A Long Tryst

I am exhausted,
Love,
Utterly worn down,
ground down,
ground to dust.
I don’t need to be held
as much as inhaled.
Rolled in.
Dusted over your skin
after a long. hot. bath.
I want you
to walk about in the world
lightly scented,
with a fine, dry coating of
me all over
smoothing your skin

I want there to be nothing left
of me
when you get up
and dress again,
to play your vanishing act,
that’s what.

But you would blow all of the specks of dust back,
after going passed customs
in the end
by kissing my lips back into
warm
beating life.

I think I could want that,
at length.

Reconstitution,
after a suitable amount of
mindless, selfless, repose
within
and all over you.

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The Flower Failures

I wrote this a few years ago. I don’t want to give too much background information about this piece but, it is an adult fairytale. If you would like to know more, comment or email me bohemianmamameg@gmail.com

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The Flower Failures

Merryweather leaned forward, her knees pressed into the soft dirt as she crushed another of the marigold buds between her fingers. She looked over to her sister Flora and said, “I’ve found another one; that’s fourteen this morning.” Flora shook her head and clicked her tongue, and Merryweather shifted her weight to the right to reach the flowers at the back of the bed. It was hot this morning, too hot for working, but they had customers waiting in town and it couldn’t be delayed. As far as Merryweather could see, the empty white sky bore down upon the open land like some grievous weight, pressing on her back and driving her hands further into the flower bed. Her fingers found another of the diseased buds and pinched it from the stem. “Fifteen,” she whispered, and the bud popped between her fingers.

Flora sat down beside her and wiped the sweat off of her chin. “Where’s Fauna?”

“I don’t know; I haven’t seen her since breakfast.” Merryweather looked down at the marigolds and took her scissors out of her pocket. “I imagine she’s in the shed, mixing up today’s batch. Have you looked there?”

“I haven’t looked anywhere. I was just wondering where she was, that’s all.” Flora, older than Merryweather by nine years, was already starting to exhibit the signs of chronic arthritis that had debilitated their Mother. But, Merryweather’s fingers were still as nimble as when she was a girl, and so Flora had reluctantly passed the critical task of gathering the flowers to her.

Flora was watching her out of the corner of her eye; Merryweather could tell. Her sister never did trust her to cut the flowers right, even though Merryweather has been doing it for three years and had only injured a few of the healthy babies out of the thousands she had harvested. She reached down and quickly cut the first one, exactly in the right place, just to show Flora she knew what she was doing. Flora sighed and looked away. Merryweather cut three more and put them in her basket. The flowers glowed orange and yellow in the bottom of the basket, unnatural and vaguely disturbing, like the eyes of jaundiced children.

“How many today, do you think?” Flora was watching her again, but not really seeing her this time, so Merryweather didn’t mind. She settled back on her heels and squinted at the contents of the basket.

“Well, yesterday there were forty-three, so I figure about the same today, maybe a bit more. This weather’s been helping; they’re blooming like crazy.” She looked at the next plant an put down the scissors to pinch off another malformed bud. “That is, if we don’t lose too many more. Sixteen.” She squashed the bud and threw it onto the paving stones, then took up her shears again. “Why don’t you go find Fauna and see if she’s ready for these? I’m almost done.”

Flora stood up slowly, favoring her stiff joints as she walked to the small shed at the back of the yard. Merryweather turned and watched her enter the shed, then come back out and wave, mouthing, “she’s in here, I’ve found her.” Merryweather looked back down at the flowers an cut another perfect bloom from the plants and put it in the basket with the others, ignoring with effort, it’s small breathless cry as it is separated from its stem.

Flora discovered the babies quite by accident, seven years ago. Actually, it was closer to nine years but she didn’t tell her sisters that; she felt it make them hate her for keeping the secret to herself for so long. She had been weeding in the annual bed they planted every spring on Mama’s grave when she heard the cries. She lifted her head and glanced around her for the source, but there were no babies within hearing distance. Their house was too far out in the country for that. No, it was much closer, and much smaller, and it wasn’t until she bent back to her weeding that she heard it again, right next to her ear.

She kept her head very still and listened, looking at the ground. When she heard it again, it seemed to emanate from her Mother’s grave, low to the ground and very faint. She slowly turned her head until