Summer's coming

Spring is finally here and summer seems right on its heels.  Although I love the warm weather, it does cause a slight problem: clothing choice.  When the weather gets nice like this, I always have difficulty figuring out what to wear because, while it's rather warm outside, the classrooms inside are still as cold as Alaska in the dead of winter.  I'd love to wear something springish and cool so that when I'm walking around campus (which I did a bunch of yesterday) I don't swelter. But, in order to do that, I have to freeze in my classes.  It's quite a dilemma.

Nothing to say

My blog posts are getting boring.  But forgive me.  I'm in three W classes and two of them (plus the pointless SM class) have major writing assignments due before I can graduate.  I don't have time for extra words.

Only interesting thing I can think of: for about 40 minutes tonight I was the only person in the Accent office.  Emily (editor) and Katie were at their soccer game, Emily (photo editor) was finished her job for the evening and left, Matt left to change for his soccer game, and Adrienne and Stefan hadn't got out of classes yet.  Andrea also hadn't come by the office.  It was very different to be in there alone, but it was nice and quiet and gave me time to thing about and write my article.  At least that's one writing deadline that is finally over.  I did the main interview for that piece around the end of January and have been putting off writing the article until tonight.  I'm sure it could have been better, but oh well.  At least it's finally done.

Burritos

Mexi-bar is definitely my favourite cafeteria supper.  Most days I forget to call the cafe and find out the menu for the day, but today I remembered and it was mexi-bar.  Needless to say, I got pretty excited.  And I called at 11 a.m., which meant there was 6 hours to wait until I could stand in line for my burritos.  It was a long 6 hours but I managed to make it to the appointed hour.  Of course, when Jonathan and I actually got to the cafe there was a line, but finally I had my two burritos sitting on the table (well in the tray...not just right on the table) in front of me.  I ate both, plus some yogurt and actually wanted to go back for more.  Jonathan said my stomach would never fit anything else, so I bet him that I could eat another whole burrito.  He wisely declined the bet and, a few minutes later, I was glad; I was rather full.  Now, later in the evening and hungry again, I'm wishing I'd gotten two more in a take-out tray.  Seriously, burritos are sooo good.

Time without school

Sometimes I wonder what in the world will occupy my time when I'm done school.  I can't even imagine that scenario, although it's only five weeks away.  Hopefully I can hang on that long . . . I really would like to graduate.

Earth Hour

I achieved my Earth Day goal: to keep my lights off from 8:30 to 9:30 p.m. I did this by hanging out at Danielle's house (come on, it still counts because MY lights were off...) and then going to the Gym-Master's homeshow. Watch this video to find out more about what other people and cities did tonight for Earth Hour.



Earth Hour's Web site can also give you more info.

Recital-dress shopping

Traditionally, my least favourite item of clothes to shop for has been dresses. (Well, that's not actually true...it's probably my second-least favourite). But today I agreed to go shopping with Bryn to look for recital dresses. I'm not that fond of shopping in general (unless it's for books), but I can get in the mood for it once in awhile. Today was one of those times. We found myriads of dresses, most of them not exactly the kind you would want to wear for a senior violin recital. We did have a fun time going through Dillard's and J.C. Penny's dress sections, picking several out, and trying them on though.
Here's the synopsis of our shopping trip. Actual items bought: two. Both were bought by Bryn and neither were dresses. But all in all, it was a fun afternoon and I decided that dress shopping is actually more fun than I previously thought. I might even try it again in the near future.

Also, this is worth watching. I really wish I'd known about it before my debate on Wednesday. It would have fit perfectly with my position.

Frustrated

I really want to go on a rant on here. But I don't think I will because I don't want certain people to see it and possibly not let me go overseas next year. I don't think that certain people will ever read this blog, but just to be on the safe side, I will refrain. Let's just say I am frustrated with a certain class that is zero credits, but that I am required to take. I know other people are as well. OK, rant over.

In other news, Hockey Canada posted a really great commercial on their Facebook page this afternoon. I saw the post and watched the video and fell in love. You can watch it here.

Celebratory meal

We had a lot to celebrate tonight so we went to the VM after orchestra and got two frozen pizzas for a celebratory meal. What were we celebrating, you ask? Well, first, Bryn did her senior recital jury and passed. She didn't have to play anything again for the professors and now just has to do her senior recital (April 13 for any of you who need convo credit or just want to come because you like classical music) to be able to graduate. Second, Jonathan did a test to challenge Discrete Math, which he needed to graduate. He said he felt it went well so we figured that was a good reason to celebrate.

And finally (and least importantly since it didn't impact whether I would graduate or not), I did my last debate for Mass Communication & Society. It was on digital strategies and my position was that the Internet and new media are debasing journalism. I half believe that stance and half don't, but apparently all the media world don't agree with that position because it was super hard to find any sources to back what I was supporting. In any case, I did find a few and I think I made a pretty good argument despite not having too many great sources. I did plan out a pretty great rebuttal and James, my opponent, played right into my hands on that one. I think my rebuttal was probably one of the strongest parts of my debate, so for that I'm pretty happy. Anyway, so now the only thing I have left to do in that class is my 10-12 page research paper. Man, I can't wait until graduation...

