QUICK THOUGHT @ 1:50 a.m.

Just been reading tons of blog posts and btw

I AM ON A TOP 19 TEEN BLOG LIST HERES THE LINK PLEASE GIMME A FIVE STAR RATING (wHY did i just say please?LOL) and you can give everyon else a one star rating but only if theyre worthy of it.

actually, just do waht you want, but check out the link.

http://top19teenbloggers.com/top19teenbloggers.com/HOME.html

scroll down and rate me before reading all the other awsum interesting blogs! Some are really great!

my one quick thought was that my blog entries seem rather long compared to the other teen bloggers….waht does that mean?

i think its good i didnt research blogs when i started out; i just  did my own thing bc otherwise id be stereotyping now. just letting you know. im glasd to be me.

Keep UNraveling!

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Art, Holidays, and A Spice of ME!

Depressed? Me? Never!

Well. I’m very depressed. The InterNET is so depressing. More like, YouTube can be rather upsetting. Or, to specify even further, which I might as well do, those good loser artists who make how-to videos on YouTube are the cause of my Great Depression.

“I’ll never be that good!” My Evil Inclination screams out. “Forget the fact that I’ve obviously improved since last year, when I thought I was unbeatable! And forget the fact that with practise, I’ll improve even more! Just forget it all! I’m worthless! I’m useless! I’m a hopeless wreck! I can’t even type properly!”

I sigh. *Sigh* At least I got 2 really cute pairs of shoes today! Titter titter. And an adorabubble top.

Ok, The drawing thing? I’ll get over it. I know I really am a relatively good artist, but honestly, at 15, I can be so much better. I guess I need to invest more than 20 min a day and I have to stop doing the same dumb sketches over and over again. Time to step out of my comfort zone you know! After all, that’s the only way to stretch out your comfort zone.

By constantly stepping out of your comfort zone, that little part outside of comfort soon becomes comfortable; hence, you have just broadened your boundaries!

Wheeee!

Well, anyways, about the Choc and Hormones, here’s the update. Various sources gave conflicting responses, as can be expected. Although some scientific studies (yup, it’s scientific!) have shown that women’s hormones can affect their cravings for sweets and sugar, other scientific studies have proved that chocolate and hormones are about as tight as Israel and Pakistan. Meaning they don’t care to have much to do with each other.

Screw those scientists; let them argue it out somewhere else, but not on my turf.

Anyways.

My Yom Kippur was Asum. I walked a total of around TWO hours to and from synagogue. Naturally, there are local ones to choose from, but naturally, the only one I dig for Yom Kippur is the farthest away. My feet hurt.

I had some pretty good prayers going on. I wasn’t all that hungry until the last second of course, where it seemed like my father couldn’t make havdalah fast enough.

Then it was stuffing time. I think I over did it, because it got to the point where no joke, I was in bed and it hurt to lie down. Which is why I sat up and talked on the phone till early in the a.m.

And now it feels like fall has truly set in, Sukkot is in the air, and one is finally in our backyard. One of my dad’s extremely generous friends comes every year to build ours, because my father isn’t the builder type and I’m a girl soo…..Nah, I’m just too lazy. Ha ha.

Well, I just made a relatively OK drawing of a man investigating an esrog, here it is:

“The Right One?”

 This is a pen and ink on plain ol’ paper drawing, and ps this is friggin copyright so don’t even think of making it your avatar or something, because if you do I will track you down and KILL you! lol…

and I also drew another full-color one of a little cute boy smiling but that needs a ton of work. I think I did some other drawings also, just as succah decorations. Then I’ll take them back and hang them on my wall.

My bedroom wall used to have nasty posters and random weird things, just like this blog, actually. Funny, isn’t it? I wonder if it says something about me?

Well, I was going through a RAGE so I pulled everything down and now my wall is quite empty, sadly enough. Not for long, I assure you! I have amassed a number of decent drawings, or indecent, as my latest one of Beyoncé can prove (kidding, I covered it all up!) but anyways, I plan on hanging those up, in a neat, planned orderly fashion. Once I have enough to lay out a design.

And…once I have enough that people will be overwhelmed, so instead of seeing one or two measly drawings they will see an overwhelming array of sketches too hard to focus on well, so they won’t.

