from water rings. I was a bit irritated for a few seconds, then I remembered the coaster I'd started crocheting in mid-November. It only needed a few more rows to complete it. I put my tea on the kitchen counter and sat down to finish that coaster.

The coaster is the first thing I've ever crocheted and I felt tremendously accomplished (One small step for mankind and whatnot). All that was left to do was to weave in the ends. But I didn't have a tapestry needle. I hunted for a needle for about five minutes before finding one and wove in the ends and trimmed 'em--and snipped a hole in my poor little coaster. So I had to repair that. And it was done, yay! Only took me three weeks. 

                                                       (Here's the finished product.)

While I was looking for the tapestry needle I realized how long it had been since I'd written a blog post, so with my needlework out of the way I sat down to write this. Then I remembered "Ooh, it's December, I can listen to Christmas music!" I put some on, took to my keyboard...and my eyes fell upon the coaster I just finished and I remembered my tea.

By now it had cooled down considerably, but I didn't feel like reheating it (what could happen during a minute and a half? Who's to say?) so I am drinking it now lukewarm. It's pomegranate-raspberry green tea and it smells fabulous, but it tastes rather blah. I prefer herbal.

So at last here I sit writing this out. My tea is cold, my coaster has a hole in it and I'm still not sure where my book is, but at least I managed to finish this post.

Happy holidays, y'all!

~Lissy

Under Construction

Hey Folks,

I know my blog currently looks pretty terrible, but I'm trying to fix that. See, I lost my header and I thought "Well, since I'm looking for a new header why don't I try to do a Christmasy theme." Oops.

Anyway. If you happen to see my currently crummy design don't worry, I'm trying to find a more suitable header and fix everything. This is only temporary.

~Lissy

Words words words...

I like words. I like words with v's in them. Words like savvy, vanquished, and avast. I like words with q's in them. Words like equivoque, quandary, and querulous. I like words in general.

I also like lists. I have lots of lists. Lists of favorite authors, favorite books, favorite movies, least favorite foods, items for my hope chest, what I would need to pack if I were to need to flee into Canada...you know, boring everyday stuff like that.

My favorite lists are my word lists. I have collected some really interesting words over the years. Some are fun to say, some have oddly specific meanings, and some sound just like what they are describing.

So here's a list of five unusual words that I like very much. (I take the definitions from the Webster's New Standard Dictionary and Atlas: Self Pronouncing, by Joseph Devlin. This is a wonderful dictionary, and best of all it is mine. I got it from a used book sale hosted by a local church and it was free. Its cover is falling off, but that matters not a whit. Dictionaries ought to be so well used that their covers are all ragged and falling to pieces.)

1. Triblet - Noun. A hollow spindle for making rings, nuts, and the like.

2. Defenestration - Noun. A throwing out of a window.

3. Escalade - Noun. The act of scaling the walls of a fortified place by means of ladders.

4. Scilicet - Adverb. That is to say; namely.

5. Xylophagous - Adjective. Feeding on wood; denoting the boring, destroying, or eating of wood; applied to certain crustaceans, mollusks and larvae.

That last word carried me to victory in the word game Probe. None of my cousins could guess it. Even my Excellent Mother was stumped. So keep it in mind folks, you never knew when a weird word will come to your aid.

Now, if you are the writing type, I will challenge you to write a short story (or article, or essay, or even a novel, if you are so inclined) using all five of these words. I don't imagine it will be easy, they don't connect very well, but I'm sure it can be done. If you do take this challenge, let me know about it or link it in the comments.

~Lissy

A Few Thoughts About Autumn

Hi Folks,
The last two months were quite hectic, and I have several posts planned out, but my wifi is a bit sketchy, and I haven't had access to a computer, so those will have to wait, alas. However, it's been an age since I've posted anything, and I didn't want to neglect this blog any longer than I already had. This post won't have any nice pictures, but hopefully my next one will.

Now, some thoughts on Autumn, or as we in the states call it, fall. (Which isn't as nice, but it's short and to the point.)

I lived most of my life in a semi-arid climate. The town I lived in was one of the sunniest in America. I enjoyed it, and the place I grew up in is still very near and dear to my heart, but I was missing something.

This year I experienced my first real Autumn. It was AMAZING! Living in that semi-arid climate, there weren't that many trees. Moving east this year I am now surrounded by trees--they're everywhere!

