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Friday, 29 March 2013

Slow on the Uptake

Well hello there!!

It's the easter long weekend now and I've SO been looking forward to it, but I just realised that I have no idea why because I will be doing absolutely nothing.

I've been feeling really slow and lazy these past weeks and thought this would be my 'big break'. I would find an AMAZING book and really lay into it, and my writing would skyrocket because I have no assignments and can stay up all night if necessary. I don't have a 'family weekend' and I'm not going away, so what's to stop me, right? Well i don't know, but it's definitely stopping me...

My dad keeps telling me recently that the problem with 'my generation' is that we have no self discipline, and sadly I think that's true. I mean, right now I could be doing so many things - starting next weeks assignemtn, reading, writing, practicing, helping my little brothers - but what am I doing? Hiding in my room writing this post.

Sometimes, I think that we just need a break. We just need to stop everything and do nothing. You get stuck, we all do, and theres nothing wrong with taking a break. Unless you have pressing issues, then you need to get your ass in gear and do the work. Feeling icky is no excuse to take a month off. Maybe a day, but not a month, and I think that 'my generation' thinks that the world revolves around them, and maybe that is to do with the world we've been brought up in. I really don't know.

So, now that I've rambled enough for one blog post and gone nowhere with it, i'll leave my philosophy to my mind and I'll try write, or read...or maybe just social network!

Jenna, Queen of Reading
Keep on reading, forget the dreaming :)

Sunday, 24 March 2013

My Psycho Thriller

Hey, so do you remember when I had to write a psycho thriller for school? No? Well, here it is! Enjoy!!

I enter the open hall, taking in the white ceiling and I spin, slowly letting my eyes trail down the walls until I find the spot.  That’s it! It’s over there! I think as I see the rusty coloured spot on the wall. The blood shines in the moonlight as if my eyes have been injected with Luminol. I can tell it’s this spot as opposed to the other rusty spots because this one still has flecks of red in it. A royal red. Some might even call it blood red.

I grin at that thought as I proceed to the spot on the wall, getting on my hands and knees, inhaling the metallic scent of blood. I let the scent penetrate my nostrils, feeling it sink straight to my stomach and bring up the bile that excites me so much. I close my eyes and revel in that scent, as my hands nimbly find the dagger hidden behind the wallpaper.

I stand up, clutching the dagger to my chest, calming myself as I feel it’s comforting weight against my heart. You need to be more careful this time! Last time it took too long to heal, and soon enough there might not be another ‘next time’ I silently berate myself.

I survey the room, deciding on a disgustingly white patch of wall opposite to where I’m standing. I slowly prowl to the corner of the room, enjoying hearing the clicking of my shoes against the polished wood floor. I sit down on the first plush chair I see, the one in the middle of the room. The one he sits on. I laugh evilly as I imagine his reaction if he found out what I do in his special room.

I drop my hands to my side, still clasping the dagger in my right. I join them under the chair, carefully marring the underside of his special chair. The one I was never allowed near. I imagine his surprise when he finds the tally I’ve been keeping on the bottom of his special chair. I make this dent extra hard, just so he knows. Because I know he does. I know he’s aware of every single move he makes, every single night I’ve cried. Every. One.

I move from the first plush chair to the next, once again revelling in the rebelliousness of it. This time, I switch the dagger to my left hand before once again joining my hands under the chair. I clumsily draw a shape under the chair, unaware of what shape it is. I think of the image that he will find when he lifts up this chair. It may look like a crude drawing of some kind, but what it will really be is my heart. That’s what my heart looks like, and it’s entirely his fault.

I glance at the other plush chairs, and decide to leave them for tonight; there are bigger things for me to do. I walk to the wall I had chosen, letting my shoes scrape the newly varnished floor. Let him wonder where that came from. I think as I stomp a spider into the varnish, leaving a mess on his perfect floor. Always perfect! He always has to be so bloody perfect! I snarl at the spider and stomp it once more, just for good measure.

I slowly look at my shoes, seeing a piece of paper stuck to them. My eyes widen in surprise and I remove my shoe, bringing it to my face. I hold the shoe up to the light, surprised to see writing. I grin as I think how he would react if he knew that I, his dishonourable son, were to be in possession of a letter meant for him. I carefully peel the note from my shoe and unfold it, reading it slowly, savouring every special word.

            My dearest son,
I know what you do in here, and I want to help you. I do not know why you do what you do, but I trust that you have your reasons. If I am the cause, I beg of you to stop. You are worth more than you think. Contrary to your belief, I do not care about my chair, or my whitewashed walls or varnished floor. All I care about is you and Cain. Cain cares about you too. If only you were more like Cain…

Love always,
Your Father

I stare at the note in disgust, knowing all but one line is a lie. All of it has always been a lie, except for that. If only you were more like Cain… That had been the motto of my life since my twin and I were born. Cain and Me. Why can’t you be more like Cain? Cain did amazingly well in his test, how about you? You should learn from your brother, Cain.

Cain, Cain, Cain, Cain. Even just thinking my brother’s name sends me into a fit of rage. I take the dagger and drag it through the middle of the paper, tearing it in half just like my father has done to my heart. I then tare it into tiny pieces, letting them float to the floor and settle in a disgusting heap. That’s what Cain did to my heart.

I take the dagger and add a line to my wrist, watching the blood pool in my palm. I let it fall through my fingers, grinning as it splatters on the wall. Cain. I snarl at my blood. It’s not enough! I need more! I look at my other wrist, the canvas blissfully blank. I equal up my wrists, adding 10 lines to my other wrist. I let each drop of blood land on the white wall, grinning as I look around and see the other spots where I have done the same thing.

The weight on my heart lifts and I laugh uncontrollably, holding my sides with my bloodied wrists, letting the elation fill up my heart. I drop the dagger, smiling as I hear the boom as it hits the floor and the splash that each little drop of blood makes as they detach themselves from the dagger and splatter on the floor.

I spread my arms out wide beside my body and spin in a circle, feeling the wind rush beneath my arms and lash at my bloodied wrists. I keep spinning and spinning, gaining speed until all thought is focused on the tunnel that I’m making. The pieces of paper that I had previously discarded are picked up by the gale that I’ve created and they float towards me, landing on my arms. I feel each piece individually latch onto my skin and I stop in annoyance to remove them.

I peel one piece of paper off my arm and glare at it, trying to locate which word decided to attach itself to me in my time of joy. I bet it says Cain I snarl cynically. I turn the paper over slowly, savouring the suspense. When I have finally turned the paper over it is disappointingly blank, and I glare at it in anger. I discard it quickly, not noticing where it falls. I peel a second piece of paper off my arm and find that one blank too. Panic quickly takes over and I tear each piece of paper off me, checking it methodically to find the writing I know was there.

I kneel on the floor, joining each piece of paper together like some kind of torturous puzzle only to find nothing. No writing. Nothing. Just a plank piece of paper. I stand up and grip my hair, attempting to pull it out of my scalp, as I yell in confusion and anger. I walk to the wall and slam my fists into it with each screech that tears itself from my throat.

I stumble back to the paper and collapse in front of it, looking down at my bloody knuckles and wrists. My hands tremble above the paper, twitching and shaking, showing weakness. I quickly hide my hands behind me, vowing silently to never show weakness. Weakness gets you sympathy, and sympathy doesn’t get you respect. Never respect, only pity.

I glance up at the walls, hoping to find solace in the rusty stains, but all I see is blank, white wall. As pristine as they were they day I was born. I rub my eyes, hoping to wipe away the sheen that has covered my vision, but all that does is send shooting pain up my arms.

I look around with this new vision. It’s as if I previously had rose-tinted glasses. The room was lit by a soft glow, as if by firelight, and there were rust-coloured spots on the wall where I had meticulously coated the wall with my blood. Now, the room was blue, only lit by the harsh moonlight streaming in through the glass windows. The walls were a harsh white, the way that my father had always liked them.

I back up, tripping over my feet in fear as I take in this new room. I fall on the floor, and crawl on my hands and knees, never taking my eyes from the white walls. The walls that mock me. I hit the wall and freeze in fear. I close my eyes, hearing a mocking laugh reverberate around in my skull. The laughing voice is a combination of that of my father and that of Cain. The laughter of these two men who have plagued my life with pain, bounces from one end of my skull and travels to the other.

