It's a beautiful, lazy afternoon, the kind you know could be the best day ever if you could find something fun to do. My best friend is gone today and the one who lives a walk away I used to be really close to but now we don't seem comfortable around each other. Maybe it was that we spent all of our time running around in the yard pretending it was a forest and so we didn't need to have anything in common, but that can't be it because we have a lot in common; we just don't communicate it well.
Maybe I should go on one of the swings on the swingset outside. Or get Gabriel and play a game with him. I don't feel like baking anything, since all I can seem to make is sugary stuff and there's a lot of it in the house. Maybe I can paint something. Yesterday I was boredish too, so I wrote songs. I made up five of them and finished a few old ones. My head was buzzing with words and music and even when I wanted to stop I had to keep writing everything down. A couple of them weren't very good because they didn't make sense... too particular and out-of-place to hear on the radio or anything, but it's perfect because it describes what I wish today was like.
The sun is behind the rooftops
The trees are red and gold
The light cascades like teardrops
The air is getting cold
On an evening in autumn
The time is growing late
I waltz along the sidewalk
And open up the gate
And all the leaves have fallen
They cover up the way
I crunch them with my shoes, thinking how
I had a lovely day
Took a train ride with my best friends
To see a live band up at West Bend
We danced 'til three
I was dizzy
And it was such a time
We went for ice cream at the shop
Bough chocolate bars and lemon drops
You should have seen
It was crazy
As we told stories to pass the time
We made up songs that barely rhymed
'Til we were sick with laughter
And couldn't anymore
Walked home from the station
Caught up with the guys
Chatted 'til the sky
Grew dark, 'til we reached our front doors
And now I'm walking all alone
Remembering it all
And I am humming to myself
As I climb up the wall
Pull my knees up to my chin
Gaze up at the air
What a perfect day today
A day without a care
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Autumn
My favorite seasons are definitely spring and fall. That's because the weather is perfect.. not too hot and not too cold, and if I'm lucky there's a cool breeze blowing through the warm air and making my hair fly around. Love that. In the springtime you can go out when it starts getting warm and clear the leaves around the flowers off of the dirt-- what a delicious earthy smell-- and discover all the new shoots underneath. Then in the middle of spring the crab-apple tree blossoms all pink and pretty and by the end all of the petals have fallen off and cover the ground. By then all of the bushes are blooming in a thousand colors.
But in autumn you wake up and the light is coming through the window in a ray of gold, and it's crisp and cold; it will get warmer later, but I am going outside. The sky is the deepest, clearest blue I have ever seen, and the perfect gold and red leaves of the trees sway underneath it. As I walk down the road, they fall off the trees and spin to the ground, and I think that if I was fast enough I could catch one... and at home again brown leaves cover all the flowerbeds, but the serviceberry tree by the stone chimney looks like it's on fire. And we collect the leaves and Gabriel and Matthew are amazed at how when you roll a crayon over the paper, it makes a perfect picture of them...
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
But in autumn you wake up and the light is coming through the window in a ray of gold, and it's crisp and cold; it will get warmer later, but I am going outside. The sky is the deepest, clearest blue I have ever seen, and the perfect gold and red leaves of the trees sway underneath it. As I walk down the road, they fall off the trees and spin to the ground, and I think that if I was fast enough I could catch one... and at home again brown leaves cover all the flowerbeds, but the serviceberry tree by the stone chimney looks like it's on fire. And we collect the leaves and Gabriel and Matthew are amazed at how when you roll a crayon over the paper, it makes a perfect picture of them...
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Friday, November 6, 2009
Pie Crust
It's been a week of struggling from morning to evening to get all of my school-work done, and now it's Friday evening I can finally let go of my breath and take a minute to think. Actually, I have nothing to do now! Maybe I should go bake something... I just realized I am hungry!
