tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7736331476886460192011-09-26T12:29:45.584-05:00viewing life from inside a marshmallowmarshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.comBlogger691100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-5217322556868836562011-02-12T14:38:00.001-06:002011-02-12T14:39:17.924-06:00

See the original article here. I find myself in sympathy with our most esteemed Reverend Vander Weit.   It is indeed a great crisis if members of our church do not feel comfortable bringing this illustrious denomination’s position to our federal governments.  It is obvious that none of us would have any problems with a more understanding and generous position.  As Reverend Vander Weit himself

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-87494097203862784002010-12-13T14:40:00.000-06:002010-12-13T14:40:27.023-06:00

 This is my new puppy.  At the age of 18, our family dog had to be put down.  I looked around online, and fell in love with her the moment I saw her picture.  She was found at an animal shelter down south.  She had been beaten, starved, and had a wire imbedded in her neck.  They were going to put her down, when a family near here decided to foster her.  She was cleaned and fed and taught to trust

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-75714333608328194342010-12-13T14:25:00.001-06:002010-12-13T15:35:28.992-06:00

I was quite young when I decided my best option was to be an eccentric.  I'm not the sort of person that stands out - I'm neither beautiful nor ugly.  I am not stupid, or smart.  I am rarely overwhelmingly obnoxious, but I am not particularly polite, either.  Though I am not athletic, I am also not completely incapable.  My physical appearance is completely nondescript.  I'm of medium height,

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-80425335490587614682010-11-18T15:41:00.001-06:002010-11-18T15:42:27.794-06:00

1. Favorite childhood book? Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome. 2. What are you reading right now? See side bar. 3. What books do you have on request at the library? At the moment, none.  Because I have a five dollar late fee, but not five dollars. 4. Bad book habit? You make it sound like a debilitating addiction.  I don't think it's bad, if that's what you mean. 5. What do you

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-68075359667355496482010-11-18T14:48:00.000-06:002010-11-18T14:48:04.276-06:00

Hi.  How are you? Great. Good.  Oh, I'm fine.  Just great.  Where've I been?  Under the covers.  It's safe and comfortable, but awfully dark.  So I thought I should start getting up.  No, I'm not in school anymore.  Nope - no job right now.  Yes - I'm completely broke.  Aren't student loans wonderful?  As a matter of fact, I'm living in my parent's basement.  How's that for a stereotype?  But

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-22151695088897955822009-01-27T07:40:00.003-06:002009-01-27T08:46:46.638-06:00

As far back as i can remember, my dad has sung, and my mom has not. Mom says when i was a baby, i generally preferred Dad over her because of this. I'd be all whiny and fussy (although, naturally, less verbal about it than i am now), and Mom would do anything and everything to quiet me. But all Dad had to do was sing to me, and i would soon calm down. My favourites tended to be the songs he

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-33715705091194366832009-01-21T13:00:00.003-06:002009-01-21T13:41:46.558-06:00

This was probably the most enjoyable move. We weren't leaving anyone, simply moving on base. And in any case, moves with Italian movers are bound to be exciting. There were very few actual mishaps, as i remember, but the potentiality... Almost having ID's (required for entry on base) packed away, bowling balls placed in pitcher bowls without even any paper b/w them, fragile items practically

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-2487896029858280962009-01-21T11:33:00.001-06:002009-01-21T11:33:02.421-06:00

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and Earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, His only begotten Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilot, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into hell. The third day He rose again from the dead. He ascended in to Heaven and is seated at the right hand of God

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-11693928545691040602009-01-20T13:06:00.001-06:002009-01-20T13:08:34.350-06:00

I'm sorry, but i just don't believe this is real. It has to be a spoof, right?

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-1752139273017010362009-01-20T11:24:00.007-06:002009-01-21T12:29:50.731-06:00

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and Earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, His only begotten Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilot, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into Hell. The third day He rose again from the dead. He ascended in to Heaven and is seated at the right hand of God

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-41245400164210835132009-01-17T13:35:00.003-06:002009-01-20T13:45:04.032-06:00

Once upon a time there was an ornery little girl. She had two ornery little brothers, two annoyed parents, and two amused grandparents. They were all in the process of completing an ordinary little road trip. This little girl was a very clever little girl – she knew better than to ask the banal “Are we there yet?” Instead, she inquired as to the length of the journey, and number of miles

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-13906764048235864462009-01-14T12:43:00.003-06:002009-01-14T13:25:51.130-06:00

I don't know why, but people tell me the randomest things, sometimes... Like the fact that "He was a chaplain for 30 years, and when he retired he became a part-time (paid, but full-time work) pastor at a church, and now he's thinking about retiring from that, only he's worried about having to move back here and he'll lose his network of people. I think that he'll be fine - there are still

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-53744176830445789232009-01-14T10:11:00.000-06:002009-01-14T10:12:10.629-06:00

“The entirety of our prayer is “Your will be done”—not as a note of resignation but of desire beyond expression.”

