Slacking off just got easier :D

Meet Baby.


And it's all mine!!!

A birthday present from my parents, although I've been begging for this thing for a while. I even said it could be my only birthday present, because it would be worth it :P

Among various books and clothes and stuff, I also received:

An easel,

And this vintage art print from my aunt.
Family. They rock <3

P.S. Do not blame Baby that this post is several days late. She's been purring happily in my lap while Comcast, my stupid, sucky server crashed. Sorry for the delay!

FO: Loooove Monkeys

*contented sigh* Alpaca is awesome. Socks are awesome. <3Love<3

And now that these are out of the way, my dpn's are ready for the Ravelympics!

Oh, and I started my Cherie Amour the same day I finished these. At first I didn't know what size to pick, and the pattern says the S is for a 34" bust, but the finished S is a 41" bust. I am no way close to 41" 'round there, so I asked some people on Ravelry, and those who have made the pattern recommended the XS, which finishes to a 36" bust, for a closer fit.
Luckily, I started a sleeve before all the size debating, and the S and XS sleeves are the same :)

I shall leave you with another FO, my still-life that I finished in class at the North Hills Art Center (I vastly improved from last year).

Ciao!

Short Story Month #4~Endless Summer, Endless Pi

Endless Summer, Endless Pi

   According to the textbook, pi was known to the ancient Egyptians, Babylonians, Indians, and Greeks, but was popularized by Leonhard Euler.
   Maizy wished the guy was still living; she had some great reasons for him as to why pi should have stayed with the ancients.

   Maizy hated pi. She loathed pi with a passion. Because if it wasn't for pi, she wouldn't have had to spend four days a week with Mr. Hayley, going over formulas and equations and operations, while everyone else who passed the final exam was at the pool.
   Maizy had never been good at math. She knew that she wouldn't do well on the final exam, especially because she had spent most of Mr. Hayley's class doodling in her notebook. But she had never expected to fail.
   It's all pi's fault, really, she thought, holding her head up with her fist as Mr. Hayley went on and on about FOIL. "Stupid pi." she said under her breath. Mr. Hayley caught it and sighed.
   "Maizy, I know you don't want to be here. Nobody wants to be in summer school. But Maizy, if you want to move on . . ."
   It was the unfinished statement that he knew always struck a chord in her. And though Maizy groaned, she put her fist down and leaned over the textbook. They both knew that Maizy couldn't bear it if she was held back.

   Finally, two hours later, she was free. She stuffed her math book into her bag as she hightailed it to the pool. When she met her friends there, she gave them the usual excuse.
   "Had to do the chores," she wheezed out. "I'm like my mom's personal maid." Her friends nodded and complained with her, and they all jumped into the cool water.
   The truth was that Maizy hadn't told anyone her secret. Only her parents knew about Mr. Hayley's tutoring. Maizy sometimes felt bad that she didn't let her friends in on it, but she couldn't bear the thought of what they would think: about the chance that she might not move on with them to the high school in fall, that there was a chance she'd be trapped in another year of eighth grade.
   That's the real reason she agreed to summer school and a retake of the final exam: the fear of becoming the dreaded held-back student, the dumb kid. Maizy wanted this to be her first and last eighth grade summer, even if it meant endless pi.

   And all week that's what Maizy got: endless pi, endless pi endless, pi. Mr. Hayley had her write it out, say it over, think on it, live pi. Every equation they had now hid that stupid symbol π.
   Because of all the pi, Maizy should have seen it coming. But she was shocked, when on the last day of July, Mr. Hayley handed her the sheet of paper.
   "I think it's time," he said, slightly smirking. "I think you're ready."
   Maizy stared at him as he got up and walked out of the classroom. Now it was just her and the future. She got out her pencil and flipped over the paper, trying to swallow the lump in her chest.

   An hour later, Mr. Hayley came back to check on her. But before he even opened the door, Maizy burst out. She shoved the paper at him and ran down the hall, angrily wiping away streams of tears. Mr. Hayley watched her go, and then looked at the sheet.
   It was blank.

