No tricks, really. This is not like "You're a bus driver in New York City. At the first stop, ten people get on. At the next, four get off and three get on. Then eight get off and eleven get on. What is the name of the bus driver?" This is not like that. It really is just pure logic, as you may expect of Einstein.
1. In a street there are five houses, painted five different colours. 2. In each house lives a person of different nationality 3. These five homeowners each drink a different kind of beverage, smoke different brand of cigar and keep a different pet.
THE QUESTION: WHO OWNS THE FISH?
HINTS
1. The Brit lives in a red house. 2. The Swede keeps dogs as pets. 3. The Dane drinks tea. 4. The Green house is next to, and on the left of the White house. 5. The owner of the Green house drinks coffee. 6. The person who smokes Pall Mall rears birds. 7. The owner of the Yellow house smokes Dunhill. 8. The man living in the center house drinks milk.
9. The Norwegian lives in the first house. 10. The man who smokes Blends lives next to the one who keeps cats. 11. The man who keeps horses lives next to the man who smokes Dunhill.
12. The man who smokes Blue Master drinks beer.
13. The German smokes Prince. 14. The Norwegian lives next to the blue house. 15. The man who smokes Blends has a neighbor who drinks water.
Einstein said that 98% of the population would be unable to solve it. I did. Can you?
~Meggy
(Post your answer. I'll let you know if you're right or wrong and post the answer in two weeks. Persevere! If you just keep trying, you'll figure out which inputs result in desirable outputs.)
“I think you’re wishing Ijna and I will take it — a boy or girl?” “I shouldn’t think to know,” the black rider replied. “Would you take it? At least until I have the girl off my hands. Then my hands would be free to surreptitiously find a place for the child.” “I’m sure Ijna would not mind,” said Elia warmly. “He came from a large family, you know, and hopes to have the same if we can ever get ourselves above this awful place. But how many years is the child?” “Probably less than one,” said the black rider. “She’s in my room with the captive girl I’ve brought back. She’ll need a nurse soon.” “I will take her,” Elia agreed. “Thank you,” he said, tapping his fingers on his throat. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He turned and stepped out the window and in three strides was back in his room. The squirrel chattered as he entered. Aritka was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her soft wool skirt pulled up so her tall leather boots were clearly visible. The fussing baby lied across her lap and an open book was in her hands. Her hair was falling around her face and her brow was furrowed over her pretty eyes. “Come. I’ve found a nurse for the child.” Aritka stood but she seemed uncertain. “There is someone who will take care of the child?” she said. “They will take care of her for the time being,” he said. “I’ll check with them again once… later.” When she stood few feet from him, she met his eyes for a moment and said, “Will she have a nice home?” “Yes,” he said simply. She stretched out her arms, gazing down at the child. “Then you may have her.” Cursing himself for hesitation, he took the child in his own arms. “Put the cloak on my shoulders,” he said. “I need to conceal the child.” Aritka silently went back to the books and, kneeling, lifted the cloak from the place it had fallen when it slid off her shoulders. Without looking up at him even once, she fastened it around his neck, reaching up high to get it around his head which stood over hers. It wasn’t until she reached back and pulled the hood over his head that she met his eyes. In her eyes was an expression that hadn’t read there yet since he knew her. With a growing nag in his heart, he slowly came to the truth. “You’re depending on me to be trustworthy. You’ve become attached to this child.”
We're coming up on August now and school is only about a month away. I have an uncanny interest in things normal people tend to avoid, and as such, I have been brushing up on my algebra all summer. I have not taken a mathematics class since my sophomore year in high school and I am finally over the trauma. I have actually found it even more interesting than I expected.
If you have an interest in mathematics or you want to brush up before school starts, I'd like to recommend a couple good site I've been using.
If you open any hardbound book and look at the binding, you will notice that the cover and the binding are not one. This section that I cut from the manila folder, which I will call "the binding" for reference sake, is basically the binding that you see in the hardbound book. I attached the pages to this "binding" and then glued the binding to the spine of my cover.
To attach the pages to the binding, I basically continued with my sewing idea. I poked a hole in the binding with the threaded needle, threaded the needle through the top hole on a section of pages, out through the bottom hole, and then poked another hole in the binding. The main things to keep in mind here are that the binding and the pages should line up, so either cut your binding longer than you need and trim when you're done, or line up the binding and some of the pages and then poke the hole approximately where the hole is in the papers. Another thing is to consider your pages. Before I assembled the pages to the binding, I put an entry on the first page of what will eventually become a journal in order to get a feel for how the pages would work. I was satisfied and began to assemble. However, if I had not been careful, I could have put this section in backwards, at the end, or in the middle, thus having an entry from July 2012 after later entries - somewhere in the middle of the book. If your pages are embossed or are pre-written or otherwise directionally limited, make sure that you apply the first section to the correct edge of your binding.
