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2 Tips Concerning Gifts

Written by Min Sullivan on December 22, 2017

I know this post is a little late, but here are TWO WHOLE TIPS for gift stuffs this season:

If someone seems to have everything, consider getting them a really cheap gift. They might have the same item, but maybe not in that quality! And it saves you money!
If you can’t find the end on the ribbon role, throw it across the room. This method of end-finding has been tested (by me). Warning: This may damage or break whatever the ribbon is around. Also, you may get lots of hair and dust in the ribbon. Oh, and you might have a tangle on you hands after employing this method. And your pet may run after it. You could even lose it!

So, now that you know these two tips, you will be able to get by the rest of this Christmas season.

Praise for Queen Red Riding Hood’s Guide to Royalty

Written by Min Sullivan on August 1, 2017

a queen-in-training’s letter of praise for Queen Red Riding Hood’s Guide to Royalty, by Chris Colfer

Someone Worth Mentioning
12345 Queen’s Palace Place
Nowheresville, Royalty Republic
Otherworld

Queen Red Riding Hood
54321 Superior Red Road
Royalty Only Village, Red Riding Hood Kingdom
Fairy-tale Kingdoms

August 1, 2017 (Otherworld date)

Dear Queen Red Riding Hood:

I waited ages for Connor Bailey to bring me my pre-ordered (and pre-paid!) copy of Your Majesty’s first book, Queen Red Riding Hood’s Guide To Royalty. However, I am pleased to say it was worth the wait, and I would like to inform you that I enjoyed it immensely. I would also like to share with you the reasons why I think it should be awarded “Literature Piece of the Century and Both Worlds”. Thank you in advance for reading every perfect paragraph that follows with great delight and for modestly absorbing the due praise with which you will be showered abundantly.

The first chapter was absolutely fantastic! In my supreme opinion (which is obviously and automatically made a fact) it was exceptional because you gave us a peek into your personal past. I fully understand and empathize with you about the sore mistreatment you more-or-less silently suffered. I think it’s the way you wrote that allows me to feel a personal connection to you, despite never having run into you at a Meeting of Queens. So good job! Give yourself a pat on the back if you haven’t already, although you probably have.

The way you sneakily described deception in Chapter 2 without actually calling it that was absolutely genius! And I love the personal mannerism of your writing. I, as well, do not have to make my portraits embellished, because I, too, am perfect. And I don’t have to be cautious of praise, either. I must say, making a law that everyone has to praise you often is such a brilliant idea! I must not be quite as brilliant as you are, though, because I have met with adversity trying to enforce this law with my family and friends. (I don’t have very many subjects. The ones I do have were too troublesome for other queens. In case you’re concerned about the welfare of my kingdom, don’t worry, I have a plan to fix this. Since I’m obviously not the problem, I must work on the hearts and heads of all potential subjects. I will try treating them as pets. And thanks to chapter 7 of your book, I have handled myself with dignity during this temporary and short-lived defeat.)

If you want to share this fabulous letter with your subjects to give them a template for their own praise letters to you, you most certainly can. In fact, I encourage it. You’re welcome.

Since I now know how to host royalty thanks to your second to last chapter, you are invited to my house to tell me how much you enjoyed this letter.

Your admirer,
Queen-in-training Someone Worth Mentioning

P.S. I am terribly ashamed at myself for having gone on so long. I sincerely apologize for taking your precious time. But mine is also being used, so I suppose we are even.

First Moon Landing Mad Lib

Written by Min Sullivan on July 27, 2017

First Moon Landing Mad Lib

Fill in the form fields with the kind of word or kind of number asked for. Start your words with a lowercase letter unless it's a proper noun (such as Taj Mahal, Henry, Middle Ages).

Then click the "Create Mad Lib" button at the bottom of the page to have the Mad Lib filled in with your answers!

Month *

ex: January, February, March

Number (any size) *

ex: 50, 500, 5000

Large number *

whatever you think is a large number

Place *

ex: mall, Pluto, Mt. St. Helens

Name *

ex: Fido, Mayflower, George

Plural noun *

ex: horses, pencils, clouds

Singular noun *

ex: horse, pencil, cloud

Famous person or celebrity *

ex: Lady Gaga, Albert Einstein, Alexander the Great

Singular noun *

Past tense verb *

ex: hopped, shouted, ran

Adverb *

ex: slowly, hurriedly, sadly

Famous person or celebrity *

Small number *

whatever you think is a small number

Singular noun *

Small number *

Number (any size) *

Plural noun *

Place *

Singular noun *

Place *

Adjective for the size of something *

ex: tiny, moderate, enormous

Singular noun *

Species / kind *

ex: turtle, man, device

Small number *

Adjective for the size of something *

Plural noun if small number larger than 1, otherwise singular noun *

Singular noun *

Chatanooga

Written by Min Sullivan on April 5, 2017

A fictional story in remembrance of the 2016 Chatanooga School Bus Crash.

Every morning when I open my eyes, the first thing I see is the small square of bulletin board on the wall. At the top is tacked a selfie Ava took of us both on our last birthday together. At the bottom is a photo of Ava and I with our friends. In the middle of the board hangs an office calendar. Today’s date is circled in red with “Anniversary of Ava’s death” scrawled in the box. “Like I might forget November 21st,” I thought ruefully to myself when I woke today. Today’s a day I’ve been dreading, yet sometimes longing for, the past year. “I’m sure I can move on once a year has passed,” I thought to myself countless times.

I wasn’t so sure now as I lay in bed this morning, staring at the blurry calendar, hoping against hope the scribbles would disappear. That Ava’s death was all a nightmare, and she’s in the bunk above, yawning and stretching, ready for a bright new day.

Mom tapped on the door and stuck her head in. “Good morning, sweetheart.” Her eyes were red, and her voice sounded teary. “You all right?”

I nodded. “Just tired. My head hurts some, too.”

“Do you need any help? We need to leave in ten minutes.”

“No thanks,” I replied and got up, a bit stiff.

Putting on my glasses, I stumbled into the bathroom, trying to remember the things I needed to do to get ready for school. Unfortunately, my mental list seemed to be getting lost in my fibro fog. Before heading downstairs, I tried to comb my hair while packing my rolling book pack, but my silly left hand kept dropping things!

When I finally made it down, Dad was at the table. We exchanged hurried greetings before Mom and I ran out the door. Despite the time, Mom drove even more carefully than usual. Everyone was obeying the law, especially around school buses, probably remembering the Chatanooga bus crash.

“So,” Mom began at the first red light, “since it’s been a year…” She trailed off and glanced over at me for the first time during the ride.

“Yes?” I encouraged her, taking a bite of a breakfast bar.

She turned back to the light and tapped the steering wheel. “Will you go back to writing?” she finally asked.

I looked away. Ava and I had recorded our escapades together. Sometimes she’d paste in her photos. That’d been our special thing. Ava wouldn’t want me to do it without her. She never wanted me to do anything without her. I shook my head.

Mom sighed. “Okay,” she said. We didn’t talk for the rest of the trip.

When we pulled up to Woodmore Elementary, I hopped out, overly eager to get away. Most of the kids were in their classrooms already as I rolled my book pack down the halls. I take it to school because regular backpacks hurt my shoulders and back.

The teacher Ava and I had last year for Science called to me through the open door of her classroom. “Emmy! Is there anything I can do to help? Just say the word, sweetie!”