I get a lot of traffic going on in my bedroom. Kidding. I get an average of 1.5 people daily, and they tend to be my little siblings, who would take the first chance I gave them to tear down any works of art.

Dad, if you’re reading this, which I highly doubt because that would be embarrassing and I don’t think you make it a habit to read this, but in the event that you do, please feel my pain and buy me a new doorknob with a normal lock on it so that rude perverts can’t pick it from the outside anymore!

Whoa. What a long sentence.

Oh, I don’t think I informed the general blog-reading population, but my friend and I plan on taking a lifeguarding course next month! So exciting! Ok, maybe not for you, honestly, you’re probably thinking,

“Great, another red-cross T-shirted freak yelling at me, ‘NO RUNNING! NO EATING! NO HAVING FUN!’ ‘TWEEEEET!'”
But, yeah, too bad for you; I’m super excited and a little nervous. You see, the requirements to get in are swimming 100 yards of front crawl, breast stroke and one of my own choice (Backstroke)

plus dumping a friggin brick into the bottom, jumping in after it, hauling it up and bringing it back to the shallow. Fun. Fun. Fun. I better go swimming tomorrow L-rd knows I need the practise.

I’m getting bored with this and I want to finish my drawing (yeah right)

SO, good night.

Keep UNraveling!

Chocolate and Hormones; Apples and Books; What’s up??

And the blogging girl strikes again!

Another fantabulous blog post has just been released to the public, and this time it’s better than ever before.
Come One come All; Do Not Stall- Read these words Written on This Wall!

And check out the new page, too!

Wow! What a headline!

tytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytytyty

well isn’t that a pretty border?
or a pretty headline? hmmm i wonder who wrote that…

ok, ill calm down.
well folks, are you ready to hear about my week?

Let’s see….nah, forget it, I can’t think of anything. I mean, I signed up for lifeguarding, heard about a gazzilion inspirational speeches, had at least 3 wicked DMC’s, went to bed way too late, and got over an hour of driving done….
That’s about it folks. Thanks for stopping by…

Wait. Wait, get back here! I didn’t mean it the way it sounds! Plus, I can count this as English credit! I absolutely HAVE to write, which means you must read. Don’t Gooooooo!

A multi-cheese sandwhich. Add steak, ravioli, two parsnips and a crunch of ice cream. You have….one weird chef who uses the dot dot dot thing way too often.

Ok, dude, I’m trying to un-weird.

Well, let’s discuss peace vs. war, and love vs. hate.

Oh, on love- follow my train of thought, if you will :P.

Love=roses=valentines’s day=chocolate=hormones=?

What is up with this chocolate/hormones business? Did you ever wonder why Chocolate is to Hormones like an Apple is to a Book? These are well known cliches that many people don’t have time for, but there must be a point where all this originated…and I aim to find out. Be right back! Actually, I’d like to hear your thoughts on this. Not just my thoughts for a change, huh?

Is chocolate/hormones a scientific thing? Or just an indulgence because you feel so out of control? Does that even make sense? Is it supposed to? How about the book and apple match? Why not a book and a nice crunchy…salad?

Let’s hear your thoughts, kids! Hit the comment button hard enough to make it cry, and jam down on those keys in the same way.

In the meantime, I’ll keep spurting wisdom and knowledge.
Here’s a new thing: Qute of the Day (and yes, it’s spelled that way for a reason. If you haven’t figured it out, just don’t read my brilliant works anymore. I can’t handle blondes. Well….the dumb ones, anyways!)
Here’s the qute.
“I make a mean bowl of cereal”
-my friends brother-in-law

It just randomly popped into my head, so since I am trying to unravel my thoughts here, I put it down on pape.

Here’s something to consider: How many times a day do you kick yourself for kicking yourself so much?
And try this one: Did you ever catch yourself threataning to massacre someone? How did it turn out? Write a five page essay, please.

But wait, said I. I am supposed to be doing the writing here. Very well then; it is time for a more senseless ramble, if that is possible.