Thinking of baking, pie crust has been on my mind lately. Mom and I made apple pie a week or so ago and I learned for the third time how to make the dough and roll it into a crust. I was thinking as we made it how easy it is and yet I have heard people say that you have to have some sort of gift in order to be able to make it. I wonder if that is because their mothers didn't teach them to make it the right way?
When mine was little her mother always baked things while she and her brothers were away at school, so she never learned how to do it. Later she learned to make dough from another woman, but not as well as her mother had made it. There are some secrets to making pie crust-- and bread too-- properly that not everyone knows... like how to know if it is moist enough or how to press it to make it roll out smoother.
My favorite part of making the crust is after it has been rolled out and you put the pie pan upside-down on it, then cut the dough in a circle around it. I love the clean way the knife slides in a circle. It's also so cool how the powdery white mess turns into a sheet of... fabric, almost, that can be folded so neatly. I also like eating pie dough. Mom thinks it is a repulsive habit and I will get fat, but I always eat when I bake. It isn't as fun when you don't taste the batter!
And then, of course, there is when you get to eat the pie.... yummmmm....
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Thinking of baking, pie crust has been on my mind lately. Mom and I made apple pie a week or so ago and I learned for the third time how to make the dough and roll it into a crust. I was thinking as we made it how easy it is and yet I have heard people say that you have to have some sort of gift in order to be able to make it. I wonder if that is because their mothers didn't teach them to make it the right way?
When mine was little her mother always baked things while she and her brothers were away at school, so she never learned how to do it. Later she learned to make dough from another woman, but not as well as her mother had made it. There are some secrets to making pie crust-- and bread too-- properly that not everyone knows... like how to know if it is moist enough or how to press it to make it roll out smoother.
My favorite part of making the crust is after it has been rolled out and you put the pie pan upside-down on it, then cut the dough in a circle around it. I love the clean way the knife slides in a circle. It's also so cool how the powdery white mess turns into a sheet of... fabric, almost, that can be folded so neatly. I also like eating pie dough. Mom thinks it is a repulsive habit and I will get fat, but I always eat when I bake. It isn't as fun when you don't taste the batter!
And then, of course, there is when you get to eat the pie.... yummmmm....
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Half the Night
"Ken wrote a short letter. His letters are all rather short now–and he doesn't often slip in those dear little sudden sentences I love so much. Sometimes I think he has forgotten all about the night he was here to say goodbye–and then there will be just a line or a word that makes me think he remembers and always will remember. For instance to-day's letter hadn't a thing in it that mightn't have been written to any girl, except that he signed himself 'Your Kenneth,' instead of 'Yours, Kenneth,' as he usually does. Now, did he leave that 's' off intentionally or was it only carelessness? I shall lie awake half the night wondering."
--Rilla of Ingleside
I sat in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago and read aloud to my mother from the book while she cleaned, and I loved to see her laugh at the funny many characters and incidents. It isn't often that I am able to share any book with someone else, let alone a book I enjoyed this much. She thought this part was funny, and it is... because doesn't every girl spend at least night of her life wondering about a little detail? Then when one reads this passage she realizes how silly it was. Just think... few things less powerful than love can make a little s, a simple stroke of a pen, so important.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
--Rilla of Ingleside
I sat in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago and read aloud to my mother from the book while she cleaned, and I loved to see her laugh at the funny many characters and incidents. It isn't often that I am able to share any book with someone else, let alone a book I enjoyed this much. She thought this part was funny, and it is... because doesn't every girl spend at least night of her life wondering about a little detail? Then when one reads this passage she realizes how silly it was. Just think... few things less powerful than love can make a little s, a simple stroke of a pen, so important.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Writing
I feel as though I should write something, but I do not know what to write. I think I want to write a Great Novel. One with princesses, knights, fairies, Jesus, high school, and Prince Edward Island. Wait... those don't go together, do they?! I need a plot idea. Something really brilliant...
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Saturday, October 10, 2009
October Snow
It's snowing! Seems far too early, doesn't it? I'm not ready for snow-- I've barely had a good taste of fall, let alone winter, but God's sent it anyway and it's beautiful. It flutters and swirls to the ground outside my window, the flakes so small and few that I almost feel sorry for them... but bless the brave things for trying! It's always hard to be the first at something.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Growing Up?
