Hacked

Just to let everyone know...since Sunday, someone hacked my blogs at least twice. Does anyone know how to report this??? I've tried to report this to blogger, and have not received help yet. Does anyone know a sure way to get in contact with someone high up at blogger?

Writing Games

During some of the club meetings we've played some fun games that promote creativity with words/writing. Here are some of the games and descriptions.

Apples to Apples Board Game :

The concept of Apples to Apples is pretty easy: match the adjective card on the table with a noun or verb card from your hand.

But that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Watch hilarity ensue as players match terms like "Fluffy" to "Mildew" or "Sticky" to "Horror film." While it may be limited by the hand of cards you’re dealt (what if you don’t have a perfect match for "Harry Truman"?), there is some strategy to the game. Each round of card matching is judged by a different player at the table. So you can use it to your advantage to play a card that you know is a shoo-in for certain judges.

Use the red cards in your hand to make hilarious matches to the green card on the table. When someone wins a round, they place that Green Apple card in front of them on the table. This, effectively, is the point tracking system and eliminates the need for pen and paper. Since the person who has gathered the most Green Apples is the winner at the end of the game, it behooves players to lobby for their cards. Again, hilarity ensues.

The fact that everyone is judge at some point makes this game all-inclusive. The fast pace and lack of accessories make it portable. The combinations thrown together in Mad Lib style make it addictive. This Party Box version comes with more than 700 Red Apples and 252 Green Apples to keep game play interesting for quite a while. But if you’re playing with a more adventurous crowd, check out these variations on Wikipedia.

The Party Box edisiton of Apples to Apples includes 756 Red Apple cards, 252 Green Apple cards, and two deluxe card trays.



Balderdash :

Balderdash™, the classic bluffing game, has gone beyond hilarious. With real but outrageous content that now includes a new category, Laughable Laws. The categories contain real but unbelievable content about People, Words, Initials, Movies and Laws. Players make up phony answers to these categories, read them off along with the correct answer, and then vote on which answer is real. Score points for guessing correctly and for bluffing the other players. So grab the bull by the horns and play Balderdash, the game that's hilarious beyond belief. ®2004 Gameworks Creations Inc

You just ran into a zugzwang!

Was it...

1. an old school chum.

2. A small swivel cannon fired from the back of a camel.

3. A bad move in a game of chess.

4. A Tasmanian tree toad.

It's defintely one of these--but which one? That's what you have to discover in Balderdash, the game of phony defintions and masterful bluffing, with hundreds of the zaniest, most unbelievable words in the English language.


Create a Story:

Create-A-Story is the first board game to make story writing kid's play. Travel through time, walk on the moon, befriend a talking frog. Your story can take many twists and turns depending on the cards you draw and how you piece it together. The fun comes in watching creative sparks fly!

This high-adventure game is designed to help students:

Structure a story
Develop characters and plots
Use dialogue
Set up conflict and resolution
Write with confidence and imagination
Experience the joy of writing
The rewards are great

Everyone learns (and laughs!) just by playing.
Offers multiple levels of play.
Develops lifelong creative writing and thinking skills.
Suitable for a wide range of students including those with learning differences or a gift for writing.
Ideal for individual or group play, for ages 5-99.
Success is built into the game so everyone is a "winner."

Describing Self in Third Person

Three weeks ago we did an exercise in which we wrote descriptions of ourselves in third person...then we gathered them up and read them aloud, trying to guess who wrote which ones. Here's what was written:

Her eyes looked as though they would bore holes through the book she was reading. Her large hands flipped the pages eagerly--nails bitten to the quick, all but four. As she rocked back and forth in the chair, spiral locks kept flipping in her eyes. With one quick puff, she blew them away.

"Stop, stop!" she squealed through her laughter. Everyone was laughing with her because they knew she didn't really mind. She had an abundant sense of humor, and was often caught teasing everyone else. She was almost shy...until you got to know her. She only made jokes about those she knew wouldn't take offense.

She had brown hair, and I guess you could say brown eyes. And she didn't say very much, but I could tell she was thinking of something to write down. Write, erase, write, erase, over and over again. I wonder when she will think of something good to write about?

