Tommorow I Am...

...Going to Bourke!

Photos when I return...!

A Random Collection of Things Pushed Together to Make Up A Blog Post

Okay,

I'm finally ready to write a long, informative blog. But, knowing my luck, I'll probably be called for dinner and then forget to finish it, and when I do, it'll be much shorter than I originally planned.

Anyway.




Time for a catch-up.


Emily and I have started doing horse-riding every Friday. I really love being with the horses and learning about them and understanding them. So it's been really, incredibly cool so far.



We've also been doing a little bit of Eisteddfod. I did News Reading, Sight Reading, Bible Reading, and Prose Reading.

Tomorrow Emily and I are doing a piano duet. That will be my last item. I'm fine now and will be until five minutes beforehand, that I'll panic. My legs will go shaky, and my hands cold. I think I'm allergic to stages, performing ect. Funny thing is that I'll be okay the minute I'm up there.

I just hate the panic beforehand. All the things that could go wrong rush through my head. Like before I did my Bible Reading, I recited 'The Anteater' (By Roald Dahl) in my head (I'm learning it for English) to calm myself down. Then I was just positive that I would accidentally start reciting it on stage instead of my reading.

I was okay once up there though.



Friday night was our Youth Group's Bush dance. It was actually pretty fun, a little cold, but good. It was maybe just a little awkward dancing with strangers though.



What else can I bore you with?



Well,

• Kylie is home.


• I went to church this morning and a friend's house this afternoon.


• I'm going to a Belle Shakespeare production on Friday. The Twelfth Night. A funny play...if you can understand it...


• Robin Hood is muy increíble! Como pulg .. ¡de verdad! I think I'm becoming an addict! I have to know what happens! Sólo tengo que hacerlo!
  
  I have to have dinner. Hold on.

All-right. I'm back. About two hours later...(Things just get in the way...eating Mumma's Soup, practicing Emily and I's duet...cleaning up the kitchen...)

So, anything else to add to the bulleted list...

• We're all slowly catching Winter colds in the house at the moment. Headaches, sore throats, sniffling....Stupid, horrible Winter!
• I've brought a 20 cent photo-book and a 20 cent magazine in which I have cut out all the pictures from Lord of the Rings that I can. My wall is now LordoftheRingdecated (is this right...?) !
• We totally killed those Blues in State of Origin!
• Something from my 'school-life'...I'm doing a poetry unit in English. It's actually been really interesting...I've written my own haiku, diamante, cinquain, limericks, and more. In the next few weeks I'll make my own poetry booklet containing my own poems. Might post a couple of photos in the near future for the few lucky enough to spot my talent from so young an age (yes, that was sarcasm...).
• Ummm, I think that that might be all I can think of. Did I mention Robin Hood...(WOW)

So this is definitely not the 100-page-long blog I envisioned, and it is not filled with humerous thoughts that make you LOL. (Thought I'd get in with the lingo...) (Did I just say that? So sad...I sound like my mother!)

Ciao.

mY nEw - GeTtInG oLdEr - HaIrCuT

As

The
Title

Says

The Devils Own

Book Review
The Devils Own
Deborah Lisson

‘She adjusted the focus on the binoculars and squinted through them in astonishment, and disbelief. There was something there- or, more exactly, someone. Peering out of the bushes of that supposedly uninhabited island was, quite unmistakably, a human face.’
‘The Devils Own’ is a fantastic read, not only does it include action and drama, but also a little romance. What makes it even better, is the fact that it is all based on a true story, the story of the Batavia, a ship wrecked on an island.
Fifteen-year-old Julie is on holidays with her family on her father’s yacht, she’s incredibly bored until one day, when something happens to change her whole holiday.
‘The Devil’s Own’ is a story of mutiny, murder, and excitement and will be enjoyed by ages 12 to adult.

Jordan

Late Holiday Report

I know I haven't been very good in saying what I've been doing lately, but that's because I've only just gotten back from holidays. We were staying in a unit at a place called Hastings Point (Or something like that)

The good thing about it was that it was like a 3 minute walk down to the beach, so I found myself down there often. Another thing I 'found' down there, was not so pleasant.

I have absolutely no idea what kind of fish this is, but whatever it is, it is extremely freaky and not the kind of thing you would want to find in your bed at night.

Apart from finding that on the beach, I also found this...

Holidays were awesome but the height of the holiday in my point of view was Dreamworld, a huge theme park not far from Brisbane. I've only been to one theme park before, and compared to Dreamworld (or should I say Screamworld?) it was very tame.

Our cousins came with us which made it especially fun. We all made a few friends.

And then, of course, there were the rides.

The Claw

The Cyclone

Giant Drop (This was soo creepy. In the picture they showed us after the ride my face was red and scrunched up like a bad tomato. I was just trying to keep my stomach inside me.)

