Monday, December 17, 2012

Maddie's Random Train of Thought

I know I haven't been a consistent blogger, and I have chosen to give up on the paragraph thing, but I have defenses. 1. I finished dead week. Saturday. That would be self-explanatory. 2. A writer is not prompted. At least not me. I write when it comes to me, and when someone tells me to I tend to sit there staring at the computer/paper/whatever the medium is. It's the same way you couldn't just tell Beethoven 'compose music. Go.' 3. Christmas is a busy time. We literally have something to do every day, and if I'm not doing something terribly important, I'm probably eating. No shame. So Now I'm finding time to sit down and write, because I'm feeling a little train of thought coming on. Of course, if you've ever spoken with me, you can tell that my train of thought has a different sort of track, so I appologize if it's hard for you to keep up. Lately I've been thinking a lot about Christmas, and of course everything it represents. I mean, if I think about it, some believe that it was Christ's birth. Even people who don't believe that still decorate a tree and put presents under it. And then I wonder where this came from? I mean, the idea of decorating a tree is nice, but it doesn't seem like something that someone just walked out into a forest and decided to put a bunch of pretty ornaments on one. And the presents? Where did that come from? It's almost like the Mayans and chocolate. One day, did this guy just pop up and say, 'Hey, I bet if I take this sort of bean, ferment it for this amount of time in the sun, roast it at this temperature for this amount of time, crush it into powder, and add sugar and milk... It'll be delicious!' No. I don't think so. So any curious person might just go and look up the origion of Christmas trees and whatnot, or they may just forget it and wallow about not seeing the Hobbit yet. I don't really know why I don't look it up. Maybe it's because I don't want to read a whole long thing about it when I have a new copy of Pride and Prejudice as an early Christmas present. Anyway, again this might be useless rambling, so feel free to skim. And of course, there's always the subject of family on my mind. It is the holidays, and anyone who has been overseas during this time knows it's sort of bittersweet. This is my home, and everyone wants to be home for Christmas, but there's always the feeling of missing family, and friends, and snow of course. Don't get me started on snow. And last year, being back in America for Christmas was amazing, with the snow, and family, and friends, but at the same time I did sort of miss our tree and our home, and our dog even though that may sound petty. Okay. My mind has now gone blank, and I think I'm done. I'm going to be honest and say this was a useless, rambling post. I usually wouldn't let anyone read it since there's no real point, but I feel the need to post something. Sorry for the uselessness. It may not be to you, but I'm sort of pinching up my face and frowning. I guess I'll just finish with a HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

The Holiday Dust is in the Air! And the Dishes... And on the Dog... And on Me... And in my Room... And Pretty Much Every Other Imaginable Place!

So after the post about Bacon, I decided to actually write a real post, since I think that a few people might actually read my blog now(which I am not trying to imply pity or anything, it's me who's not keeping up with it all that much). I will keep trying to experiment with indention and stuff, and if not, I will curse the blog silently and not do anything about it. Call me an activist. Guess what I noticed the other day? Let me describe the sensation. It was a smell, the smell of Christmas trees, of the holidays, of happy baking and family and presents, of food and fall and Thanksgiving, of hosting many many people and getting excited about the packages that arrive. It was the smell of happiness, of no school, of longing for snow, of not being able to go in mama and papa's room because of presents, the smell of pure waiting all year long. Have you guessed the smell? Okay, I'll tell you. It's DUST! Yeah, I live in a place where the smell of dust is what I associate with Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and my birthday. It's kind of sad, yet at the same time, maybe it explains why last year, when we were in the States, I felt like something was missing from Christmas. Maybe it was because I didn't wake up on Christmas eve with a nosebleed and have to peek at all the presents. I mean, don't get me wrong, Christmas last year was just as fun, balanced out, because I was with my family, and snow, and Starbuck's Mint Hot Chocolate... But the smell seemed to be missing. So I assume that everyone is pretty much as excited as I am. I was telling mama that this is probably the first year I actually wrote a Christmas list in time for everything to be ordered(September) and might get some of the stuff on there. Usually, everyone just chooses my presents for me. I almost felt sad, because maybe the fun in getting Christmas presents is not being able to pick every one up, shake it, and proudly declare the exact contents. I mean, I've pretty much forgotten everything on the list now, so that might not be the case, but I still think it's a little fun. I remember reading in books 'We opened our presents on Christmas morning. I got everything on my list...' and I thought about how strange that was. 'Everything on his list? Every single thing? Nothing more? That's what having allowance is for, getting everything you want to have.' You can see that my parents go all out on holidays because we don't actually get many presents much the rest of the year, which is okay. Buying your own stuff is part of preparing for college, when you can't buy anything. Also, my sister's birthday is on Thanksgiving, and we have to celebrate it tomorrow, otherwise it will be a Thanksgiving/Birthday mash-up and would be a little less Autumnal. I also got her a present this year that I actually put a lot of thought into. I mean, not that I never put thought into her present, but I completely forgot what I got her last year. Maybe I should put some more thought into remembering as well, but any who, I think she'll like this present. I would just go ahead and tell everyone what it is because I doubt that she'd read this and because even though she's sitting next to me right now... I still doubt she's look at it and know what I got her. I still can't believe she's turning twelve. It's even stranger to think that when we left on furlough, she was ten. And I was twelve. And now I'm almost fourteen, and it's been almost a year since we came back. And then it will be only a year until we go back, which is a scary feeling because that means I have to compile my new book list of what books I'm going to buy, and then work out their page numbers and weights so that I won't end up with 100 pounds of books like I did last time(I'm not kidding, I had 100 pounds). You know, a Blog, now that I think about it, is a strange thing. You read how people ramble on with their train of thought, and say if they're a boring person, with an average family, what's the fun in that? Some people do that though. And then there's the food blog thing, which everyone is doing. Although I will say that reading all about food is not a bad thing, just because you like to frown and mumble at the 'Cooking from Scratch' blogs that use cake mixes. I'd like to point out to all of you that to a missionary kid, cooking from scratch is not cake mix, it's making your own tortillas... Starting with taking the corn down to the mill to ground into millet. Not that we do that all the time, just when we can't find pre-ground millet. So now that I've spoken my piece about rambling on, and figuring I've been rambling on for quite a while now, I'll stop, and only say... MANAMANA!