As he put his cheek to the gun stock, he could feel the oil in the wood. As his hand wrapped around the grip, he stuck his finger through the trigger guard. He lined up the sight and squeezed the trigger to send the bullet at the target.

As the girl walked through the rain on her way to feed the goats, her mind, as usual, was racing a thousand miles and hour. Her thoughts kept jumping from subject to subject, from nature-still-lifes, to Elven watchers, to spring & baby animals, to things so random...a pink-polka-dot-panda...somehow finding a connection between them that made sense to her strange mind. And as she walked, getting more and more soaked, she realized that she had walked past the pen.

She was singing off tune as she came downstairs. It was her turn to do the dishes. She pulled her long hair up into a sloppy bun and started to put the dishes away. The room was too quiet, apparently, because she turned the radio up louder as she attempted to put the last cup on a shelf that was too high for her to reach. She ignored the stool sitting right next to her and half climbed on top of the counter with one knee and finished her daily chore.

He sat in front of a computer. he, once again, was song shopping on I-Tunes. "Darn you search engine! You have failed me again." He said to the computer. "Great. Now I'm talking to computers," he said to himself. "Great. Now I'm talking to myself."

Short brown hair and eyes and dislikes "The Early Show", likes and is good at basketball and football. Likes Thursdays better than Wednesdays at the stables.

She typed at her computer, trying to remember if she sent out all the e-mails needed to her blog members. Pulling her blonde hair into a pony-tail, she heard her sons arguing about Lego's. AGAIN! Her blue eyes flashed. "I'm throwing those things away if you cannot share!" She sighed. "BOYS!"

He has brown eyes and brown hair. He is going to play football and he has a soccer practice on Saturday. He isn't the tallest. He has a few friends...he has some of his sisters' friends visiting. They're both girls, and he has been staying up pretty late.

Sitting quietly on the floral print couch, he sighed. Mumbling obscenities under his breath, the boy on the floral print couch got up and placed the piece of music on the stand. On the first try, he sounded scratchy, out of turn, and confused. However, after a fairly long period of practice, he was able to play it well, with most of it in turn and smooth.

Her long brown hair went everywhere at once while she threw her side wholeheartedly into the target. She loved to try her best at Tae Kwon Doe...putting her best into her kicks, punches, and forms. Her green belt flapped around as she walked slowly to the front of the room. She was waiting for her position results. She hoped for blue stripes, which would take her farther in rank. She could only hope for the best.

She has brown...

He sat in the chair, his blue eyes focused on the explosions on the TV.

His mom called out to him, "Come empty the dishwasher!"

He mumbled something that sounded like 'Later.'

"NOW!" his mom cried.

He sighed and turned off the TV. He put on his sulking face and walked to unload the dishwasher.

K. W. Pearson's sample from his untitled book

The sun was just rising the morning at the furthermost outpost of human expansion on the planet Maresantoo. It's name was Vanguard Key. The only sounds were the footsteps of two small children. The boy was five years of age, and the girl, seven. His name was Kevin, and the girl was named Molly.

Whenever she couldn't sleep, she would sneak out of her family's house and wander the streets. This time, however, her brother followed her.

"How much farther Molly?" Kevin whined. "My feetseeis is getting tired."

"Not too far," Molly assured him.

She hadn't a clue where they were going, nor could she care less. She had been infected with the wanderlust. She longed to leave the outpost and explore the surrounding hills and forests. She wondered how long and wide the lake was.

She pushed her short, sand colored bangs away from her diamond colored eyes.

"Wanna go climb the walls?" she asked Kevin.

"Is they far?" he asked in return.

"No."

"Then we can go home?" he inquired further.

"I guess." molly sighed. I could probably sneak out when he falls back asleep, Molly thought.

M. C. Pearson's Chapter One of F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Be Careful What You Wish for

Chapter One of

F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Be Careful What You Wish For

by M. C. Pearson

***
Four thousand seasons shall pass while our swords grow rusty.
Where once one chose to divide, another shall be chosen to unite.
One changed the past; the other shall change the future.
Bethink the Great Commission:
One must emancipate the other to allow the Light its dominion.
The realm, now torn, allows the Shadow to abide, as Humanity lies blind to its peril.
The bond of friendship must endure, for the Army of Shadows awaits another tear.
Dust off your swords, Unite the realm, and Destroy the strongholds.
***
Foretelling of Gnome Digdeep



* PART ONE *

Many are Called
But
Few are Chosen

* ONE *

Off and Running

"It was an accident!" Mellie yelled, not caring who heard or stared at her as she ran. Tears streaked her face as she fled down the Santa Cruz coastline, away from her family.

