Weather

(2nd Consecutive Post!)
Today I decided to keep a weather log. I looked at the clouds and the temperature, and felt the wind and humidity, and wrote them down in a book. These are the entrys;

8/21/12

Weather: Sunny, sunny sunny!

Clouds: Cirrostratus; possible moist weather ahead.

Wind: almost nonexistent.

Temp: 76 farenheight

Humidity: leaning towards dry.

Time recorded: 12:47 PM.
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2:49 PM
Temp: 79 farenheight.

Clouds: Cirrus; Cumulus; Nimbostratus?

Wind: barely there.

Humidity: Same.
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5:45 PM
Clouds: Cumulus and Cirrus to the north; Nimbostratus to the south. Storm soon?

Temp: 76.5 farenheight. Went down a bit.

Humidity: Risen a bit. Not much.
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6:52 PM: wind picked up a bit.
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7:32 PM
Humidity rose; less clouds.

At that point there was less Nimbostratus and more Cirrus and Cirrostratus so I could safely assume we weren't getting the storm I predicted. Tomorrow I'll check the weather reports of surrounding areas and see if I was at least a little right.

(2nd Consecutive Post!)

Nature Documentaries

Okay; so I missed a few days. So sue me. But I didn't really feel like writing.
Anyway, I'm writing today, right? so;
     Lately we were discussing how Owen used to like studying things like cephlapods and snakes. He used to latch on to a subject, then go out to the library and check out all the books he could find on it. So, in an attempt to rekindle this love of the natural world, i found a documentary on netflix.
"Blue Planet" was one I had watched before, and had not been disappointed. It's a documentary in chunks, about the ocean, it's inhabitants, and it's effect on the rest of the world.
I was worried, though, about showing it to Owen. At first glance, he doesn't seem like the type who would sit through a nature documentary. But he watched the whole thing. Even as we were learning about the breeding rituals of squids, even as we were watching a baby gray whale being killed by orcas, he didn't take his eyes of the screen.
     When prompted, he said about the movie; "I liked it, except for the part where they killed that baby whale." I can only imagine that he either liked watching the ocean scenes, or he could actually understand what the narrator was saying. Don't get me wrong; I do speak english. But most of what he was saying just couldn't seem to penetrate my brain. I suppose we have a young marine biologist in our midst.
     Come to think of it, the last time we took him to the boathouse he seemed engrossed in watching the baitfish jumping out of the water. He seemed to enjoy learning that the reason they jumped was that they were being chased by bass. And the last time he went on a learning spree, wasn't it cephlapods that so caught his attention? Does he not still pride himself on knowing the facts about blue-ringed octupi and flambouyant cuttlefish? I had thought, originally, that his young mind was geared toward engineering and architecture, being the fan of legos and minecraft he is. But he may be a naturalist yet.
    

My Awesome Day at the Lagoon/Beach.

Remember yesterday, when I went to the beach but didn't have time to tell you about it? Well, as soon as I wrote that last entry, I sat down in front of microsoft word and started typing, and I kept writing until bedtime. I just finished my tale a few minutes ago. So here it is. The story of my beach day.

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(Disclaimer: I am probably not quoting anyone here. These are the events of the day as my brain tells me they happened. So if I mess anything up, please don’t take it personally.)

Today, Owen, mom and I went to the beach with K and A.

                When we got there, they weren’t there yet, so me and Owen played in the waves for a while until Owen said, “Hey, there’s K and A.” (He used their actual names)

I said hi to K, and A and I immediately began the whole “purple cabbage”, “marshmallow socks” exchange. We played in the waves for a while; I discovered that I could throw my legs back and wait for the next wave to throw me in a backwards somersault. I spent a lot of time hugging my knees to my chest and being tossed around by the waves, and K and A did a lot of wrestling; they like to wrestle in the water and see who can push whose head under.

                Eventually, we got out of the search of a drink (all of us) and some food (me).

I desperately needed some water, seeing as the last wave had forced the ocean down my throat. I gulped the ice-cold water from our canteen down, but everything would taste like salt for a while afterward. I think I was still eating some of my salmon salad when A asked me, “Hey, do you want to take a walk?”

                “In which direction?” I asked.

                “Down that way.” She pointed to the stretch of shore to the left of our little camp.

She and K told me about a “lagoon” they had found years ago that was really fun. I had never seen an actual lagoon before, so I was all for it. They said it was a long way away, but I really wanted to see the lagoon. So we set off.

                As we were walking, we came upon a giant heap of mussels; and I mean really, it was huge! Bigger than I’ve seen, anyway. We poked around in it and found some nice shells, and a ladybug. It stuck to A’s finger. “Aww, it loves you!” I said.

                “Get it off.” A said. I scraped it off with a shell. “pooping on me is not a sign of love.”

Apparently, the ladybug had pooped on her. A little further down, we found a dead ladybug. A dug a hole, and we buried it. We said a few words, (a bit jokingly, I’ll admit) and put a little gravestone (a mussel) and an epithet (a piece of seaweed) over the grave. Then we sang Amazing Grace.

This actually happened a lot throughout our trip.

                Somewhere near the lagoon was a long jetty of rocks and concrete, and we walked along it looking at tidal pools. Hiding in one of the rocks next to the ocean I saw a little tidal pool. I tried to climb down to it, but A warned me not to. It was dangerous, she said. I sighed and got back to my feet. There would be more tidal pools, anyway.

                There were, actually. There was one so full of algae it was like a carpet. There was an American flag on the end of the jetty, and we turned back a few feet from that.

                Soon we got to a point where we could see the lagoon. It was a big puddle, (more that than a small lagoon) pouring in from between the rocks, just on the other side of which was the ocean. It was situated in sort of an inside-out cove. Farther up the shore and away from the lagoon was a pile of planks and driftwood laying against the cliff. While we were walking to it, K and A told me about an injured seagull they had rescued called “Sandy’. Apparently they had managed to touch her.

                We stepped through the lagoon. K told me that the lagoon used to be a lot bigger, and sometimes it would even stretch toward the pile of wood, but they hadn’t seen it that big in years.

We found ourselves sitting in a little pool between four or five rocks. K found a dead crab there.

                I looked under one of the rocks and saw that it formed a little sea cave. “Hey!” I said. “A sea cave.”

                K looked in my direction. “yeah.” She said. “A little too small for us though.”

                “Wouldn’t it be cool if we were really small?” I said. “And we could hide under there?”

And so a story was born. Me and A and K kept going back and forth, adding to the story, until we came up with an entire trilogy. “Wow!” I said when we were done. “We should totally write that!”