For Teya...

BACON! See? This post has something to do with bacon. Are you happy?

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


For some people,home is a simple as a street address. Not for me. For me, it's a question that required as much thought as Archimedes thinking about science. I mean, home could be so many places. "Where the heart is, wherever you are, where I live..." The list goes on. My brain must work fast because when Mom told us the topic of this freewrite, I immediately thought of one phrase: "what I'm waiting for." It sounds deep and moving, but I don't even know where that came from. I think of all the things I'm waiting for... Braces(which is not really an anticipation kind of waiting), seeing Les Mis, our European vacation, Mrs Melissa's dinners... Then I thought of what others would be waiting for. Then it kind of hit me. What is the purpose of life? Another deep and moving question, I know, but this is the best way I could phrase the very simple question I'm trying to convey. Why are we here? It's that exact reason; to wait. Our home, my home, couldn't be anywhere on this earth. I mean, yes, I have a home here, but if we're talking about the 'ultimate where I want to be home', then my home is Heaven. It's the place I always want to be. I know I'll be safe, with people I love. In times of trial, the thoughts of Heaven are what get me through it. My home here on Earth could be anywhere I love, but there's not a place on earth I feel completely secure. Lying in a bed, comfy and cozy, I feel threatened with thoughts of darkness. Sitting on the beach, I think of all the lives it's taken(which if even a beach can make me feel the slightest bit worried, this is saying something). In heaven, I know I'll never be sad, never hurt, never want, never feel stress of pressured or fear. This is what home looks like to me, even if I haven't actually seen it, it still provides a nice picture.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Three Wishes from a Jeannie

I have three wishes from a Jeannie. I can wish for anything, no catch. My mind races. I refuse to wish for more wishes. That's no fun at all. First, I wish that I could fly. I can soar in the air and do flips, flying higher and farther and faster. I barely use any energy because it's so easy. I tie a bag around myself and fly across Europe, the Alps, Morocco, Russia, India, the Great Wall of China...And I finally land in the West End in London. I take a nice dress and coat(because it's freezing)from the bag and wish for a ticket to see Les Miserables. I sit through the show and enjoy it. When it's over, I have one wish left. I think about it a long time. I know exactly what I WANT to do with the wish. I want to see into my future. I want to know what will happen to me when I'm older. I shake my head. That's not what I need. Whatever my future will be, I will be tempted to change it, or will do something that leads to changing it. This is not what I need. Even though I may want it. I save the last wish. I tuck it in my pocket next to the ticket stubs. Surely, someday I'll find a use for this wish. I sit calmly with it. I think about all the years that this wish will most certainly be sitting in my pocket... All alone... Forever... And a day... I give up. I wish to be able to hop inside books and take the place of one of the characters. I open up 'The Help' for a taste of Minny Jackson's chicken.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Bath, England