Well, in preparation for the lifeguarding class I plan on taking, I need to make sure I am up to par so I can meet the requirements. Unfortunatly, Par is pretty Far ahead so I need to do a lot of swimming in order to make sure I am in shape.
The goal is ten minutes with no stopping. I wonder if I can get past 60 seconds without having to rip out my lungs for inspection.
I also am going to have to pick up a brick from the bottom of the deep and swim with my head above water to the end of the shallow, without letting the brick- or my head- fall back under water. I mean, the brick can be un the water but I have to be swimming with it, not drowning.
And I need to tread for five minutes. You know, if the instructor gives me 5 weeks to get through that, I think I can easily cover a minute per week.
I understand it wil require some severe discipline, but I can get a ride to the local JCC, or walk if I must. Change into my bathing suit in the X-rated locker room, (you know the procedure) and submerge my sweaty body into chlorinated liquid ice. Then, after a full 60 seconds of violent thrashing, I reverse the whole thing, until I am home again, and pleasantly reminding myself that I have a week until the next minute.

Only thing is, I don’t. Shoot that bubble before it pops itself.

Sheesh. But I do like swimming now, considering I did it for two months this summer.
In other areas of my life, I plan on going to the library today, and analyzing my handwriting. I also need to do a lot of laundry, so it probably won’t get done. Then of course, there’s some schoolwork to do, although I am not officialy starting until after the holidays. Guilt and boredom (yeah right that one’s for my mom) take care of that so I am doing bits of educationality when I FRIGGIN FEEL LIKE IT. Hormones and chocolate. Sorry, it just reminded me. Well, submit your thoughts on that one, and I will hopefully give you all my thoughts by my next post. And guys, I want to be Freshly Pressed which means on the cover of wordpress.com so send my link to ALL your friends and maybe one day it will occur. Maybe.

Can’t hurt to try.
Anyways, for all of you who I don’t keep in touch with, here’s my love, right there, no to your left! URRRRGGHH didn’t I say dumb blondes have got to get off this site? Ooops, sorry, that’s discrimination. Well, fine, find my love on your own. It’s right where you need it.

Hee hee

And with that, I wish everyone a wonderful spiritual Yom Kippur and an easy shmeezy fast!

Luv,

(darn this isn’t gonna work well, but whatever…)

Keep UNraveling

The Ramble 12

Well, I’m on the phone with my friend. And now im off. No, I have to go ot bed. No, I have to write this.
Ah, Ok. So basically- well its very very short but my friend sent me 2 links which are both gonna be posted at the bottom of this; the first is an amazing shiur by Rabbi Wallerstien, and I probably sent it to most of you by email. If you haven’t listened to it yet, there is no time like the present. It’s very good. It’s great! And the next is a song called B’sheim, and whoa. It is sung by a brother and sister. The voices are positively phenomenal. And at the beginning, the guy has a solo. His voice is- theres only one way to describe it- raw.
I must have had a very stressful day- it was a bit- or maybe the speech knocked me down, but either way, when I heard that voice, I just broke down and cried.
Sometimes we hold in our tears because we think it will make us feel better. Sometimes we stifle our feelings inside, where they swelter, while we defiantly hold up our heads, and adamantly declare to the world that we are okay. And generally, we can keep it up. The farce fools everyone- even ourselves, at times. But when we do finally break down and just give in to a higher power, it feels so good, so right, that we wonder why we didn’t do it in the first place!

Human nature, huh?
Anyways, I gotta go but have a gr8 sweet happy new year folks! Luv y’all!

Heres the links:

THE SHIUR:

THE SONG:
Oops, it has to be attatched which I can’t do now! Comment if you want it sent to your email!

Keep Unraveling!

The Story of The Lost Bike Ride

Hey folks! I need to get this outta me, so just bear with me. Actually, you might even enjoy what I’m about to say, because as far as I can tell, this story is probably going to be the most exciting one posted here yet. I mean, it includes action, gore, romance, humor-well, that’s because I’m writing it! – And lots of other cool, attention worthy stuff. So, here goes. Grrrrrrr.

The day was really humid, and I felt like sitting in the air conditioned house forever. However, that wasn’t an option, because of my superb calculations. You see, I really needed to take a shower. I figured that I might as well work out before showering, since I’m going to be washing dirt and sweat off anyways, so I might as well make sure there’s a lot to get rid of. And also because of the four pound gain from this past summer, but never mind that. I needed a workout. My 17 yr. old sister agreed to take a bike ride with me into a cute little neighborhood we had just discovered two days before.