                “Yeah!” K and A agreed.

After that, we went up to the pile of wood and poked around a bit. There was this piece of concrete covered in colored, rubber mock-asphalt. You know, the stuff they pave some playgrounds with  so kids don’t get hurt too much when they fall. They called it the “rainbow road”.

                We started on our way home, and at the mouth of the sand-cove A found a dead rat/mouse. It was small for a rat but big for a mouse. “We have to bury it.” I said. A poked it with a stick, and it accidently brushed her hand, so she washed her hand off in the lagoon while we dug a hole for her. The rat/mouse, not A. we named her Mrs. Thisby. When A came back, we had buried Mrs. Thisby and put a grave marker (a stick) at her head. I said a few words, and we all sang Amazing Grace. Or, the first verse, anyway. I put some stalks of dried kelp at her head, and we walked back to where we were set up. A few times K and A thought they saw Sandy, but each candidate flew away when chased.

                When we got back, A and K’s moms had arrived. They were sitting in the two green chairs A and K had brought. I had a long drink of water, and we told everyone about the lagoon, and the rat, and how we thought we saw Sandy a few times. A and K’s mom told me that she had told the girls that if they could catch or touch a seagull, she would give them a hundred dollars. She now owes them a hundred dollars.

                We made plans to take Owen back to the lagoon with us, and mom said alright, but she didn’t want us gone for more than an hour.

                “An hour?’ I said. “We won’t be gone that long.” That’s when she told me that, the last time we went to the lagoon, we had been gone for two hours.

                “That’s why you were so thirsty!” mom said.

A and K’s mom told us that we had about forty-five minutes until the lifeguards left, so if we wanted to swim, we should do it now and then go to the lagoon. And then Owen told us about the fish.

                Apparently, Owen had discovered little, striped fish swimming around near the shore. And apparently, they were everywhere. We waded out with him to see. They were so ubiquitous, you could even see them from the surface. They were everywhere! “I wish I had brought my mask.” I remarked to K.

                “Go get it!” she said. “They’re everywhere, it’s really cool!”

So I trudged back to where we had set up and got my mask. As soon as I put it on, I saw what they meant. Little, flat-ish silver fish, with vertical black stripes and black spots on their heads, swimming around everywhere, just out of reach of curious fingers. We spent a long time trying to catch them or touch them, coming up only for air. I discovered that I could stay upside-down longer by windmilling my arms. I almost touched them a few times; almost. K brought out her snorkel and swam around like that for a while. Soon, though, the lifeguards left, and it was time to come out of the water.

                Now we could go to the lagoon.

                K had to make a sandball first, though. She packed wet sand into a little ball, then added dry sand around the edges to make it bigger and bigger. We named it “Harvey-Joe”.  I think she was almost done when a chunk of sand fell out of its side. “Noooo!” K said dramatically. “Harvey-Joe!”

                “Well,” I said. “He has a mouth now.”

                “Yeah.” Said K. “Now he needs two little eyes…” she tried to poke eyes above the mouth, but only succeeded in prodding more sand off the overall ball. “Nooo!” she said again. She packed wet sand into the mouth.

                At this point, A came over. “Where’s the other ball?” she asked.

                “This is the same one.” K said.

                “Good.”

K was, once again, nearly finished when a chunk of sand fell out of its side.

“Nooo!” she screamed again. “Oh, whatever.” She said, and threw Harvey-Joe into the ocean.

                “NOOOO!” we screamed together, and we ran to the spot where he had landed.

                “I killed Harvey-Joe!’ K said. It was all very dramatic.

                Now that Harvey-Joe was out of the way, we started on our way toward the lagoon. We ran, so that we would have as much time as we could to play there. Mom had said that if we weren’t back in forty-five minutes she’d come to check on us.

K was running really fast, so the rest of us were, inevitably, left behind a few times. When we made it there, we were in for a surprise: the lagoon had grown.

                The lagoon was now only about ten or fifteen feet from the pile of wood, and was more of a very small lagoon than a big puddle. “OMIGOSH!” everyone (except Owen) shouted, and we all ran to the lagoon. “This is amazing!” I said. “It must be the tide!”

                There were big logs floating around in the lagoon, and near the shore, and in the lagoon was something of a raft; a small deck of sorts that must have been used atop a ship or in a warehouse, to place boxes or crates on top of. A and Owen tried to float on it like a raft, to no avail.

                Why not do our yoga in the lagoon, I suggested to K, and she agreed.

We did our routine about half a foot into the water. Owen and A had discovered how to float on the “raft” and they were harassing us with its pointy edges, but nonetheless we managed to get through the routine. We added goddess pose to the mix as well.

                At the end of our routine, we lay down at the shore and breathed deeply for a while, and then the routine was over. We spent the rest of our time swimming around in the lagoon.

                K found a place where you could wedge yourself in between the rocks, and it functioned as sort of a crude, natural ergonomic bench. It was very comfortable, except for the onslaught of waves from the other side of the rocks which forced us to hang on for dear life each time we heard the roar of the ocean. A and Owen wedged the “raft” in between a few rocks in the deep end of the lagoon and used it as a diving board. Or I guess “jumping board” would be more accurate, as the deepest the lagoon got was only about two and a half or three feet. I jumped off once and discovered it wasn’t for me, but A had great fun with it.

                We were all sad when it was time to go. Our moms arrived forty-five or fifty minutes later, stayed for a bit, and then brought us back. On the way back we showed everyone Mrs. Thisby’s  grave, and I found a plastic gorilla figurine on the shore. I offered it to A, and she took it, but gave it back to me on the grounds that “Its mouth is creepy.” I couldn’t argue with that.

                Owen stopped at their house to go to the bathroom, and then we began the hour-long trip back to our house. Mom groaned as she looked at the radio clock.

                “We won’t even have time to take showers by the time we get home.” She said.

When we got back, it was around 9:30 at night. We each took quick showers and went to bed.  As I lay in my bed, I could still feel the sensation of ghost waves rocking me back and forth. Swaying in an imaginary ocean. If I pictured a big wave in my head, I would feel it too. My inner ear thought I was still in the ocean. I fell asleep being rocked by the waves.

Deleted Scene:

We were taking a break from the ocean, and I was eating some of my salmon salad, when A pulled from her bag a ziplock baggie of purple cabbage.

“Is that purple cabbage?” I asked.

                “Yeah!” she said. “It’s really good.

                “Can I try some?” I asked.

                “Sure.” She handed me a piece. I took a bite and chewed, and there was no taste.

