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It was a day like usual

Le 11 avril 2016, 10:19 dans Humeurs 0

My father was an intelligent master craftsman2. Though his gift didn't bring him any fame or fortune, his zest3 for the violin making had never been worn away. One day in an odorous, dirty sty he discovered a wedge of spruce, which is light and strong---perfect for the violin. Joyfully4, he trade a packed of food for it with the puzzled countryman. After three weeks' hard work, my sister and I were born into this world. My father couldn't afford the expensive varnish5 for us. But I can assure you, plain as we are, we are the first-class violins with the hypnotic sound you've never heard!
How long did I take in the shelf to wait for my master coming up? Two years, three years? Memory puzzles herself to reply this question. Besides, I always fell confused about the time in human's world. But it's definitely a long, long time. All I can recall about that is many, many people have passed by without even offering me a glance. How helpless unattractive I am! Finally I got a terrible feeling that my master perhaps would never show up, and my beautiful voice would be buried forever without even a chance to be heard.
colourless and gloomy. Like a dream a little girl, probably 6 years old, suddenly came up to me. For some reason, her beautiful eyes looked so empty and sad. But she was actually looking at me! Excited, my long lost hope rose up. I hold my breath, dreading6 to freight her away. Her mother came up and asked softly: Are you sure? The little girl cast her eyes down to the floor, she answered in an almost unread voice: Yeah. I cried for this single word. It sounded like a word from the heaven. At last, I found my master! Thousands words I tried to say, thousands questions I'd like to ask: Is she a good player? What kind of music is her favourite? She reached her hands for me. Her fingeres felt so cold! Oddly, she didn't give a try on me like most other masters would do. Lowering her head, she followed her mother out of store and down to the street. Few minutes later, with my excitement for the future calming down, I soon realized there was something wrong. My little master was obviously deeply troubled and upset. She grasped me tighter and tighter with her little fingers. She was fighting hardly a urge to cry but failed. Tears swelled7 up to her eyes.

What did you think of him

Le 7 mars 2016, 03:08 dans Humeurs 0

But I can’t ask Daddy because I can’t go through this in front of three other people who will look all hurt that I’m leaving, so I grab the old truck keys and say, “It doesn’t matter. I’m just going straight to Hilly’s,” and I huff outside only to find that not only does the old truck have a trailer hitched to it, but a half-ton tractor on top of that trailer HKUE amec.

So I drive into town for my first date in two years in a red 1941 Chevrolet four-on-the-floor with a John Deere motor grader hooked behind me. The engine sputters and churns and I wonder if the truck will make it. Chunks of mud spray behind me off the tires. The engine stalls on the main road, sending my dress and bag flying onto the dirty floor. I have to restart twice.

At five forty-five, a black thing streaks out in front of me and I feel a thunk. I try to stop but braking’s just not something you can do very quickly with a 10,000-pound piece of machinery behind you. I groan and pull over. I have to go check. Remarkably, the cat stands up, looks around stunned, and shoots back into the woods as quickly as it came.

At three minutes to six, after doing twenty in a fifty with horns honking and teenagers hollering at me, I park down the street from Hilly’s house since Hilly’s cul-de-sac doesn’t provide adequate parking for farm equipment. I grab my bag and run inside without even knocking, all out of breath and sweaty and windblown and there they are, the three of them, including my date. Having highballs in the front living room hong thai travel.

I freeze in the entrance hall with all of them looking at me. William and Stuart both stand up. God, he’s tall, has at least four inches over me. Hilly’s eyes are big when she grabs my arm. “Boys, we’ll be right back. Y’all just sit tight and talk about quarterbacks or something.”

Hilly whisks me off to her dressing room and we both start groaning. It’s just so goddamn awful.

“Skeeter, you don’t even have lipstick on! Your hair looks like a rat’s nest!”

“I know, look at me!” All traces of the Shinalator’s miracle are gone. “There’s no air-conditioning in the truck. I had to ride with the damn windows down.”

I scrub my face and Hilly sits me in her dressing room chair. She starts combing my hair out the way my mother used to do, twisting it into these giant rollers, spraying it with Final Net.

I sigh and close my unmascaraed eyes. “He looks handsome.”

I smear the makeup on, something I hardly even know how to do. Hilly looks at me and smudges it off with a tissue, reapplies it. I slip into the black dress with the deep V in the front, the black Delman flats. Hilly quickly brushes out my hair. I wash my armpits with a wet rag and she rolls her eyes at me hong thai travel.

Mae Mobley waddle out on the back step

Le 4 mars 2016, 07:47 dans Humeurs 0

THE HEAT WAVE finally passes round the middle a October and we get ourselves a cool fifty degrees. In the mornings, that bathroom seat get cold out there, give me a little start when I set down. It’s just a little room they built inside the carport. Inside is a toilet and a little sink attached to the wall. A pull cord for the lightbulb. Paper have to set on the floor.

When I waited on Miss Caulier, her carport attach to the house so I didn’t have to go outside. Place before that had a maid quarters. Plus my own little bedroom for when I sit at night. This one I got to cross through the weather to get there joyetech cuboid 150w.

On a Tuesday noon, I carry my lunch on out to the back steps, set down on the cool concrete. Miss Leefolt’s grass don’t grow good back here. A big magnolia tree shades most a the yard. I already know that’s the tree gone be Mae Mobley’s hideout. In about five years, to hide from Miss Leefolt tourism website.

“How come you not in there with your mama?” I ask, but I know why. She rather be setting out here with the help than in there watching her mama look anywhere but at her. She like one a them baby chickens that get confused and follow the ducks around instead.

Mae Mobley point at the bluebirds getting ready for winter, twittering in the little gray fountain. “Boo birds!” She point and drop her hamburger down on the step. Out a nowhere, that old bird dog Aubie they don’t never pay no mind to come up and gobble it down. I don’t take to dogs, but this one is just plain pitiful. I pet him on the head. I bet nobody petted that dog since Christmas.

When Mae Mobley see him, she squeal and grab at his tail. It whap her in the face a few times before she get holt. Poor thing, he whine and give her one a those pitiful people-dog looks, his head turned funny, his eyebrows up. I can almost hear him asking her to turn him loose. He ain’t the biting kind.

So she’ll let go, I say, “Mae Mobley, where your tail?”

Sho nuff, she let go and start looking at her rear. Her mouth’s popped open like she just can’t believe she done missed it all this time. She turning in wobbly circles trying to see it Unified Threat Management .

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