You don’t need them! A voice hissed in her ear. Escape! Run away! Scorching sand burned her feet and bitterness ate at her heart. Mellie pumped her legs as fast as they would go. Her pounding feet beat out a tempo with the crashing waves. Run-a-way. Run-a-way. Run-a-way. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, quickening her step.

Why did I have to be the youngest? Only twelve years old. Never smart enough. Never athletic enough. I just wish they loved me. Once, just once, she wanted to do something that would make her sisters see that she wasn’t the stupid, awkward, ugly, little baby sister.

She wiped away some tears with the palm of her hand. Her fingers settled on her large nose, a gift from her dad’s Hungarian ancestry. Chelsea got the ski-slope shaped nose. I had to get Half-Dome. It just isn’t fair! Her hand dropped to her side and she pinched at her stomach. It still had some of its baby fat. Ugh! Why are my sisters so perfect? What happened to me?

Pushing her short bangs from her forehead in disgust, she mumbled, "Maybe I’ll find treasure. I’ll be the rich one and then they’ll have to accept me." But she knew better. California did not hold any more unfound treasures.

The beach, long and rocky, cut at her feet. I wish I had remembered my shoes. She wore only a black, one-piece swimsuit and a San Jose Sharks sweatshirt tied tightly around her waist.

She breathed rapidly and began to tire. Slowing her pace to a walk, Mellie looked back across the beach. The sand was so hot that waves of heat rose from it and blurred her view. A lone seagull screeched overhead.

Her sisters were nowhere in sight. Man, I thought for sure that Chelsea was going to chase me down and kill me. She had to admit that it was a little gratifying to see the sand fly from her foot, splattering Chelsea’s sub-sandwich and freshly oiled stomach. Grinning slightly, her blue eyes started to dry.

Mellie looked in the direction of her sisters. "You guys can never take a joke." Flipping her golden hair, she turned her head back towards her chosen path. She no longer smiled as she stomped her feet in the cold surf, remembering the hateful words that had been said.

Mellie knew she couldn’t go back. They would only ridicule and torment her. Her mom would never believe it was Chelsea’s fault. No, the evidence was on Chelsea’s side. Who was the one with the sand all over her oily, coconut-smelling body? Who was the one who had had her lunch ruined? Mellie walked on.

After her temper finally cooled, it occurred to her that she had never walked so far alone.

How long have I been gone?

A shadow passed over her and she looked up. Nothing was there. A cool breeze from the ocean created a stark contrast to the scalding sand. She shivered but kept walking, lost in her loneliness.

Not until she stubbed her toe on an enormous broken clamshell did she look at the beach. A chill snaked up her back. Nothing appeared familiar to her. The sounds of the surf were still there, yet something was decidedly different. She felt dizzy. Looking around, she could not quite pinpoint the change. Then it struck her.

No people.

Where did everybody go? Even though she could see no one, Mellie felt as if she were not quite alone.
She looked inland across the sand, saw movement near some eucalyptus trees, but decided that the wind must have caused it.

Trees? I didn’t know they grew so close to the beach.

Something shook the trees again, causing goosebumps to stand out on Mellie’s arms. Checking the skyline, she felt alarmed. The sun was close to setting. She hoped that the police weren’t out looking for her.

Suddenly cold, she pulled at the arms of the sweatshirt still tied around her waist. It fell to the sand. Bending to pick it up, she once again saw a blur of movement, except this time it came from a rocky outcrop by the waves. She shook the sand out of the sweatshirt and hurriedly tugged it over her head.

"Okay, I’m seeing things." Mellie yanked at her hair, which remained stuck inside the sweatshirt. She stared at the hauntingly dark rocks. "Hel-lo?" Her voice cracked as she spoke louder. "Is someone the-ere? Hello?" No answer. The shadowy rocks seemed to quiver with excitement, beckoning her closer.