Our plans were made, but they kept getting pushed off. Finally, at around 4 p.m. on Wednesday afternoon, we made the attempt to leave the house. As we were finding our bikes in the garage, my sister moaned aloud,
“Do we have to wear helmets?” Now, normally I wouldn’t give it much thought, and I would say no, I mean, having a sweaty, heavy foam contraption on your head is the last thing you want while you’re perspiring profusely, but this time I had heard a story that made me think twice.

You see, I take karate classes and last week my teacher told me that her 60 year old aunt had gotten hit by a car while bike riding. She had bleeding in her brain, broken bones, and some type of holes in her lungs I think. Point being, I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Yes.” I told my sister, telling her the story about the poor lady. “We are wearing helmets.”

So we wore them. Then, as we were biking, my sister realized she forgot sunscreen. Back home again, I waited, annoyed that it took forever to leave. We kept getting pushed off. When we had finally left, I don’t know the time, but it had definitely been at least a half hour.

I pedaled hard, exhilarated by the strong breeze rushing past me, through my helmeted hair. My sister was a little bit behind me. Last time we biked this way we had given ourselves less than 20 minutes to bike a 20+ minute ride, to Jazzercise. We didn’t make it, but it all worked out…that’s another story, though.

This time, we weren’t rushed, but we were still going pretty fast. Thank goodness we had brought water, because, BOY, it was hot outside! We made sure to drink a lot; we were both wearing sunscreen. Everything was covered; only neither of us had a cell phone. While leaving the house I knew neither of us had one, but I didn’t really care. I really liked riding without an annoying piece of plastic bumping against me.

Still loving the breeze, my sister and I crossed into the cute neighborhood we had planned on going into. Let me pause a moment to say what I was wearing- like this is so relevant, but hey. I was wearing sneakers and short socks, no tights (!), a short flared skirt, a white T-shirt and a black zip-up over it. I looked semi-normal, not calculating the helmet. My sister looked cute, wearing a short-sleeve-over-long-sleeve ensemble with a cute skirt and sneakers, too. Plus the helmet. We were quite a pair, let me tell you.

I realized I was quite far ahead of my sister, and suddenly I thought that if she fell, I wouldn’t be able to hear. I looked behind, but she was fine; I get these random thoughts…. So I just slowed it down, and we began to enter the cute neighborhood.

Now, here’s where things begin to get blurry. My sister has a different definition of what happened, but basically, we were riding down a main street and suddenly I heard a scream. (Later, my sister said that I had said, “Slow down!” and I guess she tried because…) I turned in alarm to discover my sister lying flat on the pavement, with her bike on top of her.

“Oh, bleep” I thought. I don’t remember the next couple of seconds, but I obviously jumped off my bike and put it aside. The next thing I remember, I was pulling the bike off her and we were both panting, “OMG, OMG!” or something like that. Then I heard a voice say,

“Don’t move! I’ll be right there!” And I froze and a middle-aged lady had pulled her car over and was running towards us. As she said those words, everything I ever learned medical-wise flooded back; until then I had just been telling my sister… I don’t know what, really.

She looked really bad; she had blood dripping down her face and by her mouth. The lady was all over her, asking her name, checking her head, neck, etc. She thought my sister landed on her head, but she had actually landed on her face. We were both being pretty cool about it, telling her, “It’s OK, its OK”, but the lady wouldn’t hear of it.

Another, rather attractive, young black guy with a huge white tractor had stopped, but he was just standing on the sidewalk, uncertain.
“Man,” he said, “I saw her fall. I pulled over right away. You gonna be alright?” he asked. My sister nodded and smiled, we both did, actually, and then the lady was back at us again. After a while the black guy left. It was really nice of him to stop, though.

People walking by on the sidewalk stopped to stare at the phenomenon- a teenage girl sitting next to her sister, with a scratched up face, next to two bikes, and a middle aged lady with bangs hovering over them, handing out paper towel which she found in her trunk- it was clean.