I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. It’s the kind people who’ve carried me through this.

“I’ll be at the church this evening.” New Monumental Baptist Church, she meant. That’s the church that held the memorial service for the six children killed in the Chatanooga school bus crash.

“Thanks! See ya there.” I tried to smile, but my face fell back into its sad default. Ava was one of those children. The rescuers couldn’t get to her in time. She died at the scene.

Morning classes blurred together. People who hadn’t spoken to me since the months after the crash came up to express their condolences again. Some said they’d be at the church. I thanked them, but by noon my thanks were automatic and I was just going through the motions.

In the cafeteria I sat at a nearly empty table and watched the three girls Ava and I were friends with. They’re the girls in the picture in my room. They changed after the accident and our friendship petered off. When I would come to join them at their table, they’d get real quiet and shift in their seats. Sometimes when one would start to say something the others would elbow her and frown. I could tell that I wasn’t welcome, so I started walking past their table and seating myself at an empty one.

They didn’t look as happy and carefree as usual today. This week a cloud bank from the tragedy has been hanging over the entire school and dampening everyone’s spirits.

It had been a long time since the girls had come over to see me, so I was surprised when they headed to my table. Jordan Taylor was in the lead, with the Morris sisters Grace and Faith straggling behind. They looked like they felt as awkward as I did.

“Hi, Emmy,” Jordan said, and pasted on a half-smile.

“Hey,” I returned, but didn’t smile back. I knew they’d walk away once they got whatever they wanted.

She cut to the chase now. “Mom needs to know if we’re still driving you home after school.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Thanks in advance for taking me.”

“We’re coming with the Taylors, too,” Faith told me, nodding toward Grace.

I hadn’t known, although it made perfect sense. We were all going to my house after school for a gathering of friends and relations before heading to the church. I didn’t reply, and they left.

I sat through afternoon classes not taking in a thing of what was being said. Fortunately, none of the teachers asked me any questions. They were also sensitive to the other siblings of children who’d died in the crash. Even so, some of the kids broke down, probably at sudden memories triggered by who knows what. All week I’ve managed to hold in the tears, but today I cried in Science. Science was Ava’s favorite class, and today we were reviewing photosynthesis, something we learned right before the accident.

Somehow I got through the afternoon and found myself climbing into the van with Grace, Faith, Jordan, and her brothers. Mrs. Taylor tried to make small talk, but her attempts fell flat. When she pulled up at my house, her sons hopped out first and ran up the walkway. We followed. Inside Mom showed Mrs. Taylor where to put the dish she brought.

“I’ve got some photos of Ava on the bulletin board for our guests,” Mom said as we grabbed some potato chips from the food table. “Emmy, see if you approve. If you have any pictures of Ava you want to add, try and fill in the gaps.”

The girls followed me into the living room where I looked over the bulletin board. Mom was right, there were some gaps. “You can head to my bedroom if you want. I’ll catch up with you,” I told the girls. They nodded and strode off. I studied the board for a little while longer, then went to join them. As I approached, I could hear them talking.

“Remember when we used to have sleepovers in here?” Jordan asked. “Those were so much fun!”

“Yeah,” agreed Grace. “I miss them.”

“I miss the old Emmy,” Faith said, “the one who hung out with us instead of walking away. I miss her smile. Sometimes it’s like she died, too, or something inside her.”

“Walking away?” I repeated, stepping into my bedroom. “But you all don’t want me!”

“Don’t want you?” exclaimed Jordan incredulously. “Of course we want you. You don’t want us!”

“But I do want you!” I cried. “I’ve wanted you guys ever since you started being cold every time I came over.”

“Cold? We haven’t been cold! You’re the one who’s been cold!” protested Jordan, and Grace nodded.

“Whenever I’d come over you all would stop talking,” I accused. “You’d look down and squirm. Sometimes you’d elbow each other to stop each other from saying things.”

There was a pause, and realization seemed to flood over Faith.

“We kept making you cry, and we felt so bad,” she explained. “That’s why we would stop talking. It seemed everything we said made you remember your loss. We’d squirm and look down because we didn’t know what to say.”

“I think we’ve had major miscommunication,” Grace observed.

“Can we all be friends again?” I proffered. “Everything forgiven and forgotten?”

They grinned and nodded.

“Definitely yes!” declared Jordan.

“Absolutely!” agreed Grace and Faith together.

“Awesome!” I grinned, then had an idea. I went over to the square of bulletin board on my wall, then untacked and held up the picture of Ava and all of us. “Think we should put this on Mom’s bulletin board?”

“Yes!” they all chorused.

“Why don’t you bring the picture of you and Ava, too?” Jordan suggested. “There’s plenty of room on your mom’s board.”

I started to shake my head. “It’s spe—” But then I stopped myself. I didn’t want to risk the relationship we just patched up. I took down the treasured laminated photo and followed them to the living room.

While Jordan and Grace debated which gaps to cover up, Faith asked me, “Are you still doing your story writing?”

“No,” I stated simply, hoping she’d let it go. Mom was standing behind us, and I didn’t want her on my back again.

“Why not?” Faith pressed. “I thought you loved it!”

When I didn’t answer, Mom suggested, “Writing probably makes her miss Ava.”

I turned around. “That’s not the reason.”

“It isn’t?” Mom exclaimed. “Then what is?”

Jordan and Grace also fixed me with unwavering stares.

“Ava never wanted me to do things without her,” I spilled.

“So?” Mom and Jordan asked at the same time.

“Well, that’s it,” I replied.

“Oh, honey,” Mom said, wrapping her arms around me. “As the younger twin, Ava always wanted you to wait for her since you liked to blast off.” Mom’s eyes grew teary. “But you’re not waiting for her anymore.”

“Mrs. Cooper’s right,” Jordan nodded.

“No!” I cried. “You don’t understand! Ava— she—” She what? I felt like my thoughts were whirling around me. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think! I clutched my photo, Ava’s photo.

There was a funny and definitely unique rap on the front door. Mom hurried to let in aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. They poured into the rooms with dishes of food. After dropping them off in the kitchen and dining room, they tried to find a place to sit or stand where they wouldn’t be in the “traffic lane”. Mom asked me to help take jackets and coats. I put my picture down on a high ledge so my left hand didn’t drop it while I assisted people. There were over twenty family members and quite a few close friends, so I was busy for a while!
When things slowed down, my head was still spinning. So many people and faces and names! I went back to the ledge to get my photo, but it was gone. I searched while people milled about and murmured, but it was nowhere to be found! I started asking around, but everyone was beginning to pile into their cars and mini-vans to go to the church. Finally, Dad waved me over to our car. We were the last to pull away, since we had to lock the front door once everyone was out.

At church, our extended family filled several pews, and my friends went to sit with their families. After a long and weepy service, the mourning families stood in a row. Everyone else filed by and expressed their condolences. They gave a flower to each member of the mourning families. When the Morris family stopped by us, Faith pressed a pink rose and something else into my hands, something laminated. I looked down. My special photo!

After a long line of people came by, everyone went out to the cemetery. The families who had a child who’d died in the bus crash and were buried in the church cemetery stood together. Each family was called forward one by one to place their flowers on their child’s grave. I held my bundle of flowers in my right hand and hoped I didn’t drop the photo in my left.