Further notes on attaching the pages to the binding - since I had eleven sections, I sewed three sections of pages into one set of holes on the binding, leaving me with two left over, which I then sewed on separately. In order to explain this, I should further explain my procedures:
Reacquaint yourself with the beginning of the paragraph two paragraphs up. Basically speaking, referencing the above picture, I ran the thread through the binding, through the paper, through the lower hole in the paper, and back through the binding, and then brought the needle back up to the first hole in the binding, pulling the thread tight, stuck the needle back through the first hole, and proceeded as before through a new section of paper. I attached a third section of paper this way, tied a tight knot near the lower hole so it wouldn't slide, and then poked another hole near the first one to sew on three more sections. Can you see, although it is now glued to the cover (on the right), that the paper (on the left) is sewed to the binding (the slip between the two sections)? You may notice that either end is loose (in this photo, only the top edge is visible). It does not seem to be a problem, but you could also sew closer to the edges.
I did not measure the width of the binding and divide it for four holes of equal distance. Looking back, I do not regret it. I knew that it would be a comfortably tight fit with all the pages on the width of the binding so I put the first hole near the edge, the second hole close to the first, the third hole a little further away because the bulk of the pages was in the way, and the last in the most reasonable spot due to the space left on the binding and the bulk of the pages. You may not find that it is so easy for your project, I am not sure. However, if you try spacing the holes evenly, let me know how it turns out.
Once all the pages were attached to the binding, I simply held the pages against the folder (that would become the cover) up to the light and drew a sloppy outline, leaving extra space around the edges. I then cut the rough outline on the folder. Even now, the cover does not have perfectly straight lines. This is because I have not quite decided how to finish the cover, so I will leave the trimming until later (which I will get into further detail later).
I then went down into my father's workshop and found the super glue. Super glue is very strong and dries super fast. To me, it was the most practical and logical choice of glue, especially since it was available to me. Any suitable glue would work, I imagine, but may not be as strong. Certainly, you'll have to wait for most other glues to dry. I was, understandably, unwilling to wait for regular paste to dry, and I had no reason to.
I applied as much super glue as I could muster out of the bottle onto the binding and carefully pressed it into place on the inside of the spine of the cover. Depending on what your super glue bottle is like, you may not need to be so liberal. "All that I could muster" was not much since the bottle was designed to excrete only small amounts at a time and it was hard to get any even when it was full. By the time that I had pressed the binding to the cover, some of the glue had been rendered useless so I just gently applied some more in between the two surfaces and pressed them together in whatever way I could.
This is the result. The manila folder had not one but two extra folding lines, so I have a rather classy extra fold on the front.
The edges of all the pages are not even, which is due to imperfect folding, layering, and sewing, and I think I intend to let it remain so. It adds character, but I don't see any reason why you couldn't trim the pages to be even.
[music at the bottom] Would you like to make your own book? It's really rather simple, but it takes time and patience. I used a manila folder, and found that along the fold, there was an addition fold line, so that you could thicken your folder and create more room for a bigger bulk within. This came in handy for the design of the book you see in the photos, but you could easily take another folder or similar material and fold it to make the spine that you want. In fact, you could use something completely different for the cover, but this was all my craft supplies could allow. If you have a good suggestion for covers, let me know!
I should begin by saying that this design came about rather by accident, and that it is not finished. I intend to apply a design to the cover, but my plans include a picture I found on the internet and our printers are not functioning properly. However, I will walk you through the steps as coherently as I can, given that I rather made it up as I went along and there were many adjustments as the plan began as a handmade spiral bound and soon became what you see here.
I have an entire box of papers that measure four-and-a-half by eight-and-a-half inches and they come in four different colors: off-white, off-pink, off-yellow, and off-orange. I chose to use all white, although I thought about making each section a different color. Arranging them in bunches of four, I folded them in half and made a pile. I believe I ended up with about eleven bunches of four, folded in half, which comes to eighty-eight pages if I calculate correctly.
Lining them all up evenly, I marked them with a sharpy along their folded edge at the inch markers, because they were four inches wide. This gave me three dots along the fold, which I then poked through with a regular sewing needle and double thread (which may not be the correct term for folding the thread through the needle and tying the ends together). I first poked through the middle hole, went up through the top hole, again through the middle whole, down through the bottom hole, and then again through the middle hole. I did not take pictures while I was doing this project but I believe this to be fairly straight forward. It is a figure eight through the holes and it is commonly used in projects to stitch paper together.
Often times, people will put a whole lot of pages into one bunch and sew them together that way. This is efficient if you have only a half-dozen pages or so, but not if you intend to have as many as, say, eighty-eight. Instead, I did each bunch of four individually. Threading the needle under one section of our "figure eight", I put a knot in the string and pulled it down as close to the nearest hole as I could to secure the pages to together permanently.
When I got through all of them, I cut a section out of the fold of the manila folder, cutting along the given fold and one of the extra fold lines. I had previously determined that all the pages could fit within the limits of this section. Therefore, I continued to sew.
Because of the detailed and complicated nature of this post, it will be in parts. Part II tomorrow.
