Saturday, August 30
My big sister
My "Grand Puppet Master" :D
A role model
as Linda says, AWESOME 2.0
Also, she's the only person in the world who froze boogers in a kleenex to show me when I came over to her house.
Now THAT is love.
Happy Birthday, Adeena! (sorry I didn't post this on your real birthday, we got home late from mom & dad's...)
Monday, August 25
Sunday, August 24
My friend from ages and ages ago got married yesterday. Coincidentally, it was also my birthday. Happy birthday to me! I'm 22 now.
Daniel and I always had a wacky friendship. He was quirky, weird, with a passion for the zany and insane. I could appreciate that type of humour, and actually dish it out as well.
We were best buds for something like 5 years.
Then, he moved away. :(
WAAAAY up North.
We kept in touch by email, but he went off to school in Toronto, and eventually, both of us got too busy to write those lengthy letters.
Daniel first told me about Rachel in a email. He said he met this girl at school, and he was friends with her. I of course told him that he should ask her out, because OBVIOUSLY she liked him (she did throw something at him, after all) and besides, she was cute!
Months later, he told me he was dating her, and when Tyler and I got engaged, I sent the invitation to Daniel G and guest, because I knew SOMEBODY would be coming with him.
They came to our wedding, and she was so adorable! I can't remember exactly what I said to him, but at my wedding I had a dance with Danny and I told him some "big sister type" advice.
A little while after my wedding, I got the news they were engaged.
This is my weird friend, Danny, at his wedding reception.
He could only stop briefly to chat, but I managed to snag this awesome pic.
Danny and his beautiful bride, who wore her mother's wedding dress.
It was very special, and her dad cried during his speech, thanking her for letting him see his wife's dress again.
God Bless you guys!
Wednesday, August 20
A flutterby buttered fly. I mean, a butterflew flutter byed. A butterflee bluttered fly?
His wing was a little torn... you can see, the bottom of his right wing.
He was so pretty!
Aren't the littlest creatures on this earth some of the most amazing? Look at the colours! Wow!
He flew away, albeit a little wobbly. I hope he will be okay, but the tear is a serious one. Poor little butterfly.
I'm glad he came to visit me.
Tuesday, August 19
Monday, August 11
Tyler is a very careful driver. He won't even take his eyes off the road to smile into the camera held by his wife.
You may ask "Sarah, why are you so gorgeous? But seriously, where were you driving, and why?"
And Tyler, who has this inate inability to smile nicely when I want him too. Grrr.
Welcome, Levi! Auntie Sarah & Uncle Tyler love you!!
Oh, by the way, my cousin David's wife Kate just gave birth to their son Charlie, a day after Levi was born! Hurray for babies! I don't have a picture, but my mom does on her blog. So go there. He is definitely cute enough to warrant making the click.
Thursday, August 7
Are the ONLY ONES I HAVE!!!!!
But they are still cute... very old (almost a year old... eek) but still cute.
Aww, Heidi is Dr Evil. Mwahahahahhahaha.
And Matthew is the Great Gazoo. HEEE.
What... what? SERIOUSLY? This is the best picture I could find of Critter???
Yikes. No wonder Mom and Dad stopped when they had him. They couldn't risk having a 13th.
August 6th was the day of Grandpa Harold's funeral. It was an emotional day... Harold was well loved, and had quite the extended family. The gathering to honour him was impressive in number. The minister, who knew him well, commented that Harold was very proud of his large family. At big gatherings, with all the kids running around like banshees, Harold would poke the minister with an elbow, give a wink, and say with a grin - "That's my family."
The minister encouraged everyone there not to focus on Harold's death, but on his life, and the memories and stories they had together.
I only have one story about Grandpa.... When I went to see him for the first time, I was sitting on the couch in their living room, listening to Grandpa and my father-in-law talking. Suddenly Harold paused and looked at me, his eyes magnified by thick lensed glasses.