   Mr. Hayley felt stupid, waiting outside Maizy's front door. After all, she wasn't the first of his students to flunk the second exam. But he had felt so sure that morning that she was ready. He knew, with a teacher's faith, that she could pass. But something was holding Maizy back, and he needed her to forget it. No teacher wants a student to fail.
   After a good ten minutes of arguing with her mother, Maizy agreed to talk to Mr. Hayley. She slumped on the chair in front him.
   "What," she said, a huge scowl on her face. Mr. Hayley gulped.
   "Maizy, I want to ask you something," he answered. She grimaced in return. He gathered his courage.
   "Why do you hate pi so much?"
   At first the angry look stayed in place. Then Maizy slowly began to melt. She put her head in her hands.
   "I didn't know about pi," she said quietly. "I never paid attention in class, and then on the test, I saw endless pi and panicked, because I didn't know pi. I left it blank."
   Mr. Hayley grinned. This would be an easy problem to fix.
   "Pi is . . ." he began. And just as he hoped, Maizy raised her head.
   "3.141592. Pi is the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter." She flashed a rare and full smile.
   "Pi is a piece of cake."
   Mr. Hayley handed her the still-blank test and got up. "You'll do fine."
   An hour later, she was done.

   On the last day of August, Maizy and her friends went over what had happened during their first and last eighth grade summer. When it got to her, Maizy smiled.
   "This summer? I conquered pi. Pi is endless no more."
   And she laid back and waited for fall.


I'd like to thank you all for reading Thinking in Magenta this July. Short Story Month has not only helped with my writing, it's taken some time off of my hands, and I'm glad I got to share my thoughts and stories with you :)
Special thanks to my blog-buddy Kaya, who did Short Story Month with me. Be sure to read her entries, too!

To view my previous entries, click the Short Story Month tag on the post, or go click on them here:
What Happened to Emily
Dandelions and Dinosaur Earrings
Sunny Came Home

Happy August!

FO: The Force Bear With You and LightsaBEAR pattern

I am turning into an FO machine!

For Peter's older brother. As you can tell, he is a big fan of Star Wars ;)
Same as Peter's, this is the Harry Bear pattern from Berroco. Again, super fast and easy!

As a bonus, here is the lightsaBEAR pattern:

Materials:
1 skein Lion Brand Vanna's Choice solid (in gray)
1 skein Jo-Ann Sensations Angel Hair
US 7 needles

Gauge:
5 stitches x 6-7 rows in stockinette stitch=1 inch with Vanna's Choice

Pattern:
CO 11 with Vanna's Choice
Knit 2 rows
Next row (WS): Purl across
Work in stockinette stitch for 1 inch
Work in K1, P1 ribbing for 1 inch
Work in stockinette stitch for 1/2 inch
Next row (WS): Knit across
Knit 1 row
Next row (WS): P1, p2tog, P2, p2tog, P2, p2tog
Knit 1 row
Change to Angel Hair
Work in stockinette stitch for 3 inches
Next row (RS): k2tog around
Next row (WS): p2tog around
Break yarn and pull through remaining 2 stitches
Seam together with matching yarn
Stuff tightly

FO: Trendsweater!

*pure love squirting out of my ears*

It took forever and two weeks, but I am so happy with my first garment that it doesn't matter!!! :D
I love the pattern (no longer available, as the magazine crashed sorry :( )
I love the yarn
I love the color
I love the buttons
I love how it looks on me
<3LOVE<3


And the camera loved it so much too, that even though right now it's raining and cloudy, the lighting turned out great (hint: windows)!

Stay tuned for more yarny, knitty love :P

Short Story Month #3~Sunny Came Home

Sunny Came Home

   Pulling the wad of magazines and bills from the mailbox, Kat noticed a kelly-green motorcycle in her neighbors’ driveway. The color seemed even brighter against the pale wood of the Reynolds’ house. What made the picture even stranger were the two large suitcases strapped down to the bike with bungee cords.
   Inside, Kat deposited the mail on the table and asked her mother about it.
   “A motorcycle? I never knew Jane Reynolds was a biker chick.” She giggled at her own joke. “Honestly, I don’t know, Kat. Probably some crazy relative in town.”
   Kat wouldn’t let it rest at that. The green bike was so out-of-place in their tidy, suburban neighborhood that she had to find out where it had come from.

