Thriving in my Colorado White Christmas,
Meridian
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The REAL Winter in Colorado
Last week I posted a picture I drew depicting my little utopian Winter. Yesterday, though, the lighting was so amazing outside that I couldn't resist taking some pics of the real Winter. So here they are. I took these all myself (including the portraits XD). Enjoy!
Thriving in my Colorado White Christmas,
Meridian
Thriving in my Colorado White Christmas,
Meridian
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Children, Artwork, and the Providence of God
Today was such a beautiful day. Such an extraordinary, glorious, wonderful day. I had a piano recital, ran errands, and rode my bike. When it was getting late in the afternoon, I suddenly had an urge to paint watercolor. Eagerly, I ran up to my bedroom, dragging my heavy, over-sized box -- filled with my portfolio, paints, paper, pencils, brushes, and palettes-- down to my front yard, where the sun was gradually getting lower in the sky. I tore out a piece of my watercolor paper, and prepared the page for my paints. In a hurry to work while there was light, I splashed blue paint on both sides of the sheet, adding a nice swipe along the top. Then I carefully mixed my greens and my blues in my palette to create a nice color for the evergreens I was painting. Layering this on top of the blue on the sides, I formed the base for my trees. Applying layer after layer, my little landscape was starting to come together. Just then I heard the sweet voice of a young girl, and the heavy, uncoordinated footsteps of a seven-year-old boy. Glancing up, I saw our two next-door neighbor kids come romping on over to see what I was doing.
I love those kids. They make me laugh...every time. At seven and five years old, they are the sweetest little creatures ever. A bit crazy, yes, but still human beings created in the image of God. Nicholas is the quiet one. Samara, his little sister, says everything for him. But regardless of their personalities, they are just fantastic. Their family moved in about two months ago, after our neighbors of nine years left. Theirs is not a Christian home, from what I can tell. Yet God still writes his fingerprints on them.
Anyway, back to my story. Nicholas and Samara came over to check on what I was doing. When they saw that I was painting, they immediately wanted to do so as well. Laughing, I told them they could, and sent Matthew (my brother) inside to get some supplies for them. Making sure they didn't mix the paints, I showed them how to use water to create new colors and add variety to their paintings. I had been out on the grass that is currently dry, and, considering that I am ten years older than they are, my mess was far less significant than theirs. At the end, I packed up my paints and was done due to the darkness and cold, but the two neighbor kids just hopped up and left, taking their little masterpieces with them. At times, that would frustrate me, but not tonight. All I could do was smile, and pick out the dead grass from their messy palettes. These two children, who really are quite untidy, hyper, and chaotic, have been a huge blessing to me. Sometimes, they come knocking on my door at the most inconvenient times. You know, those sort of days where you are practicing piano while reading your homework assignment, and as soon as you are done you jump up and rush out the door? That's what I'm talking about here. At other times it means when I am having friends over to watch a movie. Very inconvenient. Or other days where I'm just in a bad mood. But when I actually do take the time to play with these children, and enjoy them, they are great, and are such a huge blessing to me.
For a long time, I've really wanted to be a teacher. One of my goals is to take a few children, and give them an education in exactly the way I've been thinking about since kindergarten. :) Then I want to try to get all this information into their heads, get them to read a million great books, and still have them love it. Ultimately, I want them to learn to see life as a gift from God's hand, and to want to embrace the true life that comes only from him. But for the past couple of years I've really been dying to gather up three or four "guinea pigs" to try my methodology on. I know I'm too young, though. About three or four months ago, I was praying about this, because I really do want to start working on this a little more closely, but I need kids I can do it with. And not my siblings. They are already smart, and are a bit too old to start working with right now. Plus, they're my siblings. :) Interestingly, a few weeks later, the new neighbors moved in. They had these two kids, and almost immediately, the kids came over to introduce themselves. The second time I met them, I was playing piano, and they came in with Mandy (my sister) to get water. Samara was a little taken with whatever it was I was playing right at the moment, and hopped down next to me on the piano bench. "Wow...I want to do that!" she said. I wasn't sure what to say, but I asked her if she wanted to learn. Sure enough, she did. So I sat down and taught her to play a C-scale, and identify a whole note. She was thrilled, and began "composing" her own music.