"I like blondes." He said, his voice raspy and high pitched.
I'm sure I turned beet red. Oh my goodness.
Tyler told Grandpa that I was off the market.
That is something that still makes me smile when I remember it. He was a cheeky old man, but a lovable one.
On another note...
Critter turned 9 yesterday! Yay! My itty bitty littlestest brother is getting so big. The Twins also turned 1! So many birthdays. I LOVE birthdays!
I would've made a post yesterday about it, but we got home just in time for So You Think You Can DANCE dance dance dance. Therefore, no birthday post for Critter & the twins.
Also, I need a picture of Christopher! I took birthday pictures for him on mom's camera, but the funny thing about that is, they're on mom's camera. D'oh! So if she sent me one, I would put it up here. Hint. HIIIINT.
Monday, August 4
Tyler's Grandfather, Harold Mawson, died last night while we were sleeping. We knew yesterday that things had taken a turn for the worse, because we were visiting Tyler's parents when his mom got a phone call from the hospital. His Grandfather has been in the hospital for a while, he was admitted a couple of months ago because his needs had become too difficult for his wife to fulfill. She, at almost the same age as him, is well into her nineties, and she just didn't have the energy or the strength to care for him.
We meant to go visit him, we planned on it for, it seems, every weekend... but different things kept on interrupting our plans, getting in the way.
Eugene phoned us when we got home from work today. I knew something was wrong by the look on Tyler's face, I have never seen him so pale. He said things like "No, I didn't know" and "We just got home", and "She went last night to see him?" I had a gut feeling about what had happened, but I didn't ask until he hung up the phone.
I didn't know Tyler's grandfather very well. In fact, I only saw him once. Tyler took me to meet him before we were married. He became too ill to travel by the time of our wedding. I guess what I mean is, I wasn't very emotionally attached to him. I knew of him, and he was a part of my family, but I don't think it's fair for me to say I loved him. Tyler loved him.
When he hung up the phone, Tyler had tears in his eyes. When he told me what happened, he started to cry.
I haven't ever seen my husband cry before. I have seen him with tears in his eyes, tears of love for me, but never tears of sadness. His heart ached for his mother, for his grandmother, and with regret, that we never went to see his Grandpa in his final days.
I love my husband for his tears. He cares so much for his family, and has such love for his mother, that he cried for her, for how her heart must be hurting. He cares for his grandmother, and his heart is broken for her, for now she is alone without her husband that she loved so much.
There is one thing that Tyler is glad for. The last time he saw his Grandfather was with me, the day we went down for his grandparents to meet me. His Grandpa, even at that time, was in poor health, but for that specific day, he had high spirits, and he was feeling good. He teased Tyler, and Tyler teased him back, and we all shared in laughter. It was a good day.
I'm glad that God gave Tyler that gift.
God, comfort my husband, and my mother & grandmother-in-law. In Jesus' name, I pray.
Sunday, August 3
My full name is Enthalio Karavis Thorocel the III. As the sixth son of my noble father I was unlikely to inherit the title and responsibilities that come with being the heir-apparent to a Baron, and therefore when I came of age my lord father encouraged me to take a respectable role within the few opportunities open to me in the castle, in order to make myself useful and not be a burden upon my mother and her daughters. I had no intention of becoming a priest of Ktahn, for I considered the ways of the Order to be barbaric and beneath my morals. I also had no desire to join the Emperor’s army, for having served my mandatory six years as a Messenger, I had taken in my fill of bloodshed and hard living. Therefore the last option open for me was to take the position of a scrivener. There are few scribes in the Empire, for many of the people are illiterate and have no use for books and parchments. Therefore to be a scribe, or a scribbler as some like to say, is a uniquely noble profession, only for those of great intelligence and regard.
It was with some zestfulness that I took to my occupation, quickly rising to the very top of my small order, for my handwriting was crisp yet beautiful, and the speed of my hand soon became a thing of legend. I could write words as easily as speak them, with no mistakes or lack of clarity in the letters.