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-77252729671492708312009-01-14T10:10:00.001-06:002009-01-20T09:04:45.373-06:00

So… My brother and i go to school a few hundred miles from my parents home – in clear weather and on good roads, this trip takes 12 hours to drive. Of course, this was the first time my brother and i had driven our new vehicle for any length of time. It is also my first winter driving up North, and was his first time driving at all in some months (and i know my tense changed, but i think it makes

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-67669851361230775512009-01-14T10:09:00.000-06:002009-01-14T10:10:38.217-06:00

People think that i don’t care, but the truth is: i do. People think that, because i am somewhat eccentric, i am free from the fear of popular opinion. The truth is: i am not beautiful or smart, and i am afraid fitting in too much. People think that, because i don’t mind losing i am a good sport. The truth is i am so afraid of trying and not winning that i decided not to try unless no one

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-6721231305575093322008-10-09T11:54:00.007-05:002008-10-09T14:52:17.626-05:00

When my mom was growing up, her mom gave away or threw out or sold some of her things when she wasn't there and without asking. Nothing major - i think it was paper dolls or barbies or something. This experience so traumatized her that, in spite of our many moves and pack rat instincts, she generally refused to throw anything away for us. She would plead and bribe, of course, but we would have to

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-6514377106888515812008-10-03T12:48:00.004-05:002008-10-09T08:29:36.402-05:00

I'm going to give that jogging coach person an honest answer when he asks me, "So, how'd it go today?" So far i've contented myself with simply lifting my hands in exasperation and focusing on the positive, such as "I'm still breathing." Envisualizing this situation is the one of the ways i try to stay focused. My favourite responses so far... "I can imagine few forms of exercise as agonizing,

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-34698977443821029052008-09-30T12:27:00.003-05:002008-09-30T12:39:27.069-05:00

(This is for my sociology class, based on this article by Horace Miner.) This study is merely a natural continuation of Mr. Miner’s excellent and groundbreaking piece on the Nacirema culture. I myself have observed the Nacirema, and I have found that his work is accurate in every respect. In addition to their unnatural obsession and dissatisfaction with the human body, they are also

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-73207030846054487702008-09-25T14:53:00.003-05:002008-09-25T15:11:57.885-05:00

He has agreed to sing in the church choir with me. Very forbearing of him. The poor child is going bald already - i expect it's all my fault. The other singers said they knew immediately who he was - he wasn't wearing shoes (is it really illegal to drive without shoes? that doesn't make any sense... therefore it must be true, i suppose). Although, unfortunately for him, he does rather resemble

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-74126335009969548492008-09-19T14:03:00.003-05:002008-09-25T14:43:27.382-05:00

So, let's see... Don't tell my parents, but now that it's my car, and my gas... I slow down for speed bumps, stop at stop signs, turn the car off as soon as i park instead of finishing the song, i don't speed (as much)... My first class is an intro to computer course - what's a CPU, how to use excel, basic programming stuff. Vaguely interesting. Actually, i would probably be bored out of my

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-19738125226450299142008-09-07T21:24:00.003-05:002008-09-07T21:40:32.497-05:00

I have internet!!! Wireless, even. One would think that after fourteen years of going to school, the First Day would lose most of its anticipation and agony. Well, perhaps it has lost some, but i still get an adrenaline rush from it. Actually, i suppose most people don't get an adrenaline rush from school. However, for me, the fear of large groups of people, and of getting lost, and of

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-40862630279138681302008-08-18T12:08:00.005-05:002009-01-19T10:46:47.309-06:00

Or is it Fleeing? I've got less than a week left of my internship. It wasn't really at all what i expected (surprise, surprise! i often do try to live life without any expectations at all, but i've found that it falls flat. here's to being wrong!). As far as the logistics of running an archive, and helping people with research, i'm really no further than i was before. However, i've learned a

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-54218680254646842872008-08-18T07:56:00.003-05:002008-08-18T08:03:29.070-05:00

I'm going through another slight transition period where my access to internet and inclination to post will be rather limited - moving from the place of my internship to the place where my school is to the place where i will be living during the school year to the place where my family lives and back.... Well, it's all rather confusing, but i won't be in any place for more than five days until

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-65793139788594870932008-08-07T14:29:00.001-05:002008-08-07T15:35:32.933-05:00

I really wish i could figure out how to get the photos off my cellphone, for even the poorest photo could give you a better idea than my words will. But it was such a magnificent event i simply must do my best to share. Let's see... Well, you know how they tell you the earth is round? I know it is not - they are wrong - for i saw the sun drop off the edge of the earth. Nor was i the only one.