   So she went to the source.
   Kat had brought the garden hose nozzle that her father had borrowed from Mr. Reynolds last week as a reason as to why she had come. She figured that on the subject of lawns, she could bring up the bike. Preparing her conversation, she went to knock.
   The door opened before her fist even touched the door, and a tall, thin girl barreled into Kat, nearly knocking her off the step.
   “Whoops! Sorry, I—“ the girl stood back to look at Kat, and broke into a wide grin. Kat knew why; there was no mistaking her.
   Mr. And Mrs. Reynolds had a daughter five years older than Kat. Sunny. She used to baby-sit Kat years ago. Kat loved Sunny; she was wild and funny and the coolest person Kat had ever known. In their world of suburbia, Sunny was as prominent as a flamingo among ducks.
   Unfortunately, the Reynolds’ didn’t see Sunny like Kat did. They fought all the time, and one day, when Kat was eleven, Mrs. Reynolds called their house. Sunny was gone.
   Kat could only imagine it broke the Reynolds’ heart when the only news they heard from their daughter for two years was a postcard on Christmas and Easter. They knew Sunny was alive, but never knew where she had gone or how she was. Gradually, talk of Sunny decreased in the neighborhood until she wasn’t mentioned at all.
   And now Sunny was standing three feet from Kat.

   “Kit-Kat!” Sunny’s hug was a sproingy as the dark curls escaping from her French braid. “Look at you! Only two years and you’ve grown like bamboo!” Kat smiled and gaped at her at the same time. While Sunny’s smile was at it’s usual magnitude, her makeup was dried and smudged, and her clothes looked wrinkled and slightly dirty. She also looked exhausted, but Kat passed off some of that to age, but thinking Sunny was now eighteen was like imagining her grandma in a bathing suit.
   “I can’t believe it!” Kat managed to say, as she helped Sunny untangle the suitcases from what Sunny said was a Vespa, not a motorcycle. “Where have you been all this time?”
   “Seattle, baby!” Sunny winked with a goofy grin. "I took a bus to Seattle, moved in with a friend, got a job at a bookstore, and lived! Yeah, life was crap at first, but I got promoted and saved up my money. Got Clover here,” she nodded to the Vespa, “as a result of blowing off two month’s rent, which believe me, did not please my roomie.” Kat laughed, struggling under the heavy suitcase.
   “And then . . . I decided to come home.” Sunny did not elaborate, and Kat didn’t ask. Thanking her for her help, Sunny took the hose nozzle, saying this would only improve her dad’s day.
   “He cried when I came in,’ she said with a small smile. “My mom got watery-eyed, but girl, my dad bawled like a baby.” And she disappeared inside.

   But Sunny’s return was only a small flower in the ton of junk Kat got from her parents the rest of that week. Her mom was especially on her case, badgering Kat about the tiniest things. And her dad disapproved of her spending time with Sunny. He said she was a bad influence.
   It all came to a climax one night, when, angry at finding a soda can in Kat’s room, her mother fought with her.
   "Look at you! You're no good! You're just so lazy all the time and never care for anyone else!"
   When Kat yelled back at her, her father told her she was being disrespectful.
   "You'll turn out just like Sunny Reynolds," he said. "and she's going in no good direction."
   Early the next morning, Kat packed a bag and took a bus headed 150 miles north from Cadence.

   The coffee shop was dirty and full of flies, but at least it was air-conditioned. Kat sat in a booth, poring over the free map she’d gotten at the Portland bus station. But soon, she just let her head fall down onto the greasy table. What could she possible do now? Where could she go? Unlike Sunny, she didn’t know anyone in Seattle. She didn’t know anyone who lived outside of Cadence besides her grandparents, and they’d just take her back.
   After the fight, she felt like she hated her parents. But her head was cooler now and Kat felt that it could've gone a lot better if she hadn't been so worked up. Maybe she'd be in her own house by now.
   Kat was at a loss at what to do. She folded up her map and left the shop.