Hmm…probably just a seagull. Even if it was a bird, she did not want to see it. There’s no way I’m going over there.

The wind picked up and blew her hair into her eyes. The sand spun with the wind.

Yes, definitely time to move. I need to find a road. She turned back toward the sweet smelling, oddly placed trees.

It took a lot longer to get to the grove than she had estimated. When Mellie finally arrived at the base of the first eucalyptus, it was colossal. Without warning, one of the branches fell in front of her, then seemed to get up from the ground and pose its bottom stems in a military-like stance.

"Whoa, branches don’t stand!" Mellie backed up.

"They do if they are walking sticks." The eucalyptus branch chuckled, stretching to its full height, considerably taller than Mellie’s meager five feet.

She gasped, grabbed the stick up in her hands, and threw it like a javelin, as hard as she could.

As she took off running, she heard a bark and halted. Turning, she saw a golden retriever bounding towards her with the stick in his mouth. The dog dropped it at her feet and leaped away. She watched the dog run into the grove of trees and disappear before she fearfully turned back to the possessed stick.

It had already gained its footing again and stood over her.

Mellie was too frightened to move this time.

A face emerged from the skinny twig and took on the characteristics of a male human, but none that Mellie had ever seen. He had hair made up in rolls like a powdered green-silver wig, the same color as the leaves that grew all around his skinny body. His face was long and his forehead high. The twiggy man smiled and said in a distinctly British, albeit breezy, accent, "Do not worry, you are safe."

Mellie couldn’t answer.

"Ahh…I love new recruits. They are so easily addled."

Not feeling as threatened, Mellie found her voice. "W-what? What do you mean, n-new recruits?" She rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. "Okay, I’m talking to a stick now. Yes, I have lost it—I have gone totally mental."

"Oh! I say! Am I to understand that I am the first to be revealed to you?" With round, leathery leaves, the branch resembled a toddler toy with rings stacked on one another.

She dropped open her mouth and nodded.

"Well, let me do this properly, then! AHEM! Mortal, made of clay, you have been Chosen to join the Fantastical, Aerial, International, Reasonably Inconspicuous Emancipation Squads!"

"What? What are you? You look like a stick…but you can talk!" Mellie trembled with fear.

"Yes, child," the stick replied with a sigh. "But, I think we are quite past that by now. Have you not heard me? You’ve been Chosen."

Mellie opened her mouth wider. Closed it. Frowned. Opened it once more. "Chosen? For what?"

"You did wish to be different? To change who you were? ’Twas an especially strong desire, yes?" The branch crossed its arms and tapped its twiggy foot. Mellie’s answer seemed to lack the awe and excitement he had expected.

"Ummm…"

"Dear me, this is highly unusual! You made a choice to run away from a miserable life and asked to be set free? Correct?"

"Well, I, ah—yeah. I guess so. What did you say about recruit for some squad?"

"Humph. I see that I was not understood. Yes? Let me elucidate. The F.A.I.R.I.E.S., or shall I say, the Fantastical, Aerial, International, Reasonably Inconspicuous, Emancipation Squads, have accepted you into their organization. You asked. You were answered." The branch attempted a smile, but looked impatient instead.

"Fairies? I don’t believe in fairies." Mellie winced, half expecting him to fall down and writhe in pain until she clapped her hands.

"Quite right! You are not supposed to. If Humans truly believed we existed, we would never get anything accomplished."

Mellie laughed, looking around for a hidden camera, thinking this must be a joke. "Right. Ahh—heh—okay, bud, brilliant costume. Where’s the zipper?" She reached toward him and touched a soft leaf.

The branch slapped her hand away and stamped its foot with a loud cracking noise. "I beg your pardon! I have not been a bud for over EIGHT HUNDRED SPRINGS!" He paced, his leaves crumpling, mumbling to himself about Humans and why, in the One’s name, did he listen to the confounded Gnomes who told him that he needed to stand gate duty, with his rank!

"I’m sorry I upset you. It was just a figure of speech. Please, I’m very confused. I’m lost and I just want to go home." Mellie bit her lip.

The branch stopped mid-pace. "Home? Earlier, did you not wish for a new life? And riches? I know you wished for treasure, hmmm?"