As I keep thinking about it, I understand more and more that growing up is something I have to face. It's hard to gather all of my scattered thoughts about it, but I will try. I can say that it's hard to look all around me and see happy, silly girls with wiry frames dresssed in shorts and flip-flops with wavy blonde hair that bounces and flies turn into teenagers with braces and purple-streaked hair who wear weird clothes and are always depressed or sarcastic and spend all day plugged into their ipods or computers.
Then I look at myself... I look at old pictures of myself with a cute smile and a striped shirt, jumping around and energetic and bright, and at myself now, and find such a change. Maybe I'm not supposed to think. Maybe it's not natural to wish that I could be little again. Maybe it's better if I don't think at all and let myself mature and change. Maybe it's not good to miss the days when I didn't worry if someone saw me do something silly. Maybe worrying about things like that is supposed to be part of becoming an adult.
Once upon a time there was no such thing as a teenager. They were "young men" and "young women"-- children becoming adults. I remember a time when I was riding in a car with my little friend and she said, "I never want to be a teenager." "Teenager" is the word that has come to describe the girl with braces and dyed hair who sits in a dark room in front of a screen, spilling all of her bad feelings about life onto MySpace.
The teenage years are so strange. A lot of the time I don't know what to think. Some days I can't even decide who I am or who I want to be. And when I think about growing up itself it only makes me feel more melancholy than I already do. I'm told that there comes a point in your life when you find yourself with little brothers and sisters and have to remind yourself, "I'm too old for this."
But why? Why does it have to be like that? Who decides? Am I the only person in the whole world who doesn't want to grow up yet? And when is the time really right to grow up? Should you just let it happen? Should you never look back?
No matter what way it is, it would be not-so-melancholy if only I could grow up the right way; if I could keep from losing myself and falling into teenager-ness; if I could stay a maiden of God-- if I could make it through these years and become the person He wants me to be.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Then I look at myself... I look at old pictures of myself with a cute smile and a striped shirt, jumping around and energetic and bright, and at myself now, and find such a change. Maybe I'm not supposed to think. Maybe it's not natural to wish that I could be little again. Maybe it's better if I don't think at all and let myself mature and change. Maybe it's not good to miss the days when I didn't worry if someone saw me do something silly. Maybe worrying about things like that is supposed to be part of becoming an adult.
Once upon a time there was no such thing as a teenager. They were "young men" and "young women"-- children becoming adults. I remember a time when I was riding in a car with my little friend and she said, "I never want to be a teenager." "Teenager" is the word that has come to describe the girl with braces and dyed hair who sits in a dark room in front of a screen, spilling all of her bad feelings about life onto MySpace.
The teenage years are so strange. A lot of the time I don't know what to think. Some days I can't even decide who I am or who I want to be. And when I think about growing up itself it only makes me feel more melancholy than I already do. I'm told that there comes a point in your life when you find yourself with little brothers and sisters and have to remind yourself, "I'm too old for this."
But why? Why does it have to be like that? Who decides? Am I the only person in the whole world who doesn't want to grow up yet? And when is the time really right to grow up? Should you just let it happen? Should you never look back?
No matter what way it is, it would be not-so-melancholy if only I could grow up the right way; if I could keep from losing myself and falling into teenager-ness; if I could stay a maiden of God-- if I could make it through these years and become the person He wants me to be.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Beautiful Dreamer
I don't know why, but I have often heard the tune to this song-- just never the words. Anyway, now I have found them I think they are lovely.
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee
Sound of the rude world heard in the day
Lulled by the moonlight have all passed away
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song
List while I woo thee with soft melody
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chanting the wild lorelie
Over the streamlet vapors are borne
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn
Beautiful dreamer, beam in my heart
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.