   Finally, Kat came to what she was looking for: a payphone. Inserting her quarters into the slot and dialing the number took a great number of deep breaths. Her heart pounded frantically as the phone rang three times before being picked up.
   “Yo, it’s the Reynolds,” Kat nearly wept with relief at hearing the familiar voice.
   “Sunny, it’s me,” she whispered. “Please don’t say anything.”
   “Who? Is that you, Kat? Kat! Don’t worry, don’t worry; the mom’s out shopping and the dad’s mowing the lawn.” There was a pause. “What’s up? Your parents are nuts. Where are you?”
   Kat sighed. “I can’t tell you, Sunny. I’m really sorry.”
   More silence. Then Sunny sighed, too. “I kinda knew this would happen. Only a matter of time before I became a bad influence to the neighborhood children.”
   Kat chuckled feebly, but deep down she felt horrible. Of course her parents and the Reynolds would think Sunny had influenced her. And if they found out about the phone call . . . She didn’t want Sunny to be blamed.
   “Listen, Sunny, I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this. I have one question, and then I have to go.”
   “Shoot.”
   “Why did you come home?”
   Sunny took a long pause. Kat hoped she’d asked the right question.
   “I guess I had to. Y’know, the whole time on my escape from parental territory, there was something missing. Seattle, no matter how free, was a foreign city, and I was a dumb kid who didn’t know her way around. I missed Cadence and my family and my parents and my friends. I missed being home. So I went back.” Kat could practically feel her smile through the phone. “I’m glad I did.”
   Kat felt a tear slip down her cheek. “Thanks, Sunny,” she whispered, and hung up.

   Kat stood in the front lawn. It was well past midnight, which made her want to go inside, but memory of the fight made her want to take another bus far, far away. As she debated with her two instincts, she glanced at the Reynolds’ driveway, where Clover the Vespa sat, reminding her of how Sunny said her dad cried, so overjoyed to have his daughter back. Sunny had been welcomed in, every past mistake forgotten, and the Reynolds' had fought a lot more than Kat and her parents had. She looked back at the front door and made up her mind.
   Sunny came home, she told herself as she stepped up to the door. So can I. Kat raised her fist to knock.
   The door opened before her fist even touched the door.

FO: Peter's Birthday Bear

This pattern is wonderfully fast. I had knit about 75% of the the total bear in one day! And the rest just took longer to put together because of my embroidery, by the way:
Embroidery: crochet chain belly and on top of the seam (doubles as both decoration and cover-up; I hate seams!), double French knots for eyes, backstitch for eyebrows, satin stitch for nose.

Also, a funny thing happened yesterday during the making of this bear. I was having a slow shift at the museum, so I decided to knit in between talking and explaining to tourists. One family I had had particularly grabby kids, the kind that makes you want to hide the more delicate objects. Here's the conversation:

Kid: What's this?
Me: A gazelle skin.
Kid: What's this?
Me: A warthog skull.
Kid: What's this?
Me: My purse.
(Mother yanks my bag out of kid's hands and tells him not to grab. She rummages through the contents and sees the yarn)
Mother: You're crocheting!
Me: I'm KNITTING a teddy bear for the little boy I babysit.
(Mother yells to her friend)
Mother: Amy! She's crocheting a teddy bear for her nephew! And she's using the good baby yarn!
(Other mother waddles over while I fight the Do-Not-Argue-With-Tourists rule)
Other mother: Aw, how sweet! And since it's handmade, he'll keep it forever!
(I smile thankfully and confusedly)
Then pulling their kids in a tow, they waved good-bye and wished me a nice day.

Yeah. We get some pretty strange tourists ;)

FO: Caroline's Hand, Hearts and Tulips (plus New York on the 4th recap and YARN!!)

So first up: a finished pair of fingerless gloves for my cousin (note the fancy typewriter-typed tag ;) ).

A close-up of the embroidery:

And since I've been so busy with short stories and stormy weather and summer, I've haven't posted about our Fourth of July-inspired visit with the Donovans. Featured in this trip was a visit to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty!
It seemed smaller than I pictured.


But which one is the real one?

Ellis Island was cool, too. I love the 19th century (they have cool graffiti!)





Plus New York City is filled with spontaneity, including dance contests with conga lines, medieval sword fights (in kilts?!), and unknown film projects.



And now *drumroll* the latest addition to my stash . . .
MALABRIGO LACE!!! IN ORANGE!!!


Thanks to the very nice woman who helped me out at Knit One on Sunday (sorry I didn't get her name, but she was spinning and had brown hair and was petite and was working when we visited, half and hour before closing time :P )!

Whew, well before my server crashes from all the picture uploads, I'm signing off. Later!