“Stop! Stop it!” I yell, grabbing my ears in an attempt to stop the voices from continuing their path through my head. My hands shake as they grip my ears, and the blockage only makes the voices louder. I drop to my knees, scrunching my eyes closed.

I open them, and startle at what I see; blood everywhere. Blood is leaking from every crevice in the room, from the ceiling to the tiniest crack in the wall. I look down at my knees, and see blood pouring out from them, too. I cringe, waiting for a physical pain that will take away the manic laughter still reverberating in my head, but the pain never comes.

I close my eyes for a moment, resting my pounding head against the blessedly cool floor. I stay there, my forehead on the cool ground and my knees folded under me, until I start to float. I groan at the disappearance of the cool floor until I feel the air under my body, and I collapse in release, surprised to find myself still floating. Suddenly, orange assaults my eyelids, letting the light filter through to my eyes. I try to turn over, and feel a hand next to my cheek. No, the hand is on my cheek, trying to wake me up.

My eyes flicker open and I see an unfamiliar face. “Hey there, do you know your name?” The face asks. It’s not a face or a voice that I know, so I remain silent. “Alright, do you know where you are?” I continue staring at that face, waiting for my sick body to make it disappear. “I’m from the hospital. Someone called and said that someone was in there bleeding.” I wait for it to sink in. Someone sees what I’ve done. Someone has found my dagger.

I look down at my bleeding arms.  The unfamiliar face is busily wrapping bandages around my arms.  They are making clicking noises in their mouth like they are talking to a cat.  “What have you done to yourself, you poor thing!” They coo.  “You must be in so much pain”

“My – my name is Abel.” I croak out. “Can I have something to drink?” I watch as that unfamiliar face nods and turns around. While their back is turned, I let the smirk twist my face into an expression of joy. No Cain here. This is my time to shine. Mine.

Wednesday, 13 March 2013

Thoughts on writing

Heyya everyone and no one who reads this blog ;)

I've got a big party coming up for my little brother so writing's kinda been put on the back-burner for the moment, sadly. I've spent tons of time going through old family movies from when we were 2 and 3 and we were so adorable, I want to eat us up. Sadly, we grew...

Well, writings going well, I guess. In the spare hour I had I wrote 2 pages, which is quite a lot, i guess. I have an average of 475 words a page at the moment, so that's like 900 words in an hour, which is pretty impressive if I do say so myself.

The hardest thing for me is editing. Idea's come to me really easy so but once I have an idea I don't want to change or edit what i've done. and THEN i hit a block and get so frustrated that I stop writing until I get another idea and start the process again. 2 full chapters and a prologue so far -- the most i've ever done, and i'm proud.

You know, I think I'll throw a party when I hit 50 pages... or maybe 20,000 words, whichever comes first. I'm currently on 8,408 words and i'm about half way down my 18th page so feel free to guess which will come first ;)

Well, since I have free time and I am obviously stalling by writing this kinda pointless blog since no one will read it and I don't want anyone that I know to read it but it's fun anyway.  I'm also planning to be like some of my favourite authors: Shelly Crane and Nicole MacDonald to name a few, and write a blog so if I ever become famous people can read my blog!

I really don't know how often you're supposed to blog, but we'll see how i go!

Writing is like climbing mount everest, but in many ways harder. It's not something physical that you can push yourself and practice on. Climbing mount everest doesn't feel like you are revealing part of your soul to every single person who watches or hears about your climb. Writing is, and you also have to balance the line between not copying something else that someone else did and feeling confident in your own idea's enough that you feel confident to show someone. Writing means that you have to keep going, even when it's so easy to give up. There is no end in sight, no-one who can accompany you on your work, and no amount of training can prepare you. You have to balance your time, make sure it's not too long or too short. You have to make sure you have a story line and you also have to accommodate to your audience.

Climbing mount everest is a test of physical endurance, but writing is part of my soul, my genetic makeup. It's hard to let that out and share something so personal with people I don't even know. There is no end in sight, and only the strong will make it. It is survival of the fittest, and our doubts place the weight of the world and anybody around us' problems on our backs. It stresses us out more and makes us overreact to things we normally wouldn't. It can mean that we are in a constant dreamland, can make it hard to have relationships with others, and can make you really sensitive. This is the price of writing, and I have accepted it and I want to do it. But it can in no way compare to climbing mount everest (although I am much happier sitting at my keyboard wrapped up in a blanket than I am on a freezing cold, steep mountain.)

Has anyone died by writing??

Well, that's my philosophical thought for the day :P
g'night and have a nice day :D

Queen of Reading
Keep on reading, forget the dreaming :)

Just a post...

Just a summary, I have another blog, so I'm copying the important posts over here for those (invisible) people who read this :P

How's everyone's lives? All ok? That's amazing, i love it when all is right with the world. Well, mostly. Ok, ok! The world's not that good. In fact, my world sometimes feel's like it's falling apart. But that's just adolescence. Right?!

Anyway, so i'm counting how many pieces I'm working on currently, coz it's getting a tad out of hand :)

1. Maylie and Me
2. Sophie and Me (I'm not sure what's happening with these 2, one is sort of a prequel to the other, but i'll see where it goes)
3. End of the World (NEED'S a better name)
4. By The Eye (This name will probably also change)
5. Summer / Just This Once. (Haven't decided on the title yet)
6. Fierra (again, not sure on the title)
So, anyone wanna read what i've written? If so, just give me an email at :) i can always use advice :D
Not much is going on here. Procrastinating as always, but my procrastination is my writing, so i guess that's good for me. Kinda. But school is important, don't get me wrong :D

Have a nice night / day / morning / afternoon / WHATEVER :)

Queen of Reading
Keep on reading, forget the dreaming :)

Psycho Thriller based on Macbeth

So, we've been given a task this week at school that goes something like this:

Write a psycho-thriller with approximately 2000 words.

That was it.

So, of course I was like: 'pshh! no problem!'
But then I was like: 'oh wait, what's a psycho thriller?'

So, I wrote this whole thing, and it was AMAZEBALLS, if I do say so myself. So then my friends come along and read it. Here are their impressions:

First Impression: WHAT THE WHAT?!
Second Impression: Oh my god, Jenna. TOO MUCH BLOOD, TOO MUCH BLOOD!
Third Impression: Wait, what did you mean by....? I can't stop thinking about it.

It was pretty hilarious, honestly, but I didn't really have the heart to laugh.

So now I showed it to my mum and she's like: 'oh, that's cool. but take out.... and ......'
So of course I was like: 'okay Mum, don't even bat an eyelid, that's cool!'

So anyway, that's what's goin on!
I'll post my psycho thriller when it's done, ya'll!

Queen Of Reading

Sunday, 10 March 2013

Wait For You by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Jennifer, you haven't disappointed me yet!

I read wait for you with nothing in mind except a hot, sexy boy, and you didn't disappoint on that front, but you brought to mind a whole different line of thinking, and tears to my eyes.

Here's the blurb

Some things are worth waiting for…
Traveling thousands of miles from home to enter college is the only way nineteen-year-old Avery Morgansten can escape what happened at the Halloween party five years ago—an event that forever changed her life. All she needs to do is make it to her classes on time, make sure the bracelet on her left wrist stays in place, not draw any attention to herself, and maybe—please God—make a few friends, because surely that would be a nice change of pace. The one thing she didn’t need and never planned on was capturing the attention of the one guy who could shatter the precarious future she’s building for herself.
 Some things are worth experiencing…
Cameron Hamilton is six feet and three inches of swoon-worthy hotness, complete with a pair of striking blue eyes and a remarkable ability to make her want things she believed were irrevocably stolen from her. She knows she needs to stay away from him, but Cam is freaking everywhere, with his charm, his witty banter, and that damn dimple that’s just so… so lickable. Getting involved with him is dangerous, but when ignoring the simmering tension that sparks whenever they are around each other becomes impossible, he brings out a side of her she never knew existed.
 Some things should never be kept quiet…
But when Avery starts receiving threatening emails and phone calls forcing her to face a past she wants silenced, she’s has no other choice but to acknowledge that someone is refusing to allow her to let go of that night when everything changed. When the devastating truth comes out, will she resurface this time with one less scar? And can Cam be there to help her or will he be dragged down with her?
And some things are worth fighting for…
Available now in all digital formats.