New editor

Tonight was different at the Accent office. This semester I come in around 6:30, since I'm at orchestra when we're supposed to start at 6. Typically only Matt and the two Emily's are in the office when I get there. Last semester almost everyone was there right away, but this semester a lot of people are in classes until a bit later. Adrienne comes in at 7 and Katie is sometimes there at the start, but more often comes after 7 or so. Stefan has a class until 9 or 9:30 and Aimee comes around then too. It's interesting to watch the dynamics change as people get to the office. At first we're all pretty studiously editing, but we get more vocal and chatty as more people come in.

But tonight there was a new factor thrown in. Andrea, a student from News Reporting class who writes for the paper this semester, came by around 7. She was just informed that she'll be the new Accent editor for next year. This are going to be WAY different next year. Most of the leadership staff will have graduated. Let's see. Here's a list of those of us graduating: editor, managing editor, news editor, copyeditor, one of the layout people, front page designer, religion editor, opinion editor. There might be more, but those are the ones I can think of right now. So, as you can see, most of the main leadership of the paper, and many of the other contributing staff will be gone next year.

Andrea wanted to see how things happen at the office. When she came in, only Matt and I were there. Emily had just left to go to a soccer game. So I talked to Andrea about what we did in the office on Tuesday nights and then told her about my specific job and tried to tell her a bit about some of the other jobs on the staff. Then I told her she was free to help us edit some of the pages. She took me up on the offer and stayed around until more people showed up so she could see how things really work when everyone is at the office. She asked everyone what their jobs were and watched the transformation of the paper. Anyway, I know the Accent will be way different next year, but I think Andrea is a good person to leave in charge. I bet she'll be hanging out in the office with us until the end of the school year.

Health-care bill

She drops her backpack and slides into her seat. The professor enters the classroom and writes the day's agenda on the whiteboard. She watches without interest. Another Monday, another senior-level communication class to sit through. Not even a lively discussion about the health-care bill passed by the U.S. House of Representatives the evening before captures her attention. Why would it? She is Canadian after all. She can't remember a time without universal health-care. What is the big deal about the whole thing anyway? She doesn't know and she doesn't care to find out. She looks at the clock. 10:09. Still another 41 minutes to go. She unzipps her backpack and pulls out today's newspaper. Centerpiece is a monotone picture of the bill being passed. She flips to the Lifestyle's section and opens to the Puzzles page. Doing the word search and sudoku will help pass the time.

A Suite Concert

I don't think I've ever been so happy to be done with an orchestra concert as I am tonight. I was getting so sick of going to orchestra rehearsal three times a week and playing those same suites over and over again. But now we're done and we can start on our new pieces for our last concert of the school year! There's not too much to report on about the concert. I think it went pretty good. At least the crowd seemed to appreciate it, giving us a lengthy standing ovation. I'll take that as a good sign.

Good-bye "suite" concert music. Hello new music.

Free ice cream

After playing for and sitting through two nearly identical sermons at church today, I was ready for something interesting. (Random comment about the church services: For special music, we played the anthem Dr. Ashton wrote for the upcoming GC. If you want to hear it, click here.) Several people came over to our apartment for lunch and then later in the afternoon some of us went on a hike at Signal Point. Jonathan and I braved putting our feet in the stream at the bridge but couldn't leave them in the freezing water more than a few seconds. We ventured off the trail downstream a little ways, hoping to find the waterfall, but decided to turn back so we wouldn't miss Josh, Bryn and Danielle, who were hiking behind us. We met up with them on our way back and hiked back to the parking lot together.

After a brief stop at the dorm and our apartment again, we went over to Jonathan's grandparents house for a haystack supper. Jonathan's mum, who was here for the weekend to hear our orchestra concert, greeted us in her pajamas. After we ate, the rest of us also changed into pajamas before heading down to Brusters Real Ice Cream on Jenkins Rd. A crowd of people and a traffic jam of cars met us as we pulled into the parking lot. Tonight was customer appreciation day at Brusters. They were serving free ice cream and the only stipulation was that you had to be wearing your pajamas to get a free waffle cone of ice cream. This proved to be a problem for Jonathan who had no pajamas. He ended up having to trade his shorts for his cousin's pajama pants, but eventually even he got a free ice cream cone. We left from Brusters and went straight to Asian Night where we ate more free food. All in all, it was a good day for doing out-of-the-ordinary events and eating a lot of good food for no money, a college student's dream.

Spring is here

Brilliant blue stretched across the dome of sky above her. She walked down the sidewalk listening to birds chirping and leaves rustling in the warm spring breeze. Today would be a perfect day for a ride in a convertible, she thought as she swung her backpack up onto her shoulders. Too bad I don't have a convertible.

