Monday, September 24, 2012

My Crazy Life

It's been a busy week. One that dragged on and on. Some good things happened and some not-so-good things happened. Monday afternoon my parents went up to Jacksonville for Dad's work. Monday night, or Tuesday morning, really, somebody {unsuccessfully} broke into the car. Tuesday and Wednesday were a blur of cancelling outings, trying to make it to some, deciding whether or not Mom and Dad should come home early, and running back and forth with duct tape and trash bags to protect the door from rain.

{officially terrified of car alarms now}

Thursday I went to Freedom Ride and Momma picked me up (I don't think I've ever been that excited leaving FR). Friday, we went to Give Kids the World to volunteer at the Gingerbread House (restaurant) and had a friend spend the night. Saturday we dragged said friend along with us to a CAP open house, and while she spent the night again, I went to a different sleepover at which many strange things happened, so if you hear me say, "Where's my baby?" in a creepy voice, don't be alarmed. Sunday we had friends over after church and I had a bit of a bad attitude for things not related to my friends, but I am very sorry that they had to witness it. :(

But yeah. It's over. A new week has begun.

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


I was five years old. Joy and I, the only girls in our co-op classroom, were tired of sitting in our little corner, and when our teachers vanished for some reason, we saw the opportunity and took it. In no time flat we had dominated the room, building a massive (you know, for two five-year-old girls) fort that the boys weren't allowed to go near. After we got bored of flaunting it, we sat inside and told each other stories. We took toys and built up our treasure store. The boys eventually knocked our fort down and we hollered at each other for a while.

Meanwhile, our teachers were in a back room, watching the TV. As we terrorized the boys, our country was being attacked. As our fort fell, so did the World Trade Center. As we yelled and fought, thousands of people were dying.

Any one of them would have gladly been a five-year-old in a co-op classroom.