So, sounds good, right? Right.

And it was.

Honestly, the way you didn't know about what was going to happened before, and the fact that they whole time you could understand her thought process but wanted to yell at her and comfort her at the same time was excruciating!

This book is a bit adult, so I wouldn't recommend it for readers under 15 or maybe even older. Personally, being 15, I understood it all, but chose to skip some parts. It wasn't too in detail or whatever, I just found it slightly uncomfortable.

I think that the issue at hand (can't reveal more... =( ) is a very important one. Jennifer has obviously dug deep to get this out there, and as always her writing style had me addicted from the beginning! There were a couple spelling errors and grammatical things...but other than that it was great!

Definitley recommend reading this, but bring out the tissues and the punching bag, coz your gonna need them both!!

Queen Of Reading


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‘Vote yes’ rally draws big show of support

  • Supporters of Ballot Measure 1 end Saturday’s rally with a march down Pioneer Avenue to the Legislative Information Office. -Photo by McKibben Jackinsky, Homer News
  • Vic Fischer of the Vote Yes! Repeal the Giveaway group speaks at Saturday’s rally in Homer.-Photo by McKibben Jackinsky, Homer News

If weather can predict election outcomes, Saturday’s sunshine bodes well for Ballot Measure 1, which seeks to repeal the state’s oil and gas tax structure as established in Senate Bill 21 and approved by the Legislature in 2013.

“The turnout today is phenomenal. The weather is phenomenal. Whoever is controlling the weather is smiling on our cause,” said Homer resident Frank Mullen, one of the organizers of the rally and march sponsored by the Kachemak Resource Institute. The event attracted a crowd of 150-200 area residents and visitors.

“We are here today because the Alaska Legislature passed a big fat tax cut for the oil producers. … The question is, ‘do we want to reverse this big fat tax cut?’ Yes,” said Mullen.

Unable to attend the rally, Sen. Gary Stevens, R-Kodiak, emailed comments he asked to be read.

“People seem to forget that the oil, Prudhoe Bay and most of the other resources in Alaska belong to Alaskans and we are foolish to give them away,” said Stevens. “It is a great disservice to future Alaskans, to our children and grandchildren, to give our oil away for so little.”

Vic Fischer, a member of the Vote Yes! Repeal Giveaway nonpartisan group, traveled from Anchorage to Homer for the event, just as he has been traveling to similar rallies around the state.

Fischer was a delegate at the Alaska Constitutional Convention in 1955-1956 and served as both a territorial and state legislator. He recalled the cause that united Alaskans in the 1950s, a bipartisan battle against outside interests that resulted in statehood.

Emphasizing Alaska as an “owner state,” Fischer noted the 104 million acres allotted to the people of Alaska upon becoming a state. He recited a section of the state’s constitution he helped frame that provides “for the utilization, development, and conservation of all natural resources belonging to the State, including land and waters, for the maximum benefit of its people.”

“SB 21 was not for the maximum benefit of the people,” said Fischer. Of the campaign being waged by Exxon, BP and ConocoPhillips to defeat Ballot Measure 1, Fischer said, “You can tell how unfair it is by the millions of dollars the oil companies are putting into the battle.”

With fishermen, teachers, construction workers and Alaskans in general, waving signs supporting Ballot Measure 1, Saturday’s crowd worked its way down Pioneer Avenue, led by musicians playing “The Hokey Pokey.” Passing motorists honked and waved. Pedestrians either stepped aside or joined in the march.

Among those at Saturday’s rally was Beverly Vosburgh.

“I’m here to ensure Alaska’s future for my grandchildren,” said Vosburgh.

John Toppenberg drove from Sterling to attend the event.

“It’s so outrageous that Alaska is giving away these dollars to the most profitable companies on the planet,” said Toppenberg.

Turning around claims of increased employment opportunities under SB 21, Brad Faulkner dubbed SB 21 the “anti-jobs bill.”

For Scott McEwen, the ballot measure and arguments it raised were “a good reminder to read the state’s constitution.”

SB 21 passed the Senate in March 2013, on an 11-9 vote, “with two oil company officials casting their votes, which many of us think was an unethical act, a conflict of interest,” said Fischer. He was referencing votes by Sen. Peter Micciche, R-Soldotna, the former mayor of Soldotna, a commercial fisherman and an employee of ConocoPhillips, as well Sen. Kevin Meyer, R-Anchorage, also a ConocoPhillips employee.

“If we had more ethical rules, nothing like that could happen,” said Fischer.

Also known as the “More Alaska Production Act” and the “Oil and Gas Production Tax,” SB 21 came before the Legislature at the request of Gov. Sean Parnell. After passing both the Senate and House, it was signed into law by him May 21, 2013. Parnell saw it as a way to increase oil production and attract new investments in Alaska’s oil industry. He said it rebalanced the tax credit system under ACES, Alaska’s Clear and Equitable Share, a tax structure adopted under former Gov. Sarah Palin, in a way that protected the state from low oil prices.

In Parnell’s 2014 State of the State speech before the Legislature in January, he said, “Last year, we passed the More Alaska Production Act, and now, new oil investment dollars, new jobs, and better opportunities are flowing into the state.”

Opponents of SB 21 argue the new tax system benefits large producers more than it does Alaskans, however.

“The reality is that this is a huge gift to the oil companies who would have drilled the same oil anyway under the ACES tax structure, thereby giving Alaskans a fair share of revenue,” said Mullen. “It’s really an example of power politics more than anything else.”

With regard to the increased employment opportunities noted in Exxon, BP and ConocoPhillips’ anti-Ballot Measure 1 campaign, Mullen said, “The TV ads that talk about how all the jobs have suddenly increased and exploration has increased are really disingenuous to the extent that all the activities going on on the North Slope this year, next year, last year, were on the drawing board and planned years ago when the ACES tax structure was in place. So, claiming credit for today’s activities is kind of like the rooster claiming the dawn.”

Prior to passage of SB 21 by the House of Representatives, Rep. Paul Seaton, R-Homer, made numerous attempts to change the legislation.

“I think I had nine amendments that I proposed in the Resources Committee and three on the floor to try to make it better balanced, but those didn’t pass,” said Seaton, who voted against the bill. Upon reconsideration, however, seeing that it was destined to pass the House, Seaton changed his vote, “hoping to make changes the next year. That didn’t happen.”

Seaton said he views the ballot measure as an attempt by the people of Alaska to find a balance.

“The way I look at it, this is a big pendulum and you’re looking for a balance in taxes between big companies, small companies, tax rates and the people of Alaska,” he said. Repealing SB 21 would “tell the Legislature this deal wasn’t good enough for the people of Alaska and we want you to reconstruct it.”

Seaton said tax credits under ACES brought new companies to the North Slope.

“The problem is that SB 21 took away those credits from new exploration and only gives them to what’s called ‘production,’ the producing wells of ConocoPhillips, BP and Exxon,” said Seaton.

In May, Scott Goldsmith, senior economist with the University of Alaska Anchorage’s Institute of Social and Economic Research, released a study comparing SB 21 and ACES. According to Goldsmith, using current oil prices and costs for production, the two tax structures resulted in similar revenue for the state.

Fischer argued against Goldsmith’s report by referencing a study by Douglas B. Reynolds of the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ Department of Economics, School of Management.

“If SB 21 had been in place during the time ACES was in place from 2008 to 2013, the state would have lost $8.5 billion in revenue according to a Department of Revenue report for the Legislature in 2013,” Reynolds said. “It would seem that you would need a lot of new oil fields to make up such a revenue loss.”

Fischer also pointed to comments by Mark Meyers, former director of the state’s Division of Oil and Gas, who criticized the Goldsmith report for being weak and failing to provide “an authoritative analysis of the differences between previous and current tax systems. I urge the public to disregard the report until or unless it undergoes serious technical or peer review.”