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-35111243709730930702008-08-07T08:49:00.002-05:002008-08-07T15:33:11.710-05:00

So, the first time i noticed it was in the stores here. As i mentioned before, they absolutely pounce on you. "Did you see this? Did you know that we can do this? Do you know what a good bargain this is? What's your name? Where you from? What's your SSN?" Okay, they didn't really ask that last question. And then, of course, there was the yarn lady... Another time, i was sitting on a sort of wall

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-78350745625640940202008-08-04T14:29:00.009-05:002008-08-12T09:28:12.341-05:00

She was like "So, when should i come pick you up?" and i was like "I have a car!!" and she was like "Really? Wow!!" and i was like "I have a car, and her name is Helen!" and she was like "Helen?" and i was like "it was on the key chain." And then i was like "i have a car!" Guess what? I have a car!! And it's really cute, too. Well, and it's 1/2 my brother's, but still. Once the first rush of "

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-4317728250189351932008-07-31T09:43:00.003-05:002008-07-31T13:36:17.226-05:00

I love this article. It's full of really great medical advice along the lines of "why reading a book and unicycling can be dangerous" or "why you should face forward when walking down the sidewalk" or "why you should not drink hot coffee and jumprope at the same time..."

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-54032377972689645012008-07-31T09:25:00.002-05:002008-08-05T10:55:10.174-05:00

Motta Sant'Anastasia. We just called it Motta (pronounced mohtah), and it was a long while before i realized that wasn't its whole name. It was built around a Norman castle - a Count Roger was responsible for that - on the slopes of Mt. Etna (Sounds quite romantic, doesn't it? Living on a volcano? But just wait until you have to hang your laundry out to dry). We moved into a fourth floor

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-78675868505985788962008-07-28T14:22:00.001-05:002008-07-28T15:24:47.382-05:00

I turn on the tube and what do I see A whole lotta people cryin’ ’don’t blame me’ They point their crooked little fingers at everybody else Spend all their time feelin’ sorry for themselves ... You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown Got your mind in the gutter, bringin’ everybody down Complain about the present and blame it on the past I’

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-27638764407205868622008-07-27T14:09:00.000-05:002008-07-27T14:09:00.258-05:00

We were in a hotel room channel surfing when we heard this joke on TV. I about died. My eldest brother and dad found it somewhat amusing, and my mom thought that the funniest thing about it was that i found it so funny. I expect this doesn't say much for my sense of humour. Oh well. Tell me what you think. It's much funnier when told out loud - there's a certain accent, and all that. But

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-52849941609494333492008-07-25T10:26:00.002-05:002008-07-28T08:16:41.309-05:00

I'm working at this historic state park place, right? The first European settlers in the area were French voyageurs, and later British troops who took over their fort and then later moved it to a nearby island. A guy is working admission on the island. I heard this story directly from his own lips, and from my own experience working admission, i find this entirely believable. A blonde woman in

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-33448866072681411422008-07-24T11:54:00.001-05:002008-07-28T07:20:31.717-05:00

I have a confession to make. (A completely unimportant, uninteresting, dull confession. In fact, it's not even really a confession as much as a statement. A rather dull and unimportant statement. But i thought it would probably be unwise to start out the post as "i have a dull and uninteresting statement to make." Of course, it's probably not very wise of me to be telling you this now, but i just

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-965364049076848152008-07-17T07:15:00.001-05:002008-07-17T07:16:45.401-05:00

and relief were evident in my roommate's eyes when i returned from a library used bookstore yesterday with over half a dozen Agatha Christie novels...

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-57152649180777360232008-07-15T09:01:00.005-05:002008-07-15T12:22:07.933-05:00

Okay, so i am slightly obsessed with Penguin Classics. I love the introductions, and the endnotes, and the commentaries, and everything. I also think they smell better than most any other brand. And so i saw Dante's Paradiso - Penguin edition - in the miserable little excuse for a bookstore they have here. (I also saw The Three Musketeers, but it turns out that was a Puffin, and abridged.

