I saw a condensed version of this video when I went to see The Last Air Bender with my Dad and two sisters, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did:
Okay. Now I mentioned The Last Air Bender, so I might as well give you a review. But first: THIS REVIEW WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.
Due to the fact that we might (very large maybe) be getting two horses, I have started taking horse lessons on Tuesday mornings. It also counts as P.E. and animal science.
So far I’ve had four lessons:
So that’s what I’ve been learning on a horse. I can’t wait for next week and the next lesson!
(For the Summer Homeschooling CurrClick Contest.)
WOO!!!!! I, Princess Kitten, have now been blogging for three years (a little more, as I didn’t make my blog and my post of “hello world” at exactly 8:37, and that is the time I’m posting this ;)).
Here are some other anniversaries (most probably not today) that you may celebrate:
What other holidays/anniversaries do you celebrate?
Well, anyways: I hope you stay with my blog through the ups and downs (writer’s block/not paying attention to my blog/only being able to think of boring ideas, and floods of ideas that I somehow get all/most of out to you, my readers) for many years to come!
The continuation of How my name nearly changed… the spiced-up version 😛
Now mountain ogres have very poor aim, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t sometimes get a throw in… and when they do, you’d better hope you have paid all your debts and stuff.
My monster by srogan
As the boulders started coming in around me, it took only a glance to affirm my fear. I was under a mountain ogre attack. There were about ten of them, the normal size for an ogre clan.
I spurred Elementary into motion. He reared and ran forward with a burst of speed. As he ran, I turned and loosened my bow from its resting place, notched an arrow, and let fly with a loud TWANG.
It landed in one of the ogres armpit, on a small flap of tender skin. It roared and ran aimlessly away, upsetting the others as it went. I sent many other arrows flying at other various soft spots, which slowed the rain of boulders and sent them one by one, running for home.
When I finally got out of range (which took awhile since ogres can throw boulders very far), I was low on arrows. But that didn’t matter much. I still had my sword and several darts if needed.
We resumed our steady, trotting pace. The clip clop of Elementary’s hooves against the stone road calmed me. It was smooth plains the rest the way to the land of Intellectual Ramblings.
Once there, I looked around and talked to Climbing Gecko’s subjects, though I didn’t see him anywhere. The ride home was uneventful.
When I got home, it turned out that my talking white tiger had tried to teach all my other cats how to speak, so they crowded around me shouting “Kitteb! Kitteb!” until I shooed them away so I could write my letter to Climbing Gecko. But as I was writing, I accidentally put Kitteb down instead of Kitten! But I remembered it right before I mailed it and ripped off the envelope to change it.
It was a close call, but I did NOT let my name go out as Kitteb. After that, I taught my cats and kittens the proper way to speak.
[Click here for pt 1: The end of global warming, a look into the future.]
Georgiana sat in the air car as it rushed forward over buildings. Imprinted on its side were the words “GOVERNMENT SPECIAL AIR TRANSPORT.”
In the air, there were no bumps in the road; there wasn’t even a road. Air cars were expensive, so the air channel was mostly clear. The car could go as fast as a normal car, only without speed limits or traffic jams.
Georgiana stroked the seams, dreaming of inventing an even better air car that could go even faster and smoother and was WAY cooler. She dreamed of how one day she’d be driving an air-limo that was equipped with the best weapons!
The car jerked and started its descent. Georgiana looked up at the black-hatted driver. “Are we there already?” she asked, surprised.
“No, this is the boy’s house,” the driver spoke in his gruff voice. Then he looked back at her and continued, “If I was you, I’d try and make a run for it. ‘Course the Government would find you no matter where you went.”
Georgiana gave a small laugh and tossed her head. “I’m not going to run away. Just because the Government can’t do something doesn’t mean I can’t. And who’s this boy?”
The man sighed. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. And I don’t know the boy; so if you’ll just wait right here, I’ll go get him.” The man got out of the car and went up to the house.
As soon as he was out of sight, Georgiana took off her bracelet. It slipped off easily of her hand, but there was a clasp. She pulled at the clasp as if to open it, but instead a green light flickered across it.
She lifted it to pinpoint the door. Nothing. Her newest invention still needed work. Quickly she “re-shut” the bracelet; the green aura [for lack of better words] disappeared. She slipped the bracelet back on again.
A few seconds later, the man came out again leading a boy that Georgiana instantly recognized as Fredrick Moonfrick, her arch nemesis and captain of the Loombox’s School for Teens boy’s basketball team.
Fredrick opened the door of the car, then stopped on seeing Georgiana. “Oh no, I am not going with her!” he said, taking a step back.
The man sighed. “Yes you are,” he said, pushing Fredrick into the car and shutting the door.
Georgiana raised her eyebrow as Fredrick tried to push the door open. “Don’t try. It’s on child-lock; it will only open from the outside,” she informed him. He glared at her in reply.
“Look, you little cheat, I don’t want to be here; so be a lady and be quiet!” he snapped.
The was a flash and both of them had duct-taped mouths. The man spoke, “Thank you and good night. You better be quiet now!” He said it in a mock-sweet voice.
Soon they reached the airport. The man flew the car right into a waiting private jet; the top closed and they were off towards the capital.