"How do you know that?" Mellie furrowed her brow. "Have you been reading my mind?"

The twig man didn’t answer her questions, asking his own instead. "Ahh, so, you admit this, yes?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, but…well, this really isn’t what I had in mind."

The branch threw up its twiggy fingers. "Oh, well, of course you did not have this in mind! After all, we are Reasonably Inconspicuous, especially to Humans. How could you have this in mind? However, is it not superior of the One to think that this is what you would have chosen had you known about us? Anyway, ’tis irrevocable now. So, if you would just follow me, we shall get you signed in and enrolled for training."

The branch marched off between the trunks of two large eucalyptus trees.

Mellie slid uncontrollably after the walking stick. She planted her feet firmly, refusing to budge, but she moved toward him anyway. Grasping at branches of nearby trees, she panted heavily as she struggled to resist following the branch. Some kind of invisible tie connected her to him. He seemed to pull her along with his every step.

Out of nowhere, Chelsea’s voice called, "Mellie! Mellie, where are you? You are in so much trouble!"

I’m dead meat if she finds me! Mellie quickly gave up her battle and ran after the eucalyptus branch, barely keeping up with his stride.

* * *

The sand changed to coarse dirt, with sharp pebbles and sticks. More and more trees filled her vision. Bushes scraped against her bare legs and slapped her face as she moved deeper inside a forest of eucalyptus and redwood trees. She winced in pain, wishing once again for her forgotten shoes.

"Excuse me! Sir?" Mellie looked around, stopping to nurse a foot cut by a sharp rock. She could not see the branch anywhere.

"Do not call me ‘sir’, I work for a living!" The branch peeked out from around one of the gigantic trees. "And, please try to keep up, we are almost at the gateway."
Mellie limped up to him. "Sorry, sir—I mean…Umm, what should I call you then?"

"Oh, well, we did skip that, did we not? Yes, all right, an introduction then." The eucalyptus seemed to enjoy formal etiquette for he gave an elaborate wave and bowed to her. "My name is Regnans, family of Myrtaceae, born member of the F.A.I.R.I.E.S., Britannia Sect, rank of Master Nymph Dryad."

"Nice to meet you, Reg…Reg?" Mellie chewed on the inside of her mouth. Never good at remembering names, she knew she would offend him with her lack of manners.

Sure enough, the Dryad raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Regnans." He gave a hurt sniff, then drolly sneered. "If you find that a difficult name, you should meet the rest of my family, all two-hundred and fifty of them!"

"Sorry, I just…well, it is a lot to remember. It’s a nice name, though. My name is Maryellen Goodwin of Brea Harte Middle School, San Jose, California. But everyone calls me Mellie." She stuck out her hand, intending to shake. Regnans stared at her.

"That is a strange curtsy. However, I guess ’twill do. We must get moving now. The Shadows abound, you know." Regnans made an about face and marched off faster than before.

* * *

Another hour passed and still they strode along the forest floor. Mellie’s feet were now cut, blistered, and bleeding. She kept up as best she could with Regnans’ long stride. Darkness and mist covered the woods. As she was about to plead for a break, Regnans stopped. Except for her heavy gulps of air, all seemed quiet. Regnans stiffened even more than usual. Nothing on him moved, apart from his eyes, which darted around quickly.

"All is safe, we may proceed." He held up a twiggy finger to his woody mouth. "Please do not speak, and try not to breathe so abominably loud."

Mellie nodded with a disgusted frown. Sweat dripped from her bangs. She tried to calm her breathing, even though her vision blurred and her legs wobbled. Her blisters had popped and oozed wetness.

Regnans moved again, yet this time he took slow, deliberate steps, all the while scanning his surroundings. He walked to a massive redwood tree and stroked its bark.

A breeze stirred up, rattling the leaves, sounding almost like spoken words. Mellie thought herself crazy again. However, the longer she stood there, the more she sensed that it really was the tree’s language. She had never listened to trees properly before. It said, "If you love, you will say the one true love that leads the way."

Regnans whispered in a leaf rustling voice, "Ah-gaw-pay."

A loud grumbling sound, like someone awakened after a long sleep, shook the grove. The Redwood opened two eyes, each the size of Mellie’s head, and blinked. A great fissure erupted below the eyes in the shape of a crescent and red-brown wooden teeth emerged. A long, knobby branch pushed its way out above the mouth and inhaled deeply.

