"Let us pray."
"Dear Lord, Thank you for this day we can spend as a family. Thank you for my granddaughters Abigail and Emily, and my daughter Jody and son David, and my wife. Be with those traveling today. We share gratitude for the food we are about to eat. Amen."
"Tuck in everyone!"
"Em, you can go first."
"Thanks Abby. You want a fork and spoon?"
"Sure. Thanks. Aw momma, are these sweet potatoes with marshmallows on the top?"
"Yeah hun, dig in!"
"Where are the rolls?"
"On the table."
"Can you pass me the butter?"
"And the cranberry sauce."
"Of course! What's this meal without cranberry sauce?"
"Calm down... here's your sauce."
"Gracias."
"De nada."
"Tu habla en espanol?"
"Si."
"Stop talking Spanish at the table with Nammy, Abigail, because I don't know what you're saying!"
"Fine."
"These green beans are great. Did you use a new seasoning?"
"I added some almonds."
"I like almonds."
"You like everything."
"Very true."
"Coffee, anybody?"
"Sure! Thanks."
"Here's the cream."
"Great meal, mommy, thank you so much!"
"Yeah honey, your best yet."
"Oh stop... now let's clean up."
"And then dessert?"
"Yeah, then dessert."
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Winter is Both Beautiful and Sad
When I think of winter I picture frozen landscapes, white stretching as far as the eye can see. When I think about the clear, chill air, I crave warm cozy sweaters. Beautiful snowflakes fall from the sky, making their slow dance to earth. I picture myself drinking a steaming cup of hot chocolate, sitting in front of a colorful, decorated Christmas tree. In my mind I can see the white Christmas lights that my daddy hangs each year. A wreath, deep green and adorned with a red velvet ribbon, hangs on the front door, ready to welcome me home.
But when I think of winter, I also think of the "winter blues". The long months without flowers, without living, beautiful grass and leaves and new birth, can burden my mind. I find that all my sadnesses can be heightened during the winter months. I think of those who cannot spend Christmas with lost loved ones. I picture those who do not have a home, and the parents who cannot provide even a single new toy for their children, or even give them food.
Winter is a mixed season. When I step out into the snow, I feel a great peace of mind. My thoughts are silenced. Yet in the busy stores people bustle and shout, anxious for sales and presents to give away.
Winter is both beautiful and sad, but I always look forward to it.
But when I think of winter, I also think of the "winter blues". The long months without flowers, without living, beautiful grass and leaves and new birth, can burden my mind. I find that all my sadnesses can be heightened during the winter months. I think of those who cannot spend Christmas with lost loved ones. I picture those who do not have a home, and the parents who cannot provide even a single new toy for their children, or even give them food.
Winter is a mixed season. When I step out into the snow, I feel a great peace of mind. My thoughts are silenced. Yet in the busy stores people bustle and shout, anxious for sales and presents to give away.
Winter is both beautiful and sad, but I always look forward to it.
Gym Class
Note: This is written from the view point of someone who loathes gym class. I do not always loathe gym class.
Here are a few phrases that I dread hearing every Thursday, 6th period:
"HEADS UP!"
"Sorry about kicking that ball at your face, Abigail."
"Start running those laps, girls."
(These are only a few.)
Gym class is lovely, isn't it? I mean, what could be more fabulous than running around for fifty minutes kicking balls at each other?
Take shin guards, for example. Shin guards. Why would I want to put myself in a position to need to be guarded from pain? And dodgeball... DODGE. BALL. Just the word dodge makes me nervous. To dodge something means one must be in a position to be hit. Why would I want that? Why should I be forced into that?
I often compare games in gym class to warfare. You suit up in shorts and sneakers and armor yourselves with shin guards and mouth guards. You walk out onto the battlefield, weapon in hand. (And by weapon I mean hockey stick, or golf club, or tennis racket.) Your heart thumps loudly.
B-bmp. B-bmp.
You stare down your enemy. (The opposing team.) You take a deep breath. Then your general (coach) blows the whistle and hollers, "FIRE!"
The battle begins.
Here are a few phrases that I dread hearing every Thursday, 6th period:
"HEADS UP!"
"Sorry about kicking that ball at your face, Abigail."
