I haven't put anything on here in a long time! Dracula was a really cool book. The last book I read was One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (or however you spell his last name). That was a great book. But don't read it. The language is TERRIBLE. If, however, you can get a hold of an edited copy (like mine now is) then DEFINITLY read it!
I have to go really, really soon, but I just wanted to make sure that anyone that reads my blog realises that the Crocodile Hunter has died. I am praying for his family. I'm pretty sure that most everyone knows, but for all I know there's someone saying "What Crocodile Hunter? What is this lunatic talking about now?" If that is you, then I'm very sorry. If you're someone who already knew, then please forgive me for shoving the news back in your face. If, however, you know who the Crocodile Hunter was and didn't know that he had died, then I am very sorry that you have to go through the shock, but glad that this post has given someone some sort of information.

Dracula, etcetera

I'm reading Dracula, well, actually, I'm listening to Dracula (not currently, but off and on). Iscool. I REALLY like it. It's so seldom that I get a really good book. Crime and Punishment is one of those. It's really weird, but so far (I haven't gotten that far) I feel kinda sorry for the vampire. He makes himself so likeable. It's also slightly humorous, as there are many things that I already know about vampires that the main character learns as the book progresses, such as the fact that he cannot see Count Dracula in a mirror. But I guess it's not that funny, mostly it's just a good story. Why am I writing a book review here? I have no clue.

So I guess I could tell you about audiobooksforfree.com. If you go there, don't click on the picture of the...um...I think it was some sort of gun at the top of the page. But besides that, it's a cool website. You can download audio books, either that you've bought, or you are getting for free. They're cheap to buy, but I'm cheaper, so I usually get the free books. You can hardly understand the reader, however. The more you pay, the better the recording sounds. So I've got The Three Musketeers, Dracula, 20000 Leagues Under the Sea, and, um, some book that I can't remember it's name at this moment and I don't really want to look it up (it's by Jerome K. Jerome, if that helps you). Dracula sounds the best. As a disclaimer, if you see anything you shouldn't on audiobooksforfree.com, it's not my fault.

While I'm talking about free stuff, I'm going to tell you about rollingrs. It told me to. It's this podcast I got that teaches you Spanish and it's a video, and, following the podcast tradition, it's free. The guy's likable and he really wants feedback (which I need to do - thanks for reminding me). So far, I've forgotten many things that I've learned. I could say "I'll pay the bill", but I forgot "the bill" in Spanish, so I've just got "Yo pagar...". I can say "Do you speak English", "I'm thirsty", and "I'm hungry", which are very useful phrases. So if I'm ever stranded in Mexico, I can ask them if they speak English, and if they don't, I can demand food and drink. Whether they will comply is an entirely different story. And if the water is black/brown/green, I can look up "Why is the water black/brown/green?" in my handy-dandy Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Travel. That thing's a life saver, I've got to tell you. Of course, I've never had to use any of the phrases in there (thank goodness) but you never know when I'm going to have to yell: "Alto, ladron!" (stop, thief!) or "Por favor, no me lastime" (please do not hurt me). The second one I'm trying very hard to remember, just in case. I'd learn the Japanese phrases, but I stink at Japanese, and I can't really read the transliterated words. Spanish is much easier. Oh yeah, they also have learning Japanese video podcasts, but I don't know how good they are. I just started Spanish.

Adios, amigos y enamigos!

Prayer Request

Okay everyone, I'm going on a very long trip to California and I have to start by the 15th. This would be fine, but the vehicle being taken is currently not working and part of it is in the shop, which means that it can't be in running condition until it's put back together, which means I won't be able to go to California with my dad on this particular vehicle by Saturday if the part doesn't get fixed in time for him to put everything back together. Which means everything is normal for the Weber family trips. PLEASE PRAY!

My trip to Mexico - Continued

Okay, if you're just joining us, you may want to scroll down to the previous entry, so that you know what's going on.

Monday, June 19th, 2006
Dear Journal,

To begin:

"Let the peoples praise You, O God,
Let all the peoples praise You."
-Psalm 67:5-

Hey, guess what? - Okay, as a disclaimer, I know that it's ridiculous to ask a journal a question, and really, I don't care for that particular question, but I end up asking it without thinking all the time, so I'm going to shut up now, kay? - I just figured out that I'm going to have a verse for every day in La Posa except the day we leave (Thursday), sweet! Also, the Rockportians (what I call our church family) are coming tomorrow to do the Drama here.

Sarah Weber
************************************************************************************

Hello
you remind me of a tree
cuz you're like a bee
it's not too late to meditate
don't forget that you're a girl cuz
I shine like a pearl
So there you go don't read
this row.

(a drawing of a smiley-face goes here)
Ili

This is a poem that Iliana the translator wrote for me. She's the coolest.
It sounded kinda Beatnik-ish.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Thursday, June 22nd, 2006 (the day of departure - 3 days later if you aren't paying attention)
Dear Journal,

I am SO sorry that I didn't write more!

Did I tell you about Pepperchuck? It's this beat up doll that was found in the dirt. They (some members of our team) played a bunch of creepy tricks on Ili and last night Señor Ricardo (Mr. Richard) broke open a glow stick and put it in Pepperchuck's eyes. It was creepy.

So now we're leaving, and I'm kinda sad and kinda not. I really loved it, better than last year even. But still, I think I'm ready to go.

I'd like to write down all of the stories, but I don't really feel like it at this moment. Maybe I'll tell you about the drunk man later (his name was Julian - pronounced: "hul-ee-ahn").

Sarah Weber
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Boy, what a pathetic ending. Sorry, I was traveling and tired. Actually, this wasn't a very good ending at all. It kinda gave things a fake sort of happiness, which was not the case. God truly blessed the trip. Well, "One man Band" has finished downloading and "For the Birds" is currently downloading, and I have to go change into my pajamas. Thanks for reading!