Visitors

I got a nice surprise today. I was just getting up from my seat in Ackerman after a general recital when I saw an older lady with red hair walk into the aisle from her seat a few rows ahead of me. I was so surprised I dropped half the things I was holding and started trying to scramble over Bryn to go talk to her. Then I realized that I had dropped my convo card and, since I desperately need to get some convos out of the way, I went back to find the card before following the lady out into the lobby. Once I'd collected my things I went and found her, my best friend Jodi's grandma who lives in College Place, WA. Back in WWC days, Jodi and I would regularly go over to her grandparents house for Friday night suppers or Sabbath lunches. It was a nice way to get out of the dorm and to get to know Jodi's family better. (She has a couple aunts and uncle and cousins in College Place too who would be over to eat most times we were there.) So, back to this evening, I greeted Jodi's grandma and she knew who I was right away and said she and her husband were on a train trip that they had got as an anniversary present and they were visiting all their kids. She's in Collegedale right now to see her daughter, Dr. Penner, the voice teacher. After talking to Jodi's grandma I talked to her grandpa and he said, "Well, you're that girl that came to visit us all the time in College Place, aren't you?" It was definitely nice to see them again, even if it was just for a short time.

Voice recorder

I'm kicking myself. Well okay, not literally, but I should be. Today I went down to Goodwill Chattanooga to sit in and observe on an adult reading class for my Literary Journalism project. (Some background: My project is on illiteracy and adults who can't read or don't read very well.) There was an intensely amusing moment when I first walked into the classroom. I don't want to go in detail about it on here since it's perfect for my project and I want to save it for that, but I'll give you an overview:

I walk into the room exactly two minutes late for the class. Only the teacher and one student sit at the table. As soon as he sees me walk in the student jerks his head up and proclaims, "It's Alison!!!" (Yes, he said my name with at least three exclamation points, maybe even a few more.) I stop just inside the door, blinking in surprise. He was a totally stranger to me. He jumps up and lumbers over to me, squeezing me in a hug before I have time to react. He then informs me that I had visited Hosanna Community and told me his name. It all started coming back to me. Last January (the 2009 one), Danielle and I had gone to Hosanna Community, a community in Hixson which fosters independence for adults with disabilities, to help clean up the grounds and the buildings for Community Service Day. This guy lived there and remembered me coming to help out. More incredibly, he remembers my name from that one-day visit 14 months ago. Needless to say, I was astonished.

So that was the most random part of my visit. The rest of the first class went by in rather ordinary fashion. The second class did as well and I was getting a little discouraged that I wouldn't have any material to show for my two-hours of time downtown. While the volunteers helped the students in the more advanced class, I interviewed the teacher, getting lots of good information about her, but not too much that would actually help me for my project. Near the end of the class she let me talk to the students, just like she had in the beginners class. I wasn't too optimistic about getting good info. The first class hadn't given me much, but I went ahead and interviewed them anyway. I asked one guy some questions and he gave me short, brief answers. One of the volunteers tried to help by explaining my questions further, but his responses were the same. Nothing I could use for my projects. Just "yes" "no" "yeah kinda" "I don't know" etc. I'm not sure how he managed to give those answers for my open-ended questions, but trust me, he did. I ran out of questions before he gave me anything good. I turned my attention to the second student. Before I even asked him a question he was off. He gave me the most beautifully eloquent motivational speech I had ever heard. My pen was going at top speed trying to get all the stories and top-notch quotes documented correctly. Just as he was winding down, I realized that I had my voice recorder with me. I was so mad at myself for not getting it out of my backpack before the second student started talking. I'm pretty sure I got most of his speech down on paper, since he talked slow and deliberately, but I wish I'd recorded it anyway. It was really touching and almost made the volunteers cry. I'd give anything to go back to yesterday at 2:50 p.m. and do that interview over again.

Sports page

I wrote an article for the Sports page in the Accent, which makes me happy because I've been telling Emily for more than a month that I was going to. And now I have and the best thing is, no one (except you guys) will know that I just stole it off my own blog, edited it down by a few words, wrote a tidy little intro and conclusion, and sent it in to the sports editor. Am I sneaky or what?

Turtle Island Quartet

I went to the double convocation tonight. Danielle had me thinking it was going to be great (I think she saw them play or maybe did some work with the cellist at a music camp or something like that) so I got one of the free tickets for their 8:30 concert. After two songs I was bored out of my mind. Not that the group wasn't good. They each played pretty well and the songs sounded good. It's just that every single song sounded exactly the same to me. That's my opinion of jazz. I feel kind of bad saying it, but it's true; jazz is boring. I came to that conclusion at Walla Walla where they added a saxophone or bass to song services to jazz things up, literally. I mean jazz is fine in moderation, but there's a limit to how much a person can handle at one time. So, throughout the entire concert, I was sitting in Ackerman wishing the Turtle Island Quartet was playing Cape Breton fiddle music. Forgive me, I'm Canadian. I can definitely relate better to the trills and reels Celtic music than to the slides and dissonance of the jazz style.

I'd rather be traveling

Right now, as I type, my dad and my older cousin Nathan (who is basically like a big brother to me) are flying from SEA-TAC to Seoul, South Korea. From there, they'll take another plane or two to Borneo. My dad first went to Borneo when Tyler was a senior at Upper Columbia Academy. Every year some UCA juniors and seniors go to Borneo and in 2007 my dad went along with Tyler. The next year the administration at UCA asked my dad to go back there with them. He did. Then last year my mum was planning to go along with him, but at the last minute she got ill and both she and my dad decided to forgo the trip. So when my dad was invited to go to Borneo again this year, he asked my cousin (who was going through a job shift when the lumber mill he worked at decided to shut down) to come along. So, they'll soon will be in Borneo for two weeks of mission work and building churches. Each year my dad goes on the UCA trip I get jealous, but this year I'm extra jealous because I'm in the midst of some major fifth-year-senioritis. I'd give anything to be heading out on that adventure. But alas, I'm stuck here in Happy Valley.