In a land completely ruled by a single man of such terrible power that all who speak his name shrink with terror, it is not always good to rise to the very top of your order, for very often you are noticed. To be noticed by the Emperor can be either a kiss or a bite from the mouth of fate, for the Great One is as easily disposed to anger as he is to mirth. It was my unfortunate destiny that the Emperor, viewing a snippet of my writing upon a single letter I had written for an illiterate baron, decided that he loved no other font but mine, and would have me become his personal scribe.
My forced transfer to the palace of the Emperor took place within the space of a few hours. My father’s winter castle was located in the countryside a few miles from the Emperor’s residence, as were the winter castles of half a dozen barons who lived and died under the Emperor’s rule. It did not take the Emperor’s Guard long to remove me from the comfort of my home and take me to the palace, giving me time only to put some clothes on my back, and to grab my favourite quill pen.
They told me that everything I could want would be provided once I began serving the Emperor. I was not comforted, for the notion of being the Emperor’s personal scribe was more frightening to me than if they had told me that the devil himself was going to make me his assistant.
I must confess that I did not act like the sixth son of my father, the Venerable Baron Karavis Enatlio Hehln Thorocel the IV. Tears streamed from my eyes as I begged my captors to return me to my mother’s castle. They laughed and jeered at my sadness, but the captain of the guard became angry and struck me, rebuking me for a fool, to be so unhappy at the most fortunate thing that could happen to me.
At the time I was seeking comfort, and I clung to those words, repeating to myself that it was a very fortunate thing, that I could become a favourite of the Emperor’s, and become very respected. It was small comfort, for I never was the type to hunger after mankind’s approval. I was born reclusive and an introvert, content to stay within a little circle of friends and family, shunning the outside world, except for the worlds I found in books. Yet still I repeated it to myself, until the tears slowed and eventually stopped.
Before long I was kneeling at the foot of the Emperor, before his magnificent throne built of white marble and silver, encrusted with blue gems of all sizes, all brilliantly shining in the light of the fires that roared and snapped. The Emperor was once a man whose very stature induced fear and trembling in his peers, yet he was now an old man, withered and bent. My first impression of him was that he seemed very like a weathered stump of what once was the mightiest tree in the forest, brought down by age, crippled by storms, drained of life and colour by death who stood ever knocking at his door. His back was bent, his thin neck slumped, and he was barely able to hold his head upright.
He asked me my name, and his voice was weak and lacking of colour and vitality.
I answered, my eyes turned to the floor, as I bent and kissed the marble step as a sign of my deference.
He ordered me to write something for him, and for the first time I witnessed the hub of activity that is aroused by a single sentence that issues from an Emperor’s mouth. Before he had even finished commanding me to write, a servant had brought me a chair, another a desk, yet another some ink, and yet another some parchment. The servant who brought me a quill pen I waved away, for I had brought my own.
Breathlessly I obeyed him, writing, for what reason I do not know, my lord Emperor’s name.
I wrote this, holding my breath as the Emperor stood, shaking on feeble legs, and walked down to stand at my shoulder and observe me. He watched in silence for some time, his eyes upon the ink that flowed slowly from my quill. I prayed that he would not see my hands shaking.
“You write beautifully.” He said, his voice devoid of emotion or warmth.
“Thank you, my lord Emperor.” I said, my words drying onto my tongue.
“I will dictate.” He said, for the Emperor did not need to say more. I knew my duties.
I waited with pen poised as the Emperor shuffled back to his mighty throne, and sat with his back supported by soft pillows. Though he was now dwarfed by it, there was once a time when the Emperor seemed too mighty to sit upon any chair, even a throne.
I began to write as he began to speak, and these were the words I recorded.
“The Regrets of an Emperor. Written 6th day of the 3rd month of 1042.