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-40735997961431879232008-07-15T07:53:00.005-05:002008-07-15T12:16:35.929-05:00

So, my boss at GSRing is a guy named Ron. Fifties, mebbe? People don't like him, and i'm not really sure why. He's not really friendly, or anything, and often sounds really annoyed. But in practice he has been very generous to me, making sure i have some one to help me, walking me through things several times - i mean, the fact that i still have the job... But a couple of times my other boss

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-19566444251090159902008-07-06T02:17:00.006-05:002008-07-24T13:56:33.550-05:00

UPDATE: Welcome, AustenBloggers. Thanks very much for coming. I have read a lot of literature, from many time periods, genres, cultures, and so forth. One of my favourite authors remains Jane Austen. As with most such opinions, i am not entirely sure why. As a little child (oh, be quiet, boys - just because i'm shorter than you doesn't mean i can't still beat you up!), i used to hate going to

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-29528282974692668782008-06-30T09:22:00.005-05:002008-07-01T07:23:36.058-05:00

The place where i work and live right now is called a City. Even though i can walk all around it in a couple of hours. There is one excuse for a grocery store in which everything costs twice as much as it does everywhere else, which, what with rising gas prices and all that, is quite substantial. The main street consists almost entirely of t-shirt print shops and fudge shops, which i tried to

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-6465283536607242622008-06-29T18:41:00.005-05:002008-07-02T12:14:17.199-05:00

So. I have a couple of posts in the works but right now i am just going to ramble, okay? Because this is all about me, anyway. The internship is unpaid, but they do provide a part-time job so that i can eat. And housing. Nice, right? I'm claustrophobic (which i never realized until i was lost in a hay maze for over an hour - not a good way to find out). After that, i hate talking to People (as

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-55329673451931890012008-06-29T18:36:00.006-05:002008-07-02T12:15:01.513-05:00

Oh, blog, how i've missed you! My neglect has been entirely involuntary, i promise you. I managed to obtain an collections/research internship in the archives of a state park. Unfortunately, access to internet is pretty much limited to Burger King, and a public library which closes half an hour after i get off work. So. Yay! I hope to be more regular, but until school in September, my access

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-3146521376258247102008-05-23T12:40:00.003-05:002008-05-23T12:41:54.432-05:00

i'm still here. You will please forgive my lack of posting - i have been on the road and in the hospital, which unhappily prevented me from blogging.

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-84671228453419244072008-05-15T09:24:00.002-05:002008-08-12T09:29:04.763-05:00

She is waiting. Her father is gone. Getting shot at. Or whatever. She knows that more people die every year in California in car accidents than die Over There. In the Sandbox. If she had been marking days off a calendar, like some people did, she would know that her father was supposed to have been back by now. She would be impatient and anxious. She was glad she didn't do that. Wasn't anxious.

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-76852737292636066002008-05-05T23:34:00.013-05:002008-05-06T21:07:40.991-05:00

this is to give you something to look at while i am pretending to work:**i am related to this person...*(that's a baby shirt he used to actually wear. we found it in the rag bin and decided to see if it would still fit him. it seemed like a good idea at the time.)and this person... *(see his muscles!! that's a blade in his hand, in case you can't tell. and he's wearing a pirate necklace with a

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-80031775464770809442008-05-05T23:23:00.004-05:002008-05-06T02:09:03.398-05:00

so, like, i'm kinda really busy write now, b/c i was, like, an imbassilic idiotic stupid person and, like, majorly overextended myself this semester, and, like, i'd really rather be writing blog posts, but, like, i kinda need to finish my papers and study and maybe if i'm, like, extremely lucky i'll have time to sleep. so if i don't post anything for the next couple of weeks (b/c i know you're

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-62644670837408178052008-04-24T18:16:00.000-05:002008-04-27T22:32:04.306-05:00

When i was in eighth grade, i had a choice between Home Ec/Art (i never did figure out what the Ec stood for) and Latin. My dad chose Latin. I love to bake and to sketch, and hate grammar, so you may imagine my dismay and resentment. On the first day of class we found the the original Latin teacher had dropped out last minute and instead we were going to be taught by a poor, innocent math

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-17835769601292737632008-04-22T22:28:00.005-05:002008-08-12T09:29:34.454-05:00

My high school choir teacher died this week. Cancer killed her. Years and years of fighting. Chemo. Wigs. Weakness. Her husband is confined to a wheelchair. One of her sons is known as "a disappointment." She taught all of the choirs for the school - elementary, advanced elementary (Wed. afternoons), middle school, high school, and a capella. She was also involved in church choirs. Before Mrs.