Also, I got another interesting Captcha when I was commenting on Janelle's blog. (How come the interesting ones only seem to show up when I'm making comments on her blog and no one else's??) Anyway, when I hit the Post Comment button, the word "aliscrou" appeared for me to type out. I found that extremely amusing. I mean the first four letters of that fake word are the exact same as the first four letters of my name (which I'm sure you all caught). Anyway, I was trying to figure out a way to use that in a blog post, but it's been really rainy and cloudy lately and I don't seem to have the gift of creativity when the weather is so gloomy. If any of you have an idea for that word, you can let me know in a comment on this post. Or, feel free to make up something on your own blog using that word.

Sunny Louisiana

After making several stops in the Collegedale/Ooltewah area to pick up people and their luggage, pack the luggage (and the people) into the car, and get gas and a gallon of drinking water, we finally were on our way. Five people stuffed into a five-person Honda Accord. We chose to take Josh's car cause it's extremely good on gas. By the time we crossed into Louisiana very, very early Saturday morning, I had learned that the seats were not as good on humans' bottoms as the engine is on gas. But we made it to our campground alright, although quite tired, around 2 a.m. Collegedale time (which was 1 a.m. Louisiana time). We drove around and found the open area that the campground manager had told Jonathan we could pitch our tents when he'd called before we left and then got Josh's car stuck in the mud. Josh got out and pushed the front of the car while Jonathan steered. When Josh couldn't move the car on his own, Ty put on his shoes and went to help. The two of them managed to get the Honda unstuck and then we parked in front of a grassy knoll.

As we were unloading the tents and sleeping bags from the trunk, a man drove up on a quad, wanting to make sure we were supposed to be there. Jonathan told him that we had already called and made arrangements to check in later that morning and the man showed us the best places to camp before driving off. Jonathan set up his tent, while the rest of us wrestled to put the tent we'd borrowed from John together. Finally our camp was set up and we gratefully crawled into our sleeping bags for some well deserved rest, Bryn and I in Jonathan's two-man tent and the three boys in John's three-man one.

The next morning I woke up to a cold nose (the sign of a real night of camping) and the sun attempting to shine right through the tent fly. Before long I could hear stirring from the other tent and soon we were all up, making trips to a very under-construction bathroom not too far away to change. Jonathan found the granola and powdered soy milk he'd packed and we had a standing-up breakfast around the car eating the granola, rustic bread-wrapped-around-hunks-of-Prosage-sandwiches, and a couple oranges I'd brought along. After eating we packed away the sleeping bags and tents, loaded the car and drove off.

Bryn and Josh wanted to go to Baton Rouge, so we drove west for half an hour. Josh managed to find his way downtown and we parked at the Capitol building and looked around the grounds, enjoying the sun and taking pictures as gusts of wind whipped at our hair and clothing. Then we ventured inside the building where we were required to go through a mini metal-detector. An old man who had just put down his meat-filled sandwich, handed us a slightly food-encrusted brochure, and told us a little about the building. He mentioned that if we went back to the elevators we would see a glass case with information about the shooting of a former governor (I think) right at that very location way back in the 1930s. I went there first and managed to find what I believe was the hole in a column that the man had said still housed a bullet from that event. It was all very thrilling. Then we looked in at the senate room and the house of representatives room. Since I know about 0.1% about U.S. politics the only thing that really inspired me was the fancy marble floors and intricate ceilings and that sort of thing. We left the building, returned to the car, and tried to find our way to a bridge we had seen from the Capitol, but alas, it eluded us. Instead we got on the highway heading for New Orleans. Just on the outskirts of Baton Rouge, Josh pointed out a huge gathering of people, most of them wearing green. We figured it was an early St. Patrick's Day celebration since we decided that Mardi Gras was either long over or not yet arrived.

When we finally got the New Orleans, I was kind of disappointed. It's small. From everything I heard during and after the Hurricane Katrina disaster, I expected it to be a mega-metropolis. In reality it's population is about two Spokane's, not terribly large. We drove through the heart of the city, trying to find our way to the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway but somehow got on a different bridge instead. Ty used the GPS to figure out our way back across that bridge and to the causeway. Then we had to wait in a huge line of traffic while three roads converged into one. When it was finally our turn to go, we got to the causeway rather quickly and were soon driving our way across the middle of Lake Pontchartrain on a 24-mile bridge. It was neat to be on a highway going straight across the lake, especially since the causeway is apparently the longest bridge in the world.

After that thrilling adventure, the rest of our trip was rather ordinary. We drove all the way back to TN, only stopping for gas, bathroom breaks, Subway, and changing drivers, and got back to SAU around 2:30 a.m. Once all our stuff was unpacked, I fell into my bed, exhausted from the 16-hour round trip drive, but extremely satisfied at finally being able to say that I've been to all 50 U.S. states.