This is the entrance of the Tower of Terror. It's a cart that goes right up the side of the Giant Drop. I actually chickened out and didn't do this one. My 8 year old cousin was braver than me.

Jordan

Anagrams

Here are some weird anagrams I found. Let me know which is your favourite...


ASTRONOMER: When you rearrange the letters:MOON STARER

PRESBYTERIAN: When you rearrange the letters:BEST IN PRAYER

DESPERATION: When you rearrange the letters:A ROPE ENDS IT

THE EYES: When you rearrange the letters: THEY SEE

THE MORSE CODE:When you rearrange the letters: HERE COME DOTS

DORMITORY: When you rearrange the letters: DIRTYROOM

SLOT MACHINES:When you rearrange the letters: CASH LOST IN ME

ANIMOSITY:When you rearrange the letters: IS NO AMITY

ELECTION RESULTS:When you rearrange the letters: LIES- LET'S RECOUNT

SNOOZE ALARMS: When you rearrange the letters: ALAS! NO MORE Z 'S

A DECIMAL POINT: When you rearrange the letters:I'M A DOT IN PLACE

THE EARTHQUAKES: When you rearrange the letters:THAT QUEER SHAKE

ELEVEN PLUS TWO: When you rearrange the letters: TWELVE PLUS ONE

MOTHER-IN-LAW:When you rearrange the letters: WOMAN HITLER

Jordan

The Drought

When bored, I write poetry. So, here is something I wrote when bored.

The Drought


The skies were cloudless,
The dams were dry,
All gardens were gone,
In the heat of July.

The ground was cracked,
The grass was brittle,
Our swimming pool was empty,
And the flowers were little.

It has been so for years,
In this horrible drought,
It’s always so hot,
We almost never go out.

‘When will we get rain?’
Is the question round here,
‘It’s been ever so long,
So many a year.’

Then one day in August,
It felt kind of cool,
This is very strange,
I thought as I did school.

And when I went out,
The skies looked so dark,
And after ages and ages,
I heard the teacher remark.

‘Oh goodness! Children!
Go on and have a look,
There are clouds in the sky!’
And in surprise she dropped her book.

We all looked in wonder,
I could hear the teacher pray,
What was going to happen?
Would we get rain today?

All the children looked up,
We all did watch the sky,
Then suddenly out of nowhere,
I felt something drop in my eye.

‘I felt something I felt something!’
I cried with joy you couldn’t stop,
And everybody held their breath,
Then I felt another drop.

‘I felt one! I felt one!’
Cried one little boy,
‘I haven’t felt this happy,
Since I left Illinois!’

Cheaper By the Dozen

All of you probably know the movie, Cheaper By the Dozen. Well the year before last, while studying American history, I read the book. The book is actually really different from the movie and I really enjoyed reading it. The best thing is that it's actually true, and written by one of the sons and one of the daughters. Anyway, I thought I'd type out a fragment of it (A bit out of one of the chapters) and after reading that, perhaps you'll want to read the book. (I highly suggest it, it's fantastic)

When guests weren't present, Dad worked at improving our table manners. Whenever a child within his reach took too large a mouthful of food, Dad's knuckles would descend sharply on the top of the offender's head with a thud that made Mother wince.
'Not on the head, Frank,' she protested in shocked tones. 'For mercy sakes, not on the head!'
Dad paid no attention except when the blow had been unusually hard. In such cases he rubbed his knuckles ruefully and replied:
'Maybe you're right. There must be softer places.'