We started dabbing at my sisters’ many wounds- her teeth got unaligned, a corner of one chipped, both her knees were bleeding and the area under her eye was all red. Thank G-d she didn’t hit her head, neck or anything else important, and she was just banged up, as my mom puts it.

I realized we should probably call my mom; my sister didn’t want to bike home. She had stood up by this time, and was really doing OK. I gave her a hug, and then asked to borrow the lady’s phone.

“It’s so nice of you to stop, by the way.” I told her, taking her BlackBerry, or was it a Palm? “What’s your name?”

“Kris” She responded. Gosh, I am thankful she stopped. I dialed my house number but I couldn’t get through. The phone was a bit confusing, and it took me a while to figure out how to unlock it, because I had accidently locked it after my call. I didn’t want to ask Kris, because I was embarrassed- I mean, aren’t teens supposed to know this stuff off the bat? Once I had figured it out, I texted my Dad but he was at work, so he didn’t answer.

I was wondering what to do, and Kris offered us a ride home. I politely refused, and she wanted to know if it was because she was a stranger. I don’t remember what I said, but that was definitely one of the reasons. I mean, she was really, really sweet and all, totally being super helpful and I don’t know what we would have done without her, but I couldn’t take her offer.

She got a phone call then, and I realized we were outside a Doggy Grooming place. Now the fun began. I decided to go in and use their phone to call my mom to pick us up. A car drove by, slowed down, and a guy that reminded me of Channing Tatum leaned out with a concerned look on his face. I put my hand up to tell him it was cool, but thanks anyways. He smiled and sped off.

I went into the store. Almost immediately, I breathed in a mixture of mold, smoke, rust and old, old doggy. I nearly choked, but I was on a mission; I needed a phone. A big fat man with a white beard was leaning against the old wooden counter, and his bug-eyed pooch started to yip at me. I hesitantly circled around the fluffy white dog and said,

“Excuse me; can I please borrow a phone?” At the sound of my voice, two old grizzled heads seemed to pop up from the counter. A lady in a pink shirt with bright red lipstick applied way past her lip outline looked at me with squinty eyes. The other woman was black, with an old lady blouse, extra-long fake nails and spiked, gelled black hair. They looked at me for a while, as though not comprehending my simple request. I tried again, asking for a phone and explaining my need. “My sister fell off her bike,” I told them. “So I need a phone to call my mom.” Pink shirt slowly, cautiously handed me an old Motorola flip phone from 1867, as though it were actually valuable- maybe it was to her-and I thanked her and began to dial.

Suddenly, one of them said, “She just fell again!” I whirled around, the phone ringing by my ear, to see my sister with a terrified look on her face, running towards the door and opening it. In that second, I put two and two together and came up with seventeen.

My sister had been standing on the sidewalk. If she just fell, that must mean there’s probably something wrong with her brain! The lady was right; she DID hit her head! As I was hyperventilating through my discovery, my sister shattered my thoughts by saying, “She fainted!”

I know this is wrong, yet I cannot describe my feeling of relief. Everything would be alright, and luckily, because a friend of mine had fainted in my presence this past summer, I knew what to do. My sister didn’t seem to, though.

“Can you call 9-1-1 please? A lady fainted!” I barked at the old crones. They stared at me, the same as when my friend fainted.

Here’s a little something for you people. If there is G-d forbid a crisis, and someone else is taking action, just follow. If they say call 9-1-1, whip out your ultra-cool piece of slide-out plastic, dial the three digits, and just tell them where you are. They’ll come. And if no one like me is taking charge, then that is what you’re there for. Ok? But whatever you do, don’t just sit there and stare at me like I’ve got three heads or something. That position is reserved for the injured.

Well, the ladies continued to stare, and by this time the forgotten phone by my side had been answered; my mom was saying,
“Hello?” At that second, I was saying,
“Call 9-1-1!” Then I quickly said, “Mom, a lady fainted but it’s cool, don’t worry, my sister fell off her bike, but its fine…”

Luckily my mom isn’t the panicky type, so she waited patiently while I grabbed Kris’s phone from my sister’s hand. Thankfully, I already knew how to unlock it. I dialed the quick and easy number as I stepped over to Kris’s car, where she was sitting on the seat with her head against her arm. While I waited, I asked her her name, and she seemed to be OK, just very tired.

