Waiting with bated breath

ARRGH!!!

I am so bored!!!

Hallowe'en is tomorrow, but meantime there is absolutely nothing to do. I am sick of waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting until Becky's school is done so we can play, waiting until she finishes reading her book, waiting for someone to do something interesting, waiting for supper...and nothing to do!!!

SIDE NOTE: my November profile pic will be a modification of my Hallowe'en costume, in which I will for obvious reasons not be wearing my glasses. Obvious tomorrow, that is.

Sometimes I wonder (and there is more to this than I'm setting down) if it's all my fault I'm bored. Certainly most of the time it is. But sometimes I think that sometimes other people do have a bit of fault (sometimes). In those cases (like some of today wouldn't be so boring if it hadn't been for...well...never mind) it's hard not to be mad at the person in question. In this case the keyboard is getting the brunt of it, simply because it's not quite fair to be mad at the person in question.

As this year wanes, I realize that what I've definitely learned is that most rules (and I mean rules, not laws, not commands) are flexible. More on that later.

Please no one comment and say I could read books. Truth be told, I can't. And nobody tell me I CAN, because I CANNOT.

And now...

Hellooooo! Anybody here? I don't blame you for not being here. It's not like I've posted or anything. After a long time of debating and an assurance from my father that this probably fell under "fair use", I have decided to post my best Beatle album cover spoof:
Please click on it to get it better. And remember, I'm not trying to break copywright. If I am, I am completely unawares. By the way, L-R: John "Chewie" Lennon, George "Han" Harrison (coincidence!), Ringo "Leia" Starr and Paul "Luke" McCarteny.

But other than that I have been barely writing. I think I will do a little bit o' writing about Seattle's busses, soon, though. Stay tuned, and let me know if you have good ideas (for writing, not Beatles albums!)...

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This is my frog smiley!

Okay, continuing...

A lot happened on Saturday when we were out at the farm. I simply had no time to explain it all.

The get-together consisted of everyone who lives and works at the farm and was home at this time. There's two sides at the farm, divided by a small hill. On one side it seems that Holli's family and another American family lives. On the other side, there are animals and such, and I think that everybody else lives there. Now, there's three ways to get from one to the other. One is to climb up and over the hill. Another way is to walk on one of the terraces (everything is terraced here) around the hill. A third is to walk out one gate and walk in another. My favorite is the terrace route, though the over route is fun, too.

Anyway, at the start, they were still getting ready and Holli and I chatted up a storm about so many things. We compared "life in China" notes. She's had more adventures than I have, which I don't begrudge her, but I haven't asked her yet: has she ever fallen into a rice paddy? I have. It's way too muddy. I've also fallen into an irrigation ditch, and who knows? I may fall into the river one of these days. Anyhow, we chatted about our adventures and how mistakes our age (I had a girl who was, maybe my age or a little younger ask in reasonably good English: "How old are you?" "Thirteen," I answered. Then she's shouting through the whole bus, "Shi san!" which is thirteen in Chinese. Holli went to the doctor's and had a long stressful time, then they found out she was thirteen so she had to go to a different doctor and have another long stressful time!). We hung out for awhile, comparing notes. She didn't have to get evacuated. Anyways, after a time it was time for dinner, so Holli and I went over to the other side and she told people it was time for dinner. She introduced me to a few people, one being a young woman who spoke a little English. We sort of made a threesome. Holli invited me to sit with her and this woman and a couple others, and after awhile the others started moving off, but the three of us talked, like "Where have you been in China?" This city, Kunming, Guangzhou, Maoming, and Hong Kong. Oh, and Yun Xian. Holli argued that Hong Kong wasn't in China and I said, "Yes, it is, it's a Special Administrative Region." So we got into a mock-argument which ended with throwing grass at each other. Then after that it started to rain so we went into the house and some people played dominos, and some Uno. Knowing the hectic-ness of playing Uno with too many people and new rules explained in a different language, I opted for dominos. After awhile I got tired of saying "I don't have one" in English and when "may-yo" means the same thing and is easier to say, and everybody understands it. Then, of course, I had to re-explain that no, I don't speak Chinese. What little I do is probably Yunnan accented which I like. I do not like the Beijing accent. I mean, it's okay, but I'm not going to speak it unless I'm aware of it and I'm in Beijing. Why speak it here? I'd speak the dialect of this city to people who spoke it themselves if I only knew it and I had something to say. Why speak Beijing in Yunnan? I already have enough of an accent and can't say much. But I digress.