Short Story Month #2~Dandelions and Dinosaur Earrings

Dandelions and Dinosaur Earrings

   Cara felt like digging a hole and crawling down into it, letting the earth swallow her up. Nothing bothers you in a hole. You can't hear anything in a hole.
   Unfortunately, Cara wasn't in a hole at the moment. So she forced herself to take the sticky yellow mess of weeds from her sister's hand, wishing her friends would stop staring, with small, amused smiles on their faces. Finally, her job done, her sister skipped off, singing under her breath and swinging her stuffed dog, Wolfie, like a baton twirler.
   It wasn't that Cara didn't like her little sister, Becca; but Becca was eight years younger than Cara, making their ages five to thirteen. The only thing they had in common was their favorite color. Also, being five and having no shame, Becca was prone to embarrassing Cara, most often when in front of Cara's friends. Not only did she carry Wolfie everywhere, but Becca loved to sing, either under her breath like she was insane, or out loud and painfully off key.
   Also, there was no family resemblance. While Cara remembered feeling like a pretzel rod among carrot sticks as a five-year-old, Becca could be better compared as a whale among dolphins. If people saw Becca and compared her to Cara, people would say "That's how Cara looked when she was that age," hoping that Becca would slim out as she got older, supposedly like Cara.

   Their mother didn't see how any of this should embarrass Cara, though, when they were driving to the mall an hour later.
   "Hon, she's five," Mrs. Lennox said, exasperated, as Cara groaned while Becca launched into yet another verse of "Frosty the Snowman", not caring that it was July. "You did that stuff when you were five. Everybody's like that when they're five!"
   This wasn't reassuring, as Cara watched Becca play with other kids in the mall's playground while her mom made returns. While Becca got along with everyone, she still carried Wolfie around, sang, and kept running back to Cara every few minutes, complaining she had lost a dinosaur stick-on earring and needed a new pair from the sheet Mrs. Lennox had stuffed into Cara's hands.
   Cara was getting more and more annoyed with her sister. Finally, after Becca had lost her fifth dinosaur earring, she lost it.
   "Here! Take it!" she yelled, throwing down the sheet of stick-ons. "Go and do what you want! I don't care! Just stay away from me!"
   Becca looked confused, but took the hint and ran off with the earrings. Cara slouched in the mall bench, angrily trying to rub off the yellow dandelion stain on her hand.

   Fifteen minutes later, Cara looked up to see that Becca had done what she asked; she couldn't find her sister or Wolfie anywhere in the playground. Or in the nearby stores. Or in the food court. Or in the bathroom. Another ten minutes later, Cara couldn't find Becca anywhere.
   She was starting to really worry. Her mother would be coming back to the playground, expecting both of them to be there.
   Cara started to check everywhere a Becca-sized five-year-old could fit: in trash-cans, behind clothes racks, under sinks. All the time she screamed at herself for letting Becca run off, for not looking after her. She's only five, Cara thought over and over, Anything can happen to her, and I should have been a better sister.

   Finally, after checking the jewelry store for the fifth time, losing hope that Becca had wandered in and asked for diamond dinosaur earrings, Cara trudged back to the playground to face her mother. She tried to take deep breaths and struggled with how to explain to her mother how Becca had gone missing. Luckily, her mother hadn't come back yet, so Cara sat on her bench, struggling not to cry. She felt terrible; what if that was the last thing she ever said to Becca? What if that was the last time she would see her skip with Wolfie, or hear her off-key and off-season singing? Not that it was hard; Cara could practically hear Becca singing in her head. In fact, it almost sounded like Becca was right there, singing herself.
   Well, that's because Becca was right there, singing herself. Cara leapt off the bench and ran to the source of the sound. There was Becca, Wolfie by her side, decorating the underside of the slide with dinosaur stick-on earrings.
   "Hey, girls!" Cara turned around to see Mrs. Lennox, minus the shopping bags and looking satisfied that her returns had gone well. "What have you been up to?"
   Cara shrugged and gave a small smile.
   "Just sister stuff," she said, and when Becca came out from under the slide, she held her hand all the way back to the car. Becca was only five, after all.

After you've seen it done 3 billion times . . .