I nervously told the operator the wrong location (I was one block off, but at least I thought I was being calm and logical! Because that helped me to be calm and logical!) I kept asking them if they were coming and he said they’re sending someone out, but he was more intent on getting my information. He wanted a number, but stupid me didn’t have a cell phone.

Thankfully, Kris was doing Ok, and was able to give me her number, which I should have asked her anyways, aside from her name, to make sure she didn’t get brain damage or whatever.

After I hung up with 9-1-1, I remember talking to Kris, who told me she was on medication, hadn’t eaten all day, and faints a lot when stressed out. She sat by the a/c, she had water, and we both just stood there and watched her. I remember waiting and waiting for the ambulance to come. Five minutes is a long time when someone is so pale that they look dead. I think they came in four.

By this time, I had either called my mom back, or she had been on the phone the whole time- I don’t remember which. I was still using the Crone’s Motorola, and I asked my mom if my sister should get checked out by the guys, because that might require a parent to be there.

As the ambulance roared up, I waved slightly, and they pulled over. The first thing I remember is a nice looking fat guy saying, “This isn’t Woodward!” Where I had told him we were. “Oh,” I said, “I thought it was. I thought it was.” I think he said it wasn’t again, and I said I thought it was…I remember repeating it a lot.

The rest is such a blur-the crones and other gawkers filling the sidewalk as a Tom looking guy helped Kris out. All the by-standers wanted to know what had happened, and as I told a crone the story, some big guy walking by misheard it and asked if there had been a car crash. I patiently corrected him and told the story again.

“Is her shoulder OK?” he asked, looking at my sister. I looked at her shoulders; they seemed fine. Maybe a little bulky from the two shirts, but hadn’t this guy seen double shirts before?

“Yeah, I think so, why?” I was totally curious.

“I fell off my bike one time, and I busted my shoulder,” he replied, rubbing his shoulder as though it hurt.

“Oh”. I bit back a laugh. Just because he hurt himself there doesn’t mean someone else did. I asked my sister if her shoulder hurt, and then explained why I had asked. We were both cracking up.

Meanwhile, the ambulance guys, realizing Kris was stable and all, hung around and talked to my sister and I, which was easily the best part of the whole event because they were cute and hilarious. They seriously stood there, joking with a girl who had blood everywhere, although she was still wiping it up.

I let one of them talk to my mom, but he told her that my sister would have to go to the hospital if they checked her out. They said she looked OK, and just her cuts and scrapes would probably be fine.
I told one of them about Hatzola, and how fast they were, but he had no idea what I was talking about.
I explained to him that Hatzola is a Jewish Emergency response service, located all over the East Coast and Israel, and it comes in under five minutes, and sometimes less. I think I was still mad that they had taken their time.

The guy was all cool about it, although surprised that they were faster than he was. Loser. I told him that although we loved them, Hatzola is better.

At one point, my sister dropped the paper towel she’d been using to mop up her blood, and they all said,
“Hey, no littering!” But then she dropped her ice pack, and the funniest guy said,
“I think we better check her out for neurological disorders; she keeps dropping things!” But as she picked up the ice pack and dropped the other paper towel, the sergeant said,
“Nah, we just have that effect on women. When they’re around us they go all numb and drop things.” I was cracking up, but please, women do not go numb in his presence.

There was another funny guy who had a space between each tooth, freckles and ginger hair. The sight of him just cracked me up. So we hung around talking to them, and old Crone asked for her precious phone back, and I think-hope I thanked her.

My sister’s arm started to hurt a lot, and I made her get it checked out. They said it was swollen, and she should go to a doctor. They left after a while, taking Kris with them. I couldn’t thank her enough for stopping to help; I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t. Probably, I would have relied on the cute black guy, but still!

After a while of waiting in the boiling hot sun, my mom came with my little brother, aged 12. My sister got in the car, and he came out to ride the bikes home. I nearly got us killed while crossing the main street, rode over someone’s lawn because I lost balance, and got my shoelace caught on the pedal. One more rotation and I would have been thrown head over heels.

