Late Homewok

Don't you hate it when you get home from school and you say you'll start you're homework, but you go off thinking you have better things to do and don't get round to it until it's too late. Or when it’s a weekend, you know you have spare time, and know you have to do homework, but you go and do something else anyway. When you leave homework until the last possible minutes.
Well something like that happened to me last weekend. I left my school bag at a friend's house with all my books and work in it, and the only time I could retrieve it was Sunday afternoon. So I went and got it. As soon as I got home we ate dinner, as soon as we ate dinner I took a shower. I only had a few minutes to do my homework before my mom started on a long tirade about should have done it earlier. So I ran to the computer (still wet), sat down and dried my hands and typed faster than the worlds fastest. I finished my writing, Spanish and science work in recorded time.
So I think I should start my homework earlier next time.

I Should Set a Better Example for my Sisters

I threw myself onto the soft bed and tilted my head back, to look up at the white light as I turned it off, only to leave a small yellow lamp on. It was 3:45, the time we got usually get home.

I was in my room for 2 hours; reading, painting my nails, and all that stuff. You could call it anything but homework. Without me knowing my littlest sister did the same thing(but just not for that long).

My sister told my mother and she blamed it on me. Just then I realized that I need to set a better example for my own sisters.

Only Three Minutes

A lot of things have changed me, a lot of things haven't either. One thing was the time when I had that three minute transition schedule (while shivering) in my bare hands, getting kissed by the movable airs raw temperatures. They had just finished modifying it and had informed the teachers to tell us the news.

I usually spend a short two minuets talking to friends, a couple of seconds opening my locker, then pulling books out and putting books in. Then I rush off to my next class only just making it there in time. I did this approximately always before the bell rang, but now I almost run to get there on time, I manage to get there but there's no time to mingle with friends. A good time to do that is during lunch, and the problem with that is I cant sit with everyone at once. We get other times to talk, yes. But I often would say I'll talk to you after class. Not any more though, I guess I'll just have to find a way around it.

Excuses

When the maid left and summer started meant no more school and lots more mess. The sink was heaving with dirty dishes by the end of a humid day. And the floor was sprinkled with dust and crumbs. We, us kids would have to do the washing dishes and sweeping the floor of that kitchen every night after dinner. Dreading this time we would always trek through it making excuses: "I need to go to the bathroom", "I need to get the used glass from my bedroom." But we always got dragged back to finish up. We always let our maid clean up, which makes us inexperienced in that area. So maybe we should occasionally take our little turn too; and not get used to not chipping in

Acrylic Paint

In art we are painting pictures with acrylic paint--the type that stains clothes.
So one day I was helping someone with their master piece.
" Hey Eleanor, could you help me make this color," Mehr said holding up a color that she printed of from the Internet.
"Sure," I said, and walked over to the side where she was standing.
We probably mixed eight different colors together until we had found the closest color to the one we needed a few minuets before the bell to our next class.

We put our stuff away and went to our classes, mine was science. During science I saw that I had a short line of skin colored paint across the top of my shirt and a another along the hem of my black school pants. Luckily you can't notice them

Now I've learned that I will never use acrylic paints --like that at least--again. I swear I won't even touch them. There just too messy, for me at least.

I Know What You Got Me For X-mas

What I like about Christmas is how happy people look if you get them something really nice.
But what I've noticed is that Elizabeth can not keep a secret. I always find out what shes going to give everyone else, and most importantly me. She does that every year, so shes no surprise.

Maybe Later

Memoir Monday

Sometimes I realize that we don’t see much of our family at all; they live all over the world. My Aunt and Uncle on my mothers’ side live with their two kids all the way over in Australia. My other Aunt-on my dad’s side-lives in Abu Dabi. The rest oft my family live in the UK.
I have not seen much of my family; just my aunt and all of my grandparents, and second cousins, oh yes and my grandparent’s brothers and sisters, but I don’t know what they are supposed to be called. I know that sounds a lot, but it’s not. I have two first cousins, second cousins, third cousins, and one fourth. I also have two aunts and one uncle. And everyone’s brothers and sisters on both sides.
I am so far away from them, all I’ve seen is pictures; I would really want to go Australia or Abu Dabi or maybe the UK to see them, but I’m here for now. Maybe later I’ll visit them.

A Wild Apple Blossom

Everyone was a baby once. Like my sister frances, she was a cute pure blond, like I was, like Elizabeth was, like my mother was; but now we are dirty blond, burnette, and just plain brown (maybe with a bit of dirty blond mixed within it).

Her name was going to be Emily, Ruby, Victoria, Milly; but no... it was frances, like I said it would. Everyone has had many doughts about what their name was going to be; like mine, Crystal, Isabella. Or Elizabeths - Rosie, or maybe Izzie.

But now frances is golden all shiney in the sun, blooming like a wild apple blossom waiting to see the world from her own eyes. She calls hersealf Franchesca, as her italian friends do. She goes and dances like a fairy would in the moonlight, on fridays.

Frances, the girl who is so much taller each day she swivels past me...