When it was our turn — “Coopers, in remembrance of 9-year-old Ava Ruth Cooper,” Minister Hill announced — we walked slowly to her resting place and surrendered our bouquets. Mom arranged the flowers. Dad kept his head bowed. I kneeled before her gravestone, ran my fingers over the letters carved into the gray stone. My tears watered the flowers.

Suddenly a breeze blew my dark hair into my face and my left hand dropped the photo. It blew over, facedown, and I could see wavy lines on the back of it. Picking the photo up, I read the writing on the back, in Ava’s unsteady cursive:

“Emmy Cooper — I’ve never said it out loud since it sounds kinda silly, but I can definitely write it: Follow your dreams! Love ya! -Ava”

And suddenly I realized Mom and my new old friends were right. My writing was way overdue.

“I’m going to write again.” I wasn’t sure if I’d said it out loud or if it’d just been a voice inside my head, but then Mom smiled at me. She’d heard.

I flipped over the photo to see Ava with 9-year-old me. They gazed back with matching twin grins. I turned back toward Ava’s grave, but I knew she wasn’t there. I looked up at the horizon where the sky was turning all the colors in her bouquets. And I realized something else.

She’s the one waiting, now. Waiting for me.

On the ride home Mom and I took turns recalling funny stories about Ava (Dad was driving). We laughed and cried, and when we got home we all pitched in to fix Ava’s favorite dishes. In a way we were bringing her back, or at least bringing alive our memories of her.

After a scrumptious dinner, we played Ava’s favorite game, then went our own ways. I headed to my bedroom and pinned the photos back onto the bulletin board. Then I pulled out a notebook and started to write:

“Every morning when I open my eyes, the first thing I see is the small square of bulletin board on the wall. At the top is tacked a selfie Ava took of us both on our last birthday together. At the bottom is a photo of Ava and I with our friends. In the middle of the board hangs an office calendar. Today’s date is circled in red…”

Eight Fifteen

Written by Min Sullivan on April 5, 2017

This is a story about Jada from “Shooting Star”.

“Jada, you came!” cries 9-year-old Camilla Johnson as she throws open the front door.

“But of course,” I reply with a grin and step inside. The aroma of a chocolate birthday cake greets me, and I inhale deeply. Cam takes the gift bags I hand her and drops them on the couch. As we head into the kitchen, the chocolaty aroma grows stronger.

“Hello there!” Mr. Johnson welcomes me.

Mrs. Johnson, standing over a sink of dishes, smiles in my direction. Haley looks up from her spot at the table. Her shoulder-length brown hair swishes. We’re both thirteen and I hope we can be friends.

“Am I too early?” I ask.

“Not at all!” Mrs. Johnson declares. “Cam was worried you weren’t coming.”

“How do you like living here?” I inquire. The Johnsons moved in next door a few weeks ago with only a couple boxes.

“It’s working out,” Mr. Johnson answers, exchanging a glance with his wife.

Haley shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“There’s a lot more space here,” Cam comments. “I liked my home in Elmhurst better, though.”

Mr. Johnson stiffens, Haley gasps, and Mrs. Johnson clears her throat.

“Um, Elmhurst Road?” Cam asks like a question. “In Jefferson City, Missouri?”

Mrs. Johnson nods, and then the moment’s over.

“Did you like the fair?” I question, to change the subject.

“I loved it!” Cam exclaims. “Food, games and animals! Way more fun than that boring map fair last fall.”

The others frown, but Cam’s oblivious.

“Last fall was pretty warm,” she continues absentmindedly. “Even in November.”

Her prattling reminds me of my older sister, Emila. Emila chattered lots and was enthusiastic about everything. She liked being involved. She gave tons of suggestions on my photography. But the photos she helped with weren’t very good, and she was the first to admit it! She cheered me on and went ballistic when I won photo contests.

Two years ago, Emila died in a car accident shortly after her birthday. I stopped doing photography. Too many memories. I blink and swallow. The Johnsons know about Emila, but now’s not the time to bring her up again.

Suddenly a gunshot shatters the silence! Everyone jumps, and Mr. Johnson looks around wildly for danger.

I’m the first to recover. “I reckon someone’s got crows in their corn,” I guess.

Mrs. Johnson’s wits return. “Uh, Ray? You okay?” He doesn’t answer. “Take Jada to your room, Cam. I’ll call you for dinner.” She goes to him. For someone who said he grew up on a farm, he sure was alarmed.

I follow Cam down the hall to her room. The room looks spacious since there’s only a dresser and a bed. On the blue bedspread lies an open notebook. On one page is a photo of a crossroad. There are single houses all down one road. Labels on a lamppost read “Maple Ave” and “Third St”. A blond-haired girl who looks exactly like Haley, except for her hair, is walking across the street. Below the photo is one word, “Home”.

Cam flips the notebook closed. She grabs an iPhone off the dresser and clicks it on. “I took a picture of this thing across from the map fair,” she tells me, tapping and flicking the screen. As she turns the iPhone around, she accidentally swipes her finger across it. It goes to the next photo, a girl in a light jacket, blond hair being blown by a strong wind. She’s the same girl in the photo in Cam’s notebook. Behind her is a blueish-green ocean. There are tall, blurry forms on the ocean’s horizon.

Cam quickly swipes back. “This picture, I mean.”

A silver, bean-shaped thing reflects the tiny people crowded on the sidewalk around it. Tall buildings rise up behind.

“Cool!” I comment.

We pass the time with conversation. Cam talks enough for both of us, but I like her.

After a delicious supper — Cam and I favor some of the same dishes — it’s present time. She opens some new games. As we play them at the table, Haley becomes more friendly. Late at night, we take our sleeping bags and flashlights to the empty barn for the planned loft sleepover. There aren’t any animals in the barn yet, since they just moved in. Haley bolts the doors before we head up to the loft, “for security,” she says.

“Which present is your favorite?” I ask Cam once we’ve settled down in a pile of hay.

“That first game, Apples to Apples,” she answers. After a pause, she confides, “I actually wanted a spy camera watch, but I should be content with what I’ve got, right?”

I smile. “You’re very smart.”

As I fall asleep, I remember Emila and the spy watch we used to play with. I see it in my mind’s eye, the clock’s hands resting at 8:15, a.m. or p.m. I don’t know. They stopped sometime after Emila died. I don’t know what Emila would want me to do with it, so I put it in a box in my closet.

I wake sometime during the night and need the bathroom. In the house, I tiptoe down the hall. With my iPhone turned on for light, I reach for the bathroom door. Suddenly I hear a muffled cry from one of the bedrooms, then Mrs. Johnson urging, “Wake up, Kevin, you’re in a nightmare!”

I slip into the bathroom. When I flush, I hear the squeak of a door. “Kat, is that you?” Mrs. Johnson calls softly.

“No, it’s me, Jada,” I whisper as I step out. “Who’s Kat?”

“I meant ‘Cam’,” Mrs. Johnson replies. “Everything okay?”

I nod.

“Get me if you need anything.”

I thank her and head back to the barn. Just outside, I stop to think. Mrs. Johnson said “Kat”, I’m sure of it! And another thing’s bothering me. Mr. Johnson’s name’s Ray, not Kevin.