I became Emperor while I was still a young boy. My father, the Emperor Emil, was assassinated just days before my tenth birthday. Instead of the relatively small birthday celebration that had been planned for me, there was instead a coronation. I cannot say that I was very upset, for I longed for power, even at that age. When I was seven I had a very clear dream that my father died and I became Emperor, and since that night I had lusted after the throne, counting the days until inevitably, my father finally was slain by a jealous family member.
Within days of my coronation I set in place new laws, destroying orders that had been in places of power since the Elder days, and setting up new ones when and where I saw fit. No one countered me, for I was Emperor, and the Emperor’s word is law. My mother even dared not disturb me, for I had cultivated a nasty temper, and was used to getting my own way.
By the time I turned 16 my harsh rule had gotten so unstable that 6 of the 12 nations revolted, calling me a bogus Emperor, demanding I leave the throne, and taking my younger brother to use as collateral. My brother was my playmate and friend, someone I had been very fond of, but I dismissed all of my emotions, preferring to sacrifice my brother rather than even think of giving up my throne.
Consequently my brother was killed, and his quartered remains were delivered on four separate days to the palace.
Through intimidation and force I kept the rule of the other 6 nations, wresting from their populations an army so great that if they stood side by side in one parallel line they would encircle the world five times. With this great horde I stampeded across my Empire, killing every man, woman and child in the rebellious lands, uprooting their kings and dynasties, and crushing their armies. It was over in a few years, I was twenty years old, Emperor of an Empire that had suffered the worst civil war in history. My family was decimated, for many of my brothers & sisters and cousins were kidnapped by the enemy in an attempt to sway my onslaught, to no avail. The blood of my kin was expendable.
For many years I lived in relative quiet, serving no one, being served by all. Whatever I wanted, there it was, with a snap of my fingers, miracles occurred. I was a god, a being of such power that none dared to look me in the face. It never crossed my mind that I might not have the right to take whatever I wanted.
I met my queen at a ball I gave after the birth of my first bastard son. She was the youngest daughter of a king from a land not under my dominion. As soon as I laid eyes on her I wanted her, and that very second I stopped the band from playing, and demanded that she marry me at once. Her father turned white, but her face grew red with anger, and with some vehemence she declared she would not marry me, for she was betrothed to someone else.
It was not wise of her to humiliate an Emperor. Her father understood this; it did not take him long to flee my Empire, returning back to the sorry domain he hailed from. Yet I could not forget her, despite her rejection, and within the space of a few weeks I mustered an army to attack the kingdom of Tenj, and plunder it of its princess.
My army left no survivors in any village they came across on their path towards the king’s palace. There was no warning, no way for them to raise their defences. After a week of steady, deliberate attack, my army had crushed the palace, killed the king and his sons, and had taken his daughters and wife as spoils. I meant it to be a sign, a warning for the other kingdoms not under my domain; they were not beyond my reach. If I wished it, I would crush them.
I married the girl, though she was broken in spirit, and the moment I wed her I despised her, for she had a sad countenance and eyes that stung what little of my conscience was left. Because I despised her, I enjoyed taunting her, letting her think I was releasing her family, then putting them to death before her eyes, and letting her think she was going to be returned to her land, taking her by carriage along the road towards her place of birth, then instead stopping at the border, and imprisoning her in a tower, the only window facing away from where she desired to be.
In this way I broke her, until she was one of the walking dead, incapable of speech or any of the things living souls do. She stood by me, always dressed in the finest liveries, jewels upon her hair, but she was a corpse.
She bore me ten sons, and died the moment I told her she could."
This is me, putting primer on the drywall. I did all the corners, and around everything that Tyler couldn't get with the roller.
Ty hates painting, but he did a good job of it.
See? See? I'm helping!!
Linda came over to help paint, too. She was SO thrilled.
Tyler putting the last touches on the first coat of paint. Gorgeous colour, no?