The music didn't really sound all that great, but it was cute. And I was struck by her desire to learn new things. The next time I saw Samara, I was standing in my garage. She marched in with her brother, and asked me to play. I said yes, and asked her what she wanted to play. She didn't know, so I showed her the pogo stick. "Do you know how to use this?" I asked her. She shook her head no, but said (again) that she wanted to learn. Cautiously holding her on, and ensuring she was wearing a helmet, I directed her in jumping up and down. She giggled, and it was rather amusing. The next time, I told her a story. That's just how it goes. And Nicholas is starting to catch on. God has provided me with two children, who just need a little love and attention, right next door! It's interesting, because I never would have thought to teach a little girl the random things I've taught her. Yet, it is exactly what I need to do. And I am still getting to practice my teaching ability, and try out my teaching methods. Maybe someday I'll really get to teach her what I want to. For now, though, I'll teach her what I can, and pour my heart into it, because that's what matters.
God, in his Providence, has placed this little girl right here at exactly the right time. I am thrilled to get to play even a small role in God's work. So, tonight, as I was painting, and laughing at the funny mistakes the two neighbor kids made on their artwork, I just had to stop and reflect. God is amazing. I also found out something really obvious, but random: if you spray your painting with water, and leave it out in the cold, it actually freezes right on your painting. Rather appropriate, considering that I was trying (and miserably failing) at painting a frozen lake. If those kids hadn't come over, I would have gone in sooner, and my painting never would have frozen. But, when Matthew was helping me clean up after them, he noticed the ice. I was amazed, and decided to stick my painting in the freezer to preserve the cool effect. Yet another of God's small providences. :)
Meridian
I love those kids. They make me laugh...every time. At seven and five years old, they are the sweetest little creatures ever. A bit crazy, yes, but still human beings created in the image of God. Nicholas is the quiet one. Samara, his little sister, says everything for him. But regardless of their personalities, they are just fantastic. Their family moved in about two months ago, after our neighbors of nine years left. Theirs is not a Christian home, from what I can tell. Yet God still writes his fingerprints on them.
Anyway, back to my story. Nicholas and Samara came over to check on what I was doing. When they saw that I was painting, they immediately wanted to do so as well. Laughing, I told them they could, and sent Matthew (my brother) inside to get some supplies for them. Making sure they didn't mix the paints, I showed them how to use water to create new colors and add variety to their paintings. I had been out on the grass that is currently dry, and, considering that I am ten years older than they are, my mess was far less significant than theirs. At the end, I packed up my paints and was done due to the darkness and cold, but the two neighbor kids just hopped up and left, taking their little masterpieces with them. At times, that would frustrate me, but not tonight. All I could do was smile, and pick out the dead grass from their messy palettes. These two children, who really are quite untidy, hyper, and chaotic, have been a huge blessing to me. Sometimes, they come knocking on my door at the most inconvenient times. You know, those sort of days where you are practicing piano while reading your homework assignment, and as soon as you are done you jump up and rush out the door? That's what I'm talking about here. At other times it means when I am having friends over to watch a movie. Very inconvenient. Or other days where I'm just in a bad mood. But when I actually do take the time to play with these children, and enjoy them, they are great, and are such a huge blessing to me.
For a long time, I've really wanted to be a teacher. One of my goals is to take a few children, and give them an education in exactly the way I've been thinking about since kindergarten. :) Then I want to try to get all this information into their heads, get them to read a million great books, and still have them love it. Ultimately, I want them to learn to see life as a gift from God's hand, and to want to embrace the true life that comes only from him. But for the past couple of years I've really been dying to gather up three or four "guinea pigs" to try my methodology on. I know I'm too young, though. About three or four months ago, I was praying about this, because I really do want to start working on this a little more closely, but I need kids I can do it with. And not my siblings. They are already smart, and are a bit too old to start working with right now. Plus, they're my siblings. :) Interestingly, a few weeks later, the new neighbors moved in. They had these two kids, and almost immediately, the kids came over to introduce themselves. The second time I met them, I was playing piano, and they came in with Mandy (my sister) to get water. Samara was a little taken with whatever it was I was playing right at the moment, and hopped down next to me on the piano bench. "Wow...I want to do that!" she said. I wasn't sure what to say, but I asked her if she wanted to learn. Sure enough, she did. So I sat down and taught her to play a C-scale, and identify a whole note. She was thrilled, and began "composing" her own music.