Sarah Weber

My trip to Mexico

Okay, everyone wanted me to journal while I was in Mexico, so here's what I journaled while I was there for the specific purpose of putting it on here:

Wednesday, June 14th, 2006
Dear Journal,
Tomorrow we leave for Mexico. I'm not ready. I'm so afraid. God help me!

1 God be gracious to us and bless us,

And cause His face to shine upon us-
2 That Your way may be known in all the earth,
Your salvation among the nations.
3 Let the peoples praise You, O God;
Let all the peoples praise You.
4 Let the nations be glad and sing for joy;
For You will judge the people with uprightness
And guide the nations on the earth.
5 Let the peoples praise You, O God,
Let all the peoples praise You.
6 The earth has yielded its produce;
God, our God blesses us.
7 God blesses us,
That all the ends of the earth may fear Him.

Psalm 67 - my favourite.

Amen and Amen
Sarah Weber
````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Thursday, June 15th, 2006
Dear Journal,

"God be gracious to us and bless us,
And cause His face to shine upon us-"
Psalm 67:1

First day of travel is over. It's two minutes to 10 pm. We're spending the night in Waco, Texas, as opposed to Harlingen tomorrow night (we were going to keep going all night).
I am beginning to slip into the weary traveler's attitude in which the weary traveler becomes utterly revolted and irritated to no end by their fellow travelers - specifically those of younger generations. Please do not misinterpret this entry - I am not in an ill humour, only venting the irritation that builds up inside of me and I do not wish to reveal to others, but, sadly, I often forget this resolve.

For a summary of this day:
Long, rather monotonous and frankly rather boring, saving the books on tape.

God give us grace.
Sarah Weber
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Friday, June 16th, 2006
Dear Journal,

Today I spent the morning sleeping, after waking up feeling like I could kill someone out of irritation. Afterwards, I was much better, and eventually got to call a friend that is dog-sitting for me, which helped to pass the time.

Now we're at the church, and tomorrow we will enter Mexico.

How can I capture the sights and emotions that I feel and see right now and force them onto paper? If I described the sight, I would not give the right impression, I would not be able to coat the objects of the room in the soft bluish light that glows through the blinds and gives off the sense of quiet stillness and waiting. If I described the emotion, which would I describe; the emotions I feel, or the emotions that travel through the door that goes to the room of yellow light and sound, coming from those within, and sharply contrasting my quiet room of waiting and solitude?

To describe my own, how could I? I feel that I would give you the wrong impression still - one of loneliness and depression. I am not depressed, but for a while I felt lonely. Thank God for answered prayer and grace. I am so afraid.

Sarah Weber

"That Your way may be known in all the earth,
Your salvation among the nations."
Psalm 67:2
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Saturday, June 17th, 2006
Dear Journal,

"Let the peoples praise You, O God,
Let all the peoples praise You"
Psalm 67:3

Well, last night was pretty miserable until about 2:30 in the morning when I finally fell asleep in El Huevo. But, thank God, when I slept, I slept well.
I'm sorry that my past few entries have been rather negative. Please understand that I'm not like that most of the time. Lack of exercise has brought mood swings again, and I've been doing an extremely poor job of controlling them. Right now I'm happy! Not much has happened so far. It's only 8:44.
We go into Mexico in a little while. If I don't write on the trip to La Posa, I promise (as far as I am able) to write before I go to bed.

We have a great group, as far as I can see. I do hope that we'll be able to do the Drama in La Posa.

Sorry, I was not able to fulfill my promise.
Sarah Weber
????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Up until now she had been confused, well, not really confused, but out of place. But now it was all right. She stepped through the door and knew she belonged.

The night was wild, beautifully wild. The warm wind blew constantly, bending the pointed grasses and whipping her hair behind her like a dark standard. She walked barefoot down the sidewalk. The night had a calming effect on her and her tears began to subside. She looked up at the humming orange street light and felt drowsy, the sound of the rushing wind and night insects lulling her to longed for sleep. Content, she climbed into what was to be her bed for the night, and after a few hours of tossing and turning, she drifted off to quiet, restful sleep.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, June 18th, 2006
Dear Journal

I have had the most awesome day (praise God!) today. I've got a friend, a job, everything happy!

I helped Mom in the Medical Clinic.

People that are vital to the Clinic:
Mom-R.N.
Miss Kay - R.N.
Sarah - Assistant Nurse
Christina - translator

With me helping (but not vital) was my new friend Kirsten - like the American Girl doll (that is so cool, since I have NEVER heard that name anywhere else and I thought it was a cool name when I read the books, well actually I only read the first one)! We sorted out vitamins and helped ppl who needed glasses. It wasn't hot, there was a nice breeze, everyone was in a wonderfully happy mood: all was perfect.

We went to Media Luna and I got to make friends with Judith. It's weird, having a friend with my late grandmother's last name. She's like a really happy Snicket.

God has truly blessed this day **Thank you, people who prayed!!!**

"Let the nations be glad and sing for joy;
For You will judge the people with uprightness
And guide the nations on the earth"
Psalm 67:4

Sarah Weber
ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccco
I'll finish this later.

"The streets were dark and moist with the morning dew. Leon ran, breathlessly, searching every nook and
alley like a man who had lost his fortune.
"Oh, where can that mutt be?" he whispered under his breath.
He had to find the puppy. He was still stunned at how quickly things had gone wrong. How had the dog gotten into the stable? How had he managed to be in the sliver of moonlight? Leon heard the soft yipping of a puppy nearby. This better be the one.........."
_____________________________________________________________________
Once again, Yourbiggestfan has produced a marvelous cliff-hanger! Wonderful writing! WRITE MORE!!!

On the Experience of God's Work

When I am doing God's Work as His Missionary, I find that something strange happens to me, to my past, to my future...and to the clock.