Note: I did, in fact, post this upon my return from our trip. I did not bring my computer along on the trip and even if I had, I couldn't have posted anyway since I wasn't in the vicinity of Wi-Fi.

50th state

In about five minutes a carload of us are heading out to Louisiana for an overnight trip. The only state that Bryn, Ty and I still need to go to is Louisiana and by tonight (hopefully, God willing) we'll get there and finish our state-count. We're bringing along Jonathan and Josh to fill up the car. And we're planning to go across Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, the longest (or third-longest depending on the definition) bridge in the world. Definitely should be a fun trip! I'll tell you more when I get back. Have great weekends all of you.

Student missions

Remember this post? Well I do. It's been in my back of my brain since I wrote it in early January. In the first paragraph of that post I promised all of you, my faithful blog readers, that I would write more about how I was inspired and motivated by two things: (1) listening to Paul Howe's testimony from GYC, and (2) hearing Mr. George's (Tim's dad) sermon. Both talks had a distinct emphasis on missions. Well, in today's post I will finally fulfill my promise. The following paragraphs have been taken directly from the journal entry I wrote today for the student mission orientation class.

"The weekend after Christmas break, instead of going to vespers I stayed home and listened to a sermon online from the recent GYC conference. Paul Howe, the older brother of the Howe's I know here at Southern, spoke about how God led him and his wife to work at Gimbie Adventist Hospital in Ethiopia. I was really moved by his sermon and my wish to go as an SM again deepened after hearing his testimony. The next morning, I went to the Village Chapel church in McDonald, Tenn. where my friend Timothy George's parents did the church service. They are career missionaries in Palawan, Philippines and have been doing mission work there since the late 90s. Tim's dad's sermon was really powerful and after the service I was even more convinced that I needed to be doing mission work this coming year.

The next day I went onto the Adventist Volunteers Web site again, like I'd been doing since last May. While browsing the new listings posted there, I saw one that looked remarkably similar to the ADRA position I had been looking at last fall, which had been taken off the site sometime around October. I clicked on it and found that it was the same position, just updated for this next school year. I was ecstatic and signed in to update my already-filled-out application right away. (I contemplated going as an SM during last summer, but eventually decided not to so I could make money for my last year of college instead.)

I didn't actually finish the application and send it off to the GC until last week during spring break. But now that my application is completed and sent in I feel, more and more, that the ADRA position is exactly where God wants me to be next school year. I do have other places, related to the field of communication, picked out as second and third choices, but it seems like God could be leading me to Tanzania next year."

Sorry for anything in the quoted material that doesn't really make sense. It was all written very stream-of-consciousness, which is how I usually end up writing journal entries. Anyway, so there's the blog post that I've been meaning to write for awhile. I put it off because I just never felt like I had finalized my decision until this past Tuesday when I went in to the Student Missions office and talked to the director about going as an SM and joining the SM orientation class. Tonight was my first night going to the class and, while I wasn't terribly impressed with the quality of the two-hour lecture, it was exciting to sit there and realize that this is actually happening. I did actually send in an application. I did actually talk to the campus director of Student Missions. And I am actually in the orientation class, which makes me think that things are looking like I might just be going as an SM once again. This excites me and also kind of scares me. The last time I was an SM was four years ago when I spent three and a half months playing with and taking care of kids. That's easy. Anyone can do that. Am I ready for nine months of writing and editing, doing real journalistic work for a prominent Adventist organization?

Surprise birthday party

"Have a good evening. I'll see you tomorrow," Mrs. Minner dismissed the orchestra. I jumped up and rushed out of the rehearsal room, pushed my violin into my case and zipped it up securely while walking to the music lockers to put my instrument away. Then I ran back into the hallway, grabbed my backpack, and rushed around the corner, up the stairs and down the third floor hall to room 307. John was right behind me as I opened the door. Joel and Christy came in after us.

A ring on people greeted us as we entered the darkened room. Colourful balloons rolled along in the air currents left behind as we walked to seats set up in a ring around the room's perimeter. I let my backpack fall from my shoulder. "Phew," I sighed, "I can't believe this seems to be working. I really hope Mrs. Minner and Robbie detain her long enough for everyone else to get up here." Danielle dashed into the room. "John, can you play 'Happy Birthday' when she walks in?" Stephen asked from his perch on the piano bench. He stood up and gave his seat to John. Jonathan came in. "She's still talking to Robbie about chamber group rehearsals," he informed us. I greeted Breanna and Erin who I had sat beside and we talked in almost-whispers. We all waited, excited yet trying to control our emotions and be quiet until the moment Bryn opened the door and we could yell out and surprise her.

Danielle walked over to the window. "Hey, she's down there by her car!" My heart sank. Our plan to give Bryn a surprise birthday party hadn't worked after all. She must have figured it out. Maybe she hadn't even given Mrs. Minner time to ask her to unlock the room for a pretend rehearsal. Suddenly the phone in my jacket pocket started to vibrate. I pulled it out and stared at the screen. "It's her! Bryn's phoning me!" I called. "Shhhh everyone. I'm going to answer it." I quieted the group then answered my phone. Bryn wanted to know if I was going to pick up our cousin Breanna and one of her friends for the supper we were planning to have at our apartment for her birthday - this was the decoy party that I had discussed with her several days earlier. I figured if she knew I was going to plan something at our place, something plain and ordinary like we usually did, she wouldn't think that we would have a surprise. I assured her I would take care of it and hung up. Danielle broke in again to continue reporting live on the event taking place outside the building. "OK, she just went to her car to get something. She's coming back in!" Yes, I thought. This is working. She probably just forgot her card in her car or something like that.