Something else’s nagging me. Cam said they lived on Elmhurst Road, not Maple Avenue or Third Street. Maybe Elmhurst Road’s in that neighborhood, though. I pull my iPhone out to do a quick search. I find that neither Elmhurst Road nor Maple Ave exist in Jefferson City, Missouri. Why would Cam tell me a nonexistent place? Thinking back, she actually said, “I liked my home in Elmhurst,” before she told me Elmhurst Road.

Maybe if I knew the state I could find out which road she lived on. Perhaps she lived in the same state as the map fair she talked about, and the bean-like thing that’s across the street. I run a browser search for “bean-shaped mirror”. I click on the first hit. The webpage loads a picture of the structure in Cam’s photo! It’s called Cloud Gate, nicknamed The Bean, and is in Chicago, Illinois.

Back in Google Maps, I try “Maple Ave, Elmhurst, Illinois”. It’s there! I go to the street view where Maple Avenue and a “W 3rd St” intersect. What I see is the exact place in the photo in Cam’s notebook! Where exactly is Elmhurst in Illinois? I back out in Google Maps and see Chicago is to the east.

There’s one last thing I’m curious about. In my browser I search “Map Fair”. For a moment I wonder if I should’ve been more specific, but the first hit’s the homepage of a Chicago Map Fair. It says the Map Fair’s across the street from The Bean, just like Cam said!
Suddenly I have a realization. The ocean in Cam’s ‘ocean’ photo is actually Lake Michigan, which perfectly explains the skyscrapers on the horizon. Then I realize something else. Last year’s 2016 Map Fair was over the last weekend of October. So, since the Lake Michigan photo’s after the photo of The Bean, it was taken afterwards, probably in November. I remember Cam’s comment about it being warm. That’s why the girl in the ocean photo has on a light jacket.

I know the Johnsons have been lying, and Mr. Johnson was really alarmed and put on alert by that gunfire. Chicago’s infamous for its crime rates. He might be a criminal lying low because the police are onto him! That would explain why they arrived with almost nothing; they don’t want to be identified! I’ll keep my eyes open for some incriminating evidence. Maybe I can be a hero!

I do have proof that Cam lied to me, so I’ll confront her in the morning. I think talking to her would be safe enough, and I want to know the truth!

I head into the barn, wishing Emila were here. She’d love this and know exactly what to do. As I climb up the ladder and the top of my head rises above the loft floor, I hear a scream!

“What is it?” I cry, flying the rest of the way up the ladder.

Haley’s sitting bolt upright and Cam jerks up as I rush over to them. Suddenly, Haley breaks down into great heaving sobs. “I heard footsteps and — gasp — then silence for a long time and then — choke — the barn door! I thought someone was coming to—” She doesn’t finish her sentence, just gasps again and wipes her eyes and nose.

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “No one’s going to—”

“Did you lock the barn doors?” Haley interrupts, and hurries down. I hear the slam of the bolt.

“Is she always this… paranoid?” I whisper to Cam.

“She didn’t used to be,” Cam replies a little too loudly.

Haley and I lie wide awake for a long time. Eventually my eyelids begin to droop, and then it’s morning. Time to confront Cam.

I find her in the kitchen. As casually as I can, I get her to come with me to her room. Inside, I tell her everything I found out and show her the proof. But I don’t include my suspicions about her father.

When I’m all out of words, Cam frowns and announces, “I need to talk to my parents. We’ll get back to you.”

I go into panic mode before realizing she didn’t say they’d get me, but that they’d get back to me.

When Cam invited me to her house for her birthday, her parents also invited my parents to come over for breakfast the day after the sleepover. My parents arrive on the dot, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Nothing bad has happened so far, and I’ll be safe with them here.
Everyone gets along, although Mr. Johnson seems a bit stressed. Plates heaped with pancakes, toast, and eggs are passed around. Then toppings circulate. We’re all eating when Mrs. Johnson wipes her mouth with a napkin and announces, “Jada has noticed some discrepancies.”

Mom pauses, a spoonful of egg halfway to her mouth. She gives me a look. “What’s this about?”

“Jada talked to Cam, and Cam told us,” Mr. Johnson explains, putting down his fork. “We’d like to clear things up, if you’ll give us the chance.”

Haley’s eyes widen.
“Clear what up?” asks Dad, utterly lost and confused with this turn in the conversation.

“What we’ve told you isn’t the truth,” Mr. Johnson informs him. He gathers his thoughts and begins. “I’ve never farmed a day in my life,” he reveals, then smiles. “My wife grew up on a farm, not me. After finishing school in the suburbs, I became a detective in Chicago. I can’t say much about what I did there, but last month, my work put us in great danger.

“We hesitated to change our identities, even if that was the safest thing to do. But when a co-worker who’d been on the same case with me was murdered, our decision was made. We changed our names, dyed and re-styled our hair, got rid of most of our stuff, and moved here.”

I snap my gawking mouth shut and look down at my plate, ashamed of my earlier assumptions. This poor family!

“I’m so sorry!” Mom cries, her feelings written all over her face.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Dad offers.

“Just keep our secret,” Mr. Johnson requests.

There’s one thing I want to know. “Can I ask something?”

“You may certainly ask,” Mrs. Johnson says with a twinkle in her eye.

“Why did you tell us your story?”

“You figured out where we used to live,” Mrs. Johnson answers. “We were worried you might start talking.”

“My lips are sealed,” I promise. “But what if someone else picks up on things?”

“Yeah,” Cam chimes in. “Or what if I let something slip again?”

Mr. Johnson sighs. “We might have to relocate.”

“I sure hope that doesn’t happen,” Cam says quietly.

“I’ll help quell suspicions,” I volunteer. I can still be a hero, after all!

Suddenly I stand. I know what Emila would want now. “I need to get something,” I tell them, and dash next door to my house. With a small box of spare batteries, I head to my room. I slide the box of Emila’s possessions off a shelf inside my closet. Something falls from the shelf with a thump! Setting the box down, I pick it up. My camera! I put the camera aside for the moment, hoping it’s not broken. Then I replace the spy watch’s battery. I miss Emila so bad.

The clock starts up again with a steady tick tick, as if it’d never stopped. I glance at the clock on my side table. What a coincidence! The time is exactly 8:15, so I don’t have to reset the watch. Since I have the batteries out, I might as well see if the camera is broken. There are only two AA batteries, so I’ll put them back in the box when I’m finished. I turn on the camera. It works! Out of curiosity I click to the last thing taken, a video. I press play. The screen turns dark and fuzzy. Suddenly out comes a familiar voice, Emila’s!

“It’s my 14th birthday. I woke early and have a feeling I should tell you no matter what happens during this next year of our lives, I love you. Your sis, Emila. Over and out.”

Maybe it’s time for me to begin again, start where I left off. Emila wouldn’t have wanted me to stop doing something I love, and now I have good memories attached to the camera. I leave the batteries in it, and leave it on my bed.

Then I take the spy watch and run back to the Johnson’s.

“Cam,” I announce, panting, “Emila would’ve wanted you to have this.” And I give her the spy watch.

Cam gasps, and her face lights up.

“To count every second you can live here, and to record all your escapades!” I declare.

She beams. “Thank you!”

I have a sudden thought. “Was yesterday really your birthday?”

Cam looks to her parents, and Haley speaks up instead. “Well, what do you think?”

Septica with Several Players

Written by Min Sullivan on April 1, 2017

Image from here

Intro

Septica is a Romanian trick-taking chance-strategy card game for two players. My family tweaked the rules of play to make it a game for several (more than 2, but not many) players. The following version works well with 3 players

Goal

The goal of Septica is to be the player with the most points.

