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Daddy's Girl

I am one. Always have been. 

Now presenting... A History of Daddy.

Grade school.

Catchin' snakes. Uncle Steve on the right, Dad on the left.

Dad in France, at age 19.

Dad took mom out hiking on the day he proposed. After she said "yes", he set a timer on the camera... and took this picture.

And then he married her.

Hawaii Honeymoon...

And soon enough, along came little terrors.
First. it was just me (the little troll up there), and I was a happy only child.

...then Micah came along....

At the field with one of his gliders this spring.

Happy Father's Day, everyone!



While my title may be slightly misleading, it got your attention. Mwahaha.

Okay, I need to decide on my new Work Knife. There are currently 4 knives in the running, one of which is my favorite but I'm not reminding you which that is. I have a few elements that are necessary in this knife:

1) Bigness. Bigness means over 3 inches, which isn't really "big" by most standards, but it's fuzzing the legal concealed-carry limit. However, since I'm only having it at work and other select places, I don't care what the legal limit is. My own supervisor carries an technically illegal conealed folder, so I am... justified, or something like that.
2) Serration. A few of the choices I have lined up do not have serration. That is because it's not a necessity (as I unfortunately stated above), but rather a preference. I don't technically like serration, but it would make a few things quite a bit easier, so I have given in.
3) Grip. I suppose most knives have some sort of grip, but I need one that has some UMPH behind it, because it makes me feel secure. I don't like any sort of plastic.
4) It can't look like I'm going to go bear-slaughtering with it. In other words - not excessively manly looking. =P

These are the choices that Jester and I have found so far. If anyone has more suggestions, feel free to comment. If you don't have any more suggestions, you are free to cast a vote for your favorite in the comments section. =)

Choice One: 
Folding BuckLite MAX
Stats: 3 5/8" blade, 5" closed, 3.1 oz, black glass reinforced nylon handle
Note: This is my least favorite out of the choices. The only thing it's got going for it is blade length. I'm not even sure why I'm putting it up here, actually. 

Choice Two: Gerber Paraframe I, Serrated/Black
Stats: 3" blade, 4.12" closed, stainless steel handle. 
Note: Yay serration, and also the open-frame handle. 
I don't have much experience with Gerber, but I know
a few people who have them and are pretty happy 
with them. 

Choice Three: 
Smith And Wesson 
"Homeland Security" ComboEdge
Stats: 4" blade, 4.13"closed, black Zytel handle.
Note: I like the beefy handle. I do not particularly like 
the fact that's it's a slow flipper. ::cough:: 
I'm rather spoiled with my Kershaw and its lightning-action. 
Plus... the name? Yes. 

Fourth Choice: 
CRKT "Premonition"

Stats: 3.25" blade, 4.12" closed, 2.0 oz, 
Note: This is one of the fastest flippers I've looked at. 
And it makes serration look kinda pretty. Plus, it was 
designed by one of the youngest quality knife designers 
out there (Gerry McGinnis, 20)  
This is also another instance where the name of the knife
makes me love it. Shallow, perhaps, but effective. 



A History - Part One

::blows dust off of post::

I started this archiving adventure quite a long time ago, in a sudden burst of desire to set the quiz record painfully and firmly in stone. More than anything, I wanted to catalog exactly what actually happened all those years... and the year to come. Not what I felt. Not what I saw at the time. What happened. Who I really was. Not a frightening, angered "expose", like the one I wrote in my Sophomore year, full of tears and frustration, verbally ripping my teammates to shreds. That will never see the light of day.
This is something else. This is a History. As unbiased as I can manage.

Part One
Introduction, and Early Days Up Until Locals 2008

I've Bible Quizzed for 3 years now. 
My love-hate relationship with it was apparent from the very beginning, though unrecognized by myself and everyone who looked on. 

[In the following story, names are changed to protect... well, mostly myself.]

In 2008, I was a Freshman who didn't know who she was, what she was, or why she was. I wasn't a Christian yet, not really. I was struggling in the friendship arena, due to my inability to balance my reserved, introverted nature with my misconception that "you have to be loud and assertive to have friends," and dabbling with a lot of new things, trying to figure out who I was. Different sub-cultures, internet haunts, newer "friends", new hobbies. In a wild, spur-of-the-moment attempt to shove myself out into the world, I tried out for an MCT production of Cinderella - much to my surprise, I was cast as the First Lady of the Ball. Granted, that meant I only had two lines and one dance, but it was my first audition. Little did I know, Cinderella would spur a whole herd of Theatre experiences into my life - but that's another story.

