Silver and Gold

Today has been a ridiculously long day.

9:15 AM - 12 PM
[Deer Grove Church -- Nursery]
As a rule, I usually try my best to avoid small children. At all costs. Small children at parties? I purposely stay off the floor and associate with people who don't belong to them. Small children I'm related to? Well, that's a different story. They're a little more difficult to avoid, mostly because of the obligatory arrival greetings and farewell hugs, but somehow I manage it. It is very rare that I will spend time with children under the age of five under my own free will. Today was one of those very rare occasions in which I helped "babysit" at least four children under the age of five at my aunt's church, in the nursery.
I'll admit, it wasn't that bad, considering one of the boys was very talkative and pretty much adorable. There was one peanut that I felt horrible taking care of because he was just learning how to balance and he kept falling over, leaving me helpless as he started crying.
Another reason I avoid small children. Crying.
Sticky fingers.
Drool.
Diapers.
The list goes on.

3 PM - 9 PM
[Girl Scout Gold Award Celebration Party]
At my Girl Scout leader's house, we gathered and celebrated my Gold Award, as well as the Gold Awards of two of my fellow Girl Scouts. We ate, we drank, we were very merry, and just generally had a good time. I don't remember the last time I ate so much.
It was a lot of fun! It was mostly parents and our leaders, and then there were us three girls since none of the other girls from our troop could make it, but it was so great to see them all again. This was a group that pretty much dissolved three years ago, and so I haven't seen them in eons.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to hear what my fellow Gold Award recipients did for the project.
My Gold Award project?
Well, it involved three fairy tales, a local library, a local cafe, four actors from my high school, and about three to four weeks of rehearsal. Stir well and let sit, and I got a great show that ran for five performances.

9:30 PM - ???
[Home]
Baking scotcheroos and chocolate covering pretzels.
Contemplating a White Elephant gift for tomorrow's party.

"Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so." - Douglas Adams

A New Beginning

To think that one random evening when I'm exiled to my room by my own brother, I would decide that creating a blog on a more current website would be prudent. To think that I would abandon my Xanga of goodness only knows how long. I blush to think that I maintained such a site for so long, but now I realize that I am really only displacing those random musings and filtering them through another site. A whole new audience for my randomness. It's rather exhilarating, actually.

And now it occurs to me that I'm writing as if I'm in a Restoration novel. Some Jane Austen I turned out to be. It's rather infectious, the Jane Austen tone, for me. I watched the end of a mini-series called "Lost in Austen" today. Halfway through I almost decided to abandon it because I was so frustrated with how it was turning out, but in the end, there was the customary "happily ever after," so I will sleep well tonight knowing that the story ended well, just like Austen's original story. And then I had to watch the Keira Knightley version of "Pride and Prejudice" in order to set things right in my head. To establish that all is right with the world, and "Pride and Prejudice" is how it should be.
Did anyone ever notice?

Character 1: How's Jane?
Character 2: She's in the drawing room.

There seems to be something a little off with that. And I swear, that happens twice throughout the course of the movie. Everyone is extremely worried about how Jane is, and yet no one actually answers as to how she is. "She's upstairs." "She's in the drawing room." As if that was some indication of how Jane was doing. It doesn't happen with anyone else, because no one's asking, "How's Elizabeth?" or "How's Bingley?" Just Jane.
Odd...

A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. - Mr. Darcy