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-13209239286598921222008-04-16T22:24:00.002-05:002008-07-30T10:38:18.005-05:00

We had to leave our dog at my grandmother's house. She would send him to us later, when the paperwork was finished. We arrived in Sicily. Our loyal van would follow us a few days later. None of our goods have arrived yet, so for the first month or so we live in TLA. I'm not sure what that stands for anymore - Temporary Living Assistance? We lived in one apartment for only a few days, and then

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-68253826551977002352008-04-10T14:22:00.009-05:002008-04-25T11:45:15.575-05:00

So, just in case you were curious, those toes at the top of the page are mine. 100% flesh and blood Marshymallow toes. Okay, that sounds really gross, but you get the point. The toes at the top of the page are on a beach one autumn evening. They are near Sally chasing the tiny sand crabs into the water, and in turn being chased by the surf. Those toes are wiggling over the soft green moss proud

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-27696875716050667242008-03-31T17:55:00.002-05:002008-07-02T12:17:15.485-05:00

The Bayeux Tapestry is pretty awesome - to learn more, go here.

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-54238346453366950012008-03-30T18:02:00.005-05:002008-03-31T20:00:35.794-05:00

You desperately want everyone to read it, and to tell you exactly what they think of it. At the same time, you dread that this will finally clinch the matter for them - you are stupid, and cliched, and have no original thoughts, or you would be if you weren't completely incoherent. Even worse is the thought that they couldn't care less about you and your stupid blog. reading it is a waste of

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-934908893536103652008-03-28T06:35:00.002-05:002008-07-30T10:36:53.089-05:00

My mom was never going to marry a sailor or a pastor. She had moved around all her life, and wanted a nice, steady life from now on. Then she met Dad. My dad is a pastor. His first church was in a tiny (literally - there were about 14 people living in the town, and half the district had the same last name) town in the rural Midwest. Us kids (i have two younger brothers) loved it. We lived right

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-33535375158803620412008-03-27T17:03:00.002-05:002008-03-27T21:09:26.380-05:00

It's snowing. UPDATE: The ground is, again, pristine and white and beautiful. It covers the piles of mud and trampled grass left by the construction people. Fat flakes swirl and float around the lamppost - Narnia is just through my mud-splattered window. Tomorrow it will be brown and muddy and gross. As i slosh my way through the now icy puddles, i will curse it. But for now, it is

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-25069921252146703722008-03-27T16:10:00.003-05:002008-03-27T16:26:34.441-05:00

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-4461559324033443042008-03-27T14:32:00.013-05:002009-01-21T13:04:48.492-06:00

I have moved often enough that it's been a rather defining characteristic in my life. And since they always say to write about what you know... The first move i remember took place when i was around four. Naturally, i don't remember much; all i do hold of that place in my memory is of the move, and i have no idea how accurate those memories are. I remember my grandmother came down to help us. I

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-90147034035570666212008-03-10T18:41:00.001-05:002008-08-12T09:31:40.968-05:00

Dear B----, I have fallen in love. You've met Her before - years ago, when you were flying home from Germany, you had two glorious hours with Her. Do you not remember? She is eminently practical, yet not at all lacking an appreciation for the finer things in life. If you look into Her eyes you can glimpse Her ancestors scratching out a foundation from the medieval mud, and Her struggle with the

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-65811822982236674902008-03-03T15:49:00.006-06:002008-08-12T09:30:43.541-05:00

I was reading my medieval history book the other day, and i started to get this strange feeling, as if i were a slinky bouncing back and forth in time. Or not quite that, but... Time is linear, they say. Well, it is, but i don't think that's the end of it. Do you ever feel like Time is a sort of telescope, pointing at something? And sometimes you just barely manage to catch a glimpse down the

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-22235671962716604322008-03-03T10:26:00.005-06:002008-03-27T17:56:47.991-05:00

Umm... what happened to February? I swear it was here a minute ago... I still miss the Netherlands. I didn't think I could become so attached to a place, ever, much less in only two weeks. It's exam time, with Spring (not Easter) Break coming up soon. Blaargh!!!