Cancer ravages our world virtually unchecked, although advances are being made. I have not been found with cancer myself, but it is in my family history and some of my family members have suffered from it. There are rumors all the time about some possible causes of it, but nothing we hear seems to make a difference. I pray this will:
Plastic. We all know how bad it is for the environment - environmentalists have been lobbying that for years. Now scientists are telling us that it's a cause of cancer. Girls, do not drink water from plastic water bottles you left in the car! It has been speculated that heated or frozen plastic releases chemicals that are very, very bad for us and have caused breast cancer. It's not worth the risk.
This link lists plastics, products made from those plastics, and the adverse effects on health these plastics can have.
You've probably already heard about this issue, and maybe you're wondering, "How much of this is true? Is it a serious issue?" Well, yes and no. Personally, I think that something that could contribute to cancer, and probably is every day, should be studied even more closely to find a safer alternative. However, these things are tested. If something says "microwave safe", it probably is. This phrase means more than "won't melt, break, or crack in the microwave". Refer to the following link.
http://www.health.harvard.edu/fhg/updates/update0706a.shtml This article seems to say that there is basically nothing to worrying about whatsoever. On the other hand, a similarly comprehensive article allows for the opposing conclusion.
So where are we after we've skimmed over these articles? More lost than we were before, if a little less ignorant about the composition of plastics. Articles written to clear up the confusion about plastic appear to actually add to it more than ever. They contradict other articles and even themselves at times.
This article was the first I came across to mention that some speculate that chemicals in plastics are causing things like ADHD and puberty problems. Can I admit that I almost sighed in relief to finally hear a theory for why these problems are apparently increasing?
- some fascinating and important facts on page 3 (no opinions, no speculation, just facts)
- pg 4: some startling, but critical, test results; discusses physical development
- pg 5: opinions, observations, and concerns by those who have conducted these tests (mostly negative)
- pg 5 also gives hints on how to detect which plastic containers contain the plastic chemicals in question, as well as what the author of the article now does just to be on the safe side
- how Good Housekeeping tested for these chemicals in plastic storage containers and bags on page 6
This last link was the most comprehensive article I found, and I liked it a great deal. It outlined the concerns, why they are concerns, and what has been done to test the concerns.
After I have read these articles, I am convinced that you and I should limit our plastic exposure wherever practical, in order to be on the safe side. Not to do so would be like dropping a hammer on your toes just because you're not sure they'll break.
I hope that these offending chemicals in plastics are indeed the cause of many of the proposed problems so that we can finally take steps to eliminate these problems. On the other hand, what can be done with all the offensive plastic that is already doing so much harm? This goes beyond our personal health in the future, but also refers to the plastic which is swimming in the water, so to speak, and contaminating the environment around us. One last issue of interest is whether these chemicals, once leaked into the environment, are affecting the plants, particularly the ones we eat. Is it possible we are ingesting them indirectly as well as directly?
“Are you a scholar?” she asked, kneeling down to inspect the books. A tome on Jinaj culture was the first selection. Others included languages, philosophies, and legends. A small, compact book on the bottom looked to be an ancestral record volume. “No,” he said, “not really. I’m a well-known millionaire and a landlord. Now hearken. One of those is a book on the dialect here. Take it and learn it. People here have a jealous pride in their dialect and especially hate loose Kinly tribe dialect. My prince will not be pleased to hear you call him a konzilon.” “The baby is stirring,” said Aritka, loosing her cloak and letting it fall to the floor. The child was indeed beginning to fuss, but she seemed placate enough for the time. “Keep her quiet,” he said. “I’ll return in a moment.” He stepped through the window and checked to make sure the curtains were tight. Two rooms down, the flowery curtains were pulled apart and pots of flowers stood to either side of both windows. Elia, Inja’s wife, was from Eliadur, an ally of Jinaj and she hated the dreary city. Her apartment was the opposite of the black rider’s. There was a bright, thick rug under a lovely, carved rocking chair, padded with a matching fabric. In one corner was a worn mattress for their bed. Potted plants were everywhere, but there were no animals, not even a cat, and there wasn’t a single book to be seen. Elia was uneducated and Ijna had no time. “Why, Jon!” exclaimed Elia, getting up from the rocking chair. Her bulging belly reminded the black rider ashamedly of the Ganjak tradition that expectant mothers were not to be seen. Even though he was on close relations with her and her husband, beyond all his control, a blush crept up into his cheeks. “What brings ya by on this fine day? Oh, was your raid successful?” “Yes, Elia,” said the black rider. “That’s why I’m here, in a way. But what I wish to discuss with you is very secret. I can’t have rumors about.” “I’ll say nothin’, Jon,” she promised. “There’s a child,” he said, and quickly, “Not hers! But a child that she found abandoned and took into her keeping just before we left the village. We were pressed else I would have told her leave it. You can see why it must be secret — and why I must get rid of it.” “Oh, aye, yes, I see that,” Elia said thoughtfully.