                “ There’s no taste!” I exclaimed. I tried piling some of my salmon salad on top. I still couldn’t taste it.

                “Maybe my mouth just tastes too much like salt water.”

          

 

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Beach

(10th Consecutive Post!)
Today I went to the beach with A and K, and we had a blast.
     So much fun, in fact, that we just got home and it's 9:40 PM.
So I'm going to tell you that I went to the beach right now, and you'll hear all about it as soon as I can get it written down.

Peace.

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The Nest.

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Today me and Owen, (in refuge from our grumpy father) spent an hour or so holed up upstairs. Mom was at her "Senior olympics" volunteer meeting. When we got upstairs, the first thing that caught my eye was Owen's radio.
     Owen's radio is shaped like a large, single Lego brick, and it's very much fun to mess around with. As I was exploring the channels, Owen came up with a game. He touched the antenna to a body part, and I would tune the radio into a random station to see what his body part was "thinking". The first thing we did was touch the antenna to his chin. I randomly sped through channels until landing in one spot. We immediatley heard the classic "I'm Sexy and I Know it" emanating from the speakers. We both cracked up. Owen touched the antenna to my glasses, and the radio came on to a politics talk show. I suppose my glasses are very serious; ironic, considering they look like harry-potter's pair.
We touched the antenna to the head of my stuffed Piglet toy, which I still have from my early days, to find out what was going on inside his head. I never knew piglet spoke Spanish.
     Bored of the radio, we went to my room and began constructing a "nest" of various sheets and pillows. We first lay down a comforter, folded in two; then a few pillows, and then began constructing the walls. I dug through the closet for all the sheets I could find, whether forgotten or well-used. (I found the sheets that go with mom's bedspread.) while Owen "shaped" the walls. Finally, we had a nice, soft, comfy nest. in which I could read Yotsuba&! to Owen in peace. We got through a few chapters before mom came back.

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Nestor

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Today Nestor, Owen's friend, came over and they made a blanket-fort together in Owen's room. And i ambushed them with a nerf gun. So Owen hit me with a back-massager. Yeah. Not much else happened.

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On my Own

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Today mom learned that you don’t have to take the course to go sailing; you just have to take the course to be the one actively sailing. So she was all, “Really? Then I can go sailing with you!”

And that’s how Owen, mom and I ended up going sailing together. Or so we thought. (DUM dum DUUUM!)

                We got there, and there were two women inside in front of the sign-in sheet. As I was signing in, one of the women said that we could use the boat they had just taken out, since it was still put up.

                I said, no, I’d like to take boat six, since I wanted to teach Owen how to put a boat up.

I started walking down the ramp into the water to get the hull, and Mom and Owen stayed up on the dock. Because they didn’t want to get wet. Sh’yeah. I explained that if they were going to be putting the boat together, they were going to get wet. So Owen came with me to get the hull while mom waited in the shallow water. We tied it up to one of the colored pegs on the grass, and started bringing everything out from the boathouse. (Rudder, Daggerboard, Sheetline, Mast, Sail.)

                I told Owen to get the sheetline. “Know what that’s called?” I asked him.

He didn’t know. “It’s the sheetline.” I told him. I did that a few times.

                There’s a bunch of little laminated sheets in the boathouse with instructions on how to put a boat up. Mom held it and read aloud while I showed Owen which parts were which and went where.

We were still putting the boat up when Ralph showed up. He asked how old Owen is, and mom said, “He’s ten.”

                “You’ve gotta be eleven to go out in a sailboat.” He said. “No younger, no exceptions.”

To be fair, I had told this to mom. But she has certain problems with interpretations that make it hard to communicate.

                Owen, disappointed, leaned his head into mom’s side for most of the rest of the time I was putting the boat up. He watched me attach the rudder, but that’s pretty much it. Now I would have to go out on my own, since Owen couldn’t come, and mom couldn’t leave him alone.

                Finally, it was time to take the boat out. “I guess I’m going out on my own for the first time.” I grumbled, facing the boat into the wind. I was, honestly, a little pissed at mom. I still didn’t know if I was comfortable sailing on my own, but that was outweighed by the part of me that didn’t want to have driven here for nothing. Still, it would have been nice to go out with mom.

                Mom helped me raise the sail, and steadied the boat while I hopped in. I sat on the left side of the boat, held the tiller in my right hand, and the sheetline in my left, and headed for the beach on the other side of the lake. This was it! I was sailing on my own!

                On my way to the beach, I talked to the sail to comfort myself. Some superstitious part of my brain had convinced the rest of me that, by acknowledging that the sail was self-aware, (which it isn’t) it would feel more secure, and therefore like me better. I do that sometimes. Mom had said she and Owen would go to the beach, so I tried to sail around as close as I could to the beach and see if I could see them. I thought I saw them a few times, but I never really did.

                After I gave up scanning the beach, I decided to try heading to the end of the lake. One small problem; I had wandered into the calm belt. Sorry; One-Piece reference. What I mean is there was almost no wind. I turned around from one side to the other, sometimes catching a bit of wind and going relatively fast, sometimes not moving at all. Most of the time I was going so slow that It seemed like I was stationary, but just fast enough that if I stuck my hand in the water, I could tell I was moving forward. Finally I decided I would just head back to the boathouse, since I wasn’t having much fun out on the lake. But one thing; heading back to the boathouse would require moving.

                So I angled my sail around where I thought it would get some wind, and waited. And waited. There were some points where I didn’t even have to hold on to the tiller; it wouldn’t have mattered, I was going so slowly. I made up two songs about sailors wishing for the wind to blow them where they wanted to go. Guess where I got that idea?

                After an eternity of waiting, I came up near the green and red barrels on front of the boathouse. These are the barrels you’re supposed to sail through when you go out, and when you come back in. I could see mom and Owen waiting for me on the grass. So close, yet so far. Getting a bit impatient, I started moving the tiller back and forth, using the rudder to sort of “paddle” my way there. It got a little faster, but not by much. At one point I saw a canoe go by with two people in it. They didn’t have to rely on the wind to go anywhere. “What I wouldn’t give for a paddle right now!” I shouted to them humorously. One laughed. The other kept paddling.

                I finally got close enough to the boathouse that mom and Owen waded out and pulled me in the rest of the way. At one point the daggerboard ground against the lake bottom, but we got the boat safely in.

                When we had gotten the boat apart, I waded out to the buoys with Owen to put the hull back. When we had locked it safely in place, I told Owen to get in the cockpit. He climbed in, with some difficulty, and I rocked the boat back and forth. I tipped it to port; “You’re turning!” I shouted. I tipped It to starboard. “You’re turning again!” Ralph was watching from the grass, smiling.

