China

You must know this post is actually an excuse to show some wonderful photos my dad took in China. He truly is an amazing photographer. 

I went to China in 2006 just after 2nd grade with another family and a group of college students. Culture shock. Major culture shock. I love flipping to that bouquet of memories; listening to the world soccer tournaments with the children of the other family,  eating at the Jin Mao Tower (which my sister has decided she will own someday), staring at the timer pronouncing the days, hours, and minutes until the Olympics. Remembering the gray-haired man who opened the gate to the Fudan Da Shwei dorms we stayed at. Getting off that plane definitely changed how I saw a lot of things. What a blessing it was have that experience

This is my sister at the Great Wall. I can't tell you how it was because....

.....(sniff, sniff) unfortunately (sniff once again) my mom and I were blowing our nose in a Beijing motel... it was a miserable place to be sick.With the help of a nature show we somehow survived. 

Of course like all tourists seem to be required to, we went to the Forbidden City. And no, I am not attempting to swing dance.  As a seven year old I could not resist (alright I admit it, I probably still would not be able to resist) getting a picture of me "running for my life" in the forbidden city. We  have one of me pretending to shield my face of a sword but I spared you the sight.

I am still very proud that I took this picture of my dad. I wasn't feeling very well that particular day and, as our tour guide explained to us, I needed to take it easy because I might have a deadly disease that was going around China. With that said my dad and I broke off from the group and mosied around the city at our own pace. It was wonderful. 

Throughout the whole trip we were asked to take pictures. At the time I wasn't too fond of the whole take pictures with strangers thing but now as I see the pictures I'm glad we had the opportunity to get them... despite the awkwardness.

China is such a beautiful place. I think we were at an Emporer's summer garden when this was taken. I wish I had a summer garden.... and a rocket.

It seems as if this gate should have a sonnet dedicated to it's bricks and meaning. It's curve of magnificence and weeping willow splendor.

We ate. Oh, the spices and tickles of the tongue. Even my french fry loving self could recognize that I was partaking art.

If you are to go on you must know that I have an absurd fondness of taking pictures of feet. I know, it scares me too. 

There were many things that I wasn't used to in China. The taxi advertisements made it on the list (but then again I'm not used to taxis in general.) 

Apparently I was a little glad we ate. 

Guess who took this picture?


China has such a beautiful, vivid culture. That I was able to taste a little of its richness (both literally and vice versa) I will count my lucky stars on.... and planets for that matter.

Blogging 101

Please forgive the corny name... I couldn't think of anything else. Alrighty, so, I have decided, out of the kindness of my heart, to teach you how to become a successful blogger... because I so clearly am. Enjoy my ninja wisdom (Ninja Wisdom: Noun. Wisdom usually categorized as being TOTALLY COOL!!)

1. You must always come up with a strange, little nickname for your husband.

Don't ask me why. Unfortantely, I am lacking in this area as I have no husband. I should do something about this. Hmmmmm. Anyone seen the non-animated version of Hiccup around?

2. You must have a quirky/absurdly cute dog or cat.

I promise that I do but my computer is being mean and not allowing me to upload any pictures of them.

3. You must be or know someone who has mad skills in baking.

Check. My sister has skills that are beyond mad.

4. You must have hands.

What can I say guys. Seems kinda important.



If anyone wants to add to the list feel free. Until then good night, and good luck.

WARNING: The Heiress may brake heart and inflict severe damage on your brain. Watch with handkerchief and caution.

  It was one of those Saturdays that demanded TCM be turned on (if you don't know what TCM stands for I'm ashamed of you). So being obedient people we flipped to the wonderful channel. It was a Montgomery Clift marathon day. We should've known better than to watch any of his films, they're slightly depressing. Ok, they're really depressing. But how could I resist the beginning-of-an-old-movie music? And the roaring lion? I couldn't. Anyway I'll stop boring you and get on with the reasons you should never, ever watch The Heiress.

1. It has good acting-

Normally I count this as a good sign. But when the movie is horribly depressing it is a very bad, bad thing. 

2. They make you like the characters-

At the beginning she's a sweet woman who has absolutely no social understanding and an absurdley large amount of money. He is a man with an horrible hairdo and a charming personality-a fatal combination. Their meeting place is a crowded ball where she is set on impressing her father with her social skills. Of course, she butchers the whole thing and he's a sweet heart about it... even with his horrible hairdo. The point is you like both she and he. You want them to get together. And.... and you'll see.