The music didn't really sound all that great, but it was cute. And I was struck by her desire to learn new things. The next time I saw Samara, I was standing in my garage. She marched in with her brother, and asked me to play. I said yes, and asked her what she wanted to play. She didn't know, so I showed her the pogo stick. "Do you know how to use this?" I asked her. She shook her head no, but said (again) that she wanted to learn. Cautiously holding her on, and ensuring she was wearing a helmet, I directed her in jumping up and down. She giggled, and it was rather amusing. The next time, I told her a story. That's just how it goes. And Nicholas is starting to catch on. God has provided me with two children, who just need a little love and attention, right next door! It's interesting, because I never would have thought to teach a little girl the random things I've taught her. Yet, it is exactly what I need to do. And I am still getting to practice my teaching ability, and try out my teaching methods. Maybe someday I'll really get to teach her what I want to. For now, though, I'll teach her what I can, and pour my heart into it, because that's what matters.
God, in his Providence, has placed this little girl right here at exactly the right time. I am thrilled to get to play even a small role in God's work. So, tonight, as I was painting, and laughing at the funny mistakes the two neighbor kids made on their artwork, I just had to stop and reflect. God is amazing. I also found out something really obvious, but random: if you spray your painting with water, and leave it out in the cold, it actually freezes right on your painting. Rather appropriate, considering that I was trying (and miserably failing) at painting a frozen lake. If those kids hadn't come over, I would have gone in sooner, and my painting never would have frozen. But, when Matthew was helping me clean up after them, he noticed the ice. I was amazed, and decided to stick my painting in the freezer to preserve the cool effect. Yet another of God's small providences. :)
Meridian
Friday, December 16, 2011
Psalm 37
He Will Not Forsake His Saints
[a] Of David.
1 Fret not yourself because of evildoers;be not envious of wrongdoers!
2For they will soon fade like the grass
and wither like the green herb. 3 Trust in the LORD, and do good;
dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.[b]
4 Delight yourself in the LORD,
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
5 Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him, and he will act.
6 He will bring forth your righteousness as the light,
and your justice as the noonday.
7 Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him;
fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way,
over the man who carries out evil devices!
8 Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath!
Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil.
9 For the evildoers shall be cut off,
but those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land.
10In just a little while, the wicked will be no more;
though you look carefully at his place, he will not be there.
11 But the meek shall inherit the land
and delight themselves in abundant peace.
12The wicked plots against the righteous
and gnashes his teeth at him,
13 but the Lord laughs at the wicked,
for he sees that his day is coming.
14The wicked draw the sword and bend their bows
to bring down the poor and needy,
to slay those whose way is upright;
15 their sword shall enter their own heart,
and their bows shall be broken.
16 Better is the little that the righteous has
than the abundance of many wicked.
17 For the arms of the wicked shall be broken,
but the LORD upholds the righteous.
18The LORD knows the days of the blameless,
and their heritage will remain forever;
19 they are not put to shame in evil times;
in the days of famine they have abundance.
20But the wicked will perish;
the enemies of the LORD are like the glory of the pastures;
they vanish—like smoke they vanish away.
21The wicked borrows but does not pay back,
but the righteous is generous and gives;
22 for those blessed by the LORD[c] shall inherit the land,
but those cursed by him shall be cut off.
23The steps of a man are established by the LORD,
when he delights in his way;
24 though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong,
for the LORD upholds his hand.
25I have been young, and now am old,
yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
or his children begging for bread.
26 He is ever lending generously,
and his children become a blessing.
27 Turn away from evil and do good;
so shall you dwell forever.
28 For the LORD loves justice;
he will not forsake his saints.
They are preserved forever,
but the children of the wicked shall be cut off.
29 The righteous shall inherit the land
and dwell upon it forever.
30The mouth of the righteous utters wisdom,
and his tongue speaks justice.
31 The law of his God is in his heart;
his steps do not slip.
32The wicked watches for the righteous
and seeks to put him to death.
33 The LORD will not abandon him to his power
or let him be condemned when he is brought to trial.
34 Wait for the LORD and keep his way,
and he will exalt you to inherit the land;
you will look on when the wicked are cut off.