                 Mom started a conversation with Ralph. He told us about the day he had been sailing with his friend on separate boats, and they had gotten caught in a storm.  If you can’t be a good example, be a horrible warning, right? While he and mom were talking, Owen and I watched the water for baitfish, jumping out to escape the bass chasing them. Some of them would jump really high, too. Ralph told us that sometimes, if you waited, you would see the bass jump out of the water after the baitfish.

                Soon the sun was setting, and it was time to head home. As we were walking back to the car, I told Owen; “I’ll take you sailing on your birthday.”

                I meant it.

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Sailing with Rebekah!

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(DISCLAIMER: I am probably not actually quoting anyone here. These are the events of the day as my brain tells me they happened.)

Today I went sailing with my Aunt Rebekah.

                We were actually supposed to go sailing yesterday, but the weather report said there was supposed to be rain all afternoon. And then it didn’t rain. Anyway;

                Rebekah is almost as unlearned as I am. She took a course, but it was about fifteen years ago.

So we got there, and there’s a bunch of teen/ young-adult peoples there squirting each other with water guns. Ooookaay. There was also this woman (A mom?) and a kid setting up this weird-looking white boat that looked like if a kayak and a catamaran had a baby.

                We had to wait a bit for them to finish setting up so there would be room for us, but finally we were just like, you know what? Let’s go to the other side of the dock. Yeah. That’ll work.

                So we both started walking off in different directions, she’s going to the boathouse and I’m going to the concrete ramp that leads into the water where the boats are. “Where are you going?” I said to her.

                “I don’t know.” She said. “Where am I going?”

                I pointed in the direction of the boats and said, “The boats are that way.”

She stood at the edge of the dock (because she didn’t want the get too wet. Right.) While I waded into the water up to about my hips to get to the boats tied to the buoys about three-feet deep.

The boats tied to the buoys aren’t entire boats; no sails, ropes or rudders, just the boat-y part.

                Once we had the boat tied up to the dock, we started bringing the parts out from the boathouse one by one. There are a bunch of little yellow sheets in the boathouse that tell you how to put a boat up and tear it down, for people like me with no capacity for remembering processes.

We both needed it.

                We put everything together and waded out, with the boat, into two feet of water.

Then we raised the sail and got on. I got on first, then Rebekah. But she ended up kind of flopping her whole body onto the deck and having to roll around on her side to get to a sitting position. I thought she looked like a seal. She used the words “Beached Whale.”

                So we were all on the boat, and I noticed the boom was a little close to our heads. I said so.

And Rebekah said, “Yeah, we couldn’t raise the sail all the way because the halyard is tangled around the mast.”

                WHY DID SHE NOT MENTION THIS? (I said that, too.)

So we got out and unwound the halyard from around the metal thingy that sticks up from the boat, and lowered the sail. But to untangle the halyard line, we would have to actually take the mast back out and put it back up again properly. Or so we thought.

                “Let me try something.” I said, and I balled up the end of the line, and threw it over the mast, and it was untangled.

                So now we raised the sail again, (which was a lot easier this time.) and got back up onto the boat. This time Rebekah did it with less of a “beached whale” look.

I had the tiller in one hand, and the sheetline in the other, and I was ready to set sail. One small problem; we weren't moving forward.  Rebekah was trying to paddle with her flip-flops, and I was pulling the sheetline in real hard and waving the tiller back and forth, trying to turn in any direction to catch the wind. It’s then that Rebekah notices the rudder isn’t in the water. We forgot to put it down.

So I leaned over really far and stretched my arm, and managed to push it down into the water.

And we finally started moving forward.

                We sailed in between the red and green barrels, and now we were out on the lake. We just sailed around aimlessly for a while, and  Rebekah and I talked. But at some point the wind died down, or we turned into the wind, and we just stopped moving forward. We were caught in this little cove next to the beach, and we were lufting. Rebekah tried to paddle with her flip-flops, and I turned the rudder as hard as I could in one direction and pulled in hard on the sheetline, but we just weren’t moving.

                So we passed the time by singing sea shanties. Of course, I only know the two songs; Blow the Man Down and What do You do with a Drunken Sailor. A while after we were done with the latter, we saw a butterfly fly past us. It was really cool to see a butterfly so far out on the lake like that, and we waved hi to it. And I, who am usually not a very superstitious person, decided it must be good luck.

So I turned the rudder as hard as I could to the other side and pulled in the sheetline, and I thought we were going to get out of irons for a minute there, but then we got caught again.

The butterfly flew past us again, as if to say, “No! No, you didn’t get the message! I’m only good luck if you go that way.” And then we got out of irons.

                Now we were kind of stuck, though, at the end of the lake. The wind was blowing straight across from the other end, so we weren’t going to get anywhere by heading straight. So I decided to try tacking.

                Tacking is when you essentially attempt to head “into” the wind by moving in zigzags up the wind. I told Rebekah I was going to try tacking, picked up some speed, and turned really-really fast and hard to the right. I kept doing this up and down the lake, making steady progress.

On our way there, we stopped by the beach; we sailed as close as we could without breaking any rules, and waved to everyone on the beach. I’m not sure if anyone saw us, but it was fun.

                Somwhere along the way, we saw setting out from this little cove near the beach, two boats; one with a sail that looked like the Italian flag with one extra color, and one whose sail was a jolly roger. Awesome. We kept seeing them all throughout our trip.

                Somewhere in the middle of the lake, we saw Ralph, (Forgive me if I get anyone’s name wrong.) setting out on his big white sailboat. It’s not a sunfish, like ours. It’s a nice fancy one, with a little cabin and everything. Or I’m guessing so, by the appearance of portholes on the sides.

                Ralph is the guy who organizes everything in the boathouse. He’s the one who puts the letters on the buoys for everyone to find, and makes shirts for all the people who work there.

                We waved and shouted “Hey!” (In a friendly, “hey, how you doing?” kind of way.)

He waved back and greeted us. “This is my new teacher!” I said, pointing to Rebekah. “She knows almost as much as I do!”

                Rebekah, who knows how to take a joke, laughed and said, “The last time I sailed was fifteen years ago!”

                We had a short conversation, (which, on the lake, means it lasted about fifteen seconds.) and I told him I had tacked the entire way there, which I am still very proud of.

                Sailing further toward the end of the lake, we noticed a catamaran with huge sails that looked like a sunset sailing around on the lake. I sailed up close and shouted, “Hey! Nice boat!”