"Start running those laps, girls."
(These are only a few.)
Gym class is lovely, isn't it? I mean, what could be more fabulous than running around for fifty minutes kicking balls at each other?
Take shin guards, for example. Shin guards. Why would I want to put myself in a position to need to be guarded from pain? And dodgeball... DODGE. BALL. Just the word dodge makes me nervous. To dodge something means one must be in a position to be hit. Why would I want that? Why should I be forced into that?
I often compare games in gym class to warfare. You suit up in shorts and sneakers and armor yourselves with shin guards and mouth guards. You walk out onto the battlefield, weapon in hand. (And by weapon I mean hockey stick, or golf club, or tennis racket.) Your heart thumps loudly.
B-bmp. B-bmp.
You stare down your enemy. (The opposing team.) You take a deep breath. Then your general (coach) blows the whistle and hollers, "FIRE!"
The battle begins.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
The Harry Potter Premiere of the Deathly Hallows, Part II
I can honestly say that one of my favorite nights was spent watching the premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part II, with my friends Rebekah, Lindsay, Cameron, and my sister Emily. The finale of the epic Harry Potter series premiered on July 15th, 2011. Actually, we saw it at 12:00 a.m. midnight, so we were watching it really late at night or really early in the morning, depending on how you look at it!
We got to the Leitersburg theater early, and waited inside until the movie started. We played cards on the floor for an hour, watching the people dressed up as Hogwarts students and characters from the movies walk around us. We were dressed up, too. I wore my Slytherin house scarf, Emily wore her Gryffindor scarf and black school robes, and Lindsay wore her Gryffindor beanie hat. We all carried the wands of our favorite characters. In the bathroom, I chatted with other girls beside me as we washed our hands at the sink. We discussed who would live through the final battle in the movie, what we expected to see, and where we bought our Harry Potter fan shirts.
I loved that, because we were all fans at the movie theater staying up until 3:00 a.m. to see the last movie, we all had something in common that connected us, even if we didn't know each other.
As we sat in the movie theater seats, the lights dimmed and a voice came over the loud speaker announcing, "Five minutes until showtime, folks!" Everyone cheered, including me. When the opening scene of the movie started, my heart skipped a few beats.
We cheered when Ron finally announces his love for Hermione. We cheered when Harry gave his life for his friends and came back to life afterwards, because of his sacrifice. I cried when Snape died, and when Lupin and Tonks die, and when Freddy dies, too. We cheered when the evil Lord Voldemort finally took his last breath. As the screen went dark, I sat and finally understood how much Harry Potter was a part of my childhood, and how much I would miss it, too.
The last movie came out, the last book was finished by J. K. Rowling, but I'll always remember the story, and the summer night I saw the final movie premiere with my friends.
It was truly magical.
We got to the Leitersburg theater early, and waited inside until the movie started. We played cards on the floor for an hour, watching the people dressed up as Hogwarts students and characters from the movies walk around us. We were dressed up, too. I wore my Slytherin house scarf, Emily wore her Gryffindor scarf and black school robes, and Lindsay wore her Gryffindor beanie hat. We all carried the wands of our favorite characters. In the bathroom, I chatted with other girls beside me as we washed our hands at the sink. We discussed who would live through the final battle in the movie, what we expected to see, and where we bought our Harry Potter fan shirts.
I loved that, because we were all fans at the movie theater staying up until 3:00 a.m. to see the last movie, we all had something in common that connected us, even if we didn't know each other.
As we sat in the movie theater seats, the lights dimmed and a voice came over the loud speaker announcing, "Five minutes until showtime, folks!" Everyone cheered, including me. When the opening scene of the movie started, my heart skipped a few beats.
We cheered when Ron finally announces his love for Hermione. We cheered when Harry gave his life for his friends and came back to life afterwards, because of his sacrifice. I cried when Snape died, and when Lupin and Tonks die, and when Freddy dies, too. We cheered when the evil Lord Voldemort finally took his last breath. As the screen went dark, I sat and finally understood how much Harry Potter was a part of my childhood, and how much I would miss it, too.
The last movie came out, the last book was finished by J. K. Rowling, but I'll always remember the story, and the summer night I saw the final movie premiere with my friends.