When people started going home, this young woman (I can't remember her name) gave me a hug and taught me to say something which I repeated in my worst accent and promptly forgot, though I wanted to. On the way home, Holli and her Dad drove us, and Holli and I sat together and text-messaged (okay, Holli did, but I made a few suggestions) a student that we both know, Sherri. She is convinced that Holli should be a fashion model. That's one good thing about being short and squat instead of tall and slim. She doesn't say I should be a fashion model and doesn't "talk me out of" being a writer. Oh, well. I have about four different occupation dreams, two of which I can combine, and the other two can be avocations or semi-occupations. I wonder how many different countries I'll be in...

Save the Giraffes!

Well, Holli and I had a visit and had a great time!

Our latest joke is "Save the Giraffes!" It all started last time we had a visit. Hence the blog title.

This time Holli called me Cyphrus and told me to call her Poopkinshani. O-kay? That's weird. Unless it's a Cherokee name, 'cause she's part Cherokee. Wow! I may only be a little teeny bit Onodaga, and even that is uncertain. But I read about the Iroquois and imagine the woman that that Scottish man must've married. Let's see...

Otherwise everything is pretty much a bore. What did I tell you? But it was cool.

"Becky" Schultz

My sister remains a mystery to me.

Yesterday, when she was given a school assignment to do a creative story or something about the Orphan Train, I listened from the living room, thinking, "Oh, no." For, when Becky does that sort of work, it means hard work for Daddy and a whole mess of gloom hanging over the house. Becky doesn't have ideas, asks for some, rejects them all, then complains. I'm not one to judge, though, for a lot of times I understand her side only too well. I understand desperately needing help to find the one subject that would interest me. And I know that it's terribly frusterating to try and play such guessing games. Who knows what I'll do when I'm a parent and in those shoes?

Anyway, my feelings of dread deepened when she opted for the comic strip. I figured it would be like me in years past. Two fairly good (or good attempts at) panels, then being so bored that the rest is dumb or not there at all.

Oh, no. Who expected her to suddenly be a little Charles Schulz, coming up with an excellent story idea, some good humor and visual gags, and painstakingly drawing a nice (although stick-figured) comic strip three pages long. It was about a little girl named Lisa who climbed on a train car (replica or real, I don't know, but she wasn't supposed to be on it). All of a sudden there was a "Voom!" and she was riding on that same train car. She kept shocking a competent lady in charge, saying (and this is not a direct quote) "Where am I?" "You're on the Orphan Train." "But how did I get here? I have parents. I'm not an orphan!" "But one of your parents probably put you on here. They felt it was best for you." "But they didn't put me on here!" "Now, now. I know it's hard. You must accept the truth!"

Now, of course, if one were to look at it as something they expected for an older kid or an adult, they'd be disappointed. They would complain that the story changes a little bit between pages 2 and 3. They'd complain about the historical error of a grown lady with her hair hanging down. But those people would be too nitpicky, because for a nine year old (especially my sister!) it's great!

Of course, I'm biased. I think it's wonderful, but my sister and I rarely criticize each other's cartooning to the extent that even our parents would, simply because we don't offer it for critique. But still...maybe it's a phase, or maybe her name will adorn the comics section later. We can't know...yet...I mean, I'd like to be on the list of Newbery Medal winners, though that's unlikely. I'd settle for a Newbery Honor, or, at least, a good review.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

A Fairy Tale

this was written for school, believe it or not!
Morning in the mountains. Something to die for, Anitra whispered to herself, as she walked out along the dewy grass gathering wildflowers. She knew that in time she would have to go back into the gloomy house where her grandmother lay dying. Aase Nordraak had lived a full and wonderful life, but now she was dying, and Anitra had to rid herself of the feeling of death.