Later in the year, the annual Awana Conference rolled around. I'd never been before, so running around the large church with no real friends required a lot of my faux bravado to be pulled out. As I made my way up a flight of wide stairs, being jostled on each side by passing people, I saw a familiar silhouette. I ran up the stairs a little faster, trying to remember this girl's name, and where I knew her from. They both came to me when it was nearly too late - she was turning into a classroom - but as soon as they did, I ran forward and touched her on the shoulder, calling out "Bee!" She looked around, surprised and a little confused. "Yes?"
"Um. Hi, weren't you in Cinderella a few months ago?" 
She looked a little closer at my face, a glimmer of recognition finally dancing across her own. "Oh! Yeah, I was. You were the First Lady?"
There was a bit of an awkward pause, until I blurted out, "Do you have someone to have lunch with?"
Beey looked at me oddly for a second, then slowly shook her head, "No... but now I do! Come on," and led me in the direction of the food. 
Over lunch, which was awkwardly quiet at first, she asked me point-blank, "Do you like to Bible Quiz?"
Now, I'd only Quizzed twice in my 15 years of existence. And when I had quizzed, I was no good at it. The year before, in 8th grade, I had been Captain of my team, and knew the most of my team... "the most" being "very little" as opposed to my teammates, who knew exactly "nothing".
But something urged me to answer, "Yes! I love Bible Quizzing!" I didn't think the question actually had a purpose, and went back to my ham-and-cheese sandwich, trying to come up with a conversation starter in preparation for the next awkward pause. 
I needn't have. Bee's eyes lit up at my answer. "Really?" she asked, putting down her bag of Doritos. 
"Um. Yeah, yeah. Sure. Of course!" 
"Cool, wow... hey, how would you like to be on a team with me?"
I stared, dumbfounded, at this girl I'd only "known" for 15 minutes. 

Now, Awana Quiz teams are normally organized by church. If you go to, say, Trinity Baptist, you quiz with other clubbers from Trinity Baptist. You don't go off, find someone from Christ Church, another from Boulevard Park, another from Olympic Bible Fellowship, and call it a team. Most people look on this as cheating - like you're taking the "best" quizzers from each church and making the Ultimate Team. It's frowned upon by the people who don't understand it, and even some of the people who do understand it get a little antsy because they know the people who don't are frowning upon them. 

So this proposal of Bee's was not only straight out of Left Field, it was scandalous. I was attending Trinity Baptist - I didn't know if they were going to quiz, but I had an inkling they might not completely approve of my up and joining a rival church's team.
"Um, well... don't you have your own church team?" I asked hesitantly. 
"Not really. But see, my big sister, Morwen went to Nationals last year and her team WON and I really want to go to Nationals too because I think we can win -"
Bee went on to explain all the reasons she wanted to have "her own" quiz team, and how "we" (whoever "we" were) would obviously be a good team too. By the time she ran out of words, my head was spinning and my heart was beating irregularly. 
I had a big chance laid out in front of me. A chance to try to do something. A chance to belong somewhere. I'd never belonged anywhere. I'd never been on a team. The first organized "event" I'd ever participated in was Cinderella a few months ago, and that was only a week-long production. 
So what did I say?
I said, "Yes!"
As if shot from a cannon, Bee bounced to her feet, grabbing me by the shoulder and hauling me up with her. "Come on! Let's go find my mom!"

This statement reminded me of another little part of the works - my own mother. Hmm. Would she approve? I shoved the question aside, figuring that I could always back out of the quickly developing "deal" if my parents disapproved. 

When we finally found Bee's mom (we'll call her Mrs. Y), I was a little out of breath. Bee was a tightly wound, high-strung bundle of energy who flew around corners like a NASCAR driver, making me feel like a Coke can tied with twine to an exhaust pipe. 
Mrs. Y looked me over critically, from the ever-expanding lion's-mane of curly hair flying about my face, to the ripped jeans, all the way down to my black-and-neon, star-studded Vans. I didn't look like the mature, put-together person I wasn't. I looked like the Wild Child I truthfully was. 
While Bee motor-mouthed her way through an introduction and explanation, I tried my best to look like a respectful, quiet member of society who never made trouble or talked back to her elders and betters. I'm sure I wasn't successful, but in the end, Mrs. Y permitted Bee and I to exchange emails and phone numbers. 

I don't remember how the planning went after that - but I do know that about 3 weeks after meeting Bee, I was sitting at her kitchen table, looking awkwardly around at my three new teammates. Across from me was a boy I've dubbed Pup (hard to explain). He had red hair and complicated eyes, his actions shy and hesitant, his words nonexistent. To my left was a very short girl with brown hair and green statement glasses, wearing one of those strange knitted hats that have brims. I don't have a nic for her... so I'll just call her Tee, in honor of her name's Initial and in keeping with the Bee tradition. On my right was Bee, energetic as ever, and breathing rather heavily with excitement. Mrs. Y hovered between Bee and Pup, trying to introduce us all to each other and organize some sort of practice-start. 