It gets to the point where I'm claustrophobic. I liked the open plains, stretching out far and wide. I could see everything, I had plenty of space. Off in the distance the mountains rose up on three sides, and I always thought they were like a pair of arms encircling me. I could see all the way to the horizon, and at night the sky looked like a dome, spangled with stars.

My protective mountains are gone. Everything's flat. Even the sky is flat. You can't see to the horizon, there are too many tees. There are bright lights, and I can't see the stars. The trees surround me, a barrier that holds me in. I don't like the trees very well.

Or at least I didn't until now. At first they bothered me, but I'm getting more used to them by the day. They're still unsettling, and I hate the cold feeling I get in my gut when I look out a window and my mountains are gone, but the trees changed. It started in September. They started turning just the slightest bit gold, and then suddenly everything was a burst of color! Reds, oranges, yellows, even purple here and there!

The leaves are everywhere, and the ground is covered with gold. Near our church the bushes have turned the most beautiful shade of red I have ever seen.

These aren't the greatest pictures, and I wish I had more, but these are all I've got at the moment. Maybe I'll take some more during the next few days and show off how pretty fall is. Or maybe you already know, but I'll show 'em anyway, because it's all new and exciting to me. :)

Maybe the trees aren't so bad. I might like it here after all.

Have You Had Your Daily Dose of Weeds???

I kneel in the garden, pulling weeds. My Excellent Mother walks past, hair tied up, ready to tend to her cucumbers.

 “What, does dad want salad?” She asks.

 “Yes, where’s a good patch of dandelions?” I inquire.

Is this not a curious exchange?

Not at Myllerbridge.

In this house we don’t frown upon weeds in the garden, we eat them. Look, feast your eyes upon this delectable display:

This is our salad. We have salad nearly every day, 'cause why not? We have the garden to supply all the cucumber, onion, tomato and squash we need; and if weeds pop up, why not put them to good use?

Now you may be wondering how this turn of events came about. Once upon a time my Excellent Mother came across an informative article that was probably titled something like this: Edible Plants You Didn’t Know Grew In Your Own Yard!

She investigated, and behold! There were all sorts of edible plants we didn’t know grew in our own yard! Plantain grows around the walls of our house, purslane grows in the garden and dandelions grow everywhere.

So we’ve been trying out some new things. Plantain tea and dandelion root coffee are the most memorable. Plantain tea is bland, and dandelion coffee isn’t coffee, but neither was bad. Usually we just turn everything into a salad. And it’s good. I like our weed salads. So here are some edible plants you didn’t know grew in your own yard!

1. Plantain. It's like dandelion, it will grow anywhere, but it blends in better with its surroundings without the bright flowers to give it away. (Did you notice the word blend? I've heard you can put the stuff in smoothies.) It’s a little bitter, but honestly, I can hardly distinguish it from spinach.

2. Purslane. This is my favorite. It is crisp and slightly tart, but the flavor is unobtrusive.

3. Mallow. This is probably my least favorite. It’s bland, no discernible flavor, and the leaves are ever so slightly fuzzy. If fuzziness puts you off you can put the fruits or flowers in the salad instead. Both the fruits and flowers are as bland as the leaves, they just add a little extra to your salad and make it go farther and you can pat yourself on the back for putting an obnoxious weed to use.

4. Dandelion. You know, that insidious little yellow flower that everybody hates. It’s nearly impossible to get rid of, and it’s everywhere. Everywhere I tell you! I really like dandelion. It’s bitter, but it makes an excellent salad, especially when eaten with poppy seed dressing. Yum!

5. Lamb’s Quarter. Another bland one. No real flavor, but it makes your salad go farther. (We've noticed that our rabbits don't like this one. They find grass to be vastly superior to this edible goodie.)

So, there you have it, Five Edible Plants You Didn’t Know Grew In Your Yard!

All five are extremely nutritious. Vitamin C galore. Just ask my Excellent Mother.  

Poetry!

Who doesn’t love a poem? 

To answer my own question: Me. I don’t particularly like poems.

What is this I hear? Gasps of astonishment and dismay? I know, I know, I am an uncultured swine. Why, I can’t even tell Burns from Tennyson. Shocking! So in an attempt to remedy this situation, I have bought a book of Burns and a book of Keats.