You travel to dangerous places, whether it's in the city or across the border, and are terrified. You're praying with all of your might, everything you see is terrifying, and then...in the space of time between the raising of your foot and the dropping of it to take a single step...you are full of joy. Without realizing it, you smile at the person that has terrified you ever since you arrived. You're fascinated with the area. You're nervous, but not afraid of presenting your drama; you even joke around with your friends. You perform the drama, and a few people watch. You feel much more comfortable as you walk across the street that you've only crossed five times in your life, feeling that you do it every day. You order exotic and disgusting-sounding foods (okay, you only do that if you're like me), and everyone comments on how brave (or stupid) you are. You eat the meal as if you've eaten every meal of your life at this little restaurant in the city, then you talk to a man as if he were your neighbor. You go back to the side-walk that is your stage and you prepare to begin the drama once again. You do, then you do it again. And then it's time to leave. You walk back to the car, and you realize: It seems like all that you've ever done is spend time in Little Mexico, that it's all that you've ever done. Your future seems tied to Little Mexico and the children watching you, the grown men, the women, the people eating across the street. All that you want to do is spend your life on that little rectangle of side-walk. You feel like you've either spent eternity there, or a few minutes, and you're shocked to discover that time passed while you were there. As you leave, you are the happiest person on earth, and pray that the Lord will bring you back.

Okay, that was my day. If you think that I shouldn't have used the pronoun "you", then I think, perhaps, you may need to reconsider. If you have been a missionary and your experience was completely different, then you do not have to reconsider anything. Please do not compare your experience with mine. However, if you have never been a missionary, then I would like you to pay close attention to this scenario and see if it applies to you in any way:

You just found out that you're going on a mission trip. You find out that it'll be hot, you'll be in pain, you'll be speaking to strangers that don't speak English. In a word, the entire trip will most likely consist of your suffering. There is nothing you would rather not do than this mission trip. You see yourself as more of a stay-at-home-and-support-the-mission kind of person. You do your best to learn what you should, and try to rejoice in the Lord, but it's all forced and you can't stand it.

That's me. Now compare the first scenario and the second. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine that I would be able to worship God by swaying back and forth. God's Work is not what your flesh tells you it is. I finally understand a video that I saw once. It was a missionary that worked at campgrounds (I think). She said something along the lines of: "This is the most fun a person can have" (along those lines not exact). AMEN!

My Dad Doesn't Like Chunks of Tomatoes In His Chili

Okay, I've been reading in the comic strip "Zits" (this is old, just to warn you) that Jeremy blogs the conversations that take place at his dinner table. Since I really have no idea what a blog should be, Mom suggested that I blog the conversation at our dinner table (as a joke) and since I have nothing to report right now, I guess I will.

So, Dinner today was chili and peanut butter sandwiches. So we prayed, Dad looked through the mail, we talked about how we received some mail that was directed to someone that lives on a near-by road, Dad talked about how, since he received two CycleNews' in one day, on one it says something like: "Who will win the championship?" and he said something that referred to the fact that he can lift the magazine and there's the answer. Um...then at some point Dad said something about chunks of tomato in the chili, and Mom said that that's how you're supposed to make it, and that it makes the meal more interesting to eat (frankly, I'm on Dad's side). Dad said okay (Mom was having a stressful morning). And I think maybe before that Dad noticed that a motorcycle dealership was hiring - a janitor. So that brought up the subject of Dad's work, and how his boss said something about his not having the choice on whether to take off Saturday. But Dad can use a sick day, so really, he does have a choice. And he was talking about how he could change jobs, but we might "starve", and Mom said that would be okay (we wouldn't really starve, people, it's a common expression in my house).

Please forgive the choppy/vagueness of this post. I wasn't taking notes or anything, since I had no idea that I was going to blog this.

Oh yeah, the Da Vinci Code is getting poor reviews!!! YAY!!! I am so sick of that heretical junk being talked about non-stop!

HIGH-SPEED INTERNET!!!

I LOVE WILDBLUE!!! I've got highspeed internet now and it's great! My safety Dance video just starts right up without sitting for an hour! Plus things download really fast. We downloaded a whole book last night (audio book - 20000 Leagues under the Sea) and it took virtually no time at all! My friend was laughing at me today because I accidentally told her about it twice. Okay, this was a friendly laughing "with" me thing, not harsh maniacal laughter at my stupidity or anything. Why I threw in that disclaimer I have no idea.

Anyway, I've got the Hampster Dance song (a nice little kid one-Dad said that the original wasn't nice). It's happy. I'm going to listen to it now. I'm sorry that you can't. It's a very bouncy song. It has this great motivational guy in the background every once in a while. He says stuff like: "That's it!" "That's all there is to it!" "Let's try it" "Terrific!" etcetera. Oooh, I don't know if I like that part.

Anyway, I really like Wildblue. It's a very convenient blessing.

Anyway, let's see how many paragraphs I start with "Anyway".

Anyway, I would like to ask for prayer for a child that was born prematurely for health reasons. He needs your prayer.

So, Everyone is still free to send end endings and I would very much appreciate it if Yourbiggestfan would finish the story for me!!!

Mother's Day

Some things that I love about my mother:

I realize that it might not be safe to put this on my blog, because my mother is the best woman that has ever walked the face of this earth, and so she'll be easy to spot, but she needs recognition.

(please note: these are not numbered according to rank, but according to what I thought of next)

1) My mother loves me.
When I was little, I would say "I love you", Mom would say "I love you more," and I would say "Nuh-uh, I love you more", etc., but I have realized that, however harsh and unloving it may sound, she really does love me more, and for that I love her. I could not love myself, be patient with myself, be a mother to myself (so let's hope my kid(s) is(are)n't exactly like me).