Our first month of study was stunted by our weak grasp of how to quiz. Pup was our only "natural", and he was often too quiet or too polite to answer all the questions he knew the answers to. Bee could learn long chunks of text or scripture rapidly, but the longer she knew it, the more her performance broke down. Tee was simply "too busy" to know anything but the Definitions, and even those she needed prompting on. I was a strange mix of all these things - I knew just about all the Definitions, one verse, and a few random bits of text, but I was horrible at remembering anything on the spot. 
We were really a sad excuse for a quiz team. Mrs. Y wasn't completely sure how to coach us, and energy was starting to get buried under fear of defeat. 

But a month and a half into our team's life, along came Morwen. 
When she first showed up, I didn't like her. She was bossy. I didn't like the way she dressed. She used too many big words. I thought she had a superiority complex. But over the first few weeks of her presence, I couldn't help but grudgingly admit that she knew what she was doing. Our team grew in leaps and bounds - not yet superb, but undeniably above average. 
Pup was deemed Captain. When Morwen arrived on the scene, marshaling us into a cooperating, functioning team, his skills kicked into gear in very real way. He possessed a killer trigger hand and excellent knowledge of the book. 

Together, we learned to confer and dance the complex steps of the Huddle Polka. We were clumsy, but by February we were no longer stepping on each other's feet at every transition. 
I had a half-friendship forged with Tee. We would play around, giggle a lot, and steal each others' socks. I hoped that it would keep on going even after we quizzed... but, as was usual with my plans, this was not to be. 
Locals rolled around, and we were feeling confident. Pup constantly reminded us not to get cocky - but things were feeling good, and the future was bright. 

I should mention here that joining this team was a very, very bad moral call. I left my own church's team. It was one of the worst decisions I have made in my life. It didn't damage me in too many ways, but it robbed one of my old friends of a chance to quiz, and it destroyed my reputation amongst the Leaders. I made myself a traitor. I should have stuck with Trinity for Locals and rejoined the Taylor Creek Team afterward, for the higher competitions. It's taken me two years to drop my pride and admit that. I was very, very wrong. 

Locals 2008 is still very vivid in my mind. I remember exactly all the steps I took to get ready for the competition. I remember how I did my hair, what shoes I wore, what necklace I chose... I remember how, after I'd gotten all ready, I had to go down to the basement and mop up a lake of water that had leaked from a pipe in the ceiling. 
I remember getting to Boulevard Park Presbyterian Church, going up all those steps and standing in the back just watching people, waiting for my team to show up. I remember spotting one of the boys who was on the National Champion team of 2007, and being slightly starstruck. I remember laughing at someone wearing all black as he made faces at a little girl across the room. 

When Pup, Bee, Tee, and Morwen finally showed up, I was a little bit green at the gills. Nerves were making me weak at the knees. Bee had me wrapped in a half-bear-hug (half because, as I was in heels, she was about half as tall as me), which she seemed to think would somehow banish all butterflies. She barely untangled herself in time for us to march up onto the stage when Taylor Creek Church of Maple Valley was called for. We were team number one, and there were only two opposing teams. One was Christ Church, comprised of two Junior guys and a Senior girl, and the other Boulevard Park Presbyterian, comprised of two boys in black shoes, pants, shirts, and ties... be continued...

Comments appreciated. 



A Discussion Of Interpersonal Relations

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just found this buried in my drafts, and figured I'd just post it in all its unfinished-ness. There were 2 other friend-types that I came up with, but by now they're gone from my mind.
And if anyone has a fitting quote for the Initially-Unapproachable type, I'd be grateful.

As I see it, there are several ways friends come about. This post is dedicated to my analysis.

The Phileo-At-First-Sight
 Two may talk together under the same roof for many years, yet never really meet;
and two others at first speech are old friends.
-  Mary Catherwood

When you meet someone, and the chemistry is undeniable from the first. It’s a welcome surprise, and nothing restores your faith in humanity more than the Insta-Friend.
One of my best friends came about this way, and somehow it's worked out that we've stayed friends, despite various obstacles.
The Insta-Friend, it seems, often drifts away like smoke, and weeks later there is nary a trace of him/her to be found. Perhaps this is because Insta Friends are based on first impressions and shared interests - not on anything deeper quite yet. If, after the sparkle and attraction of the first meeting, more important and deep chemistry is brewed, the Insta-Friend can become a Very Important Person indeed.

The Parent-Trapped
  "A new friendship is like an unripened fruit - it may become either an orange or a lemon"
- Emma Stacey     

You know, when your parents are friends with their parents which results in dinners together and field trips together (if you’re homeschooled), and often a frightening amount of identical activities. You get along because you have to, and sometimes that works out well.
My 4-year-old Love was a Parent-Caused friend... come to think, MOST Preschool and Kindergarten friends are parent-caused. Anyway, our mothers decided that since he was a boy and I was a girl, they could just arrange to have us marry when we were 18 or something. Until we were 8, this plan seemed to be going splendidly. Then our families drifted apart. Though, whenever I see him (about every other year. =P), we get along just as easily and splendidly as we did when we were throwing leaves and sand at each other in the park.
Sad to say, most of my other Parent Trapped friends turned out to be non-friends. They just don't seem to work out for me.