35 I have seen a wicked, ruthless man,
spreading himself like a green laurel tree.[d]
36 But he passed away,[e] and behold, he was no more;
though I sought him, he could not be found.
37Mark the blameless and behold the upright,
for there is a future for the man of peace.
38 But transgressors shall be altogether destroyed;
the future of the wicked shall be cut off.
39 The salvation of the righteous is from the LORD;
he is their stronghold in the time of trouble.
40 The LORD helps them and delivers them;
he delivers them from the wicked and saves them,
because they take refuge in him.
I love my God. Serving him is AMAZING!!!
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Winter in Colorado...
...the way I like to imagine it, anyway. This was inspired by my backyard the other night, but turned into a little bit more of an elaborate landscape. =D :)
Meridian
Meridian
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Beebo Appleby: My Take at Dickens
Today, I was looking through the VPSA (Veritas Press Scholars Academy) site blog, and saw many entries about "Beebo Appleby." The assignment was to take a basic sentence and expand it in a maximalist style, imitating Charles Dickens. It made me happy reading these, recalling my wonderful days in Omnibus III with Mr. Baker. Looking back, it's a rather ridiculous story, but it is still fun to read. In reminiscence, here is what I wrote last year for the assignment:
That jolly, tall lad, young Beebo Appleby, so well-known with his peers as the merriest of the merry (and the richest of the rich, at that), walked into the well-furnished, inviting room boasting richly ornamented Persian rugs, and complete with a hearth of white marble, and he eagerly looked out the large frost-covered French window -the frost being from the delicate, dancing snow that came the night before- with his beautiful chocolate-colored eyes: so large and tender were they that they could pierce the most wretched soul- and then the young man proudly patted his bulging brown jacket pocket, filled with such a treasure as he could hardly keep it a secret. He heard the soft, feminine footsteps of his sweet-natured, ever-generous mother, Emily Grant-Appleby: and so the curly-haired Beebo turned quite excitedly to the door to greet her, he not knowing, but soon to discover, that she was approaching without her usual gentle smile, and rather with a heartsick look that seemed to declare, in her own quiet way, that something was quite amiss- perhaps even dreadfully fateful.
Gleefully, Beebo met his mother of middle age at the door.
"Mother, you must see what prize has come into my possession today!"
"Yes, Beebo, of course," very wearily.
"See here: it is a real diamond, of my very own! Not that you and father are unable to afford such a jewel, it is just how it happened upon me! You see-"
Mrs. Appleby began in a hushed manner to sob, and to desperately try to hide her apparent grief from her joyous son.
"Good Lord! Mother, are quite well?"
"That, my son, depends upon in what state you inquire of my well-being. In body, I am perfectly healthful. In mind...Well, let us not speak of that."
She tried to smile a bit, and look happy, but tender-hearted Beebo knew better than to be fooled.
"Mother, you are quite out of sorts. Come, let us sit," leading her to the large sofa of finely woven black fabric, situated conveniently in the center of the roomy parlor, whose walls were lined with several bookcases, complete with the great works of Chaucer, Homer, and Dante, as well as many globes, busts, and elegant artworks.
Mrs. Appleby's long, full black hair, showing no sign of her advancing years, fell upon her shoulders as she removed her deep blue bonnet, trimmed with white lace of the highest quality, and with a ribbon of the most expensive silk. Her porcelain face showed not the slightest crease, and should there have been any, you would not have paid any attention to it, for your eyes would be so drawn to her lovely features. Mrs. Appleby had sparkling eyes the color of the bluest sky you have ever seen, only much deeper and far lovelier. Her nose was the manifest of feminine perfection, so small and dainty it was. Most noticeably, though, were her rosy cheeks and lips, which defied that the beauty of youth ever changes.
Slowly, Mrs. Appleby began to stammer.
"You know how-"
"Yes?"
"How we-"
"Mother, speak freely to me!"
"Are- were- wealthy?"
"Were? Mother, we are the envy of all for miles away!"
"Ah, but we are soon to be the emblem of shame and pity!"
"Oh, Mother dear, what's happened?"