Cards

Septica uses playing cards, sixes (all suits) through Kings (all suits), the aces (all suits) and the two Jokers. Please remove playing cards twos (all suits) through fives (all suits). The remaining cards will be used and referred to as “the deck”.

The point values of the cards in the deck are as follows:

Card	Points
Ace	14
King	13
Queen	12
Jack	11
10	10
9	9
8	8
7	7
6	6

Setting Up

To set up the game:

Shuffle the deck.
Deal each player 4 cards.
Place the deck face-down in the middle of the players, where everyone can see.
Start the first trick.

Game Play

How to play a trick:

The starting player leads to the first trick by placing any card from their hand face-up beside the deck of cards.
Going in the direction of play, each player is given an opportunity to cut. In Septica, a cut is made when a player matches the figure on the original card (suit doesn’t matter), or plays a 7 (of any suit) or a Joker, from their hand. A player does not have to cut, even if they have a playable card in their hand. If a player does not cut on their turn, they are not permitted to cut later, for the rest of the trick (trick, not game).
If no one (not including the player who started the trick, who played the original card) cuts, the player who started the trick (played the original card) keeps the card by placing it beside them. The card does not become part of their hand. This ends the trick.
If one or more people do cut, going in the direction of play, cuts are made by the players (including the player who started the trick, who played the original card) until no one cuts. As before, if a player does not cut on their turn, they are not permitted to cut later, for the rest of the trick (trick, not game). The last person who cut takes the cards by placing it beside them. The cards do not become part of their hand. This ends the trick.
After the trick ends, each player draws cards from the deck until they have 4 cards. Going in the direction of play, the player after the starting player who lead the last trick (played the original card) starts the next trick.

When there are no more cards in the deck, the players continue to play tricks with just the cards in their hands.

When someone does not have any cards in their hand, they cannot cut or start a trick and are skipped. In the direction of play, the next person who has one or more cards in their hand goes.

The game ends when no one has any cards left in their hands. The total number of points of the cards won by each person is their end score. The player with the highest score wins.

Riddle #2

Written by Min Sullivan on January 24, 2017

I come so fast and go so quick,

Blink (or don’t blink) and I go by!

Yet sometimes I can seem to drag,

Though I’m faster than sound, faster than light!

I’m always the same although

I change others, it’s always been so.

P.S. Everyone alive yesterday had equal of me that day.

Click “See Answer” below. Feel free to type in your guess first!

Riddle #1

Written by Min Sullivan on January 24, 2017

I have five hearts, yet cannot love.

I can be short – or three yards long!

I can regenerate, but only some parts.

I am neither solely male nor solely female.

What am I?

P.S. I’m also brainless, so it is only thanks to the kindness of Minny’s (1) heart that I am being brought up.

Click “See Answer” below. Feel free to type in your guess first!

A Horse For Kate by Mirallee Ferrell

Written by Min Sullivan on December 30, 2016

I really like the book A Horse For Kate, by Mirallee Ferrell. A 12-year-old girl named Kate wants to have a horse. When she and her new friend Tori discover a horse all alone in a pasture, they wonder who owns it. The reason I like this book is because it’s 1) fast paced, 2) interesting, and 3) it encourages probity. It’s an awesome book for tween girls!

It’s the first book in the book series Horses and Friends. Throughout the series there are scenes with Kate’s autistic little brother, Pete. Kate and Tori are nice to him.

Wild Cat by Dandi Daley Mackall

Written by Min Sullivan on November 4, 2016

Wild Cat, by Dandi Daley Mackall

Wild Cat, by Dandi Daley Mackall, is one of my favorite books on the bookcase in my bedroom because it is about someone who has cancer and can’t live up to people’s (or even her own) expectations.

My rating for this book is “G”. This is the link to the review I wrote for the book.

You can order if on Amazon here.

My paperback copy is about 215 pages long. The copy is small (about 4 by almost 7 inches).

How to Eeny Meeny Miny Moe Correctly

Written by Min Sullivan on October 4, 2016

My mother told me to pick the very best one, and you are it.

YOU can win every round of Eeny Meeny Miny Moe just by knowing a simple trick!

It’s as simple as 1-2-3:

Count how many people are participating. Count the number of syllables in the rhyme you’re going to be using. Find the remainder of the number of syllables divided by the number of people participating. To do this math you can gather as many pebbles as there are syllables in the rhyme you’re going to be using (or other items, such as the cold asparagus stems on your plate). Sort the items into piles, with as many items in each pile as there are people participating. Count the number of leftover items. That’s the remainder.
Gather the participants in a circle (or triangle or square, or pentagon even).
Start with the person remainder places from the person you want the rhyme to end on. Count in the direction you will be going in. So if you’re going clockwise, start with the person remainder places to the left of the person you want the rhyme to end on. If you’re going counter-clockwise, start with the person remainder places to the right of the person you want the rhyme to end on.

Ways to make people believe you had no idea of the outcome (and weren’t calculating it, either):

Ask them what rhyme to use.
Ask them which direction to go in.
Act surprised when you win.

DIY Card Game

Written by Min Sullivan on July 4, 2016

Quick jump links: What You Need, Making the Cards, Goal of the Game, Version 1, Version 2, Version 3

What you need

48 cards (directions for making them below)
42+ to 336+ of something (beans will work, or squares of paper) for currency, the amount you need being the number of players playing times 21
6-sided die (die is the singular for dice)
rubber band (for the cards when not in use)
container for the currency (both for during game play and when not in use)
2-16 players (2-8 players is better)

Making the Cards

Print out 8 copies of this template (for the fronts of the cards) and 8 copies of this template (for the backs of the cards) onto thick paper, or start from scratch.

Here are the bare essentials for the cards:

All the cards must not be see-through.
Viewed from the back, all the cards must be identical to one another.

Also, for those who are starting from scratch:

On the faces of all the cards must be written a value from 1 through 6. This is the “cost” of the card in whatever currency you’re using.
There must be 8 cards with each of the values on them (eight 1 value cards, eight 2 value cards, eight 3 value cards, and so on through eight 6 value cards).

And for those who are using the template:

Glue the backs of the copies together so that the “DIY from Random Thoughts” is seen on the backs of the glued together cards, and the black dotted lines are seen on the front side of the cards.
Cut along the white dotted lines on all the glued-together copies.
Write the name of the currency on the dotted line next to the number on each card (if you want to).

For both those who are starting from scratch and for those who are using the print-out template:

Separate the cards into sets. Each set must have a 1s card, 2s card, 3s card, all the way through the 6s card. You will have 8 sets.
Choose a different store name for each set of cards. Then write on the faces of the cards the store name assigned to their set. For those who are using the print-out, write the store name on the dotted line below the number but above the dotted rectangle.
So you should have 8 sets of 6 cards of values 1-6, and each set of values 1-6 should have its own store name.
If you want to, put on the cards pictures of items that you could buy at the store labeled on the cards, for the value labeled on the cards. For example: a picture of a $6 set of pretty paper would be a good picture for a 6 value card with the label “Sara’s Stationery Store”. For those who are using the print-out, put the pictures inside the dotted rectangles.

You can always make more sets, but 8 sets should be plenty. The general rule is to make sure there are at least half as many sets as there are people playing, although it’s nice to have at least as many sets as there are people playing.