1. What is your first name? Margaret
2. What is your favorite food? mashed potatoes
3. What high school did you go to? Fox Chapel
4. What is your favorite color? purple
5. Who is your celebrity crush? John Krasinski
6. Favorite drink? Inca Kola
7. Dream vacation? Singapore
8. Favorite dessert? chocolate
9. What you want to be when you grow up? Designing something
10. What do you love most in life? living
11. One word to describe you? versatile
12. Your nickname? MJ

Open three windows. One with the list of questions, another open to Flickr and ready to do an image search, and a third to Big Huge Labs’ Mosaic Maker (create a mosaic 4x3). Answer the first question, put your answer in the search field on Flickr and choose one of the images from the first page to represent your answer. Click on the photo then copy and paste the url into the #1 spot on the Mosaic Maker. Do that for all 12 questions, then click create and post the results to your blog. Have fun!

P.S. This my 100th Post!!!

Short Story Month #1~What Happened to Emily

What Happened to Emily

   All morning, Anna heard whispers, sounding like crunching dry leaves on an October sidewalk. She had no idea what the message was, but this sort of thing had happened before. It was sixth grade after all; scandalous things went on behind cupped hands every day, but not everything was true.
   It wasn't until lunch when she caught a few of the whispers.
   "Emily . . . Emily Dawny . . ."
   A name was enough; Anna was obligated now to find out the rest of the story. She eavesdropped on a dozen conversations in the hallway, which all went the same way.
   "Emily . . . Emily Dawny . . . she went blind."
   At lunch, Anna sat down at her table and looked to her best friend, Maria. Maria was completely ignoring the gossip and was only concerned with eating her peanut-butter bagel. Anna wouldn't have this. She poked Maria sharply in the arm.
   "Is it true? What they say about Emily Dawny? Is she really blind?"
   Maria swallowed and nodded sadly. "My mom was on the phone with Natalie's mom. I heard that she had some sort of big accident and hit her head so hard she was in a coma for a little bit, and when she woke up in the hospital she was blind. The seeing part of her brain like never turned back on or something."
   Anna listened wide-eyed, but as Maria went back to her bagel, Anna doubted any of it was true. Her own father was a doctor, and from what he had lectured her about and spoke about his patients, she had learned that something pretty serious had to put someone in a coma: usually a brain disease or a stroke or heart attack. How could Emily Dawny, perfectly healthy, have hit her head hard enough to shut down her a whole part of her brain?

   The whispers were blown around the school for the next few days, but as Emily Dawny didn't show up, they started to die down. It was hard to gossip about a missing person because gossip needs a continuous stream of new information. And then the bomb dropped the next week; Emily Dawny came back to school.
   Anna saw herself, Emily walking down the hallway. She was wearing dark glasses, like movie stars in the tabloids. Her socks didn't match. Clutched in her right hand was a long white stick, the bottom painted fire-engine red, the top attached to what looked like the loop of a dog leash.
   Anna held her breath as she watched Emily slowly move down the hall, her cane poking out in front of her, almost tentatively, like it felt as nervous as she looked. Sometimes it would trail like the head of a snake, leading the body, Emily, along. Sometimes, if Emily felt she was approaching a corner, she'd sweep it in front of her path like a windshield wiper. Sometimes she'd do this too late and bump into the wall. With the white cane as her guide, Emily made her way down the hallway, then a small girl who was walking beside her and holding Emily's books lightly touched her elbow and they turned into a classroom.
   The bell rang, and Anna was late. For the rest of the day she bumped into nearly everything, even though she could see it all.

   It took a couple more days for the story to be pieced together. Anna thought that Emily must have been so tired of the endless rumors that she decided to clear things up herself, for at lunch one day, she called for as many people who wanted to hear the story of how she really lost her sight. Anna and Maria squeezed in among the entire cafeteria grouped around Emily's table.
   "I was at the park," she began. "On the swings, with my neighbors. We were having a contest, to see who could go the highest." She took a deep breath, and Anna was suddenly struck by the image of Emily, the new school celebrity, taking off her glasses later and laughing at their rapture at her fake story with her perfectly good eyes. Emily continued.
   "I was winning. Then my neighbor dared me to try and make a loop-de-loop. I was almost high enough when I fell backward off the swing. I passed out when I hit the ground." There was a collective gasp. "When I woke up in the hospital, I'd been out of it for over four hours. Everything was blurry. Then I passed out again and when I woke up the next day . . ." she paused. Anna could see the anticipation on everyone's face. Maria looked entranced. Anna felt like rolling her eyes.
   "And when I woke up the next day, everything was just black. It's like I never even opened my eyes. See, the doctors told me that I hit the vision part of my brain when I fell, and I fell so hard it just shut off. I never went into a coma or anything, I like fainted. But sometimes I wish I kinda had never woken up to see just dark nothing."
   Anna was surprised that no one clapped. She was angry that nobody recognized Emily Dawny's Oscar performance. It had to be scripted, after all.