Repeal of SB 21 would revert the state to the ACES tax system, one Fischer says provides for a fair share of profits to both industry and Alaskans. Failure to repeal SB 21 will result in the “loss of billions, reducing funding for schools, roads, public safety and other critical needs. Our kids will suffer as will our economy,” Fischer said.

McKibben Jackinsky can be reached at mckibben.jackinsky@homernews.com.

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Soccer teams win in Kenai

The Soccer Association of Homer was again represented by the Homer Vortex, a team of boys under the age of 15, and the Homer Hawks, a coed team of players under the age of 12, in their final matches of the season against Kenai on July 23.

Playing coed against a Kenai team of girls under the age of 15, the Homer Vortex had its most exciting game yet. The final score was Vortex 5 and Kenai 2.

In an explosive game start, Homer’s Charles Rohr scored unassisted from 25 yards out after just two minutes of play. Not to be outdone, Kenai tied it up 10 minutes later. Then Vortex took control with what is becoming their signature game of passing, maintaining possession and exerting pressure.

Kenai’s goalie had 18 saves for the game. Homer’s Oliver Beck assisted Charles Rohr, who scored again. Shortly before the half-time whistle, Kenai brought the score to 2-2. The road to victory began in the second half, which was dominated offensively and defensively by the Vortex. Oliver Beck scored with assistance from Charles Rohr, and Simon Dye scored with assistance by Elan Carroll.

A 30-yard direct free kick by Simon Dye brought the game score to 5-2. Kenai was held back by the strong defense of Dexter Lowe, Isaiah Nevak, Charles Rohr, Brenna McCarron, and Douglas Dean. Keeper Ali McCarron had 12 saves.  On the same night, the Homer Hawks played a shut-out game against Kenai’s U-11 girls team, a team with players under the age of 11, with a final score of 5-0. The Hawks’ defense was strong from beginning to end, allowing only two shots on goal, with one save each by Hawks keepers Parker Lowney and Colby Marion.

The Hawks’ scoring plays were excellent examples of teamwork. Ethan Anderson got a hat trick, three goals in a game, with assistance from Isaiah Nevak, Colby Marion and Elijah Johnson. Owen Glasman scored with assistance from Liam Houlihan, and in an outstanding example of quick reflexes, Ty Etzwiler scored off of a block by a Kenai player.

The Hawks play once more this season when they attend the Zane’s Cup tournament in Anchorage, Aug. 2-4.

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Friday, September 26, 2008

Field Trip Friday: Fall/Autumn

This is a great subject for frugal field trips.

-Take a nature hike and observe the changing leaves, the squirrels foraging for nuts, and other signs of fall.

-Go apple and/or pumpkin picking. See if the farm offers tours. We had a great lesson a few years ago on the benefits of bees to apple farms. We also learned the best way to pick apples without harming the bud.

-Go on a hay ride.

-Visit a farm that owns a cider press and learn how cider is made.

-Rake leaves for an elderly family member or neighbor.

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Showing posts with label America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label America. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Sons of Liberty Cheese Box

I am in my Primitive mode when it comes to these cheese box makeovers.
I found another cheese box.  This one I found at a yard sale.
I loved the size of it.  It is a shorter box than the other two that I have.
I thought this one would be perfect for barnyard red.
I used Folk Art craft paint's Barnyard Red.
I chose once again not to paint the entire box so that the stain would show through and give it an aged look.
I also had painted this little sign Eggs sign, but it was not proportioned correctly.
I knew I needed to paint over it.
So that is what I did.
Here they are ready to receive some lettering.
I wanted to show you how you might have to line up the lettering if you make it bigger than your paper.
Sometimes this can be so tricky.
I was measuring between letters to see how close I should put the "r" and the "t".
I measured at the spot where the letters stuck out the most--not from the bottom of the letters.
I used the chalk method to transfer my lettering.
Going with my 1776 theme, I chose "Sons of Liberty" and the word "Liberty".
I like using two different fonts in one saying.
Now for some Dark Walnut stain.
I am not sure why some places didn't soak up the stain.
I stained the inside of the box as well.
The edging got some stars.

They go great with the Midnight Blue America box!

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

I pledge allegiance
To the flag
Of the United States of America
And to the Republic
For which it stands
One Nation
Under God
With Liberty and Justice for ALL

I am so thankful for the courageous men
who fought for Liberty
at the start of this nation.
I am also thankful for the men and women
who continue to serve to preserve
our nation's Freedoms and Independence!

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and then, she {snapped}
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Sunday, July 23, 2006

Links of the Caribbean

"We'll get Bonds yet."

Miami safety Cooper shot, teammate returns fire (ESPN)
McNabb's turn to fire shots at T.O. (FOX Sports)
Sordid trial ends in divorce for Strahan (MSNBC)
Lehi teen allegedly sexually assaulted by teammates (ABC - Salt Lake)
A Fighting Landis Wins Tour de France (New York Times)
Emotional Tiger hoists claret jug (Sports Network)
Feds vs. Barry, Part II (NY Daily News)

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Saturday, August 29, 2009

Living with the Famous

The joke in our house is that hubby is famous...but the phrase is supposed to be "RICH and famous". Owning an Archery Shop, he has customers from all over our state, plus surrounding states. When his military clientele get reassigned, they still call him for their archery needs, thus making his customers literally everywhere. The farthest we've ever shipped a package was to the North Pole. I kid you not. I mailed the package myself while the guy at the Post Office wanted to know if we were taking over Santa's territory.

Hubby is the kind of guy who can talk to anyone and make you instantly feel at home. Which is probably why we're constantly stopped in the grocery store or while shopping with guys yelling, "Hey! Can I ask you a quick question?" It's like being a doctor, only the paycheck is smaller. The questions never have short answers and there's always a follow up question...or two or three. I've learned to smile and stand still. You shift your weight from one foot to the next and you suddenly become the-woman-with-no-patience-for-those-who-own-a-bow. Hey, it's the price you pay for living with the famous.

Because of the kind of guy he is and the type of work he does, Hubby has been in the newspaper more than once. On those days I kid him that his P.R. person needs to work more on "rich" and less on "famous". He'll then remind me it's all my fault. After all, he's pointed out, you're the one who mentioned my job to a friend who works at the newspaper. They've done a couple of stories on him, his shop and the alligator he got last year. He's also their "go-to" person for certain types of outdoor stories. And even I have to admit that he can really spin a good yarn with a crowd present.

Friday, as I drove out the driveway dreading going to a job I no longer love, I stopped to retrieve the newspaper. As I sat there, mood somewhere between disgusted and semi-depressed at the realization that having a brain and using it is considered bad form at work, I opened the paper. Turning to a section for our part of the County I found a headline which read, "Area Resident Gaining Legendary Status." Here's a picture of the legend.

This is Smokey....
our eldest child.
He thinks he's a person.
Evidently so does the newspaper.

Talk about feeling like a 2 legged failure. Even the dog has become famous.

Sitting in the driveway, I read of how Smokey, trusted hunting companion of Hubby, has become well known throughout the county for his ability to find deer. There are lots of hunters in our area...and evidently plenty of them aren't so good at finding what they thought they'd hunted. I should know because during deer season, which runs August to Jan. 1st around here, there are lots of pitiful phone calls in the evening from guys who believe they've got a trophy, deer but have um...misplaced it. They use to call Hubby. Now the calls start with, "Um, is Smokey home? I need some help."

It's partly my fault, I guess. Bored with the monotony of taking these calls I created a tongue-in-cheek business card for Smokey, complete with really bad puns. It ends with, "Have your people call my people." His picture is even on it.

Now before you ask, no I'm not one of those people who dresses dogs up for fun. No, I'm the idiot who thought it would be fun one year to create a calendar for Hubby's shop for Christmas which featured Smokey as the monthly pinup. Now it's become a tradition and the calendar is so popular people actually take it off the wall to page through the entire thing. One guy claimed he just couldn't wait until the next month to see what Smokey was doing. Can't imagine why Smokey grimaces when he sees me and a camera.

Then again, it's my way of getting even with him.
I mean after all,
I just got up off the couch to use the restroom one cold winter night and .....

I digress.