Now it’s time to play the game!

Goal of the Game

To win the game you must have one or more of the following in your hand:

a set of cards with the values 1 through 6
4+ cards from one store
4+ cards of the same value

If it is (still) your turn when you realize that you can win, you may announce your win to make it official and to end the game. Otherwise you must wait until your next turn.

How to Play

There are 3 versions of this game. I would recommend mastering version 1 first, as it is the easiest and simplest version. Also, if you know how to play version 1, the other versions will be much easier to understand. And version 3 is almost exactly like version 2, but much harder to win.

Version 1

What you need:

your 48 cards
2-16 players (the more the merrier!)

How to start:

Shuffle the cards.
Deal each player 3 cards. If you find playing with 3 cards too easy, play with 2 cards.
Spread the remaining cards face-down. This is the mall.
Decide who goes first.

On their turn, each person may do one of the following:

Ask another player if they have a card of a certain value. If the player does have at least one card of the requested value, the card (only one) is given to the player who asked, and the player who asked may take an extra turn (unless they already took their extra turn for their current turn). If the player does not have the card, they tell the asker to “Go shop!”, in which case the asker must resort to the action described below.
Go shop. Draw a random card from the mall. The player may choose to keep the card or put it back face-down in the mall.

Version 2

What you need:

your 48 cards
your currency
your container
your die
2-16 players (the more the funner!)

How to start:

Put the currency into the container. This is the bank.
Shuffle the cards.
Deal each player 3 cards.
Give each player 3 currency items (e.g. 3 beans, 3 squares of paper) from the bank.
Spread the remaining cards face-down. This is the mall.
Decide who goes first.

On their turn, each player may do one of the following:

Gamble for currency items. They start by putting down one card from their hand. They must put the card face-up. Then they roll the die. If the number rolled is equal to the value of the card, the card is placed face-down in the mall. If the number rolled is not equal to the value of the card, then the player receives as many currency items (from the bank) as the number rolled (e.g. roll a 4, receive 4 currency items).
Cash in a card. They place the card from their hand face-up while they collect the number of currency items (from the bank) as the value on the card (e.g. card of 6 value, collect 6 currency items).
Go shop. They shop by flipping over a card from the mall. Everyone must be able to see the value on the card, and the shop name on it. If the player wants the card, they may buy it in any of the 4 ways a player can buy a card.
Ask for (then buy) an opponent’s card. They ask an opponent if they have a card of a certain value. If the opponent does have at least one card of that value, they must tell the asker yes. If the asker can pay for the card in currency items, the card may be bought whether the opponent wants to sell the card or not. However, if the asker wants to trade or barter for the card, then the opponent may turn down the asker. After one turn-down, the asker’s turn is over.

Here are the 4 ways a player can buy a card:

Straight purchasing: The player can pay for the card with currency items (e.g. pay the bank 4 currency items for a value 4 card).
Trading: The player may give up 1+ card/s from their own hand, and use their currency items to make up the difference (e.g. buying 6 value card with a 4 value card and 2 currency items is a valid move).
Trading: The person may buy the card with only cards from their own hand (e.g. buying a 5 value card with a 3 value card and a 2 value card is valid).
Trading: The person may trade a card from their own hand for a card of the same value.

Here are some rules:

When a card is used to pay for another card, the card used is placed face-down in the mall.
When currency items are used to pay for a card from the mall, the currency items are put in the bank.
If the card is being bought from another player, that player receives all of what is used to pay.

Version 3

This version is almost identical to version 2.

What you need:

everything you needed in version 2

How to start:

Start exactly as you would in version 2.

On their turn, each player may do one of the following:

Gamble for currency items. They start by putting a card from their hand face-down in the mall. Then they roll the die. If the number rolled is not a 6, the player receives as many currency items (from the bank) as the number rolled (e.g. roll a 4, receive 4 currency items). If the number rolled is a 6, the player must take a card from an opponent (they may not ask the opponent for a certain card, the player must pick randomly from the opponent’s hand) or from the mall.
Cash in a card. Do it exactly as you would in version 2.
Go shop. Do it exactly as you would in version 2.
Ask for an opponent’s card. Do it exactly as you would in version 2.

Here are the 4 ways a player can buy a card:

The ways are the same as in version 2.

Here are some rules:

The rules are the same as in version 2.

Quick jump links: Back to top, What You Need, Making the Cards, Goal of the Game, Version 1, Version 2, Version 3

Wild Cat, by Dandi Daley Mackall

Written by Min Sullivan on June 17, 2016

Wild Cat, by Dandi Daley Mackall

In the third book of the Starlight Animal Rescue series, Kat Hall is finally getting adopted by her foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Coolidge!

Kat is super excited about being adopted, but she doesn’t think she is worthy of being given the Coolidge name. Everyone in her foster family does something to help others… everyone except for her, that is. She feels like she needs to do something before her official adoption — but she only has to weeks to do it!

A school assignment brings the perfect opportunity for her to help her classmates! She will give them advice about their problem cats, and cats are right up her alley! But the community service project is quite a strain on her weak body, due to her cancer. And the pressure her classmates are putting on her is definitely not helping, either!

Can Kat live up to everyone’s expectations — especially her expectations? Will her body be able to manage such a demanding schedule? Is she pressing herself too far?

Read the book to find out what happens!

I rate this book with a “G”, which means “Good”.

Summer Pi Program

Written by Min Sullivan on May 20, 2016

I would like to bring to your attention a summer program called Summer Pi Program.

Summer Pi Program is a memorization program. The participants memorize as many digits of pi (π) as they can this summer!

Anyone can sign up (it’s free!) for either the Summer Pi Challenge or the Summer Pi Competition. In the competition, participants are competing memorize the most digits of anyone else in the class that they signed up in.

In Summer Pi Challenge everyone’s a winner, and it is not at all competitive! Everyone who enters Summer Pi Challenge is acknowledged on this page.

Virtual ribbons are awarded to the participants in the program who memorize the most digits. The highest scores will be shown here after the summer of 2016 is over.

Learn more about Summer Pi Program here.

See the first 2000 digits of pi on this page.

This is a handy dandy online (and free!) Digit Input Program.

Have a great summer, all!

Oh Bother!

Written by Min Sullivan on March 9, 2016

One of the things that really bothers me is the word ‘bother’. The way it sounds is just wrong! For those of you who are interested, the word bother originated in the late 17th century.

Another thing that bothers me is the second hand of a clock. Technically, the second hand of a clock CANNOT be the hand that ticks off the seconds.

In the picture above, you see the face of a watch. The hour hand is the longest and largest, the minute hand is shorter than the hour hand, and the second hand is very thin. Going by that order, the hand that shows the second is not the second hand. If you’re going from shortest hand to longest hand, the second hand is still in the middle!

So, really, the hand that shows the seconds is not the ‘second hand’ on the clock. 😉

NOTE: I got the hands all mixed up (I think), so there goes my logic. 😛

P.S. Don’t take this article seriously, although the thing about bother originating in the 17th century I actually did look up.