                “It looks like a sunset!” Rebekah added. The man in the boat waved cheerfully.

                We soon tacked our way to the end of the lake, where we waved to a man relaxing on his back porch, which was built right on the shore. “It would be nice,” I remarked to Rebekah, “to live so close to the lake. Cool breezes, sparkling water, and you could just look out whenever and see all the sails.”

She agreed.

                There was a fallen tree somewhere along the shoreline. We tried to get closer and see why it had fallen, but we couldn’t see the stump. Soon it was time to tack around for the last time.

                I got the boat in just the right position and built up a little speed, then I turned sharply to the left, and we were sailing up the lake! For a while we were going really fast, and soon we were right in front of the boathouse. I asked Rebekah if we should head back in to the dock.

                “We’ve still got a lot of time left before we have to go in to the dock.” She said. “You can if you want to, but if you’re still having fun we can stay out here for a while.”

                I steered us away from the dock.

We had a blast for a while, going wherever the wind took us and singing songs, and soon I figured it was time to head back in. One problem though; the wind was blowing in entirely the wrong direction. Again.

                We sailed around hopelessly for a while, trying to tack around to the boathouse, but the wind was now blowing from that direction. For a while we thought we were going to make it neatly through the red and green barrels, but we had to turn back away because we were lufting again.

                That’s when we saw Ralph coming up in a sunfish with a bright orange-and-red sail, a woman in the boat with him. (I’ve met her, I just don’t know her name.”

                We explained that we were trying to head back into the dock, and he shouted over the lake, “Just head for barrel three and you’ll be fine!”

                We headed for barrel three and after a lot of tweaking and poking and prodding, we made it in to the dock.

                We took everything apart, and Rebekah insisted we lift the boat up onto the concrete ramp and pull the plug to let the water out. Later, we were told only to do this if the boat was on a trailer, because otherwise it could damage the bottom of the boat.

                We went into the boathouse, put our PFDs back, and grabbed my sunblock.

                “That’s it?” Rebekah said. “We put everything back, and we have your sunblock, right?”

                “Yup.” I said. “We did it!”

                “We did it!” she said. We cheered. Partly because we were proud of ourselves for navigating the treacherous waters of lake Parsippany, and part because we both were (I assume) still a little disoriented from the near death experience. And to top off our day, we headed to McDonalds.

               

                So that’s the story about how I learned how to tack, and to do a lot of other things on my own, mainly because Rebekah’s skills were still to rusty to teach anyone much of anything. We worked together, I helping her to remember, and she helping me to learn. It was great.

                And now, please enjoy some “Deleted Scenes”; Of course, the actual sailing trip lasted for hours, so to make the story “flow” a little nicer, I had to omit a few things. And here they are.

Deleted Scene #1: I held tight to the sheetline and tried my hardest to push the tiller all the way to the right, but it just wouldn’t budge.

                “Come on, Come on!” Rebekah was urging me on, as if that would help to make the turn faster. Though she might have been talking to the boat. I was giving my all with the tiller, even leaning my body against it, but it just wouldn’t budge any farther than I was already pushing it. I looked back to see if there was anything wrong with it, and the tiller was tangled in the sheetline.

I grumbled, and let go of the sheetline so I could turn around and untangle it.
               “The tiller is tangled in the sheetline!” I said to Rebekah, to explain my reason for suddenly ‘taking my foot off the gas pedal’.

I was still grumbling a bit when I got them unhooked from each other. As we sailed away, I remarked to Rebekah; “The tiller and the sheetline are either fighting or making out.” She laughed.

Deleted Scene #2:

We were getting closer to the end of the lake, when I noticed a bug on Rebekah’s  PFD. “Rebekah,” I said. “There’s a bug on your-“

                She didn’t let me finish. “Where? Where?” she said, turning her head from side to side and seemingly trying to wipe the bug off with her ponytail. “Can you reach it?”

                “Not without letting go of the tiller.” I said. “But I can try to hit it with the sheetline.”

                I successfully knocked it off, sending the little bug flying onto the deck. Rebekah turned around to examine what had been crawling around on her back. “Huh.” She remarked. “it looks a little like a grasshopper.”

                “Yeah. “ I said. “only with a rounder butt.”

Deleted Scene #3:

We were sailing along somewhere in the middle of the lake, when we saw the sunset-catamaran doing a turn. “Wow!” Rebekah said, looking at the catamaran. “He’s really leaning into that turn.”

He was. If he was turning any harder, he would have actually been on his side.

Deleted Scene #4:

We were sailing somewhere in the middle of the lake, when the wind picked up really hard for just a second. It was enough to scare me into letting go of the tiller, knock the sheetline out of my hand, and, with a loud “AAAGH!” send me ducking for cover in the cockpit. My knees were resting in something really slimy. Rebekah turned around to check on me.

                “Are you okay?” she said, sort of worried, sort of laughing.

                “Yeah.” I said. “I just have really slimy knees now.”

Seconds later, Ralph sailed around starboard of us and said something like, “Are you alright?” sorry, I don’t remember the exact wording.

                “Yeah,” Rebekah and I both shouted to him.

                “We’re just sailing along,” Rebekah said, laughing, “And suddenly I hear , AAAGH!”

I laughed too. It’s a good thing I know how to laugh at myself, or I would have been extremely pissed about the entire day.

Deleted Scene #4:

We were near the end of the lake, close to the cove where we got stuck, and I was trying my hardest to tack around up to the other end, when we found ourselves sailing straight into the ideal spot for “windage”. I pulled the sheetline in tight, and we were running with the wind!
“Running with the wind” is when your sail is catching as much wind as possible, and you’re going really fast. In our case, the water was coming up over the front of the boat, and we were bumping up and down a bit, too. I leaned my whole body over to the left, to counterbalance it, and we had a blast.

                See, when I first started sailing, it was my goal to go as slowly as possible so that I wouldn’t tip the boat. But now, a few lessons later, I was having a blast going as fast as I could. As my first instructor would say, I had “Less of that scared rabbit look”. He actually said that.

Deleted Scene #5

We were sailing along peacefully, making good progress, when I remarked, “That bug is kind of cute.”

The bug from earlier that we had found on Rebekah’s PFD was still on the boat, hiding out underneath the splash guard.

                “yeah.” Rebekah said. “He is kind of cute.”

                “I wonder how he got on the boat?” I said. “I mean, the boat was all the way out on the water, not connected to land at all.”

                “He could have been on the sail in the boathouse.” Rebekah said.

                “Or maybe he can fly.” I said.

                “Maybe.”