2) My mother is not perfect, and does not pretend to be.
My mother is human, and being human she sins time after time, and she is broken. Yet being a Christian, time after time she is forgiven, and time after time, she finds peace. She shows me that I am not the only one that struggles.

3) My mother prays with me.
Yes, when we pray I feel like the most stuttering person on earth compared to her worship-filled, praise-filled, God-honouring prayers, but it doesn't matter. We come together before our God and Master, both sinners, both forgiven, both crying, both loving God in a way that could seem so much if it were not so little.

4) My mother prays for me.
There are times that I know that the only thing getting me through the day is God's grace through my mother's prayers. There is an awesome (in the deepest sense of the word) blessing that comes with the knowledge that your mother (or really anyone else, but mainly her) is praying for you.

5) My mother trusts me.
There is nothing more honouring to me than to trust me. If I have earned your trust, then I value it more than anything else, and my mother trusts me very much. There are so many things that I could do behind her back, and most likely she may never find out, because she trusts me. Yet because she trusts me, I will not do them. Trust is a major thing with my mother. If you break her trust, that's it. But thankfully I've been wise enough to realize the importance of her trust, and so have always (unless there's something I can't remember) honoured it.

6) My mother is a devoted servant of Christ.
My mother lives on the Word of God. Her day is ruined if not started by prayer and reading His Word. My day goes downhill, but many times if I've forgotten to pray, I've forgotten why my days go downhill. My mother always seems to know. She is not materialistic, but treasures up God's promises. She gets frustrated when she falls short, yet she falls short in ways that I do not even think of because my faith is so shallow. She earnestly desires to know the Will of God, even if it means giving up stuff.

7) My mother loves my father.
My parent's relationship is the coolest. You'd swear they were newly-weds or some-thing, they love each-other so much. There is nothing I want more than to marry a man that loves me as much as Dad loves her, and to love that man as much as Mom loves him. The clearest way that my mom shows that she loves my dad is through her submission. Very rarely does she do something drastic with-out seeking Dad's advice, and often when Dad needs something done and doesn't have time, he asks Mom to do it, and she does it without hesitation.

8) My mother confides in me.
My mother tells me many things that I am honoured to be thought responsible enough to hear. There is nothing that I love more than to have Mom sit down and tell me everything that's bothering her. I feel like an adult, even if there's nothing that I can do for her, I can pray.

9) My mother is my best friend.
All friends my age, no matter how close, will never be as close friends as my mother and I. I feel more comfortable around her than anyone else in the world.

10) My mother is honest, but not harsh.
My mother tells me when I am headed in the wrong direction, or when she feels that I am headed in the wrong direction, then lets me pour out my jumbled up, confusing and pathetic heart. She's never harsh or cruel or tells me things that I do not need to hear. Her only intention is to keep me on the path of Righteousness.

11) My mother does not mind talking about uncomfortable or private things.
I have always known that I can come to my mom with the weirdest questions and not be turned away.

12) My mother love myself and my siblings all equally.
My Mother would never in her life play favourites with her children.

13) My mother lets me be my own person and encourages my interests.
My mother does not try to squeeze me into a cookie-cutter shape. She takes me places that I like to go, looks into the things that I enjoy, doesn't get annoyed by what I enjoy. In some ways we are extremely alike, but in others we can be extremely different. I have found, however, that, given enough time, I start to like some of the stuff that she does and I don't, without her pushing it on me. ANYWAY, the only time my mother objects to something is when it goes against our Lord and His Will.

14) My mother has lived in the world and no longer does.
My mother is a completely different woman than she used to be, and I'm reaping the benefits. She can teach me from her personal experience, and I must say, it makes lessons extremely interesting and very realistic.

15) My mother can bring up past embarrassing experiences for a joke, but does not push the limit to the point of cruelty.
My mother is a very funny woman (in the good sense), and very often a past mistake is very humorous (the longer ago that it happened, the funnier it is, I've noticed). But Mom does not laugh at her children's stupidity. My mother does not mock us.

16) My mother is so humble she won't admit that she's humble.
If my mother ever reads this (and I fully expect her to when she gets the chance) most likely (unless she has a complete change of heart before then) she will tell me that she could be better. Of course she could. She's human. But I think she's about as good as we can get in this fallen, sinful world. Okay, we do have jokes about humility and stuff, but what I'm trying to say is that my mom is more humble than she thinks she is.

17) My mother keeps an eye on me.
No matter how much she trusts me, my mother is always checking up on me. I haven't lived as long as she has and I need her to read my blog and require that I ask permission to go online and call people, etcetera (I love that word, it's so beautiful - okay, back to the subject). And my mom does that. She doesn't need a catastrophe to open her eyes. I don't have to suffer so that my younger siblings won't.

There are so many other things I could say about my mother, but she's up from her nap, so I'll probably have to get off soon. Any virtues that may be in me came about through the prayers and faithfulness of my mother. I love my mother. Long ago I sang a song called "My Mother's Gentle Love". I can still remember most of the words. I'm going to put the chorus here.

My mother's gentle love,

My mother's gentle love,

Has taught me of God's tender Care,

And turned my eyes above.

I'll bless her all of my days,

For all her gentle ways.

Oh how I thank my Lord above,

For my mother's gentle love.

I never thanked Him for her more than I do now. So there. That's my pitiful tribute to the best mother on earth.

WHAT HAPPENS TO THE PUPPY?