   Maria wouldn't believe her.
   "C'mon, that can't be it!" Anna cried, shaking her best friend's shoulder. "Nobody just falls off the swings! Emily has to be making it up!"
   Maria shook her head. "Why would she fake it, Anna? What does she get out of pretending to be blind?"
   "I don't know, but the whole thing is fishy; I just don't believe it!"
   Suddenly, Maria grabbed both of Anna's arms and whirled her around.
   There was Emily Dawny, talking to a teacher without her glasses. Her eyes were strange: the iris was gray and cloudy. Anna stared and watched, but Emily Dawny never once blinked. The teacher looked uncomfortable too, because Emily wasn't looking at him but sort of off into space.
   Anna turned back to Maria, confused.
   "I heard her tell one boy that since her eyes don't work, they start to die." Maria said quietly. "She wears the glasses so people won't get creeped out. Why would she pretend that?"
   Anna couldn't, wouldn't give up.
   "There's always contacts . . ." she said, but Maria had already walked away.

   Anna went on her own swing that afternoon. It was a rope swing, with a board to sit on and two loops of rope under the board so you could stand up, too. Her house was built on a hill, so the swing took her over the hill to gaze down at the creek below. Anna let her eyes wander and the scenery blurred, becoming just glimpses of house, trees, ground, creek, sky, then just green, brown, and blue. She tilted her head back and watched the clouds swirl among the great cerulean blanket of sky.
   Supposedly, Emily Dawny couldn't se any of this now. Anna was saddened at the thought of never seeing the sky again. She'd hate to forget how beautiful the world looked above, just so . . . blue.
   Anna couldn't think anymore. She went to step down from the rope loops as she swung back to the hillside, but her shoe caught. She had already let go, and now with one foot still swinging, she fell down the hill, banging her head off everything, ground, bushes, rocks, until she kicked her leg free and rolled to a stop.

   Her head felt heavier than twenty elephants. But she refused to open her eyes. Anna refused to let what happened to Emily Dawny happen to her. She didn't want her last sight of the world to be blurry shapes.
   Anna rolled onto her back, and sobbed.

   She considered opening her eyes, just to look at the sky one last time. After all, a blurry blue sky was pretty much the same as the regular blue sky, but she couldn't do it. Anna thought of what Emily had said, that the next morning everything was all the same color; black, black, black. It was probably the same color as the sky now, Anna thought, for the temperature had dropped and her arms were covered in goose-bumps, a sure sign she's been down there for a long time.

   "Anna? Anna!"
   Her eyes opened.
   There was her mother kneeling next to her, with a worried look on her face. Anna stared at her.
   "Where have you been?" she asked, her voice rising nervously as she looked at her daughter lying on the hill, bruised and dirty. "We haven't seen you in hours."
   Anna sat up and grabbed her mother into a hug. Her mother rocked her wordlessly, as Anna choked and cried.
   "What happened to Emily . . . it almost happened . . . almost happened to me . . . she wasn't lying . . ."
   Anna gazed at the starry sky above her, blurry with tears, feeling she would give anything to let Emily Dawny see it too.

This cannot end well

I have discovered the Knitting Olympics and its partner, the Ravelympics.
Well, technically I already knew about them, but I had no idea what actually went on :P

So, I, the Olympics' number-one fan (it's pretty much the only sports program I watch ever), have decided to go for it.

My challenge? Pomatomus, in my Plymouth Dreambaby DK.
(Yes, I know I blogged about doing this pattern before, shut up, SHUT UP!)

And like the real Olympics, it will probably be filled with dangerous screw-ups, tears of frustration, and lots of screaming. Oh, me and my big ideas!

By the way, Happy 4th (am currently in New York, will be busy tomorrow, so am making the announcement early)!!!
Go Team USA!!!
Help me!!!