                “When we get back to the dock, we should help him back onto land.” I said.

                “Yeah, let’s.” Rebekah said.

Deleted Scene #6:

We were driving home from the lake, when I remembered something.

                “Oh no!” I said out loud. “We forgot to help the bug onto dry land!”

                “You’re right!”  Rebekah said. “We did forget!”

                “Nooo!”  I lamented. “Our mascot! Well, I just hope he can fly.”

                Rebekah nodded. “Or at least swim short distances.”

And that, my friends, is the end of my sailing day. Do you know this is probably my longest post ever? (not counting fictional stories) 2833 words, people! That’s long.

(6^th Consecutive Post!)

That's What Happens When You Leave a Bored Girl Alone with a Hose.

(5th Consecutive Post!)

So today we got, from netflix, the FIFTH SEASON OF EUREKA! (a show I watch.)
anyway, we went straight to the episode index, and the first one was a christmas episode. It's really hard to explain why, but in it the characters keep fluctuating between different animations; computer animation, cartoon, claymation, then anime-style. Also it involves ninja snowmen.
     After we were done watching Eureka, I went out into the backyard and played with the hose for a while. Meaning I got wet. That's what happens when you leave a very bored girl alone with a hose.
     Last note of the day; We were watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and (SPOILER ALERT) Angel comes back. From hell. And he's naked. And feral. Sooo... yeah. MAKE UP YOUR MINDS, PEOPLE!

(5th Consecutive Post!)

TV Shows I Like

(4th Consecutive Post!)

Today I watched some of this new show, "Beyond Survival." It's hosted by Les Stroud, the BEST REALITY SHOW DUDE EVER.
     In Beyond Survival, he goes around the world seeking out indigenous peoples and learning their traditions and techniques. So far, the best episode is the one where he lives with the Sea Gypsies for a few days. That one is really cool.

On another note, mom and I have become hooked on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The show, not the movie. It's a great show, (even Owen likes it) but sometimes it's just SO SAD you can't watch it. And yet you can't look away...

(4th Consecutive Post!)

Clothes

(3rd Consecutive Post!)

Okay, so this one might not be that interesting because it’s about shopping.
But it was my big event of the day, and I’m trying to write here every day, so you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.

Today Mom took me to Unique, (Our name for Unique Thrift) to get some skirts.
     See, she's been nagging me all summer to get some shorts, and I've been telling her all summer that I don't like shorts. So finally, last tuesday, she decided on a compromise; skirts. She said she would take me on thursday, since they were having a 25% off sale. Today is thursday.
     So I walk inside, and the first thing I see is this porcelain piggy bank. I really like classic piggy banks. I’m discovering the lack of a cork when mom sees this “Groovy Doll” on the shelf next to me, and she picks it up and she says,
            “It’s a groovy doll! I remember when you used to have one of these.”
And I, who cannot let things go, say; “Yeah, until you gave it away without asking me.”
            “I don’t think that happened.” She said. “I was usually pretty good about asking you before I gave your things away.”
            “I remember one day, waking up and thinking, ‘where’s my groovy doll?’. It was very tragic.”
            And she let it go. Because she totally did steal my groovy doll.
            In the Skirts aisle, the first thing I found was this pleated, Christmas-plaid skirt. I also found this one that looked like it should be a hat, or curtains, and another that was a sort of leafy kale-green.
            After the skirts aisle, I took a brief look in the vintage aisle, which always has some cool stuff in it. I found a very, very yellow dress, and some silk pajama sets, which I didn’t actually buy, but they were pretty cool.
            The dress aisle took us a while to go through. Some of them were pretty outrageous, but we came away with one long blue dress with a starfish and an oak leaf on the front, one pinkish floral dress, and one black sweater-y dress.
            So we walk through the kitchen-ware aisle to the dressing rooms, and they only allow in three items at a time, so mom holds three while I try on the others.
I tried on the dresses first, then handed her the ones I liked and tried on the skirts.
Turns out, I didn’t like any of the skirts, but there were two dresses that I really liked.
            I come out of the dressing room and tell mom that I didn’t like any of the skirts, and she tells me that the blue dress I liked was twenty dollars.
            “Twenty dollars?” I said, half in shock because I loved the dress and half in shock because it’s a thrift store. The point of thrift stores is to be inexpensive.
            And she said, “Do you really like the dress?”
            “Yeah.” I said, hugging her.
            And she kind of sighed, “Okay.”
            So we walked toward the checkout. But in line for the checkout, mom was looking at the tag on the dress, and she said, “Hey, this says this is a two piece.”
            And I said, “Huh. I did see another piece kind of like it.”
            But she said, “Well go find the other piece! Its twenty dollars, we might as well get the whole thing.”
            So I ran back to the dress aisle, and I found this overcoat, or jacket, or robe or whatever that was the same material and same color as the dress, and had the same starfish-and-oak-leaf thing on the corner.
            Mom asked the cashier just to make sure it was the same price for the whole thing, and there was a little mix-up, but we ended up getting everything for about nineteen dollars.
Because it was 25% off day. (YES!)

So this is my third consecutive post. Yay for me.

My Story

Today I finished a story I've been working on since yesterday.
It's another story about Svendoolia. This one is kind of short, but I plan on writing more of them
and putting them together into a book. Here it is:

I woke up this morning and decided I felt like writing a story. I didn’t know what to write about, but I knew I wanted to write something. So I decided to start with a true story. That way I don’t have to make up anything. So. I’m going to tell you a few true stories, about my adventures in this kingdom.

 But anyway. Let me explain something. My name is Forsythia Ridgewood. I am the Queen of Svendoolia, a nice, medieval looking little kingdom on the Big Planet. The Big Planet has a name, but you couldn’t pronounce it. I specify what planet I live on because I do not live on the Little Planet. The Little Planet is what we call earth; Mainly because it’s a lot smaller than the Big Planet. I think we’re somewhere around half the size of Jupiter. No, we don’t live in an alternate dimension or a fairy realm or anything, just a regular old planet. Quite close to the Little Planet, actually, right in the neighborhood. If it weren’t for certain cloaking devices, you’d- you know what? Nevermind. This all has nothing to do with the story I’m about to tell you. I’ll try to stay on topic from now on. Mind you though, I said try, not succeed.

So. Here we go.

The Hurricane.

I think it was July, and my sister Lucie had been going on this health kick all week. No grains, no starches, more veggies. And she was doing yoga. One day she convinced me to try it with her.

We walked through the halls and out into the throne room, carrying our yoga mat. Yes, “mat”, singular. It was a pretty big mat. Both of us were wearing yoga clothes; t-shirts, sweatpants, and a lack of shoes.