Still, Anitra thought of her grandmother. Grandmother loved the morning flowers, but could not see them in the windowless, stuffy hut. Anitra gathered the flowers in her hands, until her arms were full, fuller than ever before. One side of the meadow looked a little bare, still, what was the sacrifice if Grandmother could see the wildflowers one last time. Probably by this time tomorrow the other side would be bare, too.

Solvejg was calling Anitra now. "Nitra! Granny is dying. You must come immediately!"

Sorry to come in out of the sunshine, Anitra hurried in. The smell of pungent herbs, coupled with the smell of too many unwashed bodies made Anitra's stomach feel queasy. But she hurried to the cot in the corner.

"Granny? It's Anitra." She took the old lady's hands in her own.

"Nitty." That was Granny's special name for Anitra. Anitra came over. "Yes, Granny?"

"I smell flowers."

"Yes, Granny. See?" Anitra picked up the bouquet and laid it the old woman's hands. "They're fresh. I've just gathered them."

Granny didn't seem to say anything more. After awhile, Anitra carefully took the woman's pulse.

"Solvejg! Ingrid!" the two sisters came running. Ingrid, the eldest, put her arms around her little sister. Solvejg stood considering.

It was two months later. The sisters, living alone with their granny 'til her death, were out of house and home and knew not what to do. So Anitra, who was always a good dancer, danced and sang for money. Her dances were pretty, charming—everything that mostly was not about street dancers. When Anitra danced, she always imagined herself in a pure mountain clearing...

Like the one so near her home. Anitra knew that she would never see it again. It was just the way it was. And it made her sad.

Then one day, two roly-poly creatures showed up and asked to speak to the dancer. They were adorable little men, and Anitra really wanted to cuddle them. But their spears looked pretty sharp.

"Well, now," one of them drawled. "I've been thinking that maybe our king would like you to dance for him."

"You...what?" Anitra gasped. "No. No! That cannot be! That's completely impossible."

"It is true. He has seen you dance and he wants you to come. Don't you trust the king's personal messengers?"

"You? You look almost like teddy bears," Anitra said, rather scornfully.

The two men looked hurt. "Our king does not, I assure you. He is, well, handsome."

The two men began dancing and singing a song of the merits of their king.

"You are so weird," Anitra said.

"Weird?" Both of their lower lips began to tremble. A fat tear rolled down the fatter one's cheek.

"Oh, puh-leeze," Anitra wailed. "All right. I'll come."

"He is the best guy on this side of the world!!!" they both said. "You won't regret it!"

Anitra groaned. "I will see you, Solvejg. And you, Ingrid. I'm sure this can't last long."

"Just think, a real king!" Solvejg sighed. Ingrid swooned.

"Fat teddy bears and stupid older sisters!" Anitra grumbled.

The king was pleased to see Anitra. And he WAS handsome. And smart. His personal messengers were funnier when taken with a grain of salt and smart ones besides.

So when he asked Anitra to marry him, she said yes. That was fine, until the witch Hecate found out about it. You see, Hecate wanted her daughter to marry the prince. Now, Hecate was a witch, and her daughter Mahala was weak, and sick. Normally, Mahala was a nice girl, but she depended on her mother to get around and she naturally obeyed everything her mother said. So she sat at home, quietly sewing, waiting for her mother to strike.

And strike Hecate did. She did it in the utmost secerecy, not violent in the least...but poor Anitra was trapped. Hecate quickly knocked the young woman unconscious, and brought her to her home. "Now, Mahala," Hecate said, "you must go to the king on your own."

"But Mama—"

"You must. And then you will marry the king. It's our ticket out of here!" Hecate gestured to the hovel. Mahala shrugged.

"We don't really need to—"

"Ah, but wouldn't you like to move into a castle?"

Mahala actually didn't, but didn't dare say this to her mother. "Yes, Mama."

"Then you must work for it. Go, now, and wear this girl's clothes. I will enchant you by my magic, so you look like her."

Mahala went.

When Anitra woke up, she saw Hecate bending over here. "Ack! Who are you?" she cried.

"Morning, Mahala. I'm so glad to see you so strong."

"My name's Anitra, not Mahala..." Anitra ambled out of bed and looked around her in shock. Then, slowly, as the evening's events came back to her, she groaned.