If the offender was at Mother's end of the table, out of Dad's reach, he'd signal her to administer the skull punishment. Mother, who never disciplined any of us or even threatened discipline, ignored the signals. Dad then would catch the eye of a child sitting near the offender and, by signals, would deputize him to carry out the punishment.
'With my compliments,' Dad would say when the child with the full mouth turned furiously on the one who had knuckled him. 'If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times to cut your your food up into little pieces. How am I going to drive that into your skull?'
'Not on the head,' Mother repeated. 'Mercy, Maud (Which was the closest she ever came to swearing) not on the head!'
Anyone with an elbow on the table might suddenly feel his wrist seized, raised, and jerked downward so that his elbow hit the table hard enough to make the dish dance.
'Not on the elbow, Frank. That's the most sensitive part of the body. Any place but the elbow.'
Mother disapproved of all forms of corporal punishment. She felt, though, that she could achieve better results in the long run by objecting to the part of the anatomy selected for punishment, rather than the punishment itself. Even when Dad administered vitally needed punishment on the conventional area, the area where it is supposed to do the most good, Mother tried to intervene.
'Not on the end of the spine,' she'd say in a voice indicating her belief that Dad was running the risk of crippling us for life. 'For goodness sake, not on the end of the spine!'
'Where , then?' Dad shouted furiously in the middle of one spanking. 'Not on the top of the head, not on the side of the ear, not on the back of the head, not on the back of the neck, not on the elbow, not across the legs, and not on the seat of the pants. Where did you father spank you? Across the soles of the by jingoed feet like the heathen Chinese?'
'Well, not on the end of the spine,' Mother said. 'You can be sure of that.'
Skull-rapping and elbow- thumping became a practice in which everybody in the family, except Mother, participated until Dad deemed our table manners satisfactory. Even the youngest child could mete out the punishment without fear of reprisal. All during meals, we watched each other, and particularly Dad, for an opportunity. Sometimes the one who spotted a perched elbow would sneak out of his chair and walk all the way around the tables so he could catch the offender.
Dad was quite careful about his elbows, but every so often would forget. It was considered a feather in ones cap to thump and elbow. But the ultimate achievement was to thump Dad's. This was considered not just a feather in the cap, but the entire head-dress of a full Indian chief.
When Dad was caught and his elbow thumped, he made a great to-do over it. He grimaced as if in excruciating pain, sucked in air through his teeth and claimed he couldn't use his arm for the remainder of the meal.
Organisationally, he would rest an elbow purposely on the edge of the table and make believe he didn't notice some child who had slipped out of a chair and was tiptoeing toward him. Just as the child was about to reach out and grab the elbow, Dad would slide it into his lap.
'I've got eyes in the back of my head,' Dad would announce.
The would-be thumper, walking disappointed back to his chair, wondered if it wasn't just possible that Dad really did.
Both Dad and Mother tried to impress us that it was our responsibility to make guest feel at home. There were guest for meals almost as often as not, particularly business friends pf Dad's since his office was in the house. There was no formality and no special preparation except a clean napkin and an extra place at the table.
'If a guest is sitting next to you, it's your job to keep him happy, to see that things are passed to him,' Dad kept telling us.
George Isles, a Canadian author, seem to Killian to be an unhappy guest. Mr. Isles was old, and told sad but fascinating stories.
'Once upon a time there was an ancient, poor man who's joints hurt when he moved them, whose doctor wouldn't let him smoke cigars, and who had no little children to love him,' Mr. Isles said. He continued with what seemed to us a tale of overwhelming loneliness, and then concluded:
'And do you know who that old man was?'
We had an idea who it was, but we shook our head and said we didn't. Mr. Isles looked sadder than ever. He slowly raised his forearm and tapped his chest with his forefinger.
'Me,' he said.
Lillian, who was six, was sitting next to Mr. Isles. It was her responsibility to see that he was happy, and she felt somehow she had failed on the job. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his dry, old man's cheek.
'You do, too, have little children who love you,' she said, on the brink of tears. 'You do too!'
Whenever Mr. Isles came to call after that, he always brought one box of candy for Mother and us, and a separate box Lillian. Ernestine used to remark, in a tone tonged with envy, that Lill was probably New Jersey's youngest gold digger, and that few adult gold diggers ever had received more, in return for less.
Dad was an easy-going host, informal and gracious, and we tried to pattern ourselves after him.
'Any more vegetables, Boss?' he'd ask Mother. 'No? Well, how about mashed potatoes? Lots of them. And plenty of lamb. Fine. Well, Sir, I can't offer you any vegetables, but how about.......?'
'Oh, come on, have some more beef,' Frank urged a visiting German engineer. 'After all, you've only had three helpings.'
'There's no need to gobble your grapefruit like a pig,' Fred told a woman professor from Columbia University, who had arrived late and was tryng to catch up with the rest of us. 'If we finish ahead of you, we'll wait until you;re through.'
'I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't pass your dessert until you finish your lima beans,' Dan told a guest on another occasion.
'Daddy won't allow it, and you're my responsibility. Daddy says a Belgian family could live a week on what's thrown away in this house every day.'
'Daddy, do you think what Mr. Fremonville is saying is of general interest?' Lill interrupted a long discourse to ask.
Dad and Mother, and most of the guests, laughed away remarks like these without to much embarrassment. Dad would apologize and explain the family rule involved, and the reason for it. After the guests had gone, Mother would get us together and tell us that while family rules were important, it was even more important to see that guests weren't made uncomfortable.
Sometimes after a meal, Dad's stomach would rumble and when there weren't any guests we'd tease him about it. The next time it rumbled, he'd looked shocked and single out one of us.
'Billy,' he said. 'Please! I'm not in the mood for an organ recital.'
That was your stomach, not mine, Daddy. You can't fool me.'
You children have the noisiest stomach I've ever heard. Don't you think so, Lillie?'
Mother looked disapprovingly over her mending.
'I think,' she said. 'There are Eskimos in the house.' (Mother called anything bad or evil-minded Eskimos)
One night, Mr. Russel Allen, a young engineer, was a guest for supper. Jack, in a high chair across the table from him, accidentally swallowed some air and let out a belch that resounded through the dining room and, as we found out later, was heard even in the kitchen by Mrs. Cunningham. I was such a thorough burp, an had emerged from such a small subject, that all conversation was momentarily suspended in amazement. Jack, more surprised that anybody, looked shocked. He reached out his arm and pointed a chubby and accusing forefinger at the guest.
'Mr. Allen,' he said in offended dignity. 'Please! I'm not in the mood for an organ recital.'