We waited in almost-complete silence (as silent as 15 or so excited college students can manage to be) as Bryn entered the building and walked up two flights of stairs to the third floor. Then she was standing in front of the door. A piece of paper notifying people of a practice in the room later that evening obstructed her view through the small window in the door. She slipped her ID card into the lock. It, obviously, was unlocked. She turned the handle and pushed open the door. For one second we stayed silent, watching for her reaction. Was this roomful of people a surprise? Did she know what was going on? What in the world was she thinking? She stared at Christy who was sitting closest to the door Bryn had just opened. Then, as if we all had one mind, we shouted a loud "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" and John grandly played through the song while we sang with gusto. Bryn stood in the doorway, blinking and grinning. By that time I had my answers. It had been a surprise. She had had no idea what was going on. I was thrilled.

Bryn has always wanted a surprise birthday party, or really any surprise party at all. The problem with this is that anytime her birthday approaches, she always thinks out every possible surprise scenario. She once told me that, even though she so wanted a surprise party, it would be impossible to surprise her because she had already thought of all the ways in which she could be surprised. This year it became my mission to plan and execute a successful surprise party for my little sister and, in that moment as we burst into song, I realized that, with the help of my friends and brother, we had achieved that success. I guess there was at least one scenario that Bryn didn't think of in all her imaginings.

Phydralcs

He couldn't understand the mess of words. They hung in the air for half a second after the physical therapist spat them from her tight-lipped mouth, but that wasn't long enough for him to grab them, hold them, look at them, understand them. How could he figure out what was happening with his own body if he didn't know what this woman was saying? He had been assigned to her, had to trust his health with her, but couldn't even follow her words, let alone her sentences.

"And then we'll put you on the Maltya to get your phydralcs working again, how does that sound?" She ended her tirade with a finger pointed at his heart. Or maybe it was pointing at his arm. What was a phydralc? A tendon? A muscle? A molecule of blood?

"So what are you saying is actually wrong with me?" He was almost afraid to even ask, but he had to know what was going on. He had to take some control back.

But his question came too late. She was already turning to lead him down the hall to the room where he'd have to face the Brokquare, the Yevjen, the Powhale, and the Maltya. Whether he could conquer those beasts like the dragonslayers of old was still very much yet to be determined. Sighing, he limped along behind his trainer, hoping his grammals, his lurcides, his tepucepts, and his phydralcs could survive the upcoming battle.

*Inspired, once again, by a word verification when commenting on one of Janelle's blog posts.

Field trip

I went to The Yellow Deli for the first time today. It is definitely a one-of-a-kind restaurant. Mr. Nash took our Literary Journalism class there for a field trip. Emily is doing her project on the Twelve Tribes and the local one, Benyamin, owns The Yellow Deli.

We sat in the very front of the restaurant at a round table with half booth seats and half chairs. Warm sunlight poured in through the front window and splashed across lacquer of the handmade wooden table. A woman with long white hair hanging down to her waist in a limp ponytail passed seven menus around our table. The five who had been to the restaurant before told Mr. Nash and me what was good to eat. Once we made our decisions and closed our menus, a young girl (probably in her late teens) wearing a long skirt made from a piece of cloth covered in a nondescript small pattern, wrote down our orders.

We talked about spring break while we waited for our food, and then Mr. Nash decided to look around the restaurant. Four of us, followed his lead. I noticed the hippie theme as I walked up the spiral stairs to the second floor. A huge mural spanning the length of one wall met me at the top. Hippie colours and sayings intertwined with pictures of Jesus and joyful-looking groups of people. A scene at the front of the mural caught my eye. A small group of people were stepping onto a hippie bus. In white paint, stenciled over the front of the bus were the words: "We know the way. We'll lead you home." More homemade tables and chairs crowded the top floor. On plaques hanging between the tables were portions of scriptures with small illustrations. "Go to the ant, thou sluggard," was just one that I noticed. Near the back was a study area with a brown leather couch and matching easy chairs. A trunk sat as a coffee table in the middle. A perfect study haven. A Twelve Tribes magazine sat nonchalantly on the trunk. Several wooden stairs led to a door to an outside patio. Three tribe members sat at a table talking. The old lady who had given us the menus came outside behind us. They struck up a short conversation with Mr. Nash and the other students. I returned inside, went down a set of stairs at the back of the restaurant and walked around more seating areas back to our table where Emily and Rainey sat and the others slowly trickled back to their spots too.