I feel I should tell you what we look like. We’re about the same height, (5’5, I think) and we have about the same color hair, which is dark brown. Ever seen 90% chocolate? That kind of dark.

The differences between us are that Lucie has gray eyes, and mine are brown. She’s a bit thinner than I am. Her hair is a lot straighter too. Mine is fuller and wavier. Oh, and on this particular day I was wearing a scrunchie. A purple one. Anyway, we walked out into the middle of the floor and lay out the yoga mat. It was big enough to cover about 80% of the floor, which is a good amount considering how big the throne room is. “Why are we doing this in the throne room again?” I asked Lucie as I straightened out some folds in the mat.

“Because a yoga environment is supposed to be open. This is the biggest room in the palace.”

She paused. “Except for the observatory.” She added. “But that’s mainly taken up by the telescope.”

                “So if we need an open environment,” I asked, “why don’t we do this outside?”

                She looked at me. “Because it’s raining.”

                “Really?” I said. “Why didn’t I notice?”

                “Because you’ve been inside most of the day and it’s a light rain, so I guess you couldn’t-“

She was cut off by a boom of thunder and the sound of sudden, heavy rain. “Hear it.” She finished. “Okay, well, all the more reason to stay inside.” We walked onto the mat. “Alright.” She said. “let’s start with sun salutations.”

                Sun Salutations, it turns out, is a series of poses in an up-and-down motion to mimic the rising and setting sun. I just know that the first pose, waterfall, made my back hurt.

                We were transitioning from bamboo into tree pose, when another clap of thunder sounded and threw me off balance. I stumbled and fell hard on my back end. Then I froze. This is something I do when I’m startled; I freeze in place. My theory is that I have squirrels in my ancestry.

                Lucie looked out the window. “Wow.” She said, as I unfroze and stood back up. “That was really loud.” She began to walk toward the door. “It must be coming down pretty hard out there.”

She opened the door just a smidge to see how bad the rain was, but the wind blew it out of her hand and knocked her back.

                Lightning flashed and thunder clapped, the sky turning a dismal grey. The wind was howling menacingly. I had never actually heard wind howl before.

                I scrambled to my feet and helped Lucie close the door. “wow.” I said when we had it safely latched. “Is that a hurricane?”

                Lucie nodded. “I think so.” She said. Lightning flashed, and we began to count. The thunder sounded a second later. “wow.” She breathed. “It’s right on top of us.”

                Somewhere in my head, I registered this: a hurricane is bearing down on us. If it hit the palace, that means it’ll hit the village as well. Queen-mode kicked in.

                “Okay.” I said. “We need to evacuate the villagers into the castle before it gets too bad.”

The castle is reinforced: thatched-roof huts are not.

                “You go tell the palace guard to head out, and I’ll join them in a bit. I need to tell Daisy to start laying out cots and blankets.” Lucie nodded seriously and ran out of the room.

                Daisy is the palace chef, and also a good housekeeper. She’s the one who knows where the cots are. I ran through the halls to the kitchen, and burst through the door. “Daisy!” I shouted.

                “What?” she asked, clearly annoyed, and turned to face me so her tail nearly knocked over a few dishes. Did I mention Daisy is a duck? She stood there in all her yellow-feathered glory, wearing an apron and oven-mitts.

                “We’re evacuating the villagers in here because of the hurricane. Start laying out cots anywhere you can fit them.”

                She dropped the pan she was holding and walked quickly toward the door. “I’m on it.” She said.

She was mostly down the hall when she paused and looked over her shoulder. “Where are you going to be?” she asked.

                “I’m going to help the palace guard evacuate the villagers.” I replied, really anxious to get going.

                “Of course you are.” She smiled, and rushed down the hall.

I ran breathlessly toward the stables. There, in the courtyard, was our resident dragon, Miyuki, A beautiful girl, with pearly-white scales and a tuft of blue fuzz on her head. I had expected to see her struggling to stand up against the wind, but I had forgotten how many tons she weighed.

                “Hey girl.” I said as I approached her. “I’ve got to get to the village real soon, alright?”

She gestured with her head in the direction of the stables. “Not today.” I said. “There’s no time for a saddle, I’ll have to ride bareback.” She lowered her head and neck to my level, and I jumped on, held tight, and said, “Go!” she raced off into the sky.

                You’d think it would be hard for her to fly in this wind, but dragons have a way of counterbalancing the forces against them to fly smoothly. It is, however, a different matter entirely for the rider to stay on the dragon. She dipped and dived, twisted and turned to avoid the strongest winds, and I was stuck digging my hands into her fur and hoping I didn’t fall off.

Beneath me I could see the giant gorge that separates one side of Svendoolia from the other. Both sides of the gorge run into the sea, and a river runs at the bottom. I guess, technically, Svendoolia is one country resting on two continents. The palace rests on the edge of the gorge. You can tell when you’re getting closer, because that side has smaller windows and thicker walls, to prevent anything important from falling out.

                Soon we arrived at the village. The wind was blowing so hard it seemed like all it wanted was to rip the whole village out of the ground. Thatch was being pulled off of roofs. The palace guard was already here; they had their own dragons with box saddles, which could carry many people at a time.

                “Queen Forsythia!!!!” one of the guards shouted. It was Jesse, captain of the guard.

Jesse is decades older than me, but that doesn’t mean he’s no stronger. He’s got a rough, white beard and an eye missing. He looks like a guy in a pirate story. “Most of the civilians have been evacuated!”

He shouted over the wind. “But there are still some on the outer edges of the village that haven’t gotten the message!” I nodded, and took a lantern from the packs in one of the box saddles.

                “I’ll help you to get them out!” I shouted. I took a few guards with me and made my way to the outer edges of the village. Good thing it’s a small village. We were there pretty soon.

I could see through the windows of the little thatched-roof huts, villagers still huddling under blankets trying to wait the storm out. “You guys start evacuating villagers!” I shouted to the four guards who had come with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the roofs of the thatched huts was about to fly off. I ran in through the door of the hut, and found a woman and two children trying to keep a fire going in the fireplace. They looked up in surprise, and the fire went out. “You have to come with me!” I shouted. “We’re evacuating everyone into the palace, and your roof is about to fall off!” the woman nodded. She took her children in her arms, (they were very small children; one girl and one boy.) and walked quickly out the door.

                Soon we had gathered everyone from the village. The guards gathered into one box saddle, and the villagers gathered into another with Jesse, who knows how to ride dragons. I climbed onto Miyuki’s neck. We headed toward the palace.