I was figuring that today was not my day, and maybe my number was up, because of all that stuff. But thankfully, we made it home safely, drank a lot, and then my father took my sister to the ER to get her painfully blown up arm checked out.

I showered. Wasn’t that the purpose of our whole adventure? Somehow, it wasn’t as fulfilling as I had thought it would be, although it sure felt good enough. Then I ate really fast and went to my sisters babysitting job. They thought she had been in a car crash; they were wrong. Thankfully. The job was great, the kids loved me and the feeling was mutual. But it just felt so good to come back home!

I knew I wouldn’t’ be able to sleep that night; stress and trauma don’t generally mix to a sound, dreamless night. So I stayed up, reading my friends blog from June-September, until 1 a.m. Then I slept till 5, tossed and turned till 6, and finally dozed fitfully until around 10.

My mother took my sister to some type of dentist on Thursday, so I had to babysit all day. So much for me starting school. I babysat. At least I got to hang out with my friends later that night. That was fun.

There are a couple of “Hand of G-d” things I’d like to point out, before I release you from my clutches.
1. We both wore helmets. Self-explanatory.

2. We had brought water. No one got dehydrated, and it was useful for the scrapes.

3. Kris stopped for us. She had been on the way to her doctors’, and ended up in the hospital. Not good, but at least she was able to help us and still be in medical hands.

4. I had used her phone, and figured out how to unlock it. The reason my sister, who took Kris’s phone out of her hands, hadn’t been able to call 911 is because she hadn’t been able to unlock it. Thank G-d I had figured it out before.

5. The ambulance came from the opposite direction. They had to pass our street before they reached the street we were supposedly on. If they hadn’t, I don’t know what would have happened.

6. My sister had gotten a root cannel in third grade, so when she chipped her tooth this time, it was the same tooth, and it didn’t hurt, so we didn’t have to rush her to the ER or anything.

7. The ambulance guys were so nice; they made it all fun and not stressful, like they do sometimes.

8. We didn’t go in the car with Kris; otherwise, as the funniest guy put it, we would have been in a CAR CRASH! (Because she would have fainted on the road.)

9. My neighbor lent us her car so my mom could pick us up. She is LEGIT the nicest lady I know. She also made us supper because she knew I was overworked and my mom was out all day Thursday.

10. Remember I had been biking and realized I was too far ahead? If I hadn’t realized that, I may have been way too ahead to know where my sister was. That would have been petrifying.

11. My sister had gone back for sunscreen, taken forever to choose a helmet, and finally leave; maybe that was to give Kris time to be there at the exact second.

Point is, you never know why things happen. Maybe my sister fractured her elbow to give me a higher work ethic. I hung up her laundry last night. Sigh. And guess who’s in charge of the dishes? And all other things required by a two armed girl over the age of twelve.

Ah well, it’s all good. Anyways, have a great weekend, y’all, and thanks for reading. I won’t ask for comments, because I know you guys know how much I like them, and I know you’re commenting right now.

Also, if you all want to see some of my pictures from Baltimore first half, my friend posted them on her blog. Here’s the link.

IM HOOOME!

AH, home sweet home! Nothing like it! Here I sit, in my cozy bedroom, listening to a “hilarious” mojo in the morning phone scam. I can’t really multi-task, but now my sister yanked the earbud outta my ear so I’m able to type whole-heartedly. Or fingerly. LOL

Well, I reckon the last time I was typing ovah here I was in the disgusting filthy place called a bungalow, which would be a five star hotel for roaches, but not for a decent human like me (nothing puts filth into percpective as much as being back in your own bathroom….or looking at pictures of what the other lav looked like!)

And now, I am back, typing at a decent, modern looking machine…ahh, this is the life! And my face; my body! It doesn’t have cracks in it, due to the fact that my mirror is whole and shining, looking beautiful…at least when IM the one reflected.

Oh, I forgot to mention that my ego got inflated when I was in NY. They almost didn’t let me on the plane…

It’s a different day now, a different one than when I first started my post. Let me tell you a little bit about my wonderful adventures while flying to Detroit, land of the brave, funny and sometimes slightly idiotic. (If this story can’t prove my idiocy I don’t know what can!)