The article wasn't the best I've ever read and Hubby was somewhat disappointed. He also wasn't thrilled because he's never had to live through the joy of being misquoted or had his words taken out of context...which was made worse by a reporter not from this area trying to add his own "local flavor" and failing miserably. Although they used the wrong photo, Smokey's son Boudreaux even managed to be included in the story, which featured him as striving to be "just like Dad".

Oh well, it could be worse. I may not love my job right now, but at least I didn't pick up the paper and read that my kids had robbed a bank or murdered someone during an argument over nothing. In fact, they actually save me money at times. Look Kim, you don't need Photoshop when you have a nosy kid like Bou who tries to look into the camera from the wrong side.

No, we have raised "Legendary"
and "Working on becoming Legendary".
At least I have less grey hair than anyone in the house,
especially since Bou is currently working on a grey goatee.

And so, I go on.
Outnumbered by the testosterone of two species
and unwitting P.R. agent for all three of the "guys" at home.

Hey kid, you'd better not be laughing AT me.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Friday Flash

It's that time again! If you write one of these 55 word challenges, [yes a story this short is a challenge, at least for me!] make sure you let the G-Man know.

There hadn’t been a plan. No, it was a random moment. One born of ignorance and innocence. Yet permanently life changing.

The choice would one day evolve into a family joke: keep the brand new, baby blue Chevy convertible….or the baby on the way?

At times I wonder if they wished they’d kept the car.

Okay Susan....does that sound like the opening to a memoir? :)

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

What's on your Shelf?

Susan has shared an interesting meme. I decided to play because she's always nice to me and besides, I wanted to see what other people have on their bookshelves. No, it's curiosity, not being nosy.

This one is simple. Collect the book that you have most handy, turn to page 161, find the 5th complete sentence, and cite the sentence on your blog. Next (of course) is to pass it on to 5 others.

I took this one literally and picked the first book on my Shelfari shelf below, "In the Hot Zone." The place is Grozny, Chechnya, Russian Federation in 2006. The man is explaining how it feels to lose your home during a bombing, only to end up in an apartment of friends who are fleeing the city.

"I even had to learn a new vocabulary for a life comprised of doing things to survive."

Sadly, there are too many places in the world today where that rings true.

So now, to share with five. As always, I pass this on in fun and if you don't care to partake, that's okay too.

The first one is easy....because he expressed interest in this little experience. So off you go Old Fart, whom I have an easier time referring to as Bill.

Next up, the poets: Shug and Titus. I'm interested in seeing what they have lying around their homes in the way of literature.

One of the new blogs I've been reading belongs to Steven. It's such a peaceful place to visit that I can't wait to see what his bookshelves hold.

And because she's been making me laugh {I can't even think of pretzels now without giggling!} here's to Peggy.

Yes Susan, I too fear that McDanger has passed on....even if Radge claims to have seen him recently. I'm sure the cows are dying of starvation at this point.

So, what's on that page?

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Ever since reading Steven’s meme on TransformingMoments, I’ve wondered if I’ve ever had one. I mean one which actually was more than a normal moment of growth or a bump in the road. Only one thing came to mind and to tell you the truth, I still don’t get it.

Because the origin is still a mystery.

As the first born, my baby book looks more like an FBI dossier than a list of first accomplishments. I don’t just know my first word or when I walked, I can review actual report cards from first to 6th grade. I know that at an early age I either had [a] a way with words [b] quite an imagination [c] trouble with concepts based in reality or [d] the ability to cut out the middle man. You decide. At the advanced age of 3, Mom sent me next door to my Grandma’s house to borrow a cookie sheet. I returned a few minutes later with a bed sheet, a bag of chocolate chip cookies [my favorite] and Grandma trailing behind. Said book documents my “flair” with words too. When learning about money, I confused who was on the dollar [George Washington] with who was on the penny [Abraham Lincoln]. When asked who was on the penny, I proudly declared, “Georgeaham Lincoln”. Evidently this is a genetic flaw. My brother, the youngest, referred to boiled eggs as “Bald headed eggs” and orange sherbet as “Orange Herbert”. Then again, we do share the same sense of humor.

My baby book documents moments when I sprang to action publicly, choosing to claim the spotlight. At the age of three, Mom proudly wrote that I stood up, unprompted evidently, and did a rendition of “Jesus Loves Me” for my Sunday School class.

As if the baby book isn’t enough, I was blessed [cursed?] with a great memory. Childhood is a snap to recall. In vivid detail. The little boy across the street was named Gary and his Dad was in the Air Force. His Mom was English and her parents lived with them. Funny, I remember both the grandparents, in fact I loved the grandfather, Mr. Groves, but Gary’s Mother is a mere shadow in the corner. Perhaps that’s because Gary’s Dad always wanted a little girl. He’d come home, pick me up with an enthusiastic, “How’s my girl?” and hug the daylights out of me until a ghost like presence with a proper English accent would say softly, “Glen, put the child down and let her go play.” He’d squeeze me again, kiss my cheek, then put me down with a laugh. I endured the adoring greeting because it made him happy.

Gary, with his flaming red hair and freckled face, was my age. We played together every day. We learned how to ride a bike on his bike. Sure, the crossbar was an extra challenge for me but we still learned. Worst spanking I ever got was when Gary “dared” me to cross a water filled ditch into the woods, a place forbidden by our parents. Gary waited until I was in the middle of the ditch to mention the word “snake”. Rather than panic, I crawled out, which took three attempts thanks to the tall, muddy banks which kept sending me back into chest deep water. No, panic described our mothers, who were combing the neighborhood and screaming our names. Although they were relieved to find us, my butt had a less enthusiastic take on our homecoming.

When playing “war” with the other neighborhood kids, Gary and I were a team. He led the charge, but I was the General, constantly reminding him of what we needed. Like ammunition. And a better place to hide. We’d act out the westerns we watched on t.v.; Gary was the Sheriff, his little brother the outlaw being carted off to jail and yours truly in the role of Miss Kitty, bar owner. Ah, the innocence of youth. I had no idea what people did in bars or what Miss Kitty did for a living. No, I thought she was in charge of talking sense into the cowboys so they wouldn’t smash bottles, break up the furniture or throw people out the front window. When we played this game, I remember being constantly disgusted with Gary because he never knew “his lines”. Words and the natural flow of storytelling just came so easily to me that I couldn’t understand why he didn’t just KNOW what to say. So I provided the words for him. I now cringe at the notion of being so bossy, but he didn’t mind. I can still, to this day, remember standing on the table in his Dad’s workshop, which was Miss Kitty’s stage, to look down at him in disgust and say, “No! You say this and then I’ll say that. And then you’ll do this, I’ll do that and THEN you put your brother in jail.” Rather than be angry, he’d grin, nod and my play would proceed as dictated. No matter how many times I provided dialogue for our games, he never got angry. Even when his father was transferred to England, Gary promised he’d come back for me one day. Yes, I have it in writing. Ensconced in my baby book is a note declaring he’d return and marry me. I never saw him again. His love for me was soon transferred to soccer and letter writing became a thing of the past. He did, however, find me a pen pal for a Girl Scouts’ project.

For years I liked the spotlight. Sought it out and ran into it. I clearly remember playing an angel in our 3rd grade play, boldly offering to sing “Away in a Manager”. I did. All three verses. I LIKED doing oral book reports, sharing the stories I’d read with all eyes on me. I was striding through elementary school at the front of the pack, always with a plan.

And then one day, I stopped.

It’s as if I went to sleep and woke up… painfully shy. I shunned the spotlight, now fearing it. I was content to watch silently….from a distance. And the further the better. For all the recall I have of childhood, I can’t for the life of me piece together what might’ve turned me from extrovert to the shy person I remained for years. My brain still worked the same, but rather than raising my hand to answer a question, I wanted to crawl under my desk. If I could’ve had a super power, it would’ve been invisibility. There were a couple of less than stellar moments in 4th grade, but none that make me think, “A-ha! There it is…the moment I shut up and pulled back.”

My family will tell you I’m hardly shy because I do my share of talking at family gatherings. Yeah. Around them. In a group of strangers, I’m the one who does the listening. The older I get, the “painful” part of shy has eased up. But I still hate standing in front of a crowd to speak. At those moments, I’ve learned to instruct “shy me” to take a seat in the corner and let me muddle through. Quickly.