Home is behind The world ahead And there are many paths to tread Through shadow To the edge of night Until the stars are all aligned Mist and shadow Cloud and shame All shall fade All shall fade
If my memory serves me correctly, this is, word for word, Pippin's song in one of the 'Lord of the Rings' movies, and it was based on a poem in the book. A very hauntingly beautiful piece. I sang this two or three times, softly to myself during campfire last night.
A star slept
The sky rests
Flickering candles lit
One wink
A blink
Heavenly emit
Stars are
Stars were
Stars ever
Traveling
Endlessly
Timelessly
Centuries past
Queries asked
Finding way back home
Always same
Never change
And we still have far to go
Last night, after campfire, my father and I stayed outside and watched as the sky steadily littered itself with stars. Truly beautiful, I remember thinking, and "no wonder we want to be out there". Centuries ago, no one could possibly understand what the heavens were. Now, we know it is a whole other world out there. One that hasn't been explored, one that we don't understand.
"Space: the final frontier. ....To boldly go where no man has gone before."
Beyond
The rim of the star-light
My love
Is wand'ring in star-flight
I know
He'll find in star-clustered reaches
Love,
Strange love a star woman teaches
I know
His journey ends never
His star trek
Will go on forever
But tell him
While he wanders his starry sea
Remember, remember me
Those stars, and all the planets and moons for that matter, in our galaxy, are all going in the same direction at apparently the same speed, so that centuries after the first constellation was named, we can still effectively navigate by them and recognize the original patterns from so long ago. Space holds so many mysteries. Mysteries, which are so far beyond us, far beyond anything we've tried to discover before. We had never before left our planet. For an unknown number of years, man has always been Earth-bound. Then, in the late twentieth-century AD, we touched the moon.
I find it fascinating how far we came in the twentieth century, and how much we seem to have slowed down since then. But perhaps that is because I am looking back at the quick evolution of cars to suddenly a space ship, and now I'm seeing almost complete uniformity in automobiles, phones, and other gadgets and I am distinctly unimpressed. I highly recommend going to a brass-age car museum and learning about the individual creativity that was going on in that era. While it could be argued that many of those vehicles, while each unique in their own right, look very similar to each other, the point I'm trying to make is that we do not seem to have come very far in some areas. Everyone wants to be faster, sleeker, more powerful, more like what everyone else offers so they can compete, but I see little individuality.
But now I've left space completely, haven't I? And we're breaking camp today - my presence is needed elsewhere.
Good morning! I have nothing much to say today but I just felt like posting.
One thing I like about blogs is that I can share things with people who feel the same way. Obviously, however, I'm not communicating with myself, so I run across people who are too extreme or have nothing to say on the subject and say it anyway. There's nothing wrong with that actually, but I came across one or two this morning and I wondered to myself why I was wasting my time. I came to the conclusion that if only for the reason that it teaches me to be tolerant of other personalities and inclinations, it's worth reading. It also gives me another chance to analyze other points of view against my own, and reevaluate my thoughts.
Around where I live, hiking is an addiction. Those who don't hike had better make allowances for those who do and so need to. Those that do just have to be tolerant of those that don't. If the two categories should go camping together, you can bet the non-hiker is either alone or huffing semi-patiently up every hill in the vicinity. If he's lucky, he can convince them to also do something else besides observe the elevation of the land, in which case, the hiker ends up saying something like, "Wow, that was actually more interesting than I expected." And the non-hiker is thinking, "Well, duh! There's more to life than uphill climbs, you know. There are the valleys too." (And suddenly he's soothing himself with that thought that he's rather philosophical.) And heaven forbid someone should suggest finding an alternate way up a mountain, such as driving. Suddenly the hiker is wondering if he must sever the relationship. It can be even worse if the hiker is also a rock climber.
I'm the non-hiker. I hike hills and small mountains, I like views, I enjoy a good work out, I once very slowly ascended Mt. Adams, and yesterday I carried a four-year-old on my back up a mountain, but I am not a hiker. I cannot hike just to hike. Although taking families on hikes slows down the operation and can be very frustrating, I enjoy it immensely more than following my dad as we sprint up a mountain. I could be there far quicker without a tiring toddler, see the view, and be down again before you can say Thomas Jefferson, but I get absolutely no satisfaction or pleasure out of such an expedition.
On camping trips, much like the one I'm on now, I am not likely to blurt out, "Ooh! let's hike that one!" I'm more likely to suggest a museum (although I'm sick to death of museums now), a historical site, or an amusement park. As it is, my one goal this vacation is to visit one of the public gardens. Not terribly exciting, I know, and many of my companions concur, but I am a gardener and I love wandering through flowers, looking at butterflies and birds. I also wouldn't mind a long carriage ride down the Carriage Roads, but most people in our party would be extremely bored. For me, it would be a pleasant opportunity to see the area and a lovely chance to do one of my favorite things - think.
However, we have two small children, who will not be content, and they must be constantly doing something. And horse carriage rides tend to be expensive. It would not be practical to indulge in one. Nevertheless, controlling my temper with those who cannot, I have quite enjoyed myself so far. Those who have a need to satisfy their addiction to hiking have done so, and while they're doing crazy stunts, I'm spending time with the people I'm most fond of, little hands wrapped around my index finger.