"I have a headache." She went over to the basin by the mirror and splashed water on her face. Suddenly she stopped, stared into the mirror and screamed.

Mahala, in her normal state, had a very timid, mousy expression, gray eyes, and sandy hair. She actually looked like a very delicate flower. But it was quite a change from Anitra's blue eyes, black hair, and a very strong-willed look about her.

"What the heck has happened to me???" she demanded. "Who are you, and what are you doing?"

Hecate smiled. "I have enchanted my daughter to look like you, and you to look like her. Now your name is Mahala, until years after the wedding. I hope you like brown."

No color, to Anitra, was worse than brown, except in skin and in hair. But Mahala's life seemed to be brown. She opened her mouth and screamed—or tried to scream—"Help! Help! Help!" But her voice was only a whisper.

"What are you doing to me?" she demanded Hecate.

"You will not scream."

Anitra glared. "Sure I will." She ran past Hecate and hurried out of the house. Hecate followed in hot pursuit. Anitra looked back and screamed (out of the witch's cottage, that particular spell had no power), "Anitra, not Mahala!!!"

Hecate followed. "Come back, my daughter, come back!"

"I'll tell her that," Anitra answered. "For I am not your daughter!"

Hecate was running very fast. Anitra saw there was nothing to do but to stop her. Remembering that her granny had taught her some magic, she turned herself into a river. Hecate saw this and put her lips to it, to drink it. Anitra didn't like to think how she'd turn herself back inside Hecate, so she turned herself into a dog. Hecate turned herself into a bigger dog. Anitra changed to a falcon. Hecate turned herself into an eagle. But, of course, the falcon was fastest, so that was okay until Hecate managed to enchant Anitra so she couldn't fly at her fastest. Anitra hurriedly tried to fix this, remembering many magic spells as they came back to her, but it didn't work. Hecate was gaining closer, and closer...and suddenly the falcon disappeared.

First Hecate tried in front. Then behind. Then she checked to see if the falcon was on top of her somehow (anybody with any bit of sense will do that when confronted with a wily falcon). Then she decided that Anitra must have changed herself into something.

Anitra had. Anitra was one of the eagle's tail feathers.

Hecate flew farther, faster, and when it was time, Anitra turned into a bear and lumbered up the steep hill to the Mountain King's castle. The eagle tried to peck out the bear's eyes, but all of a sudden Anitra changed herself into a young woodsman. The young woodsman raised his gun, but the eagle also changed herself into an old woodsman. The two got into a fistfight. Anitra suddenly turned into an elf and ran up the rest of the hill, 'til she saw a young woman who looked like herself standing with the king in the garden. Quickly she changed herself into an engagement ring on the lady's finger. Hecate came up in the form of a moneylender and explained to the king that his betrothed owed him something—a ring. The king said that he would pay the debt, but the ring on his betrothed's finger was not coming off. The king, by the way, was magical, too, so he had figured out everything. Then he ordered the moneylender sentenced to death and had him beheaded. Mahala was actually kind of glad.

So Anitra married the king, and Mahala married his secretary and became keeper of the grounds. Both couples had a lot of children, and they all lived happily ever after.

But wait! I haven't finished the tale. Did I fool you? But it isn't finished yet, for I haven't told you what happened to Ingrid and Solvejg. Ingrid married a duke and became a duchess. And Solvejg became a singer and won a lot of contests, like "Mountain Kingdom Idol" and stuff like that.

And now they all lived happily ever after.

Explaining the revamps...

Oy, vey. Nothing whatsoever is happening. Whatever is happening is boring (read about twenty pages for school. Flunked comprehension questions. Was quizzed on the digestive system), dumb (how to annoy and delight your father on his birthday), too personal (what I think of thus-'n'-such), too weird (do you want to know my ideas for sequels to certain movies???), too silly (for example, an alternate universe story about a couple of toddlers changing the course of the Galaxy), or copyrighted (my Star Wars--Beatles album covers are probably copyrighted to the teeth).

Oh, well, we did do stuff. Like I had an art lesson today. And on Sunday we saw a concert outside by some girl who had apparently placed fourth in the Chinese equivalent of American Idol. From our town! Scary. But only one disappointment: what I thought were shooting stars were actually bugs illuminated by stage lights! Otherwise it could have been magical. In one sense.