After sleeping for hours, the little dog awoke. Blinking, he sat up on dark velvet cushion and forced himself to use his two front legs. They were stronger than he expected. He tried the back pair. Stronger. Excited, he yelped and began to jump up and down on the bed. Forgetting himself he began to wag his tail happily. All at once his joy ended. The noise came, loud as before, penetrating his ears and shaking his body. He cried out and was, once again, dazed..........

This was sent in by Yourbiggestfan. Isn't it wonderful? I'm so intrigued, Yourbiggestfan! What happens next? You're great at this! Thank you so much for writing!

REMEMBER everyone, YOU can still write! You see what a great job Yourbiggestfan did, now it's your turn! I want to know how many great imaginations we have out there! And it doesn't have to be great! Just clean. Give me a story ending, and I'll put it on here. (oh yeah, try to stay clear of plagiarism, I haven't read all of the doggie books out there and stuff, so it'll be hard for me to know if the thought is original. If it's not, and I give you the credit, then you'll have your conscience to deal with and I won't. There, there's my disclaimer. Now have fun!

Part 4...sort of

I'm very, very, very (a.k.a. extremely) sorry that I've not been able to get to my blog for a while. I am so brain dead right now, though, that I'm not sure that I can write the rest of the story. I know!

Here's a chance for you to be creative!

Why don't you write the end of the story for me?! Then I'll put it on here for everyone to read and everyone can say:

"My, look at that! That Sarah is such a wonderful writer! This is stupendous compared to that other junk that she's had on here recently. Wait! This says that (your name here) wrote this! Well that makes sense! (Your name here) is such a wonderful writer with such a vast imagination! They can take an idea and run with it! Not like Sarah. She should do this more often!"

And then YOU'RE the star! Wouldn't that be great?! Just think of it as a really easy writing contest. And I'll publish everyone's ending (only I must warn you that they will be edited if not clean). I guess you could send it to me via the comment link. Then, for all of those people who don't read the comments, I'll stick it in something that they will read. And if you'd like, I'll color-code them, so that you can easily pick out yours and admire your work. If you don't want that then just tell me. START WRITING!

Part 3 - well, in a minute

Okay, I'll go on with the story in a minute, but I just wanted to encourage everyone to watch the Safety Dance video. Did you know that I can't find where to buy the song anywhere? You can get a version to sing with, but not with Men Without Hats singing it. I'm going to look again, though. Maybe I can find something. Oh yeah, I just remebered what I was going to write. I finally got my writing project for the Holocaust Museum written! Just the rough draft, and I have 49 too many words.

Okay, Part Three

The little dog dimly saw the child running toward him, but did not have the strength to lift his head to get a better view. Slowly his world went dark and he drifted into blissful sleep. When he awoke he was lying on a soft cusion next to a warm fire. Blinking, he looked around in confusion and saw the child.
"Are you waking up now, little dog?" The voice was soft and gentle. The little body relaxed a little and he leaned his head back into to cusion. "Are you hungry?" Setting a dish of steaming food next to his head, the child sat back and watched quietly. Feeling as if he were in a dream, the little dog sniffed at the little plate and began to eat. When he had finished he felt much better, but still very weak, and felt very sleepy with his full little tummy. "Just sleep little dog. Get lots of rest and you'll be good as new."

Okay, I've got to go, but I'm open for suggestions on how this story should go. Vauge ideas are swimming around in my head, but if I like your ideas then I might put them in. Of course, I could love them and forget to put them in, or I could just turn control freak on you like I do with most of my stories and take complete control and ignore most of the suggestions I recieve. But as of now I have no intention of doing so, so please give suggestion.

Updates

Okay, we'll get back to the poor little dog in a little while. Right now I just want to tell everyone that there have been some changes made which have moved all of that cool stuff that used to be at the side (over there --->) way down to the bottom

l

l

\/

so I strongly urge you to scroll for a while so that you can find out about me and stuff, plus, (this is the added bonus that made every thing go down) I'VE GOT THE SAFETY DANCE VIDEO ON HERE!!! Everybody cheer! Now if only I could figure out a way to get it on to my ipod...

Part 2

Once, when Leonardo da Vinci was only a little child, there was a small dog, smaller than a cat. His hair was white for the most part, spotted here and there with large black dots and a head of the same color, excepting a dark brown muzzle. He was a lonely little mutt, unloved, uncared for, the perfect picture of a forlorn animal. He lived on the capricious generosity of passersby, and his little ribs showed plainly through his fur, stained brown with the dust and filth of streets. He wandered all over the earth, following whoever gave him a kind look until he could walk no further, then stopping to rest, eating what he could find, and continuing in his meaningless, endless journey. After three years of this miserable existence, the poor dog stumbled by a home, delirious with hunger and exhaustion. Crawling weakly up on the front step, he collapsed with a pitiful whimper. A kind-hearted little boy of only five years heard his pitiful cry and ran to his aid...

Blogging while I'm cold

Hello everyone! This must have been a really busy week for everyone, because I have gotten hardly any emails, and I haven't had much time to check them. I've been having fun recently on my emails to one of my friends by making pictures out of letters. I don't think that it would work here, but I can try. There, if that looks really weird, then I'm very sorry, but it's not my fault.
/H
lHl
llHll
lllHlll
llllHllll
lllllHlllll
lllllHlllll
lllllHlllll
lllllHlllll
lllllHlllll
lllllHlllll
llllllHllllll
llllllllHllllllll
llllllllHllllllll
llllllllHllllllll
llllllllHllllllll
llllllllHllllllll
llllllllHllllllll
llllllllHllllllll
llllllllHllllllll

Right now I'm waiting for this video to load called "Hobbit Folk Rock". It's great, but I'm not going to put the link on here because I have NO idea what the rest of the website is like, so I'm not going to have someone investigating it, finding something terrible, and blaming Sarah. I'd love to be able to get it on my ipod, but I can't as of now. I noticed that there was an option to get other videos on stuff like your cell phone (I have no idea if ipods are included, since it was only noticed in a glance) but this one isn't. Kim showed it to me on Sunday and I want to show it to the rest of my family.