The interesting thing about being me, and this has almost always been the case, is that I am completely stumped when someone asks my opinion. If someone were to ask my how I feel on a moral or political issue, I can only give the facts. My Church tells me what is right and wrong so I don't have to worry about that. But if someone asks me if I had fun or if I'm ready to turn back, I'm completely baffled by the question. I suppose I had fun - I didn't not have fun. Yes, I'm tired, but that's not the point. The kids are tired so it would be illogical to go on. If they want to go on, I certainly can. I guess I just don't think that way. I'm not thinking in terms of my personal enjoyment so much as... or maybe just not the same way. The view was beautiful, but was it worth it? Worth what? Getting lost and a little frustrated? I'd have nearly forgotten all that if you hadn't brought it up. Not because I'm thrilled with the result but just because it's in the past and there's nothing I can do about it. Did I have fun walking across the sandbar? What does that mean? That I didn't hate it? Then, yes, I had fun. Do you see why the first character I picked in the Supplementing Your Summer series was Mr. Spock from Star Trek? When I realized that he and I were practically operating on the same frequency, it was like a revelation! A relief! Obviously Spock is a fictional character, but it's enough to amuse me.
I rarely get "thrilled" about something. Over the past year or so, wanting to be more outgoing and friendly, I pushed myself to be those things and I often got more emotional over things than I'm describing above. But after a little while, I just felt like a fool. It wasn't me, and I was realizing it wasn't the person I wanted to be. I was trying to be like everyone else because that was who everyone else understood, but at the end of the day, my logic and reason were still left in the dark. I've always been inclined to be the "unbreakable" type, and I'm most comfortable that way.
So! It is confusing and difficult to be the laid-back and carefully controlled person that I am, but I wouldn't change again for anything because it simply is who I am.
(I suppose that when people ask me if I had fun, I should just say "yes", because they are usually just trying to show interest in me and they are not interested about the particulars of my feelings. They just want to know if I hated it or not.)
I don't know if you found this at all interesting, but I had a fun time writing it. It will probably be the only self-contemplation I can devote myself to today, and I enjoyed it immensely. Not with an adrenaline rush of pleasure or excitement, just with a calm self-assurance. It was pleasant. Does that make any sense?
~Meggy
These clips comes from an episode which is called something
like 'This Side of Paradise'. In it, the entire crew ends up under
the power of spores which convinces the mind of happiness
and contentment. Even Kirk is under it for a time. But his great
love and devotion to his ship (a strong, powerful emotion) broke
the "spell", so he beams Spock aboard under false pretenses
and makes him very, very mad. One of my favorite episodes,
I must admit, because Spock (and Leonard Nimoy) is especially
attractive while smiling. Notice when Spock switches from
"Jim" to "Captain". Fascinating.
(I can't get this to play. If you're having the same problem, click
Yes, Spock once more. Episode Operation: Annihilate! is an interesting episode with potential. There were things I was disappointed with, but what I found most interesting was, in fact, the suffering. The neural parasites used intense pain in order to force their subjects into submission. Although it seems that there was always some kind of pain with these parasites wrapped around every nerve in the body, they could, somehow, implant an idea into the mind of their victim and then increase the level of pain to the point where the subject was almost on the brink of insanity.
In this episode, almost all of the Federation men on the planet are dead, or are by the end of the episode. Your favorite man Spock is attacked by a parasite and, consequently, is subjected to enormous amounts of pain. Although not one of my favorite episodes, it brings up an interesting point. Spock, ever the unconquerable hero, refuses to give into the pain. Already infected, he volunteers to further studies of the parasites and their effects on the planet. He is obviously in a lot of pain, but he tries not to show it, and he won't give into it.
As Christians, we know that pain will come, and we know that we're supposed to bear it with patience and silence. And it got me wondering. How often do I complain unnecessarily? Even when I'm alone, I can complain to myself. What good is this? It shifts your focus onto your pain, which always makes it worse, you know.
And then, what about other troubles? Do we unnecessarily complain about that too? Maybe, we need to learn a little silence....
An extra little interesting note: pain and suffering tends to get worse the more we give into it. If you compensate for, complain about it, dwell on it, you're thinking about it much more than is necessary, and if you're only thinking about the pain, it gets to feel worse than it is. Or, at least, it feels worse than it needs to. "Pain is a thing of the mind." Over the past few days hiking in Acadia, I find that is very true. I just avoid thinking about the pain, and then it isn't a big deal.
Fortuitous - an interesting word. I find words as interesting, perhaps more so, than any other subject. I use "fantastic" and "fabulous" most often in relation to their root-words of "fantasy" and "fable" respectively. Notice that fortuitous looks like fortune. I got the following from my dictionary:
ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin fortuitus, from forte ‘by chance,’ from fors ‘chance, luck.’