Soon our food came. As we ate, we continued talking, more about spring break, about our classes, about what we were going to do in the summer and after we graduated. We finished our meals, Mr. Nash got the check and paid. We wandered back outside into the afternoon sunshine, piled into Mr. Nash's Honda Pilot and drove back to Collegedale. Rainey and Chris played the girls' Auto Bingo game. "I thought I would have one car ride with no kids arguing," Mr. Nash commented when they started quibbling about the rules. We listened as Emily gave us more information on her project and the research she has been finding. Rainey asked for advice with her project. We discussed, asked questions, gave suggestions. Then we were back at the school. Just that fast our short trip away from the pressures classes and homework and deadlines was over. It was a nice reprieve and an interesting time. Literary Journalism is absolutely the best class ever.

Cop state

She didn't need the huge roadside sign to know she'd left West Virginia. It was clear as day she was now driving in Virginia. Exactly four seconds after driving past the welcome sign, she saw her first cop of the so-far-eleven-hour trip, pulled over on the Interstate shoulder behind a blue van. Two minutes later she saw another, hidden behind a slight hill in the median. "I hate driving in this state," she exclaimed after spotting a third cop car three more miles down the road. "Someone else better get ready to drive cause I'm done. I'm pulling into that rest stop up ahead. Virginia's the worst place for cops. Well, after Collegedale, that is."

Stomach flu

He sat, head bent over his cello, and felt his stomach heave. Just ignore it, he thought. Just sit so still your stomach doesn't realize it's not feeling well. Just . . . Just nothing. He had to get to a bathroom. NOW! He paused for a millisecond, hoping his stomach would suddenly cooperate and settle down. Then he knew it wouldn't and he acted. He methodically leaned over and place his cello carefully on its side, gently setting his bow on its ribs. Once he was sure his cello was safe, he moved quickly. Rising from his chair at the front of the church, he wound his way past music stands and other chairs, recently abandoned by children who had gathered on the other side of the stage to listen to the children's story. He hoped the story continued for a few minutes. He needed to be back on stage by the time the children returned to their seats. He was part of the special music that would happen next.

He rushed through the door leading to the hallway and then through another that took him into a room with a washroom. He shoved the door shut and leaned in front of the toilet just in time. When he was done, he slumped in front of the toilet. The murmur of the storytelling voice had ended sometime in the middle of his expulsion. Now two girls were singing with a guitar. So they had changed around the order of the service? Well, that was better than the whole church body just sitting in their pews, waiting for him to reappear. He felt better now that the offending material in his stomach was gone. He walked to the sink and rinsed his mouth out with cold water before taking a small drink. Then he looked in the mirror. He didn't look like he'd just thrown up. Reaching up, he pulled a few stray curls back into place. He casually walked back to the stage and sat on the piano bench until the girls finished their song. Then he made his way back to his seat, picked his cello back up and came in on the downbeat. He made it through the song and then headed back to the bathroom for the rest of the church service. What bad timing for a flu, he thought as he tried to listen to the speaker through the bathroom door.

Oldest

It's hard being the oldest sibling. I know from nearly 22 years of experience. Oldests have to be the responsible ones who get up first for the shower in the morning and then wake up the rest of the troops once they're done. They have to remember to take lunches to school (and remind the younger ones), make sure the school bus waits while the slower ones struggle to the bus stop through snow drifts, get the younger ones ready for bed if the parents are busy or dealing with another child. They have to edit their siblings' English papers and try to help them with math problems that they can't even remember how to do because they did those problems three, four, five years earlier. Oldests have to set examples in orderliness, character, and creativity. But the benefit of being the oldest sibling is that you got x amount of years alone with your parents before the others came on the scene. Unfortunately for most of us, those years happen when we aren't really aware of the alone time with our parents before it's over.

Maine beaches

I love beaches of any kind. Ocean ones. Lake ones. Even river ones if it's a big enough river to have a beach. Today we went to a place called Land's End at the end of a finger of land about 45 minutes from Jonathan's house. I loved it. Just beyond a village of small houses, the siding paint peeling off from years of being battered by ocean winds, was a small public beach surrounded on three sides by water. The first thing I did after walking to the beach was plunge my hand in the chilly water and lick my fingers. "Yep, it's salty," I exclaimed. I'm not sure why I feel the need to taste the water whenever I'm at the ocean, but I always do. It always tastes salty. I guess I'm just not a believer until I taste the water, that I'm actually at the ocean. I so very seldom am. I guess I'm just a lake girl. I live in a valley of a thousand (that might be a hyperbole, but not by much) lakes so when I'm actually at the ocean I just can't believe there's that much water in the world that tastes like salt.

After the water-tasting and many pictures, we drove to Fort Popham, which was closed for the season. We found a way to check it out even though it was locked and then, after exploring that a bit, went to Popham Beach, which is a state park. Jonathan and I walked out to a rocky island between the probably incoming tide on one side and a fast-moving river on the other. We made it to the island but chose not to stay too long because we thought the tide might be coming in and we didn't fancy a cold swim back to shore. As a lake girl, I'm also rather ignorant of tides. If I had been by myself I probably wouldn't even have given the tides one thought. Other than getting higher in the early spring with the spring runoff from the mountain snow and lower as the summer progresses, lakes stay at a relatively constant height. I'm especially glad I had a Maine-er with me to remind me of the fact that, with oceans the water goes in and comes out, unlike the typical lake that I'm familiar with.

