Thursday, December 11, 2014

IMA trip

In the IMA, (Indianapolis museum of art), GG and I entered a silent room, so silent that you could hear a fly sniffle from a mile away.  There was a big multicolor glass plaque. It was so huge, that if you were to set it flat and walk across it, you’d be a skeleton by the time you were halfway across. On it, there was a picture of an elegant angel man with robes as white as a polar bear fur coat. GG launched into a historical lecture, but I didn’t mind.  “After Benjamin Harrison died, his wife had this glass plaque put together in honor of him. It was made by the Tiffany Glass Company, and shipped from Kokomo, Indiana, to New York. They had the glass cut and smoothed and put together. Sometime we can go to Tokyo and visit the company.”


 I hope to do this someday. Lectures aren’t always boring.

Friday, December 5, 2014

Centipede Pedicure

If a centipede wanted a pedicure, how long would it take? How big of a mess would the centipede make? What color would the centipede choose? Would he take off his socks? Would he remove his shoes?


It would take four hours. The mess would reveal its messy powers. The centipede would choose a shade of the blues. Surely he'd remove his shoes.

Monday, November 24, 2014

The Problem with Hawks, Introduction

Let me tell you a bit about myself. I am a chicken. I built my own computer, so I am obviously a genius chicken. I live in a chicken coop with five average chickens- for a chicken, average is pudgy and naive. My life is simple. I write stories on my computer, I eat chicken feed, I drink water, I poop and pee. Oh, yeah, and I cock and I lay eggs. Seriously, you should try my eggs! Chickens are more important than you think. Imagine: cake, pancakes, omelets- all that good stuff depends on us chickens. It all has eggs in it. But, back to the story. You see, life for us chickens is perfect. Except for one problem: we have no roof. Our coop has become hawk territory.

Friday, November 21, 2014

The rest of Ginger Sailboat

  Chapter  Three      Many years later,  Thomas and I were married by a tall, pale young man with hollow cheeks. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was said to be extremely talented, and from a boarding school called Hogwarts.  It was a beautiful, crisp winter morning,  and the snow beneath my high heels crunched like M&MS. I wished I could flop down on that snow, that snow that was as white as Cirrus clouds, that snow that fell like pixie dust from the clear, forget-me-not blue sky. The delicate dew drops rested on the rich, green pine trees.


Despite this beauty, the wedding was rather strange. I thought that I heard Tom Riddle  mutter something that sounded like, "Aguamenti", and the next thing I knew, I was hit in the face by a jet of water.   Then, Tom Riddle  said, "Sectum-sempra!" and Mrs. Sailboat was rushed to the hospital with blood squirting out of her face.  And a stick kept poking out of Tom Riddle's pocket. What was especially creepy was that I saw Tom Riddle's eyes gleam red, and I thought I glimpsed a flash of green light.

 Chapter Four       Three years later, I gave birth to a baby. I gulped and listened to my speeding pulse as the doctors tested my baby for health problems.  While I waited,  I signed the birth certificate. Here is what it looked like when I was finished.

  Hello Baby!
Female or Male?Male
Name:Squeajole Thomas Sailboat
Mother:Ginger Hannah Sailboat
Father:Thomas Grason Sailboat
Date:1950, June 12, 1:11 A.M. 


 It turned out that Squeajole, (as I had named him) was doing fine. But, as he got older, I began to notice something. Squeajole could not talk. He was fifteen years old now, and he could hum triumphantly or squeal nervously, but he was otherwise silent. However, he was content. If there was one thing he loved, it was science! He looked just how you might imagine a young scientist. He had short curly golden hair, a white lab coat with neon green stains, rectangular silver-rimmed glasses, and he always carried a book called Magnetic Nuclear Surfacing
Chapter Five 
I have two words for you. Vietnam War. Thomas had been asked to go fight. I had not been able to sleep since Thomas left, and the skin under my eyes had turned the color of Nimbus clouds. Every day, I rummaged the mailbox for letters from Thomas. The letters would include a long note and a check.
Chapter Six
One day, I received a letter. The cornbread was in the oven, and the ham and potatoes in the stewing pot. It was as if the delicious smell was warmly beckoning me to open the letter. My life had been a success so far. Little did I know that I was out of luck. I forced the envelope open.

Dear Ginny,

I have devastating news. I hate to destroy your heart, but somebody has to tell you. I know how much Thomas and you loved each other. There was an unbreakable bond between the two of you. It could only be broken by death. And it was. My dear, dear friend, Thomas' time is up.