The Former-Antagonist
"I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends."

- Walt Whitman
The people who you didn’t like before, had a bad first impression of, were at violent enmity with, or just found distasteful. But somehow, somewhere along the line, they became more than tolerable. My mentor is a Former-Antagonist. I didn’t really like her much at first, and she thought I was a lazy dense person, but something happened after a while and now she’s one of my favorite people in the world. I can't explain this phenomenon, except by mentioning vagueries of Stockholm Syndrome. Even that doesn't cover it, because Former-Antagonist relationships can be perfectly healthy, while Stockholm Syndrome is rather not.

The Initially-Unapproachable

Sometimes, you just don’t notice people until you are shoved into a play with them, or you’re siphoned into a small discussion group with them, or you’re trapped in an elevator with them. And then you find out, hey! They’re not bad – they’re just really… beige. Blend-In-y.
Or, they intimidate you. It works both ways.
I tend to be this way (both of those ways), and most of my casual friendships start when someone takes the time to peel back the wallpaper that is apparently my facial camouflage.



In Which I Make An Allusion

I took the ACT today. Can't technically say anything about it, because I signed my life away on a dotted line, so I'll just say that I did fine on everything but Math and Science. Big surprise, I know...

But something I didn't promise I wouldn't talk about was the other people in the room. Specifically, the public school girls.

It struck me, as I was sitting there in my jeans, sneakers, fleece jacket, and plain tank top... that YEESH, girls these days. I already knew, of course, that girls are flaunting things like mad. But it's more shockingly obvious in the morning when they've only half prepared themselves for the day, and therefore look even more like hookers.
Yes, I said that and I'm not hitting backspace this time because it's TRUE.
Seriously. Apparently, spandex or somesuch is "in" right now, because I see way too many girls sauntering about with nothing but leggings on the lower half of their bodies. Leggings are not pants. Leggings are like long underwear. You know, those things they wear under their clothing. Like in "Little House On The Prairie" and a long time ago in history. Possibly also in modern-day Amish places. ::cough:: They have only recently been considered acceptable as visible clothing, but that was primarily under skirts/shorts, or to be used while doing Yoga/Pilates/whatever. I know this because I have my own pair of yoga pants that I WOULD NOT BE CAUGHT DEAD IN OUTSIDE OF MY ROOM, WHICH IS HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO WORK.
I do not want to know that much about a person I don't know. I don't want to know that much about a person I do know. So naturally I'd rather they kept their spandex second-skin and what's underneath it to themselves, only to be revealed in the privacy of their own homes. And while I'm here complaining, I'll not leave out the jeans that fit just about as well as the leggings do.
Also, I would rather not have to look at all that mascara smudged under their eyes (do they not notice this? How can you spend 2 hours in front of a mirror and then one hour later not pay notice the fact that you've rubbed two pounds of mascara onto your cheeks?). Or the rest of their makeup, which usually appears to be applied via snowblower.

Why do girls get themselves up to be blinking red lights, screaming for attention and... handling? Why do the romantics who want someone to love them for "who they are" get themselves up so that no one is able to see past what they are? Why do they have to cheapen my entire gender? Why don't they realize that really.... how they dress affects themselves least of all?



Now There's Pressure

I was talking someone's ear off about the 16 personality types (a mix of Jung, Briggs-Myers, and Keirsey) the other day (and several days afterward), and the conversation(s) prompted me to find every single one of free online Typology tests and have everyone see if they test the same every time. Because I really want to know how accurate they are.
This only works if y'all cooperate. ::crosses arms:: Please? For cookies?

Human Metrics Test (Gives percentages)

Kisa Test (Gives percentages of secondary functions as well as primary)

Personality Pathways Test (Simplistic test, but good descriptions of the preference choices. Includes type explanations)

Similar Minds Test  (Gives you percentages... and a gadget for your blog. =P)

Ithaca Test (No percentages)

Team Technology Test  VERY cool test. I don't know if the questions are worth anything because I haven't taken this one for real yet, but it gives you several different ways to interpret your score. They call it an "in-depth" analysis, and will probably ask you to send them money before you get to see all of it... but a large portion that is available free of charge.

Four-Question Test  (Simple test, but gives detailed sketch of the type when you're done.)

PersonalityNet Test  (Questions are different than the other tests, which is nice, but it placed me in the wrong type. =P Ah well, try your own luck at it.)

That's all for now. Read more about types here:

The Personality Page

Have fun, gents.


P.S. And ladies, I suppose. Oops.