I guess this is what I'll do. I'm going to revamp this blog (I wish I could give it a new title, but I don't want my Grandma to freak out!) a whole lot, and then I'm going to start writing differently.

For example, no psuedonyms. My name is Catherine. My sister's name is Becky. My mom and dad are John and Eunice...not respectively! Our last name is not Stuart.

Also, I think this'll be more of a rambling one. I mean, I'm going to stop feeling guilty about blogging something that has nothing to do with daily life. This may actually mean regular posts for a few weeks. Maybe.

So this is the last time I shall sign myself Saro.
Saro

P.S. Or maybe this is the last time.
Saro

Profile Picture

Aaaack!

I'm sorry I haven't posted in so long!

By the way, when I post, I post the truth, as it is at that time. That means, if I say that, oh, say, I wrote to some friend in Timbuctu and she hasn't responded yet, and then she does respond to me, look at the time. It may be that I posted that before I got the answer. Just a thing to keep in mind.

Besides that, there's really nothing to do. Yesterday was Friday the 13th. We're not superstitious, but it turned out to be a really bad day! Yuk. Next Friday the 13th I plan to have a blast!

Kiana and me played Polly Pockets yesterday. It was pretty funny. Kiana and I often carry have the dolls carry on conversations. When it's dolls, she tells me what to say. When it's both of us acting out, I tell her what to say.

But we don't mind. It's pretty funny. Kiana has a bit of a lisp, and one time she demanded the prisoner brought before her, and added in a very impressive voice, "And now you'll have to be a Thith Lord like your father!"

And the poor prisoner, trying not to laugh, said, "I don't think so. I'm a Jedi."

But we have fun.

Thursday I took a picture of the Beatles crossing Abbey Road and pasted in new heads. I'd show you, but it's probably copyrighted, huh?

Ta-ta for now
Saro

Really Fast

No, I have plenty of time...but I just discovered that I can play songs on our computer really fast. So I have been torturing our Atwater-Donnelly and Balkanarama collection. Sometime when we get home I will torture some more. "I'll Tell Me Ma"? "Curragh of Kildare"?
Saro

Research Woes

My big report this year is on Celtic and American Folk music. Sort of. I doubt it'll be very good, no matter how hard I try (I resisted doing a Chinese-English pun there). I was thinking of stuff to write this morning and I realized that a fact I knew was unfortunately on none of my source materials--it's on a CD! So I don't know what I'm going to do. I guess I'll have to find it in another source.

If I weren't trying to write a report, I'd say that it was wonderful that one could do a live CD and give it interesting, report-worthy facts, mixed with great music and do it just right so that it would sound great. There's a difference between a CD and a concert, and that even with a live CD. And some venues where you play a CD is where you just want to hear music. But the talking in this one is great (Plus, my portrait drawing skills were greatly advanced by drawing the front cover...though how on earth did I come up with that expression?!)

That's all for now.
Saro

P.S. Right now I want to go home and play our whole Atwater-Donnelly collection, not just Daily Growing, while I work. Rrrrrr...

Not Much to Say...

...except I've a cold. Argh!!!
Saro

Mei Hua, Xiao Hua, Xia Yu, and Xiao Xiao

Or, using their English names: Hannah, Flora, Sherri, and one yet unnamed. Xiao Xiao or Mei Mei is going to be her Chinese name but I can't decide whether to name her Sandy or Rose. Sandy being for Teacher Sandy, Rose being for one of my national friends. She looks like a Rose, too, and I'm not kidding!

Yesterday Micha and Kiana showed up and we played dolls. Micha was Hannah, Kiana was Flora, my little sis was Sherri, and I was Xiao Xiao. They had interesting personalities, not like those that they were named for. Hannah, unlike the girl I once knew, was pushy, mean and insensitive, Flora was melancholy and showed it (the real Flora has problems but is very brave in public. She always smiles), Sherri was the sweet person that anyone my sister plays--even Darth Vader to some extent!--always ends up as (I'm not saying Sherri-the-person isn't sweet, but not saccharine sweet!), and Xiao Xiao ended up a more stereotyped version of Kiana.