I'm cold. The place in our house that the computer is situated is colder than the refrigerator. Maybe even the freezer. Our front door opened a while ago all by itself (okay the wind did it) and it was really creepy. I thought that someone had opened it, but then I noticed that it was locked, so that was a strange discovery. Anyway, I guess I didn't shut it well enough when I took out the trash. When I'm cold I have this habit of typing reallyreallyfastsothatit'shardformetogetthewordsspelledcorrectly or I start mixing them together or something. Sorry if you can't read that, but it was just an attempt to be humorous and show how I'm typing very quickly, except when I typed that I actually went slower because I had to concentrate on not hitting the spacebar. I'm still cold. I guess if I were completely dry I wouldn't be, but since I never dry my hair (or at least, not with a towel) my hair is going to be wet for a while. Now I've got that song stuck in my head. I'm so cold. JM started a fire, but it's out. I need something interesting for my readers to read. I'll write something, you may or may not like that, but hey, if you do then great, if you don't, then I won't stop you from skipping to the bottom. Okay, a subject...dog...Leonardo DaVinci...maybe...

The Dog of a Genius

Part 1

Everyone has at least heard of Leonardo DaVinci, and most know that he was the one to paint the Mona Lisa, and who could walk down the road without hearing of "The DaVinci Code"? But there are very few who know about the Dog behind the Story. Perhaps there are a handful of us, perhaps only two, or it could be that I am the only one who knows the story. It is an ancient tale, told from generation to generation in my family. The story goes as follows...

If you want the rest you're going to have to keep reading my posts, because I have to get off now, and I want people to keep coming back. Of course with a threat like this (if you keep reading I'll keep writing) it might drive you off for good. THIS IS NOT INTENDED. Please let me know if you want me to stop, and I'll think of something else to put on here.

Saturday!!!

Hello, all of you people who are making me happy by reading my blog! So, is this annonymous peroson '[my]biggestfan'? If so, you really don't have to be so secretive. I'd think that it was one of my friends, but it is way too positive for them. I thought that it was this one certain person, but she says that she hasn't posted, which doesn't mean anything, but she isn't one much for sending false emails. So anyway, thank you, Yourbiggestfan, but I really do think that my stuff doesn't focus enough on the really important stuff.
Nextdoorneighbor is online right now, so I'm going to be slightly distracted while I blog. Well, she's going super slow with the email right now, so maybe I won't be that distracted.
So, there's a motorcycle race going on at Daytona right now, and so it's on the television. Whoa, a rider is already down! This could be a really interesting race!
Okay, I guess my grandma wouldn't mind if I gave a preview of my writing by using a short story that I wrote for her for this writing thing I do with her, so here it is.

Wildflowers

I will never forget the time that my father was called to war. I was eight, full of life and happiness, completely unprepared for the shock of my daddy leaving me. In the days leading up to his departure the house was full of people running here and there, people crying, people laughing, and soldiers, so many soldiers. They were once my father's friends, old school-mates and fellow employees, yet now they were different. Their uniform, which they were so proud of, always laughing and showing it off, this uniform changed them somehow. No longer did I see the kind-eyed Mr. Wilson who would bounce me on his knee; he had changed into a harsh, terrifying man that came to take my father away and change him, too.

Through all of the rush, I sat alone in my little window seat, from which place I could see people coming and going, both on the road and inside. I didn't get in the way, and I didn't call attention to myself. But my silence caught my father's attention, he was the only one who noticed. He would smile at me and wink every time he walked past, and I would attempt to smile back. Once, after seeing another soldier out safely, he came over by me and knelt down.
"What's the matter, Baby Girl?" I just shrugged my shoulders. I didn't want to ruin his happiness. My father glanced around the room. Momma was chatting with some women over some tea, besides that the house was empty. "What do you say we go on a walk?" he asked, nudging me in the arm with his elbow. I smiled a little and hugged my doll. Our walks were always fun.

We walked down the street, passing shop windows full of posters advertising war-bonds, and out of town. A large field lay just a little way out, and we would often go there, chasing butterflies and picking some of the many wildflowers that grew there. On days like that one, when the sky was deep blue and the sun shining bright on the spring landscape, the field seemed to come alive with color, as if a careless artist had dropped paint all over the scene.

Somehow, the picture wasn't as bright when my heart was sad. Silently, we made our way through the tall grasses that came up to my shoulders to an enormous oak tree that sat in the middle of the field, acting like a guard against anyone who would dare harm the wildflowers. Sitting down, my father gazed out across the landscape, our little town standing out from the fields and farms. I followed his example, but quickly looked down at my doll's eyes. My father looked over at me.
"It's going to be a good spring, plenty of rain." I quickly brushed the tears that had begun to trickle down my face away.
"How can you tell?" I asked.
"Every time a little girl as sweet as you cries, the whole world wants to cry, too." He leaned over and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "Do you want to know a secret?" I looked up eagerly. "I'm scared to death of going into this war." I was shocked. How could someone as brave as my father be afraid?

"What are you afraid of?" I asked.
"Well," he paused and looked around, as if making sure that no one was listening, "To be honest, I'm afraid that the generals can't make a good apple pie." I laughed and my father raised his eyebrows. "You think I'm joking? Have you ever tasted a general's apple pie? But it's not only that," he sighed and looked down. I became suddenly serious, wondering if it was worse than bad apple pie.
"What else is there?"
"I'm afraid for your mother. She's awfully afraid of the dark. I don't know who's going to keep her from being scared." I stood up, proud that I could take away my daddy's fears.
"I can keep her from getting scared." My father smiled and gave me a hug.