Stephen Foster.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee
Sound of the rude world heard in the day
Lulled by the moonlight have all passed away
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song
List while I woo thee with soft melody
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chanting the wild lorelie
Over the streamlet vapors are borne
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn
Beautiful dreamer, beam in my heart
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.
Stephen Foster.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Sunday, September 20, 2009
A Young Maiden's Daybook
Today… is September 20, 2009, and I was confirmed today.
Outside my window… It is very dark and I can hear the rain pounding on the ground in the back-yard.
I am thinking… what a long weekend. It felt like five days instead of two.
I am thankful for… good friends. They made these few long days very sweet.
I am wearing… the perfect Confirmation dress.
I am reading... Nothing. I have not had any time to read lately. But I am planning to read Rilla of Ingleside (See, I am reading all of the Anne of Green Gables books over again in the wrong order.)
I am creating… memories.
One of my favorite things… the beautiful statue of St. Teresa of Avila from my favorite --and only-- Godmother ever. I'm so surprised that she found one! Mother and I looked everywhere for one before.
For education this week… I'm perfecting my new schedule. I'm so excited! It is going to make things go so much more smoothly.
A keeper at home skill I am using/learning… not organization, though that comes naturally to me. My room is full of wrapping paper. It's very silly, see.. it's my Confirmation, not my birthday.
A spiritual lesson I’m learning… what is there to be afraid of anywhere? God's light can shine through anything, and I am so safe when I am with Him. Nothing else matters. And how can I be so shy? How can I be so afraid around new people? I must remember that it's not strange hostile souls I'm meeting, but that I must see the face of Christ in everyone I meet. He's there, everywhere I look, and I'm only meeting Someone familiar again.
A godly character trait I plan to work on… I want, with God's help, to open every one of the gifts that the Holy Spirit has planted in my soul today and to flourish in the graces I have received.
For the rest of the week… I hope to finish all of my co-op homework and do well on my ordinary work as well.
A picture I’d like to share… It isn't anywhere on my computer, but I'd like you to imagine me in white sandals and my perfect blue-green-purple dress standing next to my mother in royal blue in the driveway. We're late for going down to the church and Dad wants to take pictures at the last minute. He tells me to smile and look up at him, and mother worries about my hair. I'm so nervous and so ashamed that I would be, since seventy other students are being confirmed at the same Mass, that I can't think of anything else... but no one could tell that from the picture.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Outside my window… It is very dark and I can hear the rain pounding on the ground in the back-yard.
I am thinking… what a long weekend. It felt like five days instead of two.
I am thankful for… good friends. They made these few long days very sweet.
I am wearing… the perfect Confirmation dress.
I am reading... Nothing. I have not had any time to read lately. But I am planning to read Rilla of Ingleside (See, I am reading all of the Anne of Green Gables books over again in the wrong order.)
I am creating… memories.
One of my favorite things… the beautiful statue of St. Teresa of Avila from my favorite --and only-- Godmother ever. I'm so surprised that she found one! Mother and I looked everywhere for one before.
For education this week… I'm perfecting my new schedule. I'm so excited! It is going to make things go so much more smoothly.
A keeper at home skill I am using/learning… not organization, though that comes naturally to me. My room is full of wrapping paper. It's very silly, see.. it's my Confirmation, not my birthday.
A spiritual lesson I’m learning… what is there to be afraid of anywhere? God's light can shine through anything, and I am so safe when I am with Him. Nothing else matters. And how can I be so shy? How can I be so afraid around new people? I must remember that it's not strange hostile souls I'm meeting, but that I must see the face of Christ in everyone I meet. He's there, everywhere I look, and I'm only meeting Someone familiar again.
A godly character trait I plan to work on… I want, with God's help, to open every one of the gifts that the Holy Spirit has planted in my soul today and to flourish in the graces I have received.
For the rest of the week… I hope to finish all of my co-op homework and do well on my ordinary work as well.
