Okay, first let me say that today has been rough on me, or rather my pride. Wednesday was check in time, yesterday was judging time, and today was another day of check in and judging. Every year I have been happy with the way that my projects have been judged and only cried once out of seven years; I was little and so were the pathetic radishes I turned in.

Today, however, I allowed my pride to masquerade as high hopes. I wanted to win the Creative Writing with so much of my literary soul. I could almost feel the plaque in my hands, but this morning, I was the recipient of a surprise that dealt a blow to my pride.

I walked into the building, after being surprised at how well my basket fared amongst all of the other crafts, and then my honey beat all of the other bee entries. I must add, that I was the only one in bees, which kind of guarantees the leisure of winning. But then…I saw it. From across the room, the measly ribbons were attached to the card upon my binder of poems and stories. However, the one not among them which I desired above all, was the, easily identified by any dedicated 4-H’er, Best of Show ribbon. For some reason, I felt sick to my stomach and I turned pale. We walked over and I quickly looked for the one that had beaten mine. I looked twice at the ribbons she now possessed and repeatedly looked through her pages in search of the truth, which was in my mind…”can she write better than I “? To the judge, apparently. To me, not really. There was no variation in sentences, no adjectives, only slighted varied uses of the word ’said’, etc.

After realizing that no mistake had been made, I went to go sit down. No tears formed, but I suddenly felt dizzy and laid down on a bench outside. I am very dramatic, I know. For a few minutes, I went over what I had seen and tried to excuse the fact that she may have been better than me. I was devastated in a matter in which I thought I had some promise of success. To me, writing is the only thing I am remotely knowledgeable of as far as a possible talent. And to be slighted so noticeably in the contest of talent and prose, is embarrassing. And for my fellow bloggers, one of my first thoughts was, “Well, I need to think of a new theme for my blog.” After all, I didn’t feel like the painter of words any more.

Anyway, the moral of this rant/post is that after nearly a day of brooding, I have come to terms with my fifteen year old self after puffing away as the seven year old I was earlier. I suppose that my pride is what injured my spirits throughout the day and not the ribbons. I had been caught up in my own success and supposed talent that a few people have encouraged me about, that my confidence, in this one area mostly, overshadowed reality in the light of competition. The judge’s opinion was valued, and my writing lost out to the writings about high school and fitting in. I was joking with my dear cousin, whose support has helped me through this minor trial, that today’s judging was the equivalent of throwing out Little Women to read High School Musical. Not that I compare my writing to Miss Alcott’s, however, it fits my character and writing style.

So, at the end of the day, I am still overpowering my disappointment and pride, while perfecting the humbleness of losing. I have always been the one afraid of the competition for fear of humiliation, but through this ordeal I am slowly accepting the fact that my writing did not appeal to the judge in the way which I had hoped.

The displays are set up and the projects being turned in! One of my favourite times of the year is now just behind that ribbon. Soon the venders will be selling their deliciously greasy food, the animals tempting the young children, the fair rides entertaining screaming riders, and let’s not forget…the imitation Elvis under his country tent. *He scares me.*

Breezy, Emily, and I are happy with our projects and are anxious to see how they fare amongst the others. And tomorrow, my mom is going to enter an apple pie in the adult division. You can see her recipe here. Also tomorrow, we three cousins will be judged and then on Friday I will enter another project and be judged . In case you’re wonderin’ I entered:

*two one pound jars of honey…they are too cute!

*a notebook of Creative Writing…I entered this poem, this poem, a few others, and a short story entitled Miss McGuffy

*a jar of pickled watermelon rinds

*and my Williamsburg Basket

Here we are with cheerful faces with our projects. Auntie Robin didn’t turn in anything though, she’s just standing there looking cute.

Having been out of school for a little over a month, I am ready for my yearly schedule of learning already. I hate the feeling of daily untidiness. I enjoy doing things, even if they are minute, just as long as I feel that I’ve accomplished something. I don’t want to  eat from boredom, sit at the computer just “surfing”, settle in front of the TV, or sleep in late because I know I do not have something important to do once I am up.

School made me feel accomplished, well planned, and decisive in my time and efforts. In the summer I do have things to do, and yet I want the routine I so loved. In fact, one does not need a schedule when one learns themselves the art of productiveness.

This summer though I have plenty to occupy myself upon, and yet all that is lacking is one detail: application. I need to apply myself to things instead of settle for boredom that in truth is masking the laziness to act. Actually, I let myself become bored. When I figure out what all I can apply myself to, I chuckle from embarrassment.

These summer days are full of past times that will fill my time wisely, such as:

*pick up my copy of Uncle Tom’s Cabin or practice the Leyenda of Albeniz on the piano, which has been the recipient of my absence for a few weeks now

*do something constructive outside or clean through the garage in our slow process of moving, perhaps garden

*knit, crochet, of write…it is easy to do all three once one applies themselves

*write a thought provoking post that will edify and not simply entertain

*if absolutely necessary, clean…

A new addition has been added to our home and we already love him for his beautiful insight on such tiny things. It is our new microscope for our home education. It arrived on Tuesday and already we have looked closely at flowers, pieces of fabric, drops of vegetable soup and water, a sunflower seed, a thorn,a piece of fuzz, a frosted flake, and all are so unique and beautiful in their own way.

We can hardly wait to use our new friend with the Apologia Biology Course which I have been yearning to study for a year now. And with our microscope I will definitely be able to comprehend things better, for I am quite a visual person.

I had wanted a terrarium for a few years, and yet like many projects, I just “didn’t have time” but I most certainly did. So early this spring, I took a walk in the woods behind my house and collected some nice pebbles from the creek and some moss. Dirt came complimentary. I didn’t have the large bowl I wanted, yet a wide mouth pint jar worked out great, and the lid from a peanut butter jar fits perfectly. I really wanted to get a worm and put it in there to watch its underground trails, yet Mom wanted to make sure that I could keep it alive before I stuck something living in there…guess what? I kept it alive and even grew a mushroom! I am now moving onto the worm stage.

Before…

After…

I felt like a little interior decorator while I was positioning the rocks and sticking the little twig in there. Silly, I know.