Okay, as you might have guessed by the title, this is about homemade cookie dough. Do not ask me why I am writing about cookie dough 😉 I just am.
Two days ago, I decided we needed cookies (for a reason I shall not state — though if you read Spilling Ink, you might figure it out). We were out of store-bought cookie dough, so there was only one thing I could do. Make it.
I would copy down the recipe I used, but that would take forever — and I’d probably get it wrong. Besides, you probably already have a cookie recipe. Or you just buy it at the store. (But homemade, I must say, is the best way to make cookies.)
Now you are probably wondering why I titled this post “The return of homemade cookie dough”. It is because usually my sister, Niner, makes it; and since she’s busy with college and homework and all, she hadn’t made any for a while, so we had to use store-bought cookie dough. Not nearly as good.
So, for the first time in my life, I made cookie dough alone. Yes I got some help with things like finding the ingredients and what the recipe meant, but I did all the mixing alone! Without anyone even supervising.
So now we have homemade cookie dough to eat whenever we want. Yum.
COOKIE DOUGH!!!!!!!!!!
P.S: To make this post worth your reading time, I will add a little tip: raw cookie dough is just as good as cooked cookies. Yes, I mean straight from that batter that is waiting to be made into cookies into your mouth. Good thing about this: you don’t have to waste time cooking it. Bad news: Well… the eggs are raw this way… BUT WHO CARES?!?!?!?! It’s good.
A few days ago my mom got a free copy of Spilling Ink, by Anne Mazer and Ellen Potter, for winning a blog contest.
I immediately (okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration) picked it up and started reading. I had “read” many writing books before. Each time, however, I had barely gotten to the end of the first section. But unlike those writing books, Spilling Ink trapped me, and I read it all the way through.
It covered everything: to plot or not to plot, making your characters think they’re alive, getting ideas, writers’ block 911, revising, and much MUCH more (not in that order though ;)).
Anne Mazer and Ellen Potter supply good advice mixed in with some humor, and I must congratulate Matt Phelan on his brilliant illustrations!
And last, but not least, here is some of what other people had to say (I found this on the back cover):
“For years I have been thinking about writing a HOW TO book for kids who want to write. Now I don’t have to. Anne and Ellen have crafted such a wonderful, funny, wise book that when eager young writers send me a letter seeking my advice I can now simply say ‘read this!” My hat is off to this dynamic duo.” —Bruce Coville
Or then there is:
“The singular, intense yet funny voice of Spilling Ink shares advice—how to convince your characters they are alive, avoid noisy dialogue tags, wear sunglasses to feel like a spy—with much lively wisdom and nary a hint of adult condescension. An outstanding book.” — Nancy Springer
So that’s what they had to say! (Note: I was copying that best as I could, but I might have gone a bit off what it said they said on the back of the book; sorry if this is so.) So what about me? What’s my opinion? Here it is:
WOW!!!!!! This might very well be AT LEAST the best writing handbook for young writers. But I believe ANYONE, no matter how old, could use the advice found in this book. I must truly say: Thank you for sharing this wisdom, Anne Mazer and Ellen Potter. I shall keep it in mind whenever I write a book. Or try to, at least, sometimes my mind gets a little bit of an “overflowing toilet” ;).
So now, maybe next time you’re at a library or book store, you’ll look for Spilling Ink to read it for yourself!
Now maybe I’ll go and find some of those other books that Anne and Ellen wrote and kept mentioning throughout Spilling Ink — They sounded interesting…
Okee-doke ya’ll. Turns out that super-powered home-school carnival is up and it has my post — Cops and Robbers — was in it! But that was only one, so explore the rest at: Dewey’s Tree House.
My winter wonder land…. CONTINUED!!!!!:
“WHAT!?!” My brother had just finished explaining that the door was a portal to another dimension that he had gone to and using memory, tools, etc. had made it look like their old farm. Anyone could reach the dimension as long as they went through the door.
“I know it’s hard to explain. My science teacher said it was a very difficult art. But out of your imagination you can do anything here almost. Sis, this is the chance of a lifetime. Don’t waste it. Please believe me,” pleaded my brother.
So we sat there arguing for a while. Finally I held out my hand and imagined skittles. Skittles appeared. I blinked in surprise and ate one. It was real. I blinked again. “How did you do all this?” I exclaimed.
“It’s simple: first you make a open space that someone or something can go through, a door in this case. Next you make the portal, a special dust can be added to it to make it a portal. The dust is called Memphine; it comes from deep in the earth. To get it you make a stream coming from the ocean with a stopper on the end, then you use gun powder to attract it, then you separate the Memphine and the earth.
“Next you sprinkle the Memphine across the object and let it sink in for several days undisturbed. After that you go through and design it. However, if you make something in the dimension by mind waves, you can’t take it out or it will dissolve. Though you can take things in, and the things you took in can come out. Confusing, but you have a brilliant mind, you’ll figure it out.” He gasped for breath as he finished.
“Wow,” was the only thing I could say; he nodded.
“Come on, Sis. Let’s go explore, not that I don’t already have the place memorized,” said my brother, getting up off my old bed.
Kitten's Purring 