Why those particular poets? Because they are old-fashioned. It’s rather romantic to read poetry that the people in books have read. But mainly because they were free. (Go figure.) I am a cheapskate.

Keats looks interesting.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk…

Hemlock is always interesting.

So far my knowledge of Poetry is restricted to the poems found in two books my grandmother gave me when I was little. Useful little things, the poems are often rather cutesy, but also sturdy and funny and whimsical. Here are two of my favorites.

“Bed in Summer” (Robert Louis Stevenson)

In Winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow candle-light.

In summer quite the other way,

I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see

The birds still hopping in the tree,

Or hear the grown-up people’s feet

Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,

When all the sky is clear and blue,

And I should like so much to play,

To have to go to bed by day?

And

“Weather” (Anon)

Whether the weather be fine,

Or whether the weather be not,

Whether the weather be cold,

Or whether the weather be hot,

We’ll weather the weather

Whatever the weather,

Whether we like it or not!

Very profound.

But I do have one other poem that I still have memorized, and it’s a more dramatic and emotional piece. I like it because it is serious and when you say it, you must say it in a low, solemn voice.

“Sympathy” (Paul Laurence Dunbar)

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--

I know how the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing

Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;

For he must fly back to his perch and cling

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;

And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars

And they pulse again with a keener sting--

I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,

When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--

When he beats his bars and he would be free;

It is not a carol of joy or glee,

But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,

But a plea that upward to Heaven he flings--

I know why the caged bird sings!

So perhaps I am not entirely ignorant. Off I go to study “Ode to a Nightingale.”

Adieu.

Greetings!

 I am Lissy of Myllerbridge, which sounds distinguished, but really is not. I am the only one in the whole wide world who calls our house by this name. The Others staunchly refuse. And no, we do not have a bridge. Or at, least, not a proper one.

Seeing as how we are newly acquainted, I feel it would be proper for me to introduce myself. I am Divinely Beautiful, Angelically Good, and last, but not least, Dazzlingly Clever. Some People (my siblings) may say otherwise, but Some People are obviously Delusional. (Also, if my sister Krisbie tells you that only she is capable of being Angelically Good, allow me to mention a scene from two months ago that included my boots and a recycling bin).

I am an aspiring authoress, so here I am, to terrorize the unsuspecting public with my unsystematic and occasionally incoherent babblings. My aim is to take little incidents from daily life and make them interesting enough to be worth your time. Since I am an voracious reader, I will probably add book reviews and maybe even a movie review or two.

I enjoy reading more than anything else in the word. My favorite books are Classics. I adore Jane Austen, who is second only to my absolute favorite author, J. R. R. Tolkien, the pinnacle of perfection. I also enjoy the occasional jaunt into a Dickens novel (or, to be entirely honest, it’s more like a wade. I may like the fellow, but he isn’t exactly the gent to turn to when you want a bit of light reading.)

Aside from reading, I am an avid knitter and I like weaving, though I am only a shabby pretender when it comes to the real thing. I make twined rugs, and that is the extent of my ability--oh wait, no it’s not, I can make placemats too!

Someday I intend to learn to sew, but have been quite unable to make a successful foray into the world of pins, needles and sewing machines. I can, however, embroider; I've been given boxes and boxes of floss and hoops, fabric and patterns. I make little embroidered pouches, which, when I have enough of them, I shall attempt to sell next summer.

I love music, but I can only play the recorder. However, I hope that next year, if we can find a suitable piano, my Excellent Mother will teach me to play. I've wanted to learn for many years. I also am in hopes of buying a harp, but harps are dreadfully expensive (buy an embroidered pouch, anyone?).

I also enjoy cooking. I used to be quite careless in the kitchen, and some of my…confusions (concoctions + infusions = confusions) were not appreciated, but now I am much improved and some of my most popular recipes are blueberry cake with vanilla frosting, apple fritters, potato soup, braided bread, and pizza. I am accomplished, am I not?

Upon occasion, I take up the calligraphy pen. I enjoy writing in the elegant scripts that are made easy with that wondrous pen. Even a plain script is made pretty: all you have to do is use the correct pen and a few minor flourishes. I am not very good, I do not practice nearly often enough, but Krisby excels at this particular art and may someday be a professional calligrapher. I myself can hardly hope to reach such levels of perfection.

And there you have it, a little about me. Tell me a little about yourself, I’d be delighted to hear from you.