Well, it was fun. Then I had to draw Luke Skywalker with a Mosuo doll (my sister's, unnamed). The picture looked so dumb, I threw Yoda on Luke's back. I captioned it, "First Date Gone Awry", as Yoda smilingly says, "Long stories from my childhood I will tell you." Okay, bad humor. Whatever. Anyway, that's it for the playdate. It was interesting...as always....
Saro

Hey, no fair!!!

My dad just got himself a second blog--and it's not fair! ;)

Maybe someday when I grow up I'll have two blogs...I have "what happens" stuff to write about and then poetry and creative writing. Grrr...
Saro

Titanic Theme

Before we left, I never told you about what happened the day before. There was a talent show the night before, and, tired of playing folk songs for all those students (I like it and they don't even know what the heck it is), I decided to play them "My Heart Will Go On". Easier said than done.

I had sheet music from my earliest violin teacher, Mr. Denham (left the program with cancer, and I don't even know if he's alive anymore), and if it hadn't been for that, I wouldn't have felt brave enough to try. So I went out all over looking for free sheet music. There was one place it was free, but you had to download Windows software (we're Mac people). And the rest was not. So I paired a MIDI and a bit of some person's arrangement for flute and piano and came up with a rigmarole for the violin.

The students loved it.

So I'm trying to remember the songs that they try to make me sing. "Yesterday Once More" (Don't know that one) "Do Re Mi" (from the Sound of Music) and maybe others. Hm. Well, Christmas is not going to be "Jingle Bells" because a song with words by some guy (can't remember!) and music by Tony Krogh (did I misspell the name?) is much prettier and sounds better on the tin whistle. I guess it'll be just the music, 'cause I can't sing while playing the tin whistle.

But I bet I'll need to play besides Christmas and now. Today, for example, is the moon festival, but we have a playdate with Micha and Kiana so we aren't going to any parties, even if we are invited. Not that I mind parties (I love them when we have warning), but I haven't seen Micha and Kiana since the day before we left. I would have normally seen Kiana at least on Wednesday, and Micha on Friday and Saturday. Sooo...

Ciao for niao
Saro

Dona nobis no bird flu

Latin scholars may kill me, if they so will.

Yeah, you might've heard of the bird flu before. I had, too, being in Asia and all. But other than being at Holli's farm and not being able to touch chickens, just in case, was all. Then, all of a sudden, we heard it's in our prefecture, and we had to get evacuated. So we spent the weekend in Kunming, making my minority doll collection complete with Wa, Dai and Tibetan dolls of various styles. Whew! At the airport, after getting the long-wished-for Wa doll, I told Mom I had all the minority dolls I wanted. Her answer? "Good!" But she was happy I got what I wanted.

But it was kind of sad. I mean, if you read someone else's blog you might read, "But of course we're glad to be well-taken-care-of" or "Well, we took the necessary steps and were content to do so," Sure there's that, but since it's probably already taken care of by other people, I have no need to do so. The long and short of it was, It was a drag!!! We had good times, of course, but these were tempered by the fact that we're stuck in the provincial capital when we want to be home. Home! Last year, this time, I loved it here, but home was somewhere else, even then. When I started this blog, home was impossibly far away and I hated it. Now I have two homes, and if ambitions carry far I may end up with three before my life is over. But Kunming is not home and will not be unless we settle in an apartment there and live our life with all of our stuff and all that. But that won't happen unless I get a job there when I grow up (and even then if I have extra money I might hop down to this prefecture if I can :))

I hope none of you are offended by the fact that I've written the worst of how I felt. Sometimes, when you're blue, thinking on the sunny side gets fakey and stupid. Sometimes, I need to say what I'm feeling, at that makes me feel better. Then, I can think of it. I guess the only time I can be Pollyanna is on Thanksgiving. We'll probably be in Kunming then, too, for an ordinary break. I overheard something about "canned pumpkin" and "the proper spices"...(and I wasn't eavesdropping. If I ever do do that I don't go and post it online...)

And that's about it. I guess there's nothing much else to tell. I guess I want to say again that the stuff you might get from other people about how it was good that we had to do this because we're safer that way or whatever is true. But they can take care of it for me. I'll tell the long and short of it.
Saro