So, it remains a mystery, this turn from take charge to observer. Not even a clue in the baby book. Perhaps it’s merely a case of turnabout being fair play. Maybe my brain finally punished me for being so bossy to Gary. I wonder if he married a quiet woman…or a bossy one. Either way, I hope she at least listens.

As for Gary’s Dad, I do know he ended up with 4 sons…and no little girls. Funny, I always felt bad about that. Because even though I squirmed to get out of his arms to go play, I really didn’t mind those hugs. He made me feel safe and loved, like nothing would happen to me on his watch.

If I had the chance, I think I could push “shy” aside long enough to thank him.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Flash Time

The topic of discussion was Transforming Moments. Some were life and death situations with out-of-body experiences. Calm in the midst of chaos.

When it was her turn...

...she drew a blank.

Was she so busy taking care of those around her that she'd missed her moment?

Or had that moment not yet arrived?

If you write one of these 55 word stories, make sure and let the G-man know. As promised, here is the link to Steven's blog so you can read all about some of those very moving stories. You'll find some names you know, like Titus and Rachel.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Double Gift

There's an old saying that you can't have the rainbow without the rain. Well today was one of those days when it felt as if it were raining step forward, two steps back.

People who came to "help" me clean a room at work left it looking like a disaster area rather than the neat workspace I'd fixed last week. They left with a cheery, "Call us when you're ready to finish up!" Let's just say it's a good thing they left before I inspected their handiwork. It'll take me another day to put things in working order. And to think all they were going to do was clean windows and a counter!

The roof in the kitchen leaked so bad last week, when I came to work, water was running OUT of the building onto the back porch. I've called three times about having it fixed. You know nothing in government goes quickly.

But this afternoon a nice man named Paco came and inspected the roof, which he'll fix first thing in the morning. When I got home a horrible storm broke out but about 30 minutes into it, hubby came in asking, "Where's your camera? You've got to see this."

You get cool looking rainbows in the country. So standing in the still misting rain, I took a few shots mostly because of one unusual aspect. No, not the double rainbow, which I've seen before. {Actually if you'd been there you could see there were 3 arcs, but they don't show well in the photo}.No the unusual thing is that if you look closely at the picture, you can see what we saw: the rainbow ending, not behind the tree line but in FRONT of the tree. The tree looked as if it was glowing! It was so clear I was convinced that I could reach out and touch it.
So excuse me while I go see if that pot o' gold is out in the field. Meanwhile, I'm thinking perhaps my new Irish nephew might be a lucky charm. :)

Thursday, August 13, 2009

The Scarlet O'Hara Syndrome

You know what that is. It's shorthand for those things we put off because, as Scarlett famously put it, "tomorrow is another day."

Well tomorrow has arrived. And with it, wild eyed archers who are stunned at what happened in their closets during the winter.

Women are planners. Men are doers. Women understand the concept of "everything in its place" while men often go with the "everything all over the place" system. I joke that the reason men get married is so that someone in the house knows where everything is...even with 30 seconds notice.

That, you see, is the drawback to the "doer" system. It sounds so spontaneous. Fun. Adventuresome. And it might be a workable system if those in the XY gene pool didn't decide to "do" a few hours before the actual event. This is the height of archery season for hubby. Bow Season begins Aug. 15th.

Yes, just days prior to the season's start, archers everywhere are just now venturing into their closets to hunt for their bows. What they find is often not pretty.

The other cliche "out of sight, out of mind" must pertain to this phenomenon as well. I'm sure some of these guys were no doubt surprised to discover their bow was not put away as gently as they'd imagined. No, they approach the closet recalling their hard working hunting or target shooting companion of five months, all shiny and ready for action. In reality, what they often find is something that looks as if it belongs to the Peanuts cartoon character Pigpen. The shine has often been replaced with a light coat of grime from sweaty palms and any number of outdoor matter they encountered. There might actually be a leaf or two in the bow case. Some will be horrified to discover that the dozen arrows they had at the beginning of the season has mysteriously dwindled to three, obviously having gone AWOL while tucked away in the closet. You can't really blame them, you know. Considering the um...aroma that bow cases can emit when Hunter Man forgets to put the lid back snugly on a bottle of lure is well, ghastly at best and at worst, has amnesia producing capabilities. Overwhelmed by what is suppose to be nature's perfume, these archers forget that most of those missing arrows are lying somewhere in the woods, deserted and abandoned because someone didn't take time for target practice. Between the aroma and amnesia, archers are often shocked speechless at how frayed their bow string has become.

That's when the wild excuses....I mean stories, begin on how a mouse on steroids invaded the air tight bow case to chew strings and dine on arrow feathers.

Hubby is a really laid back, helpful kind of guy. This week, the archers arrived en masse, bows thrust forward like alien creatures they don't recognize, their expressions portraits of shock. In some cases, they are close to tears. They want to go outside and play but their toy is broken. It is at this point that Hubby brings them back to reality with a dose of tough love. He doesn't have time to be laid back and he probably offers advice which sounds a lot like parental lecturing concerning taking care of your toys. His days get longer, a fact his back and knees like to point out isn't to their liking. I usually just stay out of the way and handle the books.

But now that they've begun calling the house at all hours of the day and night, [just how do they get that number as it's unlisted?!] I feel really bad for him. I had today off, so I turned that sympathy into something more substantial and spent the morning in the shop with him, prior to opening. I fear I am too quick a study for my own good and may be invited back for more lessons. I'm thinking what will save me is that I can't keep a straight face. You see, most of these product names fall between gruesome [if you're female] and so testosterone laced that well, if you're a female it makes you laugh hysterically. It is hard to fathom how many companies can add the word "BEST" to their product titles with a straight face. And the adjectives used to describe tough run the gamut from "monster" to "intimidator" to ones I won't even bother you with. My teeth grinding favorite in fact is that these companies are now aiming [pardon the pun] for a female market. Their new bow for ladies? "Passion".

Oh, please.

There is only one company in the shop that sends a momentary chill down my spine...followed by hysterical laughter. As I said, I'm the bookkeeper and have to send checks to our vendors. Hey, I dare you to keep a straight face while writing a check to "Grim Reaper".

I kid you not.

Hubby said when calling to place an order, they cheerfully answer, "Grim Reaper!" He asked how many people freak out. The lady on the line laughed and said plenty, especially near Halloween.

I wonder if the guy who named that company picked such a moniker because it sounded intimidating...or if that's who his wife threatened to call when he tracked in enough of the outdoors to make the house look like the insides of a neglected bow case?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Are You Too Computer Dependant?

I received this e-mail from my friend Claudette this morning. Are you guilty?

Subject: Are you male or female?

This just proves that we have become
too dependent on our computers.

Are you male or female?

To find out the answer, look down...

[Envision 15 lines of blank space here]

Look down, not scroll down you idiot!

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Just the Way You Are

On Aug. 8, 1980, wearing my Mom's wedding dress,
(minus the hoop...yes, it had a hoop petticoat!)
I walked down the aisle and said, "I Do."
Check here for the hysterical version of the wedding day.
The hair styles have changed,
my 23" waist is history [sigh]
and after that day I never wore 4" heels again.
The dress now resides in the closet,
hoping when the nephew marries perhaps his Beloved
will be interested in it
as there are no other grandchildren on this side of the family.

My buddy from college sang the Billy Joel song of the title.
I picked it in hopes it would reflect that day, plus the future.

Don't go changing, to try and please me
You never let me down before
Don't imagine you're too familiar
And I don't see you anymore
I wouldn't leave you in times of trouble
We never could have come this far
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times
I'll take you just the way you are

Don't go trying some new fashion
Don't change the color of your hair
You always have my unspoken passion
Although I might not seem to care

I don't want clever conversation
I never want to work that hard
I just want someone that I can talk to
I want you just the way you are.

I need to know that you will always be
The same old someone that I knew
What will it take till you believe in me
The way that I believe in you.

I said I love you and that's forever
And this I promise from the heart
I could not love you any better
I love you just the way you are.

