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Yesterday went well. Nichole and Kristina and I all went off on our lunch sojourn. Hanayori was closed (ALL the Japanese restaurants in town were . . . it's the like the crazy Japanese secret Sabbath or something . . . ), so we went to Chili's instead, which Nichole confided she was more in the mood for, anyway.
We saw an old man on the side of the road with a sign that read "Will Work For Food. God Bless You!" and so we vowed if he was still there when we got back we would give him something.
I got a fajita which filled me up really quickly, particularly on top of the nachos we got for an appetizer, so there was plenty left over for the man.
When we dropped it off to him, however, we felt kind of awkward. He already had two bags of stuff sitting in a pile that other people must have left for him, but the most awkward part was just how he looked. He seemed, firtsly, shocked, and quite reluctant. Nichole said that made her feel like we hadn't helped him, and that he probably would just let the stuff spoil in the sun. My theory is that he probably just felt guilty taking it. He was about the Greatest Generation age, so there was probably that hard work ethic, and he didn't want gifts; he wanted to know he had done something for it (which, really, on some levels, is more admirable than simply taking anything and thanking someone for it profusely)-- also, well, we were three teenage girls . . . it's not like we were some rich family throwing off something that we hadn't needed or could easily pay for all over again.
I just want to feel like I actually HELPED.
So I went home and wrote part of my Kipling report. I wrote too much biography, but, well, I'm trying to work his information about himself into my interpretation of my poem, which comes off really racist if you don't know the views of the time, and, well, a little bit about his childhood (it's really no wonder so many Victorians were imperialist . . . they were raised in a dog-eat-dog world, with separations from parents to abusive foster families and boarding schools-- ahh, boarding schools-- . . . why not just project that on the real world upon growing up?).
Liz and I had our movie night. We talked and had some dinner (well, she had some green beans ^_^) before we actually got down to watching anything, and she had to be home early since she'd been out all day, so we only got to watch one: Monty Python and the Holy Grail. So now she'll actually UNDERSTAND all those random quotes, lol . . .
There is nothing to eat for breakfast up here (at the lake). The cereal is all soggy and stale from over the winter and Dad and Neil already made eggs and didn't save me any some to eat.
We got our pier in, and we have our new boat, so now we're all prepared for summer. The new boat surprises me; it's like Dad's "sports car" boat for his midlife (crisis?). It's tiny, and everything (all the seats-- including the driver's seat) is really low to the ground, but it's sleek and apparently it's a really good speed boat. Unfortunately, apparently the steering mechanism is really weird on it (the motor doesn't turn; a little rudder BEHIND the motor turns), so I'm a little worried about driving that. Anyway, Dad's excited, and we'd had the old boat since we first bought the lake cottage. I just think it's odd that we get it right before I go off to college (maybe THAT'S why Dad was so insistant that I go off to DePauw, lol . . . ).
Which reminds me, Chris is up here, all by himself, next door. He's the most devoted lake-goer of his family, really. I believe his screenname even mentions the lake. He came over and talked to Mom and I, and made me feel better about not going to DePauw-- said it was an appalling party school (after all, Adam's going there, lol . . . ), and I really wouldn't fit (which I knew, but still, it's nice to have corroboration . . . ).
Apparently Adam and Seth have practically completely severed ties. That's really so sad.
Wow, the sun has just broken out, and it no longer looks cold and cloudy outside. It's looks practically like a gorgeous summer day.
We saw an old man on the side of the road with a sign that read "Will Work For Food. God Bless You!" and so we vowed if he was still there when we got back we would give him something.
I got a fajita which filled me up really quickly, particularly on top of the nachos we got for an appetizer, so there was plenty left over for the man.
When we dropped it off to him, however, we felt kind of awkward. He already had two bags of stuff sitting in a pile that other people must have left for him, but the most awkward part was just how he looked. He seemed, firtsly, shocked, and quite reluctant. Nichole said that made her feel like we hadn't helped him, and that he probably would just let the stuff spoil in the sun. My theory is that he probably just felt guilty taking it. He was about the Greatest Generation age, so there was probably that hard work ethic, and he didn't want gifts; he wanted to know he had done something for it (which, really, on some levels, is more admirable than simply taking anything and thanking someone for it profusely)-- also, well, we were three teenage girls . . . it's not like we were some rich family throwing off something that we hadn't needed or could easily pay for all over again.
I just want to feel like I actually HELPED.
So I went home and wrote part of my Kipling report. I wrote too much biography, but, well, I'm trying to work his information about himself into my interpretation of my poem, which comes off really racist if you don't know the views of the time, and, well, a little bit about his childhood (it's really no wonder so many Victorians were imperialist . . . they were raised in a dog-eat-dog world, with separations from parents to abusive foster families and boarding schools-- ahh, boarding schools-- . . . why not just project that on the real world upon growing up?).
Liz and I had our movie night. We talked and had some dinner (well, she had some green beans ^_^) before we actually got down to watching anything, and she had to be home early since she'd been out all day, so we only got to watch one: Monty Python and the Holy Grail. So now she'll actually UNDERSTAND all those random quotes, lol . . .
There is nothing to eat for breakfast up here (at the lake). The cereal is all soggy and stale from over the winter and Dad and Neil already made eggs and didn't save me any some to eat.
We got our pier in, and we have our new boat, so now we're all prepared for summer. The new boat surprises me; it's like Dad's "sports car" boat for his midlife (crisis?). It's tiny, and everything (all the seats-- including the driver's seat) is really low to the ground, but it's sleek and apparently it's a really good speed boat. Unfortunately, apparently the steering mechanism is really weird on it (the motor doesn't turn; a little rudder BEHIND the motor turns), so I'm a little worried about driving that. Anyway, Dad's excited, and we'd had the old boat since we first bought the lake cottage. I just think it's odd that we get it right before I go off to college (maybe THAT'S why Dad was so insistant that I go off to DePauw, lol . . . ).
Which reminds me, Chris is up here, all by himself, next door. He's the most devoted lake-goer of his family, really. I believe his screenname even mentions the lake. He came over and talked to Mom and I, and made me feel better about not going to DePauw-- said it was an appalling party school (after all, Adam's going there, lol . . . ), and I really wouldn't fit (which I knew, but still, it's nice to have corroboration . . . ).
Apparently Adam and Seth have practically completely severed ties. That's really so sad.
Wow, the sun has just broken out, and it no longer looks cold and cloudy outside. It's looks practically like a gorgeous summer day.