The tree chuckled. Instead of the whispering leaves, a low, rumbling utterance of Human speech came from the Redwood tree. "Regnans! What brings you to my neck of the woods?" He blinked again, spotting Mellie. "And who is this? A new recruit? A Human? A Chosen?"

Mellie knew she looked silly, standing there with her mouth in an ‘O’ shape.

"Yes, yes. Please open the gate, we must not dawdle here—they may be watching!" Regnans looked agitated.
A deep laugh resounded from the Redwood. "Oh, Regnans! There are none who watch here!"

Regnans mumbled about Treants and their pride, then proclaimed in a slightly louder voice, "We must be sober, be vigilant; because our adversary, the Dark One, walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour!"

The Treant looked chagrinned. "You speak true, Dryad. Forgive me for acting like an arrogant seedling." He glanced at Mellie and with a lowered voice asked, "And what is your name, little Human?"

Mellie managed to squeak out, "Mellie Goodwin."

"Ah, ’tis always nice to have a Good Wind!" The Treant laughed heartily.

"Sorry to interrupt this lovely tete-a-tete," Regnans said, "but would you please open the gate? I left Westside completely unguarded."

An annoyed creak came from the base of the Redwood, followed by a sigh. "Yes, Regnans. Agape you said and agape it is. Go with the Light, my friends." The large, joyous eyes closed and the Treant whispered in his leaf rustling voice, "Until we meet again, Good Wind." His face disappeared and his roots lifted and pulled apart, exposing a tunnel within his trunk.

Regnans grabbed Mellie’s hand with his rough wooden one, and pulled her inside the opening. The tree closed itself abruptly and left them in total darkness.

Regnans cleared his throat and said, "Let there be Light!"

A burst of dazzling brightness sparkled from the tunnel’s wall. Mellie glanced around and noticed a long, winding stairwell leading down into the ground.

"Shall we, then?" Not waiting for a reply, Regnans started down the steps.

saber007's Light and Dark chapter 1:arrival

The rain beat down on the cloaked figure as it ran along the sidewalk carrying a large basket.The dark blanket of night consumed every inch of ground except for the front of a red brick, five storey building illuminated by a small porch light.Under this light a small metal sign was clearly seen,it read (The Shining Light orphanage:Reverend James Howard). The cloaked figure sat the basket on the front step and began to knock,but as it did a large hooded man grabbed it from behind.As he did this the hood of the cloaked figure fell back to reveal a young woman who had long,flowing golden hair and deep blue eyes."Did you think we wouldn't find you" the man said in a deep growling voice."You cant hide from the shadow, nor can you vanquish it".The woman turned her head a little."I cant ,but they can" she said gesturing towards the basket.Just then a light came on in a window above their heads,a woman poked her head out.As she did the man still holding the woman leaped over the stair railing and dragged her off into a dark alleyway.As she was being dragged she prayed in a silent voice."Dear Lord protect them from the shadow.Let them not be led astray from their destiny.I pray that their lives may not be so full of be so full of deception and darkness as mine has been,amen".She and the man disappeared into the darkness and she was never seen again.The front door of the orphanage opened and Sara Sanchez looked down at the basket with curiosity.She picked it up and lifted the dark cloth that covered it "oh my" she gasped.She took the basket in and rushed up the wooden stairs.She stopped when she reached a large wooden door.She pounded furiously on the door."Come in" said a tired voice on the other side of the door.Sara burst into the room.Reverend James Howard sat on the edge of his bed rubbing his eyes."What is it?" he asked.Sara handed him the basket,as he looked inside of the basket his eyes widened.Their inside the basket where two babies a boy and a girl, they each had a golden necklace that showed the symbol of the cross.The babies also had the deepest blue eyes the Reverend had ever seen.He lifted the baby boy out of the basket.As he did, Saras eyes widened in terror."What is it?" asked the pastor noticing her shocked expression.She only stared at the babies back, the Reverend turned the baby around to see what the fuss was about.Then he realised that she had good reason to be shocked, because there on the baby boys back was a pair of wings.They where small brown and looked like bat wings.He sat the baby boy down and picked up the baby girl.She also had wings, but hers where covered in pure white feathers."What are we going to do?" Sara had a habit of fretting when she wasn't in control of the situation."We keep them here." the reverend responded calmly."WHAT!" Sara exclaimed."Sara, this is an orphanage and they seem to be orphans so they stay."."But what about their wings?"she asked."They don't matter, where all equal in Gods eyes".With that said the Reverend pulled two of the drawers out of his dresser, emptied them and folded two blankets small enough to fit into them then he laid one of the babies in each one."That will do" he said in satisfied tone."Well since their staying, what should we call them?" Sara seemed to relax a little at this question."Lets name the girl Karen after my Grandma." she said."And the boy Daniel after my Father."So be it". said the Reverend.