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-36416098640968105982008-02-27T11:54:00.010-06:002008-02-27T16:51:11.641-06:00

The past five or six years of my life i have lived much further south and east than i do now. Generally in or near a swamp. Even in the "winter" it rarely got below 45, and it was not unusual for it to be above 70. We would generally get about 1 inch of snow, and the entire area would shut down. Out-of-towners would mock the natives, claiming these Southerners to be cowards and to be biding their

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-56804903514914233592008-02-24T20:15:00.009-06:002009-01-20T11:48:37.078-06:00

coming soon! ish! in the meantime, the answer to life, the universe, and everything is 42. ummm... yeah. it is finished!! for real! here is part i (and the second half follows tomorrow)

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-29134003880569150782008-02-24T18:58:00.004-06:002008-02-25T15:21:44.544-06:00

They are trying on each other's brassiere's. Loudly, with much giggling, and exclamations of "BOOBIES!!". Why?

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-73287285062532806252008-02-24T11:54:00.002-06:002008-02-24T19:00:15.912-06:00

I'm not sure how this will work, but... here goes. Hamlet

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-89357587395305390412008-02-22T11:32:00.003-06:002008-02-24T18:17:45.624-06:00

Today i rode the bus. Actually, it was yesterday, but i feel that to say so lacks the impressiveness of the above phrase. So. Today, i rode the bus. My prof (Med. Art Hist.) had a conference (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, saynomore, saynomore...) So after work i went to the bus stop. There was one other person there. We exchanged rank and serial number. She is a junior, biology major, and

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-10282018725700300802008-02-21T21:40:00.005-06:002008-02-24T18:36:57.360-06:00

So, this semester I am taking a History of the English Language, a Medieval Art History, a Late Medieval History, a Shakespeare, and Dutch. H.E.L. is a tall, solid looking man, very erudite and fond of dictionaries. He has perfected the technique of maintaining a perpetual geniality towards his students at the same time as an appropriate reserve. He is unquestionably our superior, and

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-32734220777545966302008-02-21T21:34:00.001-06:002008-02-21T21:37:10.349-06:00

Once upon a time a family sat down to dinner. The Father paid for the Meal, the Mother prepared the Meal, and the Elder Sister, assisted by her Younger Brother, cleaned up the Meal. There was also a Youngest Brother, but he, by virtue of being the youngest and the cutest, was generally allowed to get away with simply eating the Meal.Now, there were various chores associated with cleaning up after

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-74888242180410173082008-02-21T21:29:00.007-06:002008-02-27T20:20:27.402-06:00

I want to be... It's the all-important question - you are asked it from the time you are four to the time you are fourty-four, and after that. What do you want to be when you grow up? What are you plans for your future? What are your goals? What are you working toward? What do you want out of life? You need to take control of your future. You need to prepare. You need to take your life into your

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-53852522283069589312008-02-21T21:22:00.005-06:002008-07-30T10:30:02.895-05:00

The four earnest looking faces glanced distractedly towards my guest. “Hey guys. This is my cousin, Alex. I told him about our club, and he was interested so I invited him along for today.” Francis sent a glare at me through her glasses. She’s an engineer, and doesn’t believe in such a palpable disregard for the rules of etiquette. However, “Alright. Hurry up and be seated. You’re late.”

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-73768273381716557932008-02-21T21:18:00.005-06:002008-07-02T12:17:58.298-05:00

I have a confession to make. You scare me. Actually, it’s not so much you who scare me as the prospect of having to converse with you – or worse, be called upon to speak up in class. It wasn’t until high school that I had a conversation with a teacher. I’m not sure what, precisely, we spoke about, but afterwards it was if a sun had risen in the darkness, for what dawned on me in that instant was

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-81834999839179415372008-02-21T21:10:00.002-06:002008-02-24T19:00:32.449-06:00

Silly Sally!!!!

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-47660393105654965122008-02-19T12:03:00.003-06:002009-01-20T11:49:57.621-06:00

I expect I ought to explain the title, and everything... It is a quote from the Vulgate, the book of Ecclesiastes. It translates as "There is nothing new under the sun" - a thought I have always found to be extremely comforting. The URL - ecce universa vanitas - basically means that everything is vanity. Deflating, perhaps, but nonetheless comforting. It takes the pressure off, so to speak.

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-773633147688646019.post-7967321037609496162008-02-19T11:59:00.001-06:002008-02-21T21:39:05.039-06:00

Question 1: What is thy only comfort in life and death? Answer: That I am not my own, but belong - body and soul, both in life and death - unto my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea,

marshymallowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06640254083946558428noreply@blogger.com