P.S.S. I made the clock face image. Here’s the code (it’s in JavaScript):

fill(212, 211, 170);
stroke(122, 122, 122);
strokeWeight(5);
ellipse(200, 200, 300, 300);
fill(206, 209, 0);
noStroke();
ellipse(200, 200, 50, 50);

strokeWeight(10);
stroke(176, 176, 176);
line(197, 199, 196, 96);
line(196, 200, 220, 127);

strokeWeight(5);
line(196, 199, 220, 281);

stroke(77, 77, 77);
strokeWeight(10);
line(200, 200, 200, 94);
line(200, 200, 225, 127);

strokeWeight(5);
line(200, 200, 224, 284);

fill(143, 143, 143);
textFont(createFont(“serif”), 20);
text(“XII”, 184, 76);
text(“IV”, 306, 200);
text(“VIII”, 183, 330);
text(“X”, 67, 200);

When I Come Home

Written by Min Sullivan on February 28, 2016

I lie straight on my back on the hard, uncomfortable bed, a thick, white blanket draped over my legs and part of my torso. A rubbery mask is placed over my face, which smells like plastic. I stare up at the stars painted on the ceiling.

“Just keep breathing,” a woman’s voice directs me.

A few months ago I didn’t even know there was a Children’s National hospital here in this catacomb of a city, which is called Washington D.C. I am here to have an MRI of my brain while I am sedated, to see what has been causing my headaches and slurred speech and uncontrollable shaking episodes. MRI stands for Magnetic Resonance Imaging. It moves the water molecules in the body to form detailed images. An MRI machine looks like a huge doughnut. It’s easy to see how some people might envision it as one of those time portals that you hear about in science fiction books.

I can feel the oxygen being released into the mask. Some of the air escapes and blows on my forehead, drying out my eyes on its way. I blink my eyes. After a few moments, someone to my right, the same one who spoke to me earlier, pulls a lever or taps a button. As a result of this, something else is released into the mask, along with the oxygen. The two seem to mingle together, but I can’t be sure. Now the air I’m breathing smells horrible, like stale air mixed with an indescribable odor.

“Count the stars,” a presence to my left instructs me. Or is the person at my head? I can hear clearly enough, but I’m not sure now where the sound is coming from.

I count silently to myself, “One, two, three…” Nothing’s happening. I keep counting, a little more hesitantly now. “Four, five, six, seven…” Something is gradually beginning to occur. By the time I reach ten, I realize that the stars on the ceiling are beginning to blur. My legs and arms are tingling. It’s different from the tingling you have when you sit on your leg for too long. It’s really hard to describe.

“Sweet dreams,” someone somewhere says, so I turn my thoughts toward my dog Patrick as everything fades away.

* * * * * * * * *

I never would have even known of his existence if the telephone had not rung one cold, wet spring day. My mother and I said hello to my grandparents, then Mom took the phone and put it to her ear. They chatted for a little while, then a peculiar expression crossed my mother’s face. She listened for quite a while longer, then said into the phone, “I’ll have to have a family meeting about this.”

While they said good-bye, I danced around Mom, hopping on one leg, eager to be clued in on the big thing about which we’d need to have a family meeting. It had to be a really big, life-changing thing they had been conversing about. When Mom finally hung up the phone, she paused a moment, and then informed me, “Your grandfather found a dog in the woods.”

“He did? Where?” I exclaimed excitedly. I could see where this was going!

“Well, Grandpa was coming back from hunting,” my mom explained, “when he saw a dog looking out from under a pile of wood at the side of the road. He got out of his truck and approached the dog cautiously. The poor pooch was in very bad shape, and your grandfather took pity on him and brought him home. Grandma and Grandpa have tried to find the owner of this dog, but no one has claimed him. The dog is very friendly with people, and not a bad dog at all.”

“Why would anyone abandon a dog in the woods?” I cried out incredulously.

“We don’t know,” Mom told me. “They said that it’s common for animals to be abandoned where they live. There’s a lady who rescues animals, and she has 15 cats and 20 dogs!”

“That’s… that’s a lot of cats and dogs,” I commented stupidly.

“You bet, Minnie! Grandma and Grandpa are wondering if we would like to own this dog. They say he has a good, calm temperament. He’s a brown Boykin spaniel. I’ve never heard of a Boykin spaniel, but your grandfather says there are many in his area. Medium-sized dogs. The state dog of South Carolina is a Boykin spaniel.”

“That’s cool!” I exclaimed! “So, can we have the dog?”

“Well, we’ll need to have a family discussion about this,” Mom informed me. “And we don’t have the money to take care of a dog right now, nor to go down to South Carolina to bring him home. I’ll go over the finances again, but I really don’t think we’ll be able to afford to take care of a dog even if we could find the funds for the trip.”

“We can find a way. We could use the money in my piggy bank,” I offered. “And I have a lot of gift cards I haven’t used yet. We could use the money for pet supplies.”

“Thanks,” Mom smiled. “We might need that if we decide to bring home this dog. We also have my birthday money. Just don’t get your hopes up too soon.”

“All right,” I replied, a flicker of hope arising.

Two weeks later we were in South Carolina, and the pooch had already stolen our hearts with his playful eyes, long tongue, curly fur, downy ears, immense tail, and traumatic — as well as heartbreaking — back story. Dad had been reluctant to agree to adopt this dog, but the pictures my grandparents had sent us of the pooch really helped Mom and I convince Dad that this dog was meant for us. We named him Patrick, and welcomed him into our home.

That all happened last April. Now it is January. I was diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease, Rocky Mt. Spotted Fever, and an assortment of other viruses and bacterial infections in the fall. I’ve been receiving treatments for them since then. I’ve been prescribed countless medicines with really long names, and been to more doctors than I can remember. It seems like once one symptom goes away (say, the bone pain), something new will come up (for instance, severe headaches). I’ve had a hard year, and Patrick has really helped me through it. He would lie on my bed when I was too sick to leave my bedroom for months on end. He has been there when I’m crying from the pain. I can hug him and cuddle him, and bury my face in his silky coat. In the last two weeks I have been in the hospital at least 4 times, and he has always been there to welcome me home, no matter how late I arrive. I love Patrick. He has been a real blessing to me.

* * * * * * * * * *

Drowsily I begin to feel again. I zone back into the present. There’s a heavy blanket pulled over me, and my left hand hurts. I shift into a more comfortable position. I feel like I’m about to drift off again. I snuggle further down in the covers. I try to go back to sleep, but I know I can’t in this unfamiliar place. Where am I? Suddenly realization hits me like a freezing cold ocean wave. I’m in the hospital for an MRI.

“Are you awake?” a comforting voice asks me.

I try to sit up, but don’t quite make it. I think I reply to my mom’s inquiry, but I don’t remember. I roll over onto my back, then slowly sit up. I’m dizzy, but after a moment the world returns to normal. My hand hurts more, now that I’ve moved it. I bring it out from under the blanket and am surprised to see an IV line, but only for a moment. I remember being told that I would have an IV while the MRI test was being done.

A nurse appears in the doorway. She has crackers and apple juice with her. Mom sticks a straw into the apple juice, and holds the container while I drink the entire thing down. Then she opens a package of measly, little crackers and offers me one. I haven’t eaten since 7:00 this morning because you’re not supposed to eat before sedation, so I’m hungry. I munch on it. Hospital food is not exactly my favorite kind of food, but I’m thankful for it.

The nurse takes the IV needle out, and says I am good to go as soon as I can walk. Mom and Dad help to steady me as we leave the hospital. It’s dark out, so I must have been asleep for a while. As we drive home, I poke at the bruise that is starting to form on my hand where the IV needle was. I can’t wait to be home. I hope I never have to see another hospital again.