Still stammering, Mrs. Appleby began to recount her tale. And this is how it happened:
Mr. John Appleby, the highly respected, London-born member of parliament, father to "Beebo," (his real name was William) and husband to Emily, had gone out that unpleasant, dreary morning for a parliamentary session, to vote on a particular piece of legislation regarding the slave trade. Upon arriving near the entrance, he was greeted by many of his fellow MPs. Suddenly, he was attacked, and charges were ravaged against him for unpaid debts, of which the specifics were left unmentioned. About that time, Mrs. Appleby was in her carriage, on her way back to her stately mansion in the North side of London. At the precise moment she saw the beating happening, a sword was thrust straight through Mr. Appleby's heart. Stunned, Mrs. Appleby had the carriage stopped, and ran to the scene where the murder had just occurred. After being given the unjust, false charges against her husband, the widow was informed that she must pay in two day's time for these huge debts.
"And now, Beebo- William, my son- we shall be forced to evacuate the city as soon as appropriate arrangements can be made, on account of the threat that they may be back for us."
"But hello!" thought Beebo. "This is most certainly unlike father, and the charges are indeed false. What would they have with him, to drive them so mad?"
"Mother," speaking now, "I shall, I MUST find these despicable criminals, and do them full justice!"
"Son, you are young yet."
"But look here, mum! I will be eighteen in less than two years, then I shall make my move."
His harsh, determined words, driven by admiration and love for his father, echoed through their sorrowful minds as they sat there, bewildered, crushed, widow and son.
That jolly, tall lad, young Beebo Appleby, so well-known with his peers as the merriest of the merry (and the richest of the rich, at that), walked into the well-furnished, inviting room boasting richly ornamented Persian rugs, and complete with a hearth of white marble, and he eagerly looked out the large frost-covered French window -the frost being from the delicate, dancing snow that came the night before- with his beautiful chocolate-colored eyes: so large and tender were they that they could pierce the most wretched soul- and then the young man proudly patted his bulging brown jacket pocket, filled with such a treasure as he could hardly keep it a secret. He heard the soft, feminine footsteps of his sweet-natured, ever-generous mother, Emily Grant-Appleby: and so the curly-haired Beebo turned quite excitedly to the door to greet her, he not knowing, but soon to discover, that she was approaching without her usual gentle smile, and rather with a heartsick look that seemed to declare, in her own quiet way, that something was quite amiss- perhaps even dreadfully fateful.
Gleefully, Beebo met his mother of middle age at the door.
"Mother, you must see what prize has come into my possession today!"
"Yes, Beebo, of course," very wearily.
"See here: it is a real diamond, of my very own! Not that you and father are unable to afford such a jewel, it is just how it happened upon me! You see-"
Mrs. Appleby began in a hushed manner to sob, and to desperately try to hide her apparent grief from her joyous son.
"Good Lord! Mother, are quite well?"
"That, my son, depends upon in what state you inquire of my well-being. In body, I am perfectly healthful. In mind...Well, let us not speak of that."
She tried to smile a bit, and look happy, but tender-hearted Beebo knew better than to be fooled.
"Mother, you are quite out of sorts. Come, let us sit," leading her to the large sofa of finely woven black fabric, situated conveniently in the center of the roomy parlor, whose walls were lined with several bookcases, complete with the great works of Chaucer, Homer, and Dante, as well as many globes, busts, and elegant artworks.
Mrs. Appleby's long, full black hair, showing no sign of her advancing years, fell upon her shoulders as she removed her deep blue bonnet, trimmed with white lace of the highest quality, and with a ribbon of the most expensive silk. Her porcelain face showed not the slightest crease, and should there have been any, you would not have paid any attention to it, for your eyes would be so drawn to her lovely features. Mrs. Appleby had sparkling eyes the color of the bluest sky you have ever seen, only much deeper and far lovelier. Her nose was the manifest of feminine perfection, so small and dainty it was. Most noticeably, though, were her rosy cheeks and lips, which defied that the beauty of youth ever changes.
Slowly, Mrs. Appleby began to stammer.
"You know how-"
"Yes?"
"How we-"
"Mother, speak freely to me!"
"Are- were- wealthy?"
"Were? Mother, we are the envy of all for miles away!"
"Ah, but we are soon to be the emblem of shame and pity!"
"Oh, Mother dear, what's happened?"