The weather is chilly, but not cold. My short purple dress with tights keeps me warm enough for now. The streets have very few cars. There are a few bicycles here and there. Right now, we are next to a paved road. It seems as if no new buildings have been built since the 1800’s. All of them are close together with plenty of windows. Old churches stand in the middle of the towns. People on the side walks push strollers, walk dogs, and laugh with friends. There are old fashioned black lamp posts on the street, ivy curling up the sides. They still use gas. I laugh at Michal as she poses next to the Jane Austen mannequin. Jacob, Lola, and Mom are anxious to get to the baths though, so we move on down the street. Then, we find the Roman baths. The building is large with a sandy stone as the walls. The gargoyles are in strange shapes, I can’t tell what they are. The sharp edges of the stone gargoyles have rounded over the years of rain and wear. The windows look new, but you could tell a hole in the wall was not knocked out to put them there. Sadly, they are closed and we got there too late. We walk around in some of the shops. The stone here is cobblestone, and a medieval wall stands just a few feet away. Other shops around sell souvenirs for the baths. The open doors, the chilly air smelling like herbal salts and autumn all mix to create an inviting, and soothing aura. It’s quiet, and with the lovely smells, you feel as if you have just run a mile, and your prize is complete relaxation. I am loving the whole town, but I am tired from days of walking, so I sit down and read a book in the shop. Mom continually sniffs the bag of natural lotion she bought. Finally, she says it’s time to move on. All six of us, Mama, Papa, Michal, Jacob, Lola, and I all keep walking. This is the historical district of bath, and considering the whole town has been there since the roman occupation, that’s saying something. Farther down the street, there are no cars. The streets have beautiful canopies built in the middle with flowers all in them. There are all different colors. We look into some of the open shops who’s windows are open, the fresh, cool air coming in. The doors are all open too, and it’s like everything is outside. There are some tea shops, some shops for different dishes or utensils, shops for everything. Every few shops, there is a courtyard with musicians playing flutes, guitars, and different instruments. Music floats in the fall air, and the smell of flowers and trees mixes with it. We walk and buy a few small things, and enjoy the peace and leisure. The sky begins to darken a bit and fades to a light orange. As the sun goes down, the cold temperature reaches us and we put on our jackets, shoving our hands in our pockets. We decide it’s time to go. We find the car easily and all pile in for the ride home, glad of the heater.
I’ve had a lovely day, and even though it included miles of walking, I feel relaxed and calm. My face feels colorful and happy from all the lovely smells of Bath. I close my eyes gently, and begin to drift off, thinking of what a wonderful experience we had.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

A Truly Horrible Story in which a Lowly Little Girl’s Dreams Are Crushed by the Minute Number of Televisions at the Guest House.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Maddie who really loved football- I mean, soccer. She was having a good day. She had had a good swim, and oh how she loved swimming. She had gotten some good Pop Tarts and how she loved Pop Tarts. And she had gotten good Chinese food and how she loved Chinese food. And so, the Chinese restaurant had a television there. And there was footba- I mean, Soccer on. And lo and behold, Chelsea was playing! (hallelujah chorus) Maddie felt giddy with joy as they paid their check. She urged her father to go speedy fast through traffic to get to the guest house where there was one TV. ONE TV LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. REMEMBER THAT. And so, they arrived at the guest house and Maddie was chattering about how, ‘hey, there’s almost nobody here tonight. What are the odds they’d be watching the ONE TELEVISION in the guest house?’ The odds were not in my favor. I almost dropped our groceries as I walked in discovering that the one TV was in use by the only other occupants of the guest house. Maddie slouched up the stairs, figuring nonchalantly mentioning there was a game on to two other people she didn’t know, would not do any good. And so she huffed into her room and flopped down on the bed, imagining all the blue-clad players rushing around the field, not only watching their game but being in the game themselves. Then Maddie imagined the only television left in the world being shut away in the closet, and not only was she not allowed in there, but it was on the dumb channels too, like the ones where really rich people talk about how good they dress. Maddie slouched down to the computer and blogged about her troubles, knowing that if she just phrased it in the form of an amusing story… Maybe she might just get someone to tell her exactly how the game ended up… Or else she’d have to look herself. And she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to watch the game in the first place. The End. Epilogue And then the people left and Maddie got to watch her game and the sun came out and the unicorns danced and mermaids sang and fairies made her a wreath of flowers to toss on the player’s heads when they won. TWO HOURS LATER, AFTER A VERY LONG GAME And they did win. Ha ha!