29 years later, the song still fits.
And "I still Do"

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Did You See That?

Have you ever had one of those double take, "what the heck?!" moments while driving? I was on my way, for the third time, to work in the stifling heat for the World Series Tournament when a large, white work van cut in front of me. I hate it when people don't signal, fully believing their mere size means they can go wherever they want, whenever they want. As I looked up to see if the van had one of those 1-800-How's-My-Driving? bumper stickers, I realized a number wasn't necessary. I'll probably not forget this van for a while. In almost two foot high letters the back of it read, "S&M Entertainment".

Yeah, I'm sure. I read it twice.

When they turned the corner, the side of the van had a satellite dish painted on it, with the words "Dish Installation" added below. I wondered which got them more attention: their horrible driving skills or that "S&M Entertainment" logo? Considering how they were driving, I'd be willing to bet it stood for Sam and Mike, but that's hardly noteworthy, huh?

After that I arrived safely to work the tournament's conclusion. One of our four local teams won their Division, defeating a previously undefeated team. I'm glad it was the older girls, who next year will be going off to college. This was their only chance to play in the brand new $3.5 million dollar ballpark complex. They'll certainly have unique bragging rights.

With the T-shirt Tent, as I came to think of my little space, right next to the gate we were able to watch a vast parade of humanity every day. Players from ages 8-18, their coaches, parents, some cases I think half one state walked past us daily. [Yes Tennessee, I mean you, but you're such a polite lot!] Town folks showed up in droves to cheer on the 57 teams from 11 states. I don't think the President could pull in the numbers we saw this past week.

Our Hometown Baseball Hero, Bobby Richardson, was the featured speaker. For those of you who know professional baseball, Richardson played 2nd Base for the New York Yankees in the late 50s-60s. He was in more World Series than I can properly recall, won a couple of awards and was the very straight laced family man to Mickey Mantle's man about town. To me, he was Robby and Ronnie's Dad...them being two of the five Richardson kids I grew up with at church. The thing is, Richardson didn't just speak at the Opening Ceremony, he signed autographs for kids until there weren't any he attended many of the games. He represented that part of America illustrated in the advertising slogan, "Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie [and Chevrolet....the auto dealer to whom the slogan belonged]. As I grew up, Richardson was my living Norman Rockwell poster boy for All in America at her best. When I was in college, he ran for Senate and I campaigned for him. I was torn because deep down, I didn't want him to win...because I feared Washington, D.C. would ruin him. I guess I should've known that if hanging with Mantle couldn't do that, politicians would've been easy. He lost to a rather slimy lawyer/businessman type. My disappointment at Good not making it to D.C. was made up by the fact that during one of those campaign dinners, I got to meet Joe DiMaggio.

Yeah, he was a nice guy too.

As a kid who grew up in a place that Rockwell could've used for his paintings, there are things I took for granted. I believed adults told the truth. Always. That good triumphed over evil. That men held doors open for ladies and women, in turn, graciously thanked them. T.V. series slogans filtered into my subconscious. If I say "Space" and your mind echoes "the final frontier", you know what I mean. And although I was raised to respect both the American flag and the National Anthem, to this day, when those last few notes drift away, I hear the deep male voice who did Play-by-play for Richardson's games, yelling out, "Play ball!" Only being an adult keeps me from yelling it out loud. My heart, however, still sings it out, loud and proud.

Every series of games in this tournament has begun the same way: with an individual or group singing the National Anthem. Live. No canned musical version. One guy even sang it a capella. That's normal around here, although some of you have told me that stopping to place your hand over your heart during a national anthem is somewhere between snickered at and perhaps, deep down, envied. It's tradition. I simply never thought about it.

Until this week.

Literally thousands of people milled about the park prior to the games. Some helped players get ready, giggling little kids chased each other, coaches shared stats and parents swapped best-place-to-eat stories while everyone bought souvenirs to take home or freshly cooked donuts from the booth next to mine. And yet as soon as the first notes of the National Anthem filled the air, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to the field. Men doffed their caps, hands were placed over hearts...and you could've heard a pin drop on the sidewalk.

I'll never forget how amazing it was to see the world literally come to a silent standstill to pay respect. You could feel a sense of pride in the air that is rarely witnessed in our busy world.

When the Anthem ended, the crowd burst into applause and suddenly the world was in motion again. Teams to cheer on, t-shirts to buy, girls to be proud of and yes, sometimes girls to console. But the spirit of camaraderie was undeniable. And it felt good.

And although no one said it at the Anthem's conclusion, my heart jumped up and down and screamed, "Play ball!"

And they did. With all their hearts.

Monday, August 3, 2009

The Yard is Alive with the Sound of....

I initially walked out the back door this morning to gauge today's humidity. This is important for two reasons: [1] high humidity affects my breathing and [2] for the 3rd day I'll be appearing outdoors from 3-8 p.m. wearing a "Volunteer" shirt as I sell t-shirts for a multi-state Girl's Softball Tournament. No, I didn't "volunteer"'s job related and mandatory. And if you could see the Volunteer shirts, you'd know we can't hide in the crowd.. Those shirts are day-glo yellow...think radioactive yellow tennis ball.

The humidity wasn't bad yet but the buzzing was awful! At first I thought it was my ears. Great, as if allergies and a mild case of newly discovered asthma isn't enough, now I'm getting tinnitus? Then something flew at my head. I instinctively ducked. Through the buzz my ears picked up the sound of something going "thunk!" against the house behind me. I looked at the fig tree. Yep, the June bugs are back with a vengeance. And this year, they've taken a liking to my sunflowers!

Here's a shot of the sunflowers nestled against the fig tree. The bird feeder is in a tub filled with Lantana.

It's also known as "Butterfly Bush"

This is last week's first photo....the 7+ foot giant.
The flower has filled out....and now comes, not with just bees, but with June bugs as well.
June bugs are determined when they want to eat. They're all perched on a single fig. If you look at the right hand corner of this photo, you'll find a June bug coming in for a landing. .

I think I'll go back around to the front yard, which appears to be a June bug free zone. And besides, there's shade there...and less humidity.Hey Susan, the Old Gal sends greetings.


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Home | Asian Reviews | Film Review: Eastern Bandits (2012)

Film Review: Eastern Bandits (2012)

The movie is set during the Japanese invasion of China. The story is told from the perspective of Gao – a soldier seeking revenge from the Japanese. He is trying to assassinate the visiting Japanese commander. In the process of plotting such scheme, he had a chance encounter with a local Mafia, lead by its charismatic leader Fang.

Set in a gritty land of western mentality and Asian finesse, “Eastern Bandits” goes for the bad boy traditional style set in the 1930’s during WW II. In this new Well Go US release a team of unlikely bandits pulls their forces together during a time of war against the Japanese set in the country of Tai ping. The bandits: Chalatan (Tino Bao), Kuei (Lie Wang), Lady Dagger (Jingyang Ni), San Pao (Lei Sun), Lassie (Yue Zhang), and Cook Khao make for a rag tag team of skills and rebel loyalty that may be just enough to scheme a way to get their leader Fang Youwang (Xiaoming Huang) out of prison.

The movie is told from the perspective of Gao a Chinese soldier who plots to  serve up revenge per the aid of a some local bandits and  assassinate emperor Hirohito . When he sees the group in town, he pretends to be a wealthy traveler that becomes victim to kidnapping. The bandits live among a cave lair that appears to be self sufficiently stable as a home base. Slowly they come around and play into Gao’s plan. It’s a plan that eventually is seen for what it is leaving Gao at the mercy of his companions.

Eastern Bandits attempt to keep things diverse by combining action, humor, and drama. Though because it is a plot that tends to get jumbled in too many attempts to fill in its story, the film also falls into the trappings of its own sleepy eyed complications. It does have moments that make for good segments such as a masked armed robbery, however it appears that my reaction was one shared among other reviews leaving the film teetering on something sharp and interesting to something overworked and worn.

The film does have a great look to it which will measure up to repeat views if needed to pull more pieces of the plot together. I tend to think that viewers might not make it to film end and mark this one off and attempted but forgotten. The characters aspire to be interesting but fall short on connecting to make them memorable. My takeaway is that the filmmakers probably learned a few lessons on storytelling to avoid making mistake the next round. I would have loved to have seen more individuality brought out even as a team. On this basis it made for a really hard film to review lacking bullet point moments to comment on.