Well, I got to the airport and said goodbye to my friend. I forced myself to be happy and optimistic; after all, summer was nearly over, I won’t be seeing my friend until next year, and I was headed for a lovely school year, I mean, what could be better?

So, I was just a little grumpy, as can be understood. But the butterflies in my stomach masked that. I was a little excited and nervous, because this was my first time flying alone. I managed to make it to my gate without too much trouble- I’m actually surprised that security didn’t set alarms off at the look on my face when they asked me to step on the footprints for the full body scan.

I sat by my gate listening to my iPod, and therefore nearly missed my flight, because I wasn’t aware that they called my flight to line up. After much scrambling, I made it to the wrong line. I asked alot of people if I was doing the right thing and most of the time I wasn’t. It was rather sad, and rather embarrassing, but I persevered.

Once I had finally boarded the plane, I realized that because my mom booked my ticket online, I had no ticket. Meaning, I had no idea where I should sit. I remembered on my boarding pass the number 12, so I hesitantly approached Seat 12. I was worried if my seat was A, B or C (you know how there are 3 seats on each side of the plane…) but luckily my worries dissolved as I discovered that seats 12A and 12C were taken by two old men, leaving me with 12B.

I paused, but the one with the purple button-down was more interested in reading his newspaper, while his brown glasses slipped down his long nose.

I coughed a little, hoping he’d look up; there were people waiting behind me. The man looked up, and so began my embarrassing moment.

Basically, I asked him if it was 12. He seemed confused which just confused me more and oh this is too boring. Whatever. He started to get up and I realized that it wasn’t assigned seating, so with my face nearly setting the plane on fire, I fled to the back of the plane, sank into a seat and hid.

There’s great service on Southwest; free peanuts and soda, plus the airline attendant is absolutely hilarious.

His announcement started off like this:
“Ladies and Gentleman,” (notice how ladies comes first; I never noticed that, hah hah!) “can you please pretend to give me at least 10% of your attention?”
So of course, we all looked up, laughing. Believe me, that guy turned my so far poor dismal experience into a time of bright, cloudless joy, with sunlight streaming through green meadows, butterflies fluttering out of my stomach and into the glistening air, where a rainbow encircled the world…

You get the gist. I was happy. I was laughing. I love blogging because I can type all these cool words that I can’t ever say because althought I know the meaning, I definatly don’t do the pronunciation thingy right all the time. The word I’m reffering to here is “gist”.

And by the way the sun is shining now and a business deal I am trying to pull through might G-d willing actually pull through which will, G-d willing, make me into one rich blogger! I sincerely hope I can do this…

Anyways, my friend is coming over soon, but wait, let me get through my flying experience…

So I tried to record the funny attendants speech (I did) but I got caught by a different attendant who must have thought that I thought he was good looking or something which I did NOT- 45 year old hispanic men that work on airplanes do not attract my attention, sorry, homes- but anyways that was reasonably embarrassing when I was told to stop recording; in middle of the life vest demonstration too!

While I was happily embarrassing myself, it started to rain, but once we started to finally fly- on time! Yay! I had a reallly good experience…besides for the embarrassing parts- then all the rain cleared up because we were flying ON TOP of the clouds which was way cool even though they look the same as usual only theyr under you which makes sense because I was flying.

SHould this be a ramble? I think so.

Well, when my mom came to pick me up from the airport it was exciting because this was the first time that wittle giwlie evow fwew hewsewf and was evow away fow two howle monfs. If you understood the above sentance Im not sure what it says about yuo maturity level but probably not much. Heh Heh.

So it was oddly cool to be back, I had this feeling of past belonging but now it was all floaty; I wasn’t sure if I belonged, but at the same time I knew I did. It took alot of convincing to finally believe that the squirming scared 8 month old was my baby brother.

We were both tearing up a little; gosh I ddin’t recognize him! That was the weirdest feeling ever! We’re gettin on a little better now, only he still likes me least but whatever. I guess he who changes teh most diapers gets the most love, hence, the one who holds him the most so I’m not complaining!

Lol!

Here comes my friend har har and shes gonna read this and groan. Just wait. Oh, maybe not!

Well, I gotta go now, but…make sure u comment in a normal sensible fashion! lol

Keep UNraveling!

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