USAGE The traditional, etymological meaning of fortuitous is ‘happening by chance’: a fortuitous meeting is a chance meeting, which might turn out to be either a good thing or a bad thing. In modern uses, however, fortuitous tends more often to be used to refer to fortunate outcomes, and the word has become more or less a synonym for ‘lucky’ or ‘fortunate.’ This use is frowned upon as being not etymologically correct and is best avoided except in informal contexts.
“Jon,” said the woman, pleased. “You’ve returned.” “Yes,” said the black rider, not unkindly. “And is this the girl you’ve brought back for our prince?” said she. Aritka tried to seem resentful and shy, bowing her head and looking at the ground; but the woman grabbed Aritka’s chin and forced Aritka to look her in the eyes. “Fortune! A lovely thing she is! I feel you will score well with this one, Jon. Can you sing, prisoner?” “Yes, katinka,” said Aritka. “I am well trained.” The woman pulled back in repulsion. “Horrible Kinese language, if I’m not mistaken! You’ll have to teach her not to use it for it will not please the prince.” “Thank you, yanna,” he said. “You are right of course.” He tapped two fingers to his throat and nodded sharply. She took the signal and repeated, hobbling off. Aritka stood silently, watching the stiff back of the black rider – Jon here – and listening to the tap of the woman’s cane. When it had gone long out of earshot, the black rider’s sharp voice said, “Speak to no one.” Aritka wisely said nothing, and the black rider led her up the steps briskly, not looking back. She followed him meekly, to the left and up the staircase to the second floor. The windows were bigger than they first appeared and the black rider stepped effortlessly through the first one on the corner. They were met with another of those black squirrels. It chattered and hissed but the black rider threw it a nut of some sort and the squirrel dove after it. Then he scampered back and jumped up onto his pile of books again. Beside the pile was a large, dark purple feather pillow. Underneath was a large, circular, brown, faded rug, apparently woven in Jinaj fashion. Because the room was on the corner of the building, there were four windows, which were all hung with dark curtains. Otherwise, the room was dreadfully bare, and Aritka suspected this wasn’t his real home.
Gardening is one of my greatest pleasures. It's hard work, but I'm not afraid of hard work. In fact, I thrive on hard work. I think most of us do. And it's so rewarding. It's like raising children, only plants get fresh in a very different way, and it's faster. Some plants yield edibles that taste better than anything you ever bought at the store. Others just bloom into the most beautiful forms you've ever seen.
Mmm, strawberries. And wild blueberries, I've found, are tastier than any you can pick at a farm (and certainly better than the ones you buy at the supermarket). Corn, I hear, loses its flavor quickly. We all know how fun it is to pick peas and string beans.
A word of caution, however, to the wise, and those with open minds and hearts - gardening is a very competitive sport. Alright, so gardening is not considered a sport anywhere on earth, but it can get very touchy. Every gardener seems to feel that their way is the only way. Whether they use chemicals as pesticides or fertilizer, or whether they use mulch, compost, or manure, everyone seems to feel that not only must they share their experiences with you but that you must also cling to their words as high wisdom from heaven. You must plant when they say, you must build a greenhouse, you must start seedlings indoors, you must water every day - oh, no, wait! only every other day, you must put up chicken wire, you must, you must, you must.
Ugh. Anyway, if you want to take credit for even one plant, be prepared to listen sweetly, with a gentle smile on your face, nod, and thank everyone you meet who has ever planted a seed for their advice. Of course, as we all know, we should always be open to listening and seriously considering what ever anyone says, in case they're right. But it does get frustrating after a while.
Here's a good rule of thumb - people have been gardening for a very long time. Okay, that's not really a rule to garden by, but it puts things into proper perspective.
It must be possible to grow things with just the stuff you can find around you. Granted, if you have no knowledge of what conditions a certain plant likes, facts are best unless you want to take the long route of try and fail. Otherwise, most plants don't need extra special treatment that only the privileged few (namely, everyone, but you) knows about.
In many areas, even now, in July, you can still plant some vegetables outside. Corn, for instance, is grown in two cycles in my area. Beans and peas are a good bet. Tomatoes! But even if you can't plant new vegetables, there are plenty of flowers that are just coming into season or will be in autumn. Put in some new flowers, trim back some bushes, do a little hoeing and/or weeding, and voila! Look at the beautiful garden you've got!
But even if, for whatever reason, you can't have a full-out garden, you can grow some indoors. Some excellent indoor plants are:
bleeding hearts
day lily - although lilies love sun, they are generally very hardy plants and can thrive in most conditions; if they have a few hours of sun, they should be okay
forget-me-not
periwinkle
If you have any other tips or need me to clarify something, leave a comment!
The first instrument is a theremin and the second (can you guess?) is a Vulcan harp! Isn't that awesome? They are really rare, and people who know how to play them are even rarer. I so want to learn! I wonder what the odds are.... (Did any Star Trek fans just remember the royal fizbin? - see the 2nd to last video.)
This still seems to me like a strange thing for Spock to be doing,
but I haven't seen the episode so I don't know all the facts.