"I knew I could count on you, Baby Girl," he said as he stood up, "Now let's go see if your mother's apple pie is finished baking yet." He started to walk off, but I stood still.
"Daddy?" I asked, worried. He stopped and turned toward me. "If I'm busy keeping Mother from being afraid, whose going to make me brave?" He came back up to me and squatted down so that we were eye-to-eye. Glancing over, he picked a pure white daisy and held it between us.
"Whenever you see the wildflowers, I'll be thinking of you. When you're afraid, just look at the wildflowers and pray." I took the slender stem from his hand and rubbed the soft petals against my cheek. Smiling suddenly, I threw my arms around his neck.
"I'll be brave, Daddy. You can count on me." Picking me up, he swung me around in a circle and set me back down.
"I knew that I could count on you, Baby Girl," he said as he took my hand in his. Together we walked back to the house, prepared for the future. In my hand I clutched the daisy tightly. My father may have been going to war, but I still had my wildflowers.

So, that's a sample of my writing. It's not very good, but I'm not putting it in any contest or anything, so I guess it doesn't matter. I still haven't gotten to her next installment, I can't think of anything right now. So, I guess I'm done for now. Thank you again for reading!

Thanks

Okay, to begin I want to thank all of the wonderful people who have read this blog and let me know. Also, I would like to know who the anonymous person was, but I guess since they sign as anonymous, they would like to remain anonymous. Now I'm not sure what to do. I could address the questions that I have been asked here, or I could do it down at the bottom of the page where you can find it under "1 comment". I suppose I'll answer them here.
First, they said that I should lighten up. You must realize that I don't really have this great balance. I'm either serious, or ridiculous. Some of my posts are lighter than others. Those are the ones that are kinda boring, since they're all about what's happening every moment of my time on the internet. Sorry. I'll do my best. You're not the first person that's told me this. I once had a friend of mine tell me that I am too serious, and my father has agreed. He said that even when I'm having fun I'm serious. I'm kinda glad. I like being known for being serious (okay, before someone starts cracking up, I know that I'm not that serious). But at the same time, there are certain people that bring out every un-serious thing about me. Hopefully they know who they are and don't think that I'm some air-head that chatters about stupid things all the time. They just make me happy and bubbly.
Second, they said that they wanted previews of my writing. Um... they probably wouldn't if they knew my writing. I'm not sure what they want. I would put this one story that everyone loves, but I'm not sure that the people that I sent it to would like that. Of course, I've already sent it to everyone (well not everyone but most everyone) that I know. I'll ask my mom...um, she seems slightly worried that I don't know who commented, so I guess you'll be on hold.
Third, they asked what I like to write about. Give me a subject and I'm usually pretty happy. For my own entertainment, I write Fantasy, but recently I've started going into more modern fiction. Yeah, I guess that would be what I like to write: fiction. Of any kind, I do historical and just pure out-of-thin-air fiction. Sometimes it's kinda science-fictionish, but hardly ever.
Fourth, they asked if I wanted to be a writer. YES! I love writing! I love to channel my imagination on to paper. Actually, I only started writing because I thought that I would explode if I didn't do something about my imagination. It's always driving me crazy, this imagination. It makes my dreams extremely vivid and exhausting, but it's won a contest for me and people seem to enjoy my writing.
Fifth, they asked what my other hobbies were. Well, um... I love to read, and... that's about it.

So, there we go. Thanks again for reading!

Post-Anne Frank Saturday

Last night I watched "Anne Frank". When I read "Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl", I didn't know that she died in a concentration camp, so when I found that out I was beside myself with grief. I guess because I could relate with her in some cases (except for the obvious lack of hiding to save my life). So I thought that when I saw the movie it wouldn't be as rough. I was wrong. For one thing, at the end of the Diary it just gave a brief overview of what happened to her, in the movie it showed it. So I cried a lot, but I'm fine now. I woke up kinda blah, but I'm finally better after some Bible Study and prayer.
Right now I'm listening to English actors and actresses singing about clouds. It's from the "Snoopy: the Musical" soundtrack (with original London Cast!). Okay, that was weird. It just interrupted Lucy in the middle of her line and instead put "Groundhog Day" soundtrack music on. 'The Kidnap And The Quarry' to be exact. Okay, now that's over and FFH is on. I guess this is kinda boring, so I'll try to think of a new subject.
The weather was absolutely beautiful for a long time, but now it's cold. My Spanish is really interesting. I can say: "Waiter! The Menu!" plus, of course, various other things, but that's fun. I wish that people would read this thing. And when they were done reading it, they would post something. I realize that I don't update it much, but hey, there's a lot to read. I've been doing this thing since August!
Oh yeah, that reminds me, Our annoying TV is gone! We have NetZero HighSpeed. The pictures look terrible, but it goes a little faster. 'Billy and the Mystery Box' is playing. I'm fixing up my Avatar on Yahoo so that I can send it to Tinkerbell. I feel bad, because I haven't sent her a single email. I keep forgetting. But I'll send her one today. I wish that someone would send me an email! I love being online at the same time as everyone else, and I can't really get off right now, 1. Because I'm still doing stuff, 2. Because Alistair Begg is downloading. I really need to put more music on here. I also need to think of something interesting to put on here so that I don't scare off anyone who decides to finally read this. I guess I'll go now.

Hello, World!

Soooooo, my ipod isn't updating because other people are logged on and for some reason it's super sensitive. I just got the new version of Windows Media Player downloaded (finally), and it was very nice to me, because it saved what it had already downloaded when I had to log off last time, so it went really fast. Now I have to do something, hang on a sec. Okay, now it's finishing. Maybe now I'll be able to redeem my Wal-Mart Music Gift Card.
We just watched Groundhog Day (you know, the movie with Bill Murray) even though it's February Fourth, not Second, because we weren't able to on the Second. Yeah, Mom made Sticky Buns and when Rita complemented the Tip-Top Diner's bread: "These sticky buns are just heaven.", we held them up. They were just heaven.