Signed, Bansel Chaul
Bansel was a good friend from college. He was a soldier too. There must be some mistake! I desperately looked for a loophole out of this living nightmare. As I grieved,  I got a job as an editor, and made enough money to support Squeajole and I.
Chapter Seven
Seven Years Later
Squeajole's college graduation was today. Squeajole was now 22 years old. The phone rang.  It was Bansel Chaul, who taught at Squeajole's college. Bansel was overwhelming, and he had a voice like cake made with too much sugar.  "Hey, Gin-Gin," Bansel said. He didn't sound like himself. It was as if a piece of that too-sweet cake was missing.  "Squeajole was just rushed to the emergency room, his body all limp. They declared him out of life." I screamed.

Chapter Eight
The college professors told me to come to the scene of the murder. The college graduation was postponed. When I got to the E.R., two detectives were there. They were arguing about whether to scan the body for fingerprints. "No one would be stupid enough to leave fingerprints!" one declared. He had a brown comb-over, a firm mouth, and a name tag that said Creanan Unlun. "I know, but just in case!" exclaimed the other. She had blonde pigtails, a cheesy smile with overdone lipstick, and a name tag that said Lulu Sunshine.  That's when I saw it. There was a stick in Squeajole's lap. It looked like Tom Riddle's. I had just finished the second Harry Potter book. In the book, Harry Potter finds out that Tom Riddle is actually a man called Lord Voldemort. Voldemort says a curse and points a stick at somebody to kill them. Who would have thought that a fiction story was true? Me, that's who! I told the college professors my theory.


Chapter Nine
  That day, the professors of Squeajole's college confronted Tom Riddle. But Tom Riddle escaped, pointing his stick at several people and saying the death curse. Those people included my only friend left in the world: Bansel Chaul. Bansel collapsed to the floor, dead.  I spend the rest of my days crying my eyes out, so I have to clean my glasses about every five minutes

Chapter Ten
I have no friends left in this world, and I am too busy avoiding Tom Riddle to make new ones.
I have installed security cameras in my home, though I'm not sure if it'll do any good. I often go to the costume shop so that I can buy disguises to stay under cover. Other than that and going to the grocery store, I never leave my house.  Now I'm a grumpy old lady, and don't you dare try to make me change.

Monday, November 10, 2014

Ginger Sailboat, Chapter Two

I soon figured out that the boy's name was Thomas Sailboat. We had both been accepted into the choir, and we were famous throughout the neighborhood for our slow, jazzy singing. Soon, Thomas invited me on a date. And the top caption on the neighborhood newsletter read: GINGER CLICKSHIRE AND THOMAS SAILBOAT HAVE CAUGHT THE LOVEBUG!  And before I knew it, I had my first kiss with Thomas onstage when we sang a duet,"Love is a Form of the Flu". Snobby people booed, fans cheered. Mrs. Sailboat's jaw dropped, and Mom giggled. Later that night, I caught Dad with his head bent, tears falling thick and fast onto the leopard print carpet woven by my Grandma Jane. Dad was mumbling, "My baby, my baby! Growing up so fast. Seems like tomorrow Ginny'll have kids, the next day they'll have kids." That's when I realized it. I was in deep, deep love.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Ginger Sailboat, chapter one

I am Ginger Sailboat. And I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, "I am a green kangaroo who eats purple bananas and farts rainbow glitter." Naw,  just kiddin'. It is more likely that you are thinking, "What is this old hag's life story?'' Well, I'm getting to that. So stop asking questions! I hope that by the time I finish the tenth chapter of this story, you will understand why I am so grumpy.



It all started way back when I was thirteen years old. I was at choir auditions. "Ginny, it's your turn to sing," said Ms. Martineze, the leader of the choir. After I sang, a boy tapped me on the shoulder. He had auditioned earlier. When he sang, it was like slow thunder and jasmine.  He was also very handsome. "You sounded like sweet rain," he said. To get a compliment like this from him made my stomach flutter. Little did I know he felt the same way about me.

Monday, November 3, 2014

Ginger Sailboat, Introduction

 For Halloween, I was a grumpy old lady who had dark glasses and a bonnet. Her name was  Ginger Sailboat. And this is her life story. The introduction will be told in third person, whereas  the story will be first person.

There are some things you should know about Ginger.

1. Her middle name is Hannah.

2. Her nickname is Ginny.

3.When she was forty years old, her son died.

4. She has lots of moles on her face, and she is proud of that.

5. Her favorite type of material is white lace.

6. She is blind.

7. She is eighty-nine years old.

8. Her favorite food is marshmallow cream and her favorite drink is brandy.

9. Though she is slow and wobbly nowadays, she used to be very nimble.

10. She used to be a pretty redhead with a lovely singing voice.
Now that you know Ginger, you will be prepared when the next  chapter comes out.