                When we landed, the storm was still getting worse. We rushed everyone through the courtyard and toward the doors as the wind whipped in our ears. The sky got grayer, and thunder clapped every few seconds. The villagers all tried to push through the palace doors at one. Good thing the doors are pretty big. Once everyone was in the throne room, Lucie, (who had been here waiting) Jesse and I all pushed our hardest on the door, and finally got it closed and latched against the wind.

                Everything suddenly seemed very quiet, compared against the din outside. We could still hear the furious wind and rain, but it was muffled by the walls around us. The occasional ear-ripping clap of thunder prompted squeaks from the younger children in the room.

                Now that everything was a little calmer, I took the time to look around the room.

Daisy had done her job; she had laid down at least one cot for each person in the village. It was a small village, but she still had to put some under the stairs and in the adjoining hallways. It seemed everyone had claimed themselves a cot. The second thing I noticed was that it was very dark. No one had lit any candles for worrying about the hurricane. And with all the candles it takes to light this room up, it seemed like trying to get them all lit now would be like filling a bucket with an eyedropper.

                Jesse and the rest of the palace guard were still here, standing around twiddling their thumbs. It was then that I remembered that the barracks, where the palace guards slept, was a separate building from the palace. They would have to venture outside to get there. Sighing, I gestured to Daisy, who was running around busily offering mugs of hot tea to the villagers. “She knows where the cots are.” I said.

The men of the palace guard hurriedly ran to Daisy to ask if there were cots left for them. Even Jesse had sense enough not to go outside, though he didn’t seem in such a panic about it.

                A clap of thunder sounded, louder than ever, and the whole room jumped. As I tugged on my ear to get it to stop ringing, I made my way toward one of the many candelabras lining the walls and took down a few candles. There was a closet in the wall to my right, where I found candle holders. I lit them with the matches in my pocket. Or I would have, if I hadn’t realized then that I was still wearing my yoga clothes. And bare feet. Wondering how my poor feet had survived the day, I called to Jesse,

“Hey, Jesse; you got any matches?” He was lying triumphantly on the cot he had seized for himself. He got up, Shuffled over to me and gave me a matchbox from his pocket. I thanked him, and lit the candles. Everyone in the room immediately shuffled a little closer to them. Whether they thought the light or the heat would be comforting, I don’t know, but it was a little funny, despite the situation.

                “Alright everyone.” I stood up and addressed the room. “As you know, there is a hurricane going on outside.” Everyone nodded. Of course they knew about the hurricane. “Given the intensity of the hurricane, I think it’s safe to say none of you are going home tonight. You will be able to return to the village tomorrow morning at the earliest.” I paused to look the room over. Everyone looked dejected. “During the hurricane, no one is going outside for any reason.” The room nodded. “Alright then.” I said, and sat down with everyone else. I grabbed one of the extra cots and sat down, lighting a few more candles. Lucie walked over my way and sat down on my cot with me.

                “You know you have a bed in the palace, right?” she said, amusement in her voice.

                “Yeah.”  I replied. “But I want to stay here.” She laughed a bit and pulled over one of the extra cots (we have a LOT of cots) to sit down next to me.

                “I guess I’m staying too.” She said.

                For a while everyone just sort of sat there, trying to fall asleep so at least they’d have something to do. Of course, it may have looked like nighttime outside, but in reality it was still about five o’ clock.

My legs were beginning to fall asleep when I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a little boy next to one of the candles. It was one of the kids I had helped out of the hut with the roof that was falling off.

I got up and walked over to him. He was making shapes with his hands in front of the candles, projecting the shadows onto the wall.

                “Hello.” I said, sitting down next to him.

                “Hello.” He said.

                I smiled. “What’s your name?”

                “Jimmy.”

                “That’s a nice name, Jimmy. I’m Forsythia.”

He kept on making shadow puppets.

                “What are you doing, Jimmy?” I asked.

                “Shadow puppets.” He replied.

                “That’s nice. Can I do them with you?”

He nodded. I pulled one of the candles over and made an eagle with my hand. And a goose. And a dog. These are the only three I know. Soon, the boy’s mother and sister came over to join us.

The boy and his sister were playing, making their puppets fight and eat each other.

After a while, Jesse joined us.

                “Might as well have something to pass the time.” He said in his gruff voice.

Soon some of the palace guard joined in, then some of the villagers. And soon we had so many people playing shadow puppets that we had to light almost all the candles in the room! People were getting together and sharing tips on how to make your puppets more realistic, and putting on entire plays with each other. The hurricane, in forcing us into a room together, had made us into a community. It was beautiful. Of course, everything gets boring after a while. So when the puppets had lost their luster, and even Jimmy was getting bored, someone in the crowd shouted;

                “How ‘bout some scary stories?”

And that’s how we spent the rest of the night; seated around a bunch of candles as if it were a campfire, telling scary stories. Would you believe it, Daisy even brought out some marshmallows and sticks to toast over the candles. We nearly put them out, everyone trying to toast their marshmallows at once.

                It was a good night.

The next day, everyone woke up to the sound of one of the villagers shouting in joy,

                “THE HURRICANE’S OVER!!!” everyone at once rushed to the door and opened it up, stepping outside to be greeted by sunny skies and wet dirt; A cheery combination.

                “Hey, look!” Lucie shouted, pointing at the sky. “A rainbow!”

Everyone followed where she was pointing and sort of exclaimed simultaneously. She was right; there was a rainbow hovering there in the sky; a circular rainbow. Everyone stood there and looked at it in amazement for a while, but eventually it was time to get down to the village and see what damage was done. The palace guard directed everyone into box saddles on some of the tamest dragons, and we flew at a leisurely pace to the village. I, for one, got to use a saddle this time.

                When we got there, everyone was shocked. Well, not really shocked so much as unhappy, since we were all expecting it. The village was flooded up to our chests. The only good news was that there were no bodies floating in the water. That was very good news.

                Everyone sort of walked around in a daze, looking around at their ruined houses that would have to be rebuilt from scratch. Pieces of lives floated on the surface of the water; dolls, books, kitchenware. People waded in the shallower parts, picking up their possessions.

                That’s when I saw Jimmy’s sister, Abigail, wading into the shallower part of the water to pick up a doll she saw floating there.

                “Thank goodness!” she said, sighing with relief. “Priscilla’s okay!”

At that, everyone kind of decompressed a little, and the whole group felt lighter.

Sure the village was done for, but not the land it sat on. They, we, could rebuild.

                And at least Priscilla was okay.