Wassail: Hot Tea and Cider Punch

In the modern day, Wassail is most commonly recognized as an obscure reference in various traditional Christmas carols: "Wassail, wassail all over the town," for example, or "Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green". Wassail-themed songs were once sung by winter carollers who went from house to house, singing to the residents in exchange for small gifts of money, food and drink (often wassail.)

6 cups water
8 tea bags
2 1/4 cups sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon or 4 cinnamon sticks
32 cloves or 1 tsp ground cloves
5 cups cranberry juice
2 1/2 cups orange juice
1/2 cup lemon juice
1 cup grapefruit juice
4 cups apple cider
mandarin orange slices
marachino cherries

Boil water, tea bags, sugar, cinnamon, and cloves for 5 minutes. Remove tea bags. Add juices. Add more water/sugar to taste. Serve 1 cherry and 1 orange slice in each mug. Drink hot. Refrigerate extra and reheat when needed.

(For all my writers...what person is this written in? First, Second, or Third?)

Oak Tree, Jump Rope, and a Paper Clip

As promised, here is my free write about three unrelated things:

George's foot swung slowly back and forth as he sat in the arms of his favorite oak tree. How he loved Springtime. The meat of his apple tasted sweet and juice ran down his chin as he bit into it.

"George? George Snyder? Where are you hiding?" The voice sounded irritated yet playful.

Aw. That Nell never gives me any peace. George sighed and tossed his apple core at the feet of the young girl.

She let out a little yelp as she leapt away from the offending fruit. "Whatcha doin' up there?"

George laughed and shimmied down the tree. "Just thinkin' on how we might get a swing set up on this ol' monster."

"Really? Would you push me on it? I'd like that George." Nell batted her eyes at him. Her long black hair was bound up in some kind of clip that looked more like a torture device than a beauty product. But, it did show off her green eyes splendidly.

Blushing, George kicked at a pile of leaves. "Maybe. I've got some wood and a bit of rope, but not enough for both sides of the swing."

Nell smiled and held up a finger. "I've just the thing!" She took off running.

George pushed back his shaggy brown hair. How long had he known Nell? They used to play everyday, growing up next door to each other in the deep woods of the Blue Ridge Mountains. As he walked over to the barn he wondered when she stopped being his chum and became a girl? He shrugged and shook his head.

The barn door squeaked when he pushed it open. Now where did I put that wood? He found it under a pile of chicken feed, picked it up, and turned toward the daylight. On his way out, he grabbed the rope hanging on a rusty nail just inside the door frame.

Nell was waiting for him under the oak tree, skipping rope while singing a silly tune.

"Oh, gee, Nell. I can't be usin' a sparkly purple jump rope on my swing!"

"Come on, George. It's not like anybody'll see. Besides, it's part my swing, too."

"Fine. But we've got to label it...just in case someone does. Got a pen?" George tied off the purple rope's end and attached it to one side of the wood.

"Nope. I do have this though." Nell pulled a paper clip out of her jean's pocket.

"Yeah, like that'll help." He rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Shows how much you know, smarty pants." Nell opened up the clip, grabbed the wood from George's hands, and started scratching the wood with the clip.

A few minutes later, she presented her workmanship to George.

"Okay. I like how your name is on the purple rope side and mine is on the normal rope side...but why'd ya hafta put that stinkin' heart in the middle of the seat?"

Nell smiled. "No reason."

George reddened again. "Girls," he mumbled and climbed back up the tree to tie off the swing.