This clip was actually cut and edited by the uploader, but it
For the next few days, I'm going to stick with Spock, but feel free to pick a new character of your liking. Continue analyze aspects of his character. This time, try to think of something he said or did that caught your attention. Do you agree with it? If not, why? If not, pick something else. If you do agree with something he said or did that stood out to you, could it benefit your life if you applied it to your way of thinking?
This clip cuts short too fast. What we don't get to see in this clip is Spock spitting in Sarek's face, metaphorically speaking of course. But Spock says, "I'm not the cast-off kid you left behind all those years ago," or something to that effect. "I know who I am." He knows what his father feels, knows that he's half human, knows that that's just how it is. He's come to grips with it. And, if I may say so, does wonderful things with it.
You always have to take what McCoy and Kirk say as a grain of salt. In fact, Spock says some things once in a while that are too simplistic, and I hope you can recognize those moments. What Kirk says in this clip about needing our pain, about our pain making us who we are, is to an extent true, isn't it? It is because of our trials, failings, and sufferings that we have become who we are. Star Trek episodes from the original series and in the later series have explored this concept, but basically, what we've had to encounter and the sacrifices we've had to make have developed our characters.
However, we need to let go. We can't be obsessed like Doctor McCoy is about cutting the chord on his father. They don't make it clear whether McCoy just stopped life support or actually killed him, but either way, it eats at him, makes him sick. He couldn't save his father, couldn't take away his pain, and not long after his father's death, a cure was found. Sarek tortures Bones with it, I believe calls it murder, and then tells him to let go. The result, as is the result with much of the crew, is that McCoy almost sees him as a kind of god for a second. Sarek has the interesting ability to take away pain, and so McCoy feels free from his pain. But what happened has not been undone. McCoy loved his father and did what he did because he loved his father. We don't get to see Kirk's pain, and since he is the strong captain who is not supposed to have any weakness, that is appropriate. But he says he needs his pain.
Spock has sort of the middle road between completely forgetting pain and clinging to it. He has his pain, but he has accepted it.
So how can I apply that to my life? I certainly have plenty of painful moments in my past, some greater than others, a few that will likely always be my weakness. But can I come to grips with it? Forgive the causes of my pain and suffering, know that it has happened, and, with solemn reserve, look to the future?
Yesterday's Sunday readings were fascinating. I have been contemplating this concept, and for a few months now I had been struggling with one thing in particular and now I tried so hard to let it just sink into who I was and stop fighting it. Then I heard Paul's letter to the Corinthians. Obviously, the three readings yesterday have a sort of connection, and there are other things to be learned from the readings yesterday, but monsignor even made this reading the topic of his homily.
Brothers and sisters: That I, Paul, might not become too elated, because of the abundance of the revelations, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong.
There you go! Not only is Spock content with his weakness, but Saint Paul says that it is God's will!
So I'll be working on this concept for the next couple of days. What about you? Who did you pick, and what are you focusing on? Consider this a tag of sorts - to everyone. Comment here, or write your own post and let me know - I'd be very interested to hear your insights about our favorite characters.
Jinaj village was a great, grey, ugly erection of buildings, dark and lifeless; not including the ivy and lichen that grew over everything, which was certainly alive. A cat hopped from roof to roof and went out of sight around the corner. A dog began to bark. Sensing the danger was gone, a squirrel hopped out of hiding, sniffing the dead leaves in the street. This squirrel was black as a closet with a tail as bushy as a threatened cat. The street was otherwise deserted, but when the squirrel turned to check the two people, its red eyes alone made Aritka nervous. She drew her cloak tighter around the child. “Come this way,” said the black rider. He led her down a narrow alley, only just wide enough for single file. The cold stone walls were covered in scaly lichen that flaked off on Aritka’s cloak. Mold grew in the damp places. The lane opened out on a courtyard. It was empty, save for a few, small black birds. A dry fountain stood in the center, lichen lining the bowl. Six wide steps led up to the public housing complex, which was made of the same grey stone as everything else. A porch branched off to either side and wrapped around the sides. Staircases connected to the deck above, and so on to the sixth level. There were twelve square windows on the front side of each floor, most of which were empty but showed signs that someone occupied the room. There didn’t appear to be any doors. As Aritka and the black rider approached the steps, an old woman hunched over a cane came around the corner and limped down the stairs. “Keep the child hidden,” the black rider said quietly, and Aritka pulled the cloak straighter.
So part of this summer fun is analyzing your favorite characters and getting to know them better. Doubtless, some of us will have to face up to the facts and our hearts will be broken along the way, as we realize and accept things that we did not want to know. It would be illogical, however, to deny the facts, so know that I have been there and I am empathetic to your woes.
Remember as you're doing this, that, although an actor or author has given your character an appearance and a charisma, he (or she) is not that character that you love so much.
So over the next few days, weeks, whatever, try to emulate your favorite character's characteristics. You might learn some new things about him/her.