A picture I’d like to share… It isn't anywhere on my computer, but I'd like you to imagine me in white sandals and my perfect blue-green-purple dress standing next to my mother in royal blue in the driveway. We're late for going down to the church and Dad wants to take pictures at the last minute. He tells me to smile and look up at him, and mother worries about my hair. I'm so nervous and so ashamed that I would be, since seventy other students are being confirmed at the same Mass, that I can't think of anything else... but no one could tell that from the picture.
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Like Miss Shirley
"Everything's ready, Miss Shirley, Ma'am, and nothing dreadful has happened yet," was Charlotta's cheerful statement as she betook herself to her little back room to dress. Out came all the braids; the resultant rampant crinkliness was plaited into two tails and tied, not with two bows alone, but with four, of brand-new ribbon, brightly blue. The two upper bows rather gave the impression of overgrown wings sprouting from Charlotta's neck, somewhat after the fashion of Raphael's cherubs. But Charlotta the Fourth found them very beautiful, and after she had rustled into a white dress, so stiffly starched that it could stand alone, she surveyed the glass with great satisfaction... a satisfaction which lasted until she went out into the hall and caught a glimpse through the spare room of a tall girl in some softly clinging gown, pinning white, star-like flowers on the smooth ripples of her ruddy hair.
"Oh, I'll never look like Miss Shirley," thought poor Charlotta despairingly. "You just have to be born so, I guess... don't seem's if any amount of practice will give you that air."
--Anne of Avonlea
I'm in the kitchen, making pasta for supper and daydreaming while it boils. I think of people and places and things I love and wish there were, and then come back from the world in which they dwell and find only myself. For a moment I've forgotten reality, but now I look at myself and realize that I'm just that. Little me... not graceful, not beautiful... not who I want to be. I think of my life... the people around me, the way they are, and how dull and is is and maybe wish that I was back in my daydreams again.
They say that the youth lives on dreams and old age on memories. I don't know if that's true. If you were old you could live thinking about the future in Heaven... if you were young you could live thinking about the present or when things were better before your horrible baby sister was born (Though I hope no one does; baby sisters are blessings-- I wish I had one!)
And I know I've got a life ahead of me and lots of hopes to fill it with. But how, I wonder, do I start? And how will I get to where I want to go if I'm just me? With the way I am and the start I've gotten? I've made so many mistakes in life-- but I could never start over. I can't say how many times I've felt like poor Charlotta, wishing I was Miss Shirley... wishing I was as friendly and shining and kind as Anne, so that everyone would love me just because I'm like that... like the heroine of my favorite book or movie or play...
The question is, will I ever be? Do you really have to be "born so"?
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
"Oh, I'll never look like Miss Shirley," thought poor Charlotta despairingly. "You just have to be born so, I guess... don't seem's if any amount of practice will give you that air."
--Anne of Avonlea
I'm in the kitchen, making pasta for supper and daydreaming while it boils. I think of people and places and things I love and wish there were, and then come back from the world in which they dwell and find only myself. For a moment I've forgotten reality, but now I look at myself and realize that I'm just that. Little me... not graceful, not beautiful... not who I want to be. I think of my life... the people around me, the way they are, and how dull and is is and maybe wish that I was back in my daydreams again.
They say that the youth lives on dreams and old age on memories. I don't know if that's true. If you were old you could live thinking about the future in Heaven... if you were young you could live thinking about the present or when things were better before your horrible baby sister was born (Though I hope no one does; baby sisters are blessings-- I wish I had one!)
And I know I've got a life ahead of me and lots of hopes to fill it with. But how, I wonder, do I start? And how will I get to where I want to go if I'm just me? With the way I am and the start I've gotten? I've made so many mistakes in life-- but I could never start over. I can't say how many times I've felt like poor Charlotta, wishing I was Miss Shirley... wishing I was as friendly and shining and kind as Anne, so that everyone would love me just because I'm like that... like the heroine of my favorite book or movie or play...
The question is, will I ever be? Do you really have to be "born so"?
+JMJ+
Rosary Girl
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