In any case, I love the ocean almost as much as my lakes. I definitely wouldn't be unhappy living near an ocean instead of a lake. It would just take a little getting used to. And I might consume a fair amount of salt.

Maine skiing

We went skiing today. Jonathan took Bryn, Ty and I, along with one of his friends, Lauren, up to Saddleback Mountain two hours north of his house. We found snow along the way, which we Canadians welcomed. I was astounded by how much that area looked like BC. The only thing that was different was the prevalence of deciduous trees on the mountainsides when I looked down from the top of the ski runs. One thing I found particularly interesting about the runs at that ski hill was that the ratings seemed to be a step down from the ratings on our runs in the west. I'm not sure that made any sense, so I'll try to explain. It seemed like the east coast blue runs were about the rating of our green runs, the black diamond runs were about what our blue runs are, and their double black runs were about on par with our black diamond runs. I hope that's a little more clear now. I'm not sure if my assessment is completely true, but that's just what it seemed like to me. I would never, EVER go on a double black diamond run at home, but I went on one at Saddleback and didn't do too horribly. I have to say that this ski experience was, by far, the most fun one I've ever had going with just friends. I love skiing with my family, but usually can't stand going with friends (yeah, I know, it's so backward, but it's true). But this time, I had a blast. Maybe the mild weather and not getting cold after two runs had something to do with that though. Hmm, I'm just not sure, but at any rate, it was a fun day.

Derby Square Bookstore

"Oh no, a bookstore. Don't let me go in there," I turned to Jonathan who was walking beside me.

"OK, he responded and grabbed my arm as we started walking by the bookstore on the corner of Essex St. and Derby Square in Salem, Massachusetts.

But the lure of the quaint-looking brick building was too much for me. As we neared the store, I slipped my arm from Jonathan's grasp and ran up the steps to peer inside the window in the front door. The sight that met my eyes shocked me. "Umm, maybe we shouldn't actually go in there," I said, stepping backward down the stairs, my eyes still round from what I'd seen through the window.

"Why? What's wrong?" Jonathan asked.

"Just look," I responded.

Jonathan's brother David decided to check out the store. "Whoa, that's crazy!" he exclaimed, staring through the window. "We have to go in there!" David pulled open the door and disappeared inside the store.

With David already inside, I decided maybe we should investigate further. I climbed the steps again and followed David into the store. Jonathan, Bryn and Ty were right behind me. Inside the store was even more impressive, or maybe the word was intimidating, than it had looked through the glass. Books, thousands of them, were stacked from floor to ceiling, filling the entire store. Thin walkways between the walls of books let browsers move from the front to the back, but every other surface was entirely filled with books. I wondered how often the whole lot came crashing down around poor unsuspecting shoppers as they tried to reach a must-have read they had spotted near the top of a stack.

"Whoa, this place is awesome!" Ty walked behind me between two book-walls, gazing at the spines covered with titles and authors. "Did you hear what the guy at the front desk said when we came in?" I didn't have time to answer before Ty continued. "He said that every book in here is 50 percent off!" That's amazing. I'm going to find some books to buy."

I agreed. Despite my misgivings about being buried in an avalanche of books, this place was amazing.

For the next 15 minutes, the five of us, as well as various other customers who ambled into the store, crowded the small store, looking for books to buy for cheap. David had a chat with the owner, a short man wearing dirty clothes who had long yellow fingernails that looked as wrinkled as prunes and was almost completely hidden by more stacks of books towering above the front counter. The man said that he goes to large bookstores that are going out of business and buys as many of their books as he can. That's the reason he can afford to sell each book for half price. Many of the books in the store looked quite new and even the ones that were obviously used weren't in terrible condition. In the end I found five books to purchase, but wasn't sure if I had enough money to buy all five.

"Can I just leave this one out until the end to see if I have enough money?" I asked the owner as I passed four of the books through the small opening between the book stacks on the counter.

He motioned for me to pass the fifth book to him as well. "Didn't you know? If you buy four books you get the fifth one free."

I blinked. "Is that a real thing?" Wow, that was about the dumbest thing I could have said I thought. Before I had a chance to reword my sentence, he nodded. "OK," I said, still a little unbelieving at this new deal as I handed the last book to him.

He flipped each book over, reading the price on the back cover and then using a calculator to figure out the half-price cost. He wrote down each price then crossed out the cheapest book, added the figures together, included tax, and jotted down my total. Then he handed the handwritten receipt back through the stacks of books to me. I gave him my bill and he returned my change and gave me my bag of books.

Tyler and David finally made their choices and went through the same process. Bryn, Jonathan and I went outside to wait. Inside was a getting a little too mildew-y smelling.

"Good thing I got out of your grasp and went to look in the window," I grinned up at Jonathan. "Look at the great deals I got."

"Yeah, but just remember that you'll have to find a way to get all your books home at the end of this semester," he grinned back.

Not even the thought of packing up my apartment could pull my spirits down from their book-buying induced high. What can I say? I just love books.

Similar siblings

You know you're siblings if:

-you regularly finish each other's sentences.
-you enjoy/hate the same types of music and have many of the same tracks on your iPods/MP3 players.
-you go on a trip together and find, upon arrival, that you all have the exact same toothbrush, just in different colours.