This Chinese film is directed by Shu-peng Yang on his 3rd production to date. The film is also know by its other release names “Pi fu” and ” An Inaccurate Memoir”.

Eastern Bandits joins the collective of Well Go USA’s many Asian themed movies that have arrived on bluray. If you like your Asian films traditional and emerged in old west banditry then look no further than this 2012 film now on bluray.

One comment

  1. When they all appear in white at the end, are they all dead? It sure makes it a different film.

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Monday, September 21, 2015

‘Star Wars’ Theatrical Cut Might Finally Be Coming to Blu-Ray

From collider, It’s that time again. Every so often, we get a rumor about an HD Star Wars theatrical cut release, and every time the fans spin into an excited fervor only to be disappointed by a lack of payoff. However, this time the rumor comes from a pretty legit source — legendary director John Landis, who casually dropped some knowledge during a Q&A last night.

While at Universal Studios Orlando to talk about the new version of the Halloween Horror Nights American Werewolf in London maze based off of his iconic horror film, Landis was asked if he would ever want to go back and touch up the monster effects with modern technology. In the middle of his answer, he dropped the Star Wars bomb that fans have been waiting to hear.

Image via Universal Pictures

Check out his full quote below.

“First of all, they wouldn’t let me. George owns his movies, so he can do what he wants … My personal opinion is George hurt his movies by doing what he did. However, George said to me, ‘But they’re my movies.’ I thought, ‘That’s fair.’

Did you know Disney, by the way, is putting out the original Star Wars the way it was? So, Disney, they’re like, money on the floor.”

Now, if, if, and that’s a major if given that Landis didn’t say when, where, or how he heard this — but if Landis is in the know, it will be a huge win for fans. Here’s the thing though, Fox still owns the theatrical, nontheatrical, and home video rights to the original Star Wars trilogy until 2020, and they own the rights to A New Hope in perpetuity, which means Disney would have to make a deal, and a pretty sweet deal at that, to regain the rights to an unaltered release.

Image via Lucasfilm

However, if Landis is right about one thing, it’s that an HD re-release of the Star Wars theatrical cut means lots of easy money for everyone involved. With theStar Wars fandom at peak fervor in anticipation of The Force Awakens, and Disney currently doubling down on the Star Wars franchise (see: a new Star Wars movie every year,theme park plans, etc), now would be an excellent time to make that release…and reap heaps of sweet, sweet Star Wars cheddar.

And for what it’s worth, Mr. Landis, please don’t go mucking about with Rick Baker‘s original effects, even if the studio would let you. They’re gorgeous and horrific and perfect just the way they are.

My recording of the Q&A was muddied by the frenzy of voices that followed Landis’ statement, shout out to Aaron Sagers at Blastr for the assist on the full quote. Stay tuned for more coverage from Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights 25th Anniversary, and what we learned in the lengthy Q&A with Landis.

1 comment:

Octopunk said...

Yes! It's money on the floor. Pick it up!

It's one of the world's great stupidities (like everybody uses MS Word even though we all hate it) that this hasn't happened already.


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One of the unanswered questions about the terrorist attack on our consulate in Benghazi is why the US military didn’t intervene.  Rumors had swirled that the US asked the Libyan government in Tripoli for permission to fly into Benghazi to break up the attack but had been refused, although no one has claimed that on the record.  Defense Secretary Leon Panetta put that rumor to rest yesterday by telling reporters that the US never planned to intervene at all, thanks to a lack of intel on the ground:

US military leaders ruled out sending in forces during the attack on an American consulate in Libya last month because of a lack of reliable intelligence, Defense Secretary Leon Panetta said Thursday.

Although forces were on alert and ready to launch an operation if needed, the US military commander for Africa, General Carter Ham, the chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Martin Dempsey, and Panetta all decided against any intervention as they had no clear picture of events unfolding in Benghazi, he said.

“There’s a basic principle here, and the basic principle is that you don’t deploy forces into harm’s way without knowing what’s going on, without having some real-time information about what’s taking place,” Panetta told a news conference.

“And as a result of not having that kind of information, the commander who’s …in that area, General Ham, General Dempsey and I felt very strongly that we could not put forces at risk in that situation.”

I agree with Panetta that onebasic principle in military operations is not to jump into a situation without having real-time data.  However, we discovered in the House Oversight hearings two weeks ago that we did have that kind of data; the State Department has 50 minutes of video of the attack from surveillance feeds that their command center watched in real time as the attack unfolded.  Surely State could have had the Pentagon watch the same feed for the “real-time information” that we otherwise lacked.

Second, it’s difficult to believe that we weren’t collecting this kind of intel prior to the attack.  There had been a number of attack attempts in the city on our assets.  The New York Times reported that the CIA “got our eyes poked out” by the loss of the consulate.  There may have been a lack of intel on the attack itself, but not on the threat.  Ambassador Chris Stevens had warned State repeatedly of the security dangers before the terrorist attack that took his life — and let’s not forget that the attack took place on the anniversary of 9/11.

Finally, isn’t there a more basic principle at stake?  Consulates and embassies are considered American territory.  When they are under attack, the US is under attack in a very real way.  When we are under attack, do we not defend ourselves and our people from attack, or do we only do that when the intel is solid?


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Note that he said this today during a meeting with his counterpart in Mexico — the very same country into which his administration has flooded thousands of untraceable guns in an, at best, scandalously ill-conceived gunwalking program that has contributed to the rampant violence. How nice.

President Barack Obama vowed Thursday during a trip to Mexico to continue pushing for new, tighter gun control rules in the United States, saying his proposals’ recent defeat in Congress was “just the first round.”

Speaking following a meeting with Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto, whose country has been ravaged by gang violence supported in part by gun trafficking into Mexico, Obama vowed to return to the issue of gun control in the United States. …

“When you’ve got 90 percent of the American people supporting the initiatives that we put forward … I believe that eventually we’re going to get that done, and I’m going to keep on trying,” he said.

Yes, we’ve heard that before — although how they’re going to convince the Democratic senators who voted against the Toomey/Manchin proposal (nevermind finding any more Republicans to go along with it) that it’s suddenly within their political interests to vote yes, remains a mystery. They’re really banking hard and pushing the ostensible fact the the vast majority of the public is at least vaguely with them on furthering federal gun-control measures; and while, as Allahpundit already noted, some of the current disapproval over President Obama’s handling of the issue is probably from supporters upset that he hasn’t done enough, a successful second round still seems like quite the feat.

If/when they resume their attempts to Do Something, I’d assume they’ll keep it to (inanely) expanded background checks, sans trying to work in a Feinstein-style “assault weapons” ban again, which failed 40-60 in its Senate vote — as it very well should have, hem hem.


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Saturday, April 21, 2012

yummy toes

 penelope's 20th week brought the discovery of her toes. matt and i don't remember the other two enjoying them as much as this little one does.
in fact, this morning i woke up early and looked over into her bed. she had her legs up, toes in her mouth, with her eyes firmly shut.
she even eats them in her sleep.

1 comment:

kate o. said...

gah...i love her. and she totally did the whole lock-eyes thing with me the other day and stared into my soul ;)


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Hot Numbers is a high quality, independent gourmet coffee-house and roastery in Gwydir St, Cambridge. Providing delicious hand roasted coffee, speciality tea and light bites, to include pastries baked on site plus home-made cakes and paninis. We even stock Fitzbillies famous chelsea buns & cakes!

A hub for interesting folk to meet and chat accompanied by great jazz and blues music. Call in and enjoy the wonderful space of Dales Brewery. A true find for any discerning coffee enthusiast.

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Please come and join us on the last WEDNESDAY of each month. We have on average around 30 + people turn up to meet and chat about all things creative with a wide and diverse group of friendly people.

We start at 7.30pm and around 8.00pm have a 20 minute slot for a speaker or a longer discussion followed by open networking. Around 3 - 5 new members turn up every month so no need to worry about being the only one who doesn't know anybody!

Its aims are:

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