3, They get engaged in the first 20 minutes of the show-
This is when I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. They're supposed to secretly (did you hear me movie writer's... SECRETLY.) like each other. Then some misunderstanding comes that seperates them and freezes their thriving relationship. Then they figure out what happened and forgive each other. Then they get engaged... at the end of the movie. Let me say that again; at the END of the movie.

4. He's a jerk-
Ok, so your secret suspicion has been right all along. He was courting her just for her money. Just for her money! When her father "disinherits" her because he doesn't approve of their relationship he abandons her. He is a jerk. I strongly dislike him.

5. She turns into a bitter, stiff, rich woman-
Her father dies. She refuses to go to his funeral. She is cold. She is cruel. She is nasty.

6. He comes back-
...with a mustache. He begs her forgiveness and gives a weak explanation for his leaving. He couldn't let her lose her inheritance. She informs him that it was actually a test. He proclaims he had know way of knowing... I strongly dislike him. Anyway, she eventually tells him that she can love him once again. They plan to get married that night and he skips away to pack... I strongly dislike him. As he leaves those fateful steps she locks the doors and draws the curtains. When he returns and finds that the door is locked he pounds on the door, screaming her name. She walks up the stairs ignoring the pitiful cries, taking a lantern with her that leaves him in darkness.

The end.

(Shudder)

Never, ever watch it.

Growing Up (or lack of)

    There is a mandatory time in every girls life. It is the time when you're a baby-tooth-grinning-five-year-old. It is when you try on Mom's high heels. You parade through the house delighting in the little clicking sound that follows you. You show everyone what your feet occupy, not waltzing away until you get the mandatory "You look like your fourteen in those." The problem is one candle filled birthday after another comes and you wear high heels again. Only they aren't moms. They're yours.

   Growing up is scary. Too scary. As a baby-tooth-grinning-five-year-old I was only too happy to grow up. It meant make-up and cars and... high heels and... and... other super, super, super cool stuff! What happened to my enthusiasm. As a preteen I promised myself I would not, for all the doughnuts in the world, come down with teen symptoms (NOTE: My sister is a definite exception!) You know the usuals. The rolling of eyes, treating siblings like annoying cats, etc. But here I am a teenager and I hate to admit it but my temperatures running high. I have to stop myself. There's more. From what I hear it just keeps going. Growing up. It doesn't stop after your 20 or 80 it just keeps on going. More symptoms, more broken promises to myself.

  Of course, as all stories (except, apparently Chinese) have to have happy endings there is the fact that growing up is always better than growing down. Or staying the same for that matter. So here's my conclusion (I know science teachers I'm making you proud) we can enjoy growing up and all the quirks it offers us. Laugh at the quirks, it seems to make you feel better. Be wise in how you grow and always be considerate of the people and objects (lets not forget doughnuts) around you. There, my piece of pretend wisdom is out. I can go complete the evil homework my teachers have presented for this weekend in peace.

Something like Hulahoops

I once stood upon a gritty cement driveway and hula hooped. Someone was watching a movie inside. Gun shots fired from an emotionless sound speaker. There's a place in my brain waiting for days like that. When I can bust out my multi-colored hula hoop and place my feet upon a driveway as colorless as Dr. Seus's books aren't. When the tiles in our hall kiss my feet with cool breezy lips. When Lollipops flutter through my unkempt thoughts with daffodil wings. When the breeze waltzs with my curtains. A day. A day that's something like hulahoops.

Riiiiight.

 I understand that one of these days I should introduce myself or something, but who wants to hear about Limsy Hardwitt when they can hear about Kronk.

             That's right. Kronk. 

  He's the guy who makes Spinach Puffs 
(we can forgive him this once), 
talks to squirrels, and has his own theme song. We love you Kronk. If, while watching this video you have a sudden urge to give a standing ovation, go ahead. I commend you. In fact I'll clap with you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqF7JBlqkOA

Yzma?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMSHOPkcVv8

Not so much.

Dramatic Drum Roll

Ok, readers (if they're are any) we had better get this done with. Yep, that's right the official stuff. The stuff everybody skips.  The (dramatic drum roll) Terms of Agreement.

 I, (state your name)


do hereby agree to all the terms below. If I infringe upon any of the following terms I will be expelled from The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 


Term one: Any time I pronounce the official name of this blog I will pronounce it like the guy in The King and I.


Term two: Under NO circumstances will I make fun of the author's last name (and for that matter first name).


Term three: I will not judge the author of this blog by their spelling.


Term four: The author of this blog cannot think of any other terms.


Well done! You got through The (dramatic drum roll) Terms of Agreement. I hereby give you forty points.