As you may have picked up on, a character that I have grown very fond of is Spock from the original series of Star Trek. There are a few obvious traits about him, such as his stubborn (yes, stubborn) adherence to "logic" and rejection of emotion. (Anyone who knows anything about Star Trek knows that Vulcans are not devoid of emotion, they just try to ignore it.) It may well be that Vulcans are "wired" so that devotion to unemotional logic is somewhat more natural to them than it would be to humans (although considering their ancient past, that is illogical), but Spock is half human and so a human's need to a healthy release of emotions is sometimes very pressing.
Something that I have found while practicing his logical approach to life is that Spock is actually very naive. Sometimes, there are situations that you can't handle with a simple, logical equation (that isn't to say that logic isn't practical). I don't know if it would be different if he was not trying to deny his human side, but I do know that as he is, he does not at all understand anything about the people he deals with every day, even though he is probably the only Vulcan with such an opportunity to understand them.
The clip from this episode that I wanted had more to do with when they start
laying the heat on Krako - Spock is just hilarious! - but this one is very funny
I have also learned that logic is not a thing of children, so don't bother trying to use it on my little sister.
However, it came in handy last night when I was tired and we stayed at a friend's house an hour longer than I was emotionally prepared to handle, the whole day was boring for a July 4th, and then we almost didn't see any fireworks at all. I was on the verge of degenerating into an emotional mess (please believe it was because I was tired and disappointed, and not because I'm a spoiled brat) - but that wouldn't have been logical. ;)
The danger is that, in using logic, you could simmer everything down to "literal". These are not the same thing. Another danger is finding increasing annoyance at the ridiculous and irritating things said by some people who will remain nameless. But to lose one's temper and accomplish no more than if one had kept it, and in fact possibly make things worse, would be illogical....
~Meggy
There are better videos out there, but this one has the full song. I've yet to see
a video that actually shows Spock saying "illogical" when Nimoy sings it.
If you find the above downright easy, or when you do, it may be time to move on to something a little more complicated, and I know nothing better than ballet exercises.
First, to get the most out of the following, I would recommend that you stand in first position and do some plies, with your glutes tight, working the rotation in your legs (do not rotate from the ankles: a.k.a, turn your leg out from the hip and do not force your foot any further than that!).
You needn't go all the way down to grande plie
Okay, so first exercise:
That's a passe, and it's not too hard (don't lean over as far as the rightmost girl appears to be). (If you wish, you could try this with your leg turned in, so that it points straight out in front of you.) Remain tall - let go. Hold. As long as you can, and remember to hold control, even when putting your foot down. Too easy? Try it on releve:
Unless you're a dancer or perhaps a gymnast, you probably won't be able to get up on releve that high^, and that's okay (it comes with a lot of practice and time). But the higher your heel and the straighter your leg, the less likely you are to strain something and the better your balance will be. (If you want to improve your strength, put the ball of your foot on the edge of a stair and rise all the way up and down.)
Anyway, in releve, try the passe again. Keep doing this until you're solid (30 seconds would be a good goal, but start small). Some tips:
- remember standing up tall and lifting yourself from the crown of your head? Vitally important here.
- And be constantly lifting the leg in passe from the thigh toward the ceiling (not with your hand). It keeps an up momentum. But keep your big toe lightly touching the side of your knee
- Think "up" if you have to!
- keep your upper body lifted! If you sag, it's like holding a sleeping baby - heavy
.................................
If you make it to this point, congratulations! Now, in releve, coupe. I suggest doing it front of your ankle:
If you can stand in releve like that, "extend out" - stretch your leg out to the side without collapsing! Remain at all times lifted to the ceiling!
*wipes brow* Whew! If we get threw these to the point of ease, let's move on. ...But till then, let's just do these over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over........
You could also try doing these while standing on a pillow, brushing your teeth, stirring a pot on the stove, etc..
If you have any other tips or need me to clarify something, just comment!
Aritka looked down at the child in her arms. “So what shall I do with the child?” she asked a second time. “I will not abandon it willingly.” “I would not have you do so,” he said. “I rent a room in public housing and I have neighbors who will take her. When I left my village, there was an expectant mother in the room adjacent to mine. She will take your child.” “You are merciful,” said Aritka, but had she really believed that, she would have expected him to turn around and take her home. Now, however, such a thing seemed impossible. They could not get all the way back through Ganjak territory to Kinly, especially with the Rikaks of the Ganjak tribe looking for them. The black rider did not bother with rope. Aritka was clever and would know the foolishness of trying to run away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she had accepted her future. He didn’t morn the loss of his horse either because he knew Latvita knew his way home. And he suspected he’d have to find a new public housing complex. His sketchy business needed to be kept far from his estate but suspicions were arising among his neighbors. “We’re in Jinaj territory now,” the black rider said after a while. “It’s not far.” They were standing on upland and the village was below them in a valley. Aritka saw the grey turrets rising among the trees. “You’re not to mention my name there,” he added sharply. Aritka was disgusted and insulted. “Of course not, sir,” she said. Once more, he turned to look at her. “I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “Don’t be offended.”