No one is emailing me except for my grandmother. Oops. Hang on one more second. Okay, all fixed. I thought I had deleted everything and would have to get the Media Player thing all over again. So, yeah. My brother just got on to my mom's radio and changed the station and is now singing some song that I've never heard before. ALRIGHT!!! Everything is going really fast on the Media Player thing. I hope it stays that way. In the time it...never mind. I'm busy with it right now. SWEET! It's Blue! It's pretty! I love it! Yay! Okay, I have no idea if this is going to still be on here in a moment, because I just accidently logged off and now I'm-hey, it worked! If it wasn't for this stinkin' TV thing that I've complained about before, I wouldn't have done it. Okay, So now I'm going to open the Wal-Mart website, one moment, please. YES! It's working! Now, hopefully, I'll be able to do everything else! Yay! I've just been informed that I've recieved email! Okay, so far so good. WHAT!?!?!! It's not compatible with ipod?!?!?! Well, there has to be a way to fix that, and if there isn't, then I don't really have a choice, I have a gift card. *sigh* Alright, I realize that this probably isn't the most exciting thing on earth, so I'm going to stop now. Bye.

Thoughts of my heart (or at least those that I'm willing to share)

Hello, again! Today in church, my pastor was speaking and he said something along the lines of: We have something in heaven which is worth giving up everything else for. Alright, I know that it wasn't exactly like that, and that I'm changing a lot of words, but that's the thought that stuck in my mind. I kept thinking of End of the Spear and of Nate Saint dying with the spear sticking out of his abdomen. And I was thinking of a quote from the movie (and I'm supposing from Mr. Saint himself): we don't kill them, they're not ready to go to heaven, but we are. Once again, this is an extreme paraphrase. I'm ready to go, and so I should be ready to give up all for Christ. Strange as it seems, I think that if I were called upon to do so, I could and would. I know that I could, because I would be given the strength to, and I would, because, well, I wouldn't really have a choice. Still, I think that I would do so willingly. Or at least I hope I would. I have just been given this confidence that God's strength is sufficient for me. That I really can lean on Him for all that I need, that I don't have to do anything. It is so easy to think these thoughts and to write these words, yet I cannot begin to say how difficult it is to actually live them.
My Sunday School teacher's wife is going through a lot right now, so if anyone reads this blog, then would you please pray for them? Also, a friend of my grandmother's is having heart surgery tomorrow, if you could keep her in prayer as well.
I hope that someone gets online so that I can email them. I love writing on my blog and all, but it's nice to have a conversation with friends via email, since you get to have replies and stuff. Also, I enjoy knowing that people actually read my emails, whereas I'm not so sure about the blog.
Sometimes it's so hard to keep my heart captive, especially around Valentine's Day. I know that some people must think that I don't ever like anyone because I'm into courtship, but it's not true. I struggle just as much as the next girl, maybe more, considering that I have to work hard to keep my mind and heart pure for my future husband (if the Lord brings me one). It may seem strange, but the main way I keep from giving my heart away is by making a mental list of standards and comparing the person to them, begining with their spiritual life and ending somewhere around their love of sports or their grammar or something like that. Usually I'm done before I get that far, but you get the picture. Really, I think that I'm the luckiest (or should I say 'most blessed') girl on earth, because of my wonderful parents. Every night Dad gives me the "Good-night Kiss" which goes like this:

Dad: "I love you."

Me: "Love you, too."

Dad: "And remember:"

Me: "Daddy always loves me."

Dad: "And the Icky Boys?"

Me: "They don't love me."

Dad: "Who do they love?"

Me: "Themselves."

Dad: "And?"

Me: "Their cars."

Dad: "That's right. So, nighty-night, sleepy-tight, don't let the land-sharks bite."

Me: "Alright."

Dad: "What does that mean?"

Me: "Keep your toes covered."

Dad: "Why?"

Me: "Because they think they're meat grapes."

(I'd rather not explain)

And then, of course, I have my wonderful mother. She is the best. I mean, she really is. It's really easy to talk to her and get her advice and recieve her wisdom. Without her, I would be a nightmare. Thank God for my parents!

Not so droll, and hopefully not a digression

Today I went with my mother to see End of the Spear. I will be honest, I cried, a lot. It was a very good movie. I am now certain that I should go back to Mexico. I want others to be saved. I especially want those around me to know the peace and joy that I know. I've been reading When I don't Desire God: how to fight for joy by John Piper with mom. In chapter two, he talks about how Desire and Delight are inseperable. You can only delight in something if you desire it. And you can only desire it if you have had some taste of it before. And the only way to have this taste is for God to give it to you. So on the one hand, this makes my job easy. There is nothing that I have to do to make Christianity look good; nothing that I can do. And yet, this means that there is no way for me to give them a taste, even the smallest drop of the amazing, satisfying joy of belonging to God. All that I can do is tell them, hoping that I am planting seeds or watering them, and pray. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Yet if it is so simple, why don't I do it? Why do I at times not feel satisfied with Christ? The answer is simple, I am a sinner. Thank God for His grace! When I fall, and I do fall, which I'm sure is painfully obvious, and if it isn't then it should be, He still forgives me, still takes me back. Every day, seemingly every second, though, thank God, this is not true. But still, every day I fail, I sin, I am unsatisfied. Who am I to tell the world of joy so wonderful that nothing else could come close to it, when I don't live it? But I can tell them about Grace. Grace is all that I can live on, the only thing that keeps me from despair. I do not have an excuse. But I am so afraid, so afraid that I will offend those around me. Why? What could they do to me? Impale me with a spear? Of course not! And yet a simple frown will scare me off. And then, at times that isn't true. There are some things that I cannot help but say. I just wish that I could say them with more confidence.