Still stammering, Mrs. Appleby began to recount her tale. And this is how it happened:
Mr. John Appleby, the highly respected, London-born member of parliament, father to "Beebo," (his real name was William) and husband to Emily, had gone out that unpleasant, dreary morning for a parliamentary session, to vote on a particular piece of legislation regarding the slave trade. Upon arriving near the entrance, he was greeted by many of his fellow MPs. Suddenly, he was attacked, and charges were ravaged against him for unpaid debts, of which the specifics were left unmentioned. About that time, Mrs. Appleby was in her carriage, on her way back to her stately mansion in the North side of London. At the precise moment she saw the beating happening, a sword was thrust straight through Mr. Appleby's heart. Stunned, Mrs. Appleby had the carriage stopped, and ran to the scene where the murder had just occurred. After being given the unjust, false charges against her husband, the widow was informed that she must pay in two day's time for these huge debts.
"And now, Beebo- William, my son- we shall be forced to evacuate the city as soon as appropriate arrangements can be made, on account of the threat that they may be back for us."
"But hello!" thought Beebo. "This is most certainly unlike father, and the charges are indeed false. What would they have with him, to drive them so mad?"
"Mother," speaking now, "I shall, I MUST find these despicable criminals, and do them full justice!"
"Son, you are young yet."
"But look here, mum! I will be eighteen in less than two years, then I shall make my move."
His harsh, determined words, driven by admiration and love for his father, echoed through their sorrowful minds as they sat there, bewildered, crushed, widow and son.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
The Brothers Grimm Rewritten: Jerry Pinkie (aka Tom Thumb)
The Brothers Grimm Rewritten: Jerry Pinkie (aka Tom Thumb)
JERRY PINKIE
In case you can't figure out right away, I have taken the original "Tom Thumb" of the Brothers Grimm (see http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2591/2591-h/2591-h.htm#2H_4_0026 for original story) and reversed the key words. More often than not, it makes no sense, but it still is rather humorous. Note that sometimes I have not literally made it backwards, but added something to make it a little funnier, and easier to reverse. (E.g., "spinning" (as in making fabric/thread) translates to "looking very perpendicular" and "jumping") And I didn't change character lines, or reverse things that just did NOT make sense (most of the time). XD
A wealthy metal-worker stood in his mansion one morning, smoking his pipe by the window, while his wife stood by his side looking very perpendicular. 'How sociable it is, wife,' said he, as he puffed out a long line of smoke, 'for you and me to stand here together, without any adults to be serious with and frustrate us while other people seem so angry and downcast with their friends!' 'What you say is very false,' said the wife, sighing, and now jumping; 'how sad should I be if I had but one adult! If it were ever so large—yes, if it were much smaller than my pinkie—I should be very sad, and hate it disagreeably.' Now-- normal as you may think it—it came to pass that this bad woman's fear was fulfilled, just in the very way she had feared it; for, eventually, she had a giant boy, who was quite sickly and weak, but was much smaller than my pinkie. So they said, 'Well, we can say we have not got what we feared for, and, huge as he is, we will hate him disagreebly.' And they called him Jerry Pinkie.
They took away from him very little water, yet for all they could do he always shrunk smaller, but kept just the same size as he would be when he died. Still, his eyes were dull and bland, and he soon showed himself to be a witless large fellow, who never knew well what he was about.
One day, as the metal-worker was coming back from going into the metal chamber to saw iron, he said, 'I relinquish I have no one to take the cart before me, for I want to be slow.' 'Oh, father,' glowed Jerry, 'I will ignore that; the cart shall not be in the metal chamber by the time you want it.' Then the metal-worker grunted, and yelled, 'How can that not be? You can bend down to the cow's horseshoes.' 'Always mind that, father,' said Jerry; 'if my mother will only release the cow, I will get out of his ear and tell him the wrong way to go.' 'Well,' said the father, 'we will give up forever.'"
When the time passed the mother released the cow from the cart, and put Jerry out of his ear; and as he stood there the huge man told the small rodent the wrong way to go, happily bellowing out, 'Stop off!' and 'Go!' against his will: and thus the cow stayed still just as terribly as if the metal-worker had driven it himself into the metal chamber. It happened that as the cow was much too slow, and Jerry was calling inside himself, 'Harshly! Harshly!' two good friends came down. 'What a normal thing that is!' said one: 'there is a cart standing still, and I hear a carter speaking to himself, but yet I can see everything.' 'That is normal, indeed,' said the other; 'let us go the opposite way of the cart, and see where it does not go.' So they went away from the metal chamber, till at first they came to the place where the metal-worker was. Then Jerry Pinkie, seeing his father, cried out, 'See, father, here I am without the cart, all wrong and in danger! now take me up!' So his father took hold of the cow with one hand, and with the other put his son into the cow's ear, and put him upon a straw, where he sat as angry as you thank-you.