Jordan

The Animal, The Vegetable, and John D. Jones

Book Review
The Animal, The Vegetable, and John D. Jones
Betsy Byars

“Adults throw perfectly strange kids together and expect them to become instant friends!” Deanie and Clara Malcolm are sure their holidays are going to be perfect. That is, until they find out about Delores Jones and her insufferable son, John D.

John D. Jones Jr. has always been what he considered a perfect child, so why would his mother want to go spend her holiday with some man and his two girls?

With Deanie and Clara arguing and John D. ignoring everyone, the holiday is sure to be horrible.
But then something happens that brings them all together.
An enjoyable, witty, well-written book of family relationships. This humorous story is suggested for readers aged 10-14.

Dedicated to Kylie

Last Monday, my family and I all swapped rooms. This is a large job, even for a family that has two members missing.

So the cleaning of all the rooms, moving of the furniture, and setting up took a long time, but then, there was the question of decorating.

A little while ago, my sister, Kylie, did a blog on a wall dedicated to John Lennon. So, while decorating, I decided to do a wall dedicated to Kylie.

This is it.

Okay, okay, so it's not filled with pictures of her, or anything like that. But it reminds me of her because she was the one that always read me Charlie and Lola.

I love you Kylie.

Jordan

Book Review- Frankie and Albertine

Remember this one Kylie?

Frankie and Albertine
Christine Davenier

Frankie the pig had never felt so low. He had fallen in love.
Albertine was the hen of his dreams- but she had never noticed him!
What shall I do? Frankie wondered.
He decided to ask his friends.

When Frankie falls in love with the beautiful hen of his dreams, Albertine, he is convinced he must impress her.
Unsure of what to do, he goes about the farmyard in search of advice.
‘Dance for her,’ says the rabbit.
‘Strut your stuff,’ advises the turkey.
‘Sings to her,’ the rooster informs him.
It seems that whenever Frankie does as his friends suggest, he makes a mess of it. Will Frankie be able to impress Albertine?
Children eight and under will enjoy this well-written story with it’s beautiful colour pictures.

Jordan

Busted...

Something happened last night that Mum and Dad thought was highly amusing, but we (My sisters and I) were not amused.
Me and my two older sisters, Emily and...the other one (Who wishes to remain anonymous) were playing sing star.
I admit we had it playing loudly, well, almost blaringly, but we all found it rather annoying when Mum ordered we turn it down. So, we turned it down, very reluctantly.
Mum and Dad went into their room to read and it wasn't long before the sound got back up to it's previous level.
We had just finished a song when we heard that the phone had been ringing. Je-errr, the anonymous sister ran to pick up the phone. This is how the conversation went.

AS (Anonymous Sister) - 'Hello, Anonymous Sister speaking.'
C (Caller) - 'Yeah, g'day love. It's the cops from next door. (This was possible as we do have police living next door) Jus' wondering if you might turn the music down. Kind of loud.'
AS - (Makes frantic gestures to Emily and I about turning the music down) 'Oh, yes. Sorry, sorry. We'll turn it down. Sorry.'
C - 'Thanks mate. Bye.'
AS (Weakly) 'Bye.'

AS was very embarrassed about telling us that the cops had called up about our loud music.
She made us turn the dial right down until the music was very quiet.
We hadn't gotten very far when once again the phone rang. AS looked at us then ran to pick it up.

AS - 'H-h-hello?'
C - 'Hey love, just wanted to say thanks for turning the music down. See, we have kids trying to get to sleep here. So, yeah, thanks mate.'
AS - 'Yes, sorry about that. Bye.'
C - 'Bye, he he.'

It must have been the laugh that triggered AS's attention. Something in it seemed familiar and it immediately made her suspicious.
We looked at her, our eyes wide. She suddenly glared at us and said through clenched teeth, 'Mum!'
We all rushed to Mum and Dad's bedroom where they were both giggling hysterically. All AS would say was, 'I knew it! I knew it!'
Emily kept saying, a bewildered look on her face. 'We're allowed to have loud music up to 10:00 PM on weeknights.'
We were all shamed. And the moral in this story is, 'If parents can possibly get the better of you, they will.'

Jordan