It was truly magical.
Writing About Not Knowing What To Write About
Sometimes I pick up my pencil with enthusiasm, eager to write. Words flow from my mind and my pen effortlessly traps my thoughts and feelings on paper. Other times, however... my mind goes blank. No ideas or stories bob to the surface of the water for my fishing-pole-pen to catch. My family knows when I am experiencing writer's block. Nervously, they watch as I pace and roam the hallways of my house.
"You okay, honey?" my momma asks.
"Of course not!" I snap, "I can't think of anything to write about. HOW CAN I FUNCTION WHEN MY IMAGINARY BOOK CHARACTERS IN MY BRAIN REFUSE TO TALK TO ME?!"
My momma pats me on the back and points to the tea jar. "Relax Abby, they'll start talking soon."
When I cannot figure out what to write, I have some tea. I pace, read, or paint my fingernails with nailpolish. Or I simply gaze avidly at nothing.Or, like now, I write aobut not having anything to write about. My pen scratches out complaints, it groans beneath my unproductive hand, until.... POP!
I have an idea!
I shall go and write about that now instead.
"You okay, honey?" my momma asks.
"Of course not!" I snap, "I can't think of anything to write about. HOW CAN I FUNCTION WHEN MY IMAGINARY BOOK CHARACTERS IN MY BRAIN REFUSE TO TALK TO ME?!"
My momma pats me on the back and points to the tea jar. "Relax Abby, they'll start talking soon."
When I cannot figure out what to write, I have some tea. I pace, read, or paint my fingernails with nailpolish. Or I simply gaze avidly at nothing.Or, like now, I write aobut not having anything to write about. My pen scratches out complaints, it groans beneath my unproductive hand, until.... POP!
I have an idea!
I shall go and write about that now instead.
The Ride Home from the Celtic Thunder Concert
I sat beside Lindsay in the back seat of a mini-van, smiling and giddy. Lindsay's mom and three other friends filled up the rest of the seats.
I was giddy because I had just seen one of my favorite bands, Celtic Thunder, at the Hershey Theater. Beside me, Lindsay was humming an Irish tune. I joined in.
"Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side..." we sang together.
"Wasn't Damian's voice amazing as he sang Home?" I asked after we finished singing.
Lindsay replied, "It certainly was, although that Keith Harkin sings much better..."
"What?!" I yelped, "No way!"
"Oh yes he does..." Lindsay began, and then we started laughing.
"They're both fabulous Celtic singers. Let's not get into a fight about which band member is better," I said.
"Okay," Lindsay agreed, but then whispered, "but Keith is far superior..."
I glared at her and then grinned. My mind soon began to wander back to the concert. It had been amazing. It was my first concert I had ever seen. I had cheered along with the rest of the audience as the velvet curtains swung aside to reveal the Celtic Thunder members: Damian, Keith, Ryan, Paul, George, and Neil.
I was pulled back to the present as Lindsay said dreamily, "Abigail, we were breathing the same air that they were..."
I laughed and watched the passing lights of the cars outside the window. It had been a fabulous night that I would always remember.
I was giddy because I had just seen one of my favorite bands, Celtic Thunder, at the Hershey Theater. Beside me, Lindsay was humming an Irish tune. I joined in.
"Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side..." we sang together.
"Wasn't Damian's voice amazing as he sang Home?" I asked after we finished singing.
Lindsay replied, "It certainly was, although that Keith Harkin sings much better..."
"What?!" I yelped, "No way!"
"Oh yes he does..." Lindsay began, and then we started laughing.
"They're both fabulous Celtic singers. Let's not get into a fight about which band member is better," I said.
"Okay," Lindsay agreed, but then whispered, "but Keith is far superior..."
I glared at her and then grinned. My mind soon began to wander back to the concert. It had been amazing. It was my first concert I had ever seen. I had cheered along with the rest of the audience as the velvet curtains swung aside to reveal the Celtic Thunder members: Damian, Keith, Ryan, Paul, George, and Neil.
I was pulled back to the present as Lindsay said dreamily, "Abigail, we were breathing the same air that they were..."
I laughed and watched the passing lights of the cars outside the window. It had been a fabulous night that I would always remember.
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