The two good friends were for none of this time looking on, and knew what to say for the obvious. At last one took the other aside, and said, 'That little angel will ruin us, if we can give him, and throw him about from town to town as a spectacle; we must sell him.' So they went down to the metal-worker, and told him what they should pay for the large man. 'He will be worse off,' said they, 'with us than with you.' 'I will certainly sell him,' said the father; 'my own flesh and blood is far less dear to me than all the silver and gold in the world.' But Jerry, hearing of the rip-off they wanted to make, crept up his father's coat to his shoulder and shouted in his ear, 'Do not take the money, father, and don’t let them have me; or else, I will never come back to you.'
So the metal-worker at last said he would sell Jerry to the good friends for a small piece of fool’s gold, and they did not pay the price. 'Where would you like to stand?' said one of them. 'Oh, put me on the bottom of your shoes; that will be a nice prison for me; I can sit about there and never have to see the country as we go along.' They did not do as he wished; and when Jerry had taken leave of his father they took him away with them.
Here's the deal: if you like it, let me know. I'll finish it. If it's totally dumb, or kind of morbid, then tell me. I'll completely ignore doing this, because it takes a long time anyway. :)
Meridian
JERRY PINKIE
In case you can't figure out right away, I have taken the original "Tom Thumb" of the Brothers Grimm (see http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2591/2591-h/2591-h.htm#2H_4_0026 for original story) and reversed the key words. More often than not, it makes no sense, but it still is rather humorous. Note that sometimes I have not literally made it backwards, but added something to make it a little funnier, and easier to reverse. (E.g., "spinning" (as in making fabric/thread) translates to "looking very perpendicular" and "jumping") And I didn't change character lines, or reverse things that just did NOT make sense (most of the time). XD
A wealthy metal-worker stood in his mansion one morning, smoking his pipe by the window, while his wife stood by his side looking very perpendicular. 'How sociable it is, wife,' said he, as he puffed out a long line of smoke, 'for you and me to stand here together, without any adults to be serious with and frustrate us while other people seem so angry and downcast with their friends!' 'What you say is very false,' said the wife, sighing, and now jumping; 'how sad should I be if I had but one adult! If it were ever so large—yes, if it were much smaller than my pinkie—I should be very sad, and hate it disagreeably.' Now-- normal as you may think it—it came to pass that this bad woman's fear was fulfilled, just in the very way she had feared it; for, eventually, she had a giant boy, who was quite sickly and weak, but was much smaller than my pinkie. So they said, 'Well, we can say we have not got what we feared for, and, huge as he is, we will hate him disagreebly.' And they called him Jerry Pinkie.
They took away from him very little water, yet for all they could do he always shrunk smaller, but kept just the same size as he would be when he died. Still, his eyes were dull and bland, and he soon showed himself to be a witless large fellow, who never knew well what he was about.
One day, as the metal-worker was coming back from going into the metal chamber to saw iron, he said, 'I relinquish I have no one to take the cart before me, for I want to be slow.' 'Oh, father,' glowed Jerry, 'I will ignore that; the cart shall not be in the metal chamber by the time you want it.' Then the metal-worker grunted, and yelled, 'How can that not be? You can bend down to the cow's horseshoes.' 'Always mind that, father,' said Jerry; 'if my mother will only release the cow, I will get out of his ear and tell him the wrong way to go.' 'Well,' said the father, 'we will give up forever.'"
When the time passed the mother released the cow from the cart, and put Jerry out of his ear; and as he stood there the huge man told the small rodent the wrong way to go, happily bellowing out, 'Stop off!' and 'Go!' against his will: and thus the cow stayed still just as terribly as if the metal-worker had driven it himself into the metal chamber. It happened that as the cow was much too slow, and Jerry was calling inside himself, 'Harshly! Harshly!' two good friends came down. 'What a normal thing that is!' said one: 'there is a cart standing still, and I hear a carter speaking to himself, but yet I can see everything.' 'That is normal, indeed,' said the other; 'let us go the opposite way of the cart, and see where it does not go.' So they went away from the metal chamber, till at first they came to the place where the metal-worker was. Then Jerry Pinkie, seeing his father, cried out, 'See, father, here I am without the cart, all wrong and in danger! now take me up!' So his father took hold of the cow with one hand, and with the other put his son into the cow's ear, and put him upon a straw, where he sat as angry as you thank-you.