When I arrive home, Patrick is there to greet me, his tail wagging so forcefully that his entire body wags with it. He’s overjoyed to see me. I’m shaking from the long car ride, but I manage to pet Patrick, who’s jumping around and waving his plume-like tail. The way he welcomes me home reminds me of when I welcomed him home all those long months ago. He looks as happy that we’re home as we are to be home. He’s missed us, and I have missed him. He’s a true friend. Sure, he’s not perfect, but it’s worth it to have someone there waiting for me.

I lean down and whisper to Patrick, “It’s good to be home. Right, boy?” He slurps me on the cheek in total agreement.

Wait, Come Back Here!!! (the Typical Average Boy Story)

Written by Min Sullivan on December 27, 2015

I arrived at the church campout all in one piece, which was a pretty great achievement for me. I suggested to my older brother that we throw a party the next day, but he just told me to grow up, and not to push my luck.

At the campout our youth pastor, Pastor Philemon (a.k.a. Phil), suggested that we play a game outside. Actually, he ordered us to play a game outside so that we “would all be tuckered out and go to sleep afterward”, he said, staring meaningfully at me.

I must admit, his suggestion of a game was cool, except that the game Pastor Phil had us play was Let’s-gang-up-on-Average-Boy-and-see-how-many-water-balloons-we-can-throw-at-him-in-two-minutes.

After we played a few rounds of that (my brother thoroughly enjoyed it, from what I could tell), I asked Pastor Phil if we could play a different game. He agreed, and asked the other tweens and teens what game we wanted to play. Cops and Robbers was the game.

I had absolutely no idea how to play Cops and Robbers, but I figured that it was like hide-and-go-seek. So I ran off and sought out a hiding place before the Pastor Phil had even finished explaining how the game is played (I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a head-start).

I hid behind the generator, which was standing right next to the side of the church. I had chosen that hiding place because there was so little room between the generator and that wall that no one would think a mouse, much less an average boy like me, could have fit back there! I guess my hiding spot was too good, because it was a good 15 minutes before I heard anyone nearby. In my time waiting I found: 5 spider webs, 30 thorns, a pile of pokey rocks, dust that had accumulated over the years (when’s the last time anyone cleaned back there?), and things that I didn’t even want to think about

Finally, after having discovered all those things, plus a couple of empty water bottles (I guess my science teacher was right when she said it took years for them to decompose), I heard someone calling my name. They sounded urgent. “Bob, Bob, where are you?” They actually sounded panicked. I had no idea a game of Cops and Robbers could be so intense.

“Clay?” I called, emerging from behind the generator.

“Average Boy!” Clay exclaimed, rushing toward me. “Didn’t you hear? We had a change of plans. We’re going to play the Let’s-gang-up-on-Average-Boy-and-see-how-many-water-balloons-we-can-throw-at-him-in-two-minutes again, and we can’t do that without our star!”

I wasn’t very thrilled at this new development, but I consented with a sigh, and went back to join the others.

That night I learned two things:
1. Listen to all the directions before running off
2. Remember to bring two changes of clothes to the next youth group campout

As a note, you can see the real Average Boy stories here, or, even better, subscribe to Clubhouse Magazine, by Focus on the Family, (in which Average Boy stories are published) here. You can buy a book of Average Boy devotionals (Christian) here. The devotionals are written by Jesse Florea and Bob Smiley. I wrote this story using the characters developed by Bob Smiley.

December 5, A Light Shines in the Darkness

Written by Min Sullivan on December 5, 2015

December is one of the darkest months of the year here in the Northern Hemisphere. And it is fitting that our holidays make use of beautifully colored lights and candles during this time. If you take a drive during this month, you are likely to see houses, shops, and streets decorated and shining with brilliant displays.

The prophet Isaiah used light to describe the coming of the Savior. In Isaiah 9:2 we read, “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” Many years later, Jesus would say, “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” (John 9:12)

Sometimes we feel encumbered by the darkness of guilt, shame, or just the heaviness of trying to make it day by day through this world in our own strength. We can see in the world today the darkness of sin, in the way people treat each other, the wars and fighting going on in the world, or in the selfishness in our own hearts. Truly this world needs a Savior: truly we need a Savior.

John says about Jesus, “In him was life; and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:4-5 NIV)

How can we, in our dark world, see Christ’s light? There are many ways. First, just look at all that God created: the stars in the night sky, the singing birds and the nimble trees, a tall majestic mountain, or the frothing waves of the sea. We can see Christ’s light in the pages of his Word, the Bible. And we can see his light in other people, who shine his light through a kind word or an unselfish deed, through encouragement given, or grace and forgiveness extended.

And we were meant to shine that light to others. Jesus said “You are the light of the world…Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father, who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14a, 16) As Jesus shines his light and life into your heart and soul today, ask him to help you shine his light to others, as well.

If you have the time, here is a song by Sovereign Grace Music called “Shine Into Our Night,” by Joel Sczebel and sung by Meghan Baird. Shine Into Our Night

December 4, O Little Town of Bethlehem

Written by Min Sullivan on December 4, 2015

One of the ways we know that Jesus was the promised Savior is because of all the prophecies he fulfilled. And one of those prophecies concerns the little town of Bethlehem. You know the song, don’t you? “O Little Town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie…” You’ll probably sing it yourself a few times this month. If it hadn’t have been for Jesus being born in Bethlehem, I doubt any of us would know much about the town of Bethlehem today. However, it does appears in several Bible stories.

The beautiful love story Ruth and Boaz takes place in Bethlehem during the harvest time. And since David was the great grandson of Ruth and Boaz, it is no surprise that the first story in the Bible about David takes place in Bethlehem, when the old prophet Samuel anoints him to be the next king. (1 Samuel 16:1-13) There is also the very exciting account of three of David’s mighty soldiers who break through the enemy ranks to get some water from the well in Bethlehem and bring it back as a special gift for David while he is in hiding. (2 Samuel 23:13-17)

But this is a relatively small town. Not exactly a bustling, beautiful city like Jerusalem. In fact, many years later, when the prophet Micah refers to Bethlehem, he says it is a town that is “little among the thousands of Judah”. Yet one of the most important events in history is going to take place in this little town. Listen to what the prophet says in Micah 5:2, “But you, Bethlehem Ephratah, though you are little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of you shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting.”

This little town is going to be the birthplace of a very special king! And we will find over and over again in the Christmas story and in many other stories throughout the Bible, that God loves to use small thing, little things, unimportant things and people. Why? Because then He gets the glory. Because we know we can’t boast that the big thing that was accomplished is all from our doing. It had to be God who accomplished it!

Do you feel little, sometimes? Too little, too poor, too unsophisticated for God to use? Take heart! God uses little things for great good. He has a plan for your life, too!

So how about singing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” today. And while you are singing it, remember how God can use even little things!

O little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight

For Christ is born of Mary
And gathered all above
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love
O morning stars together
Proclaim the holy birth
And praises sing to God the King
And Peace to men on earth

How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may his His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in.

O holy Child of Bethlehem
Descend to us, we pray
Cast out our sin and enter in
Be born to us today
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell
O come to us, abide with us
Our Lord Emmanuel.

For the musical score, you may go to this link: Musical score for O Little Town of Bethelhem