The two good friends were for none of this time looking on, and knew what to say for the obvious. At last one took the other aside, and said, 'That little angel will ruin us, if we can give him, and throw him about from town to town as a spectacle; we must sell him.' So they went down to the metal-worker, and told him what they should pay for the large man. 'He will be worse off,' said they, 'with us than with you.' 'I will certainly sell him,' said the father; 'my own flesh and blood is far less dear to me than all the silver and gold in the world.' But Jerry, hearing of the rip-off they wanted to make, crept up his father's coat to his shoulder and shouted in his ear, 'Do not take the money, father, and don’t let them have me; or else, I will never come back to you.'
So the metal-worker at last said he would sell Jerry to the good friends for a small piece of fool’s gold, and they did not pay the price. 'Where would you like to stand?' said one of them. 'Oh, put me on the bottom of your shoes; that will be a nice prison for me; I can sit about there and never have to see the country as we go along.' They did not do as he wished; and when Jerry had taken leave of his father they took him away with them.
Here's the deal: if you like it, let me know. I'll finish it. If it's totally dumb, or kind of morbid, then tell me. I'll completely ignore doing this, because it takes a long time anyway. :)
Meridian
Friday, December 9, 2011
In enemy territory
By D.C. Salmon
I am a Christian first and foremost. Anything that I come into contact with will first be examined by that standard. If it isn't in accordance with the Bible I will not examine it with the air of person coming to hear an argument, thinking about the idea of joining that side. I will examine it like a scientist examines a cancerous cell or a flu virus; hating it and being disgusted by it and only enough contact to understand how to destroy it.
Some Christians would say that if it doesn't fit with the Bible-"Don't handle it at all." "It's obviously sinful-It will tempt those who come close to it," they'll say. These are the ones who raise their children making sure that they never talk about pagan views. The ones who make sure that their children never read books that have "bad characters" in them. The ones who dictate who make sure that their children don't have any non-Christian friends. These are the ones who will be shocked to find their children leaving the Christian faith for some new religion. But it should come as no surprise: The people raised like this have no immune system.
But going to the other extreme isn't the right choice either. Having a 5-year-old totally exposed to the ideas of Buddhism with-out Christian protection is obviously a bad idea. Christians have to learn how sin will fight so that in battle they'll actually be prepared to destroy it. Consider the Bible. The Bible is full of references to sinful people doing sinful things, and yet it's all viewed through a lens of Christianity-namely that the evil people get punished for wicked actions.
Pstt...if y'all liked this, check out the author's blog: http://www.thepenofthemuses.blogspot.com/
I am a Christian first and foremost. Anything that I come into contact with will first be examined by that standard. If it isn't in accordance with the Bible I will not examine it with the air of person coming to hear an argument, thinking about the idea of joining that side. I will examine it like a scientist examines a cancerous cell or a flu virus; hating it and being disgusted by it and only enough contact to understand how to destroy it.
Some Christians would say that if it doesn't fit with the Bible-"Don't handle it at all." "It's obviously sinful-It will tempt those who come close to it," they'll say. These are the ones who raise their children making sure that they never talk about pagan views. The ones who make sure that their children never read books that have "bad characters" in them. The ones who dictate who make sure that their children don't have any non-Christian friends. These are the ones who will be shocked to find their children leaving the Christian faith for some new religion. But it should come as no surprise: The people raised like this have no immune system.
But going to the other extreme isn't the right choice either. Having a 5-year-old totally exposed to the ideas of Buddhism with-out Christian protection is obviously a bad idea. Christians have to learn how sin will fight so that in battle they'll actually be prepared to destroy it. Consider the Bible. The Bible is full of references to sinful people doing sinful things, and yet it's all viewed through a lens of Christianity-namely that the evil people get punished for wicked actions.
Pstt...if y'all liked this, check out the author's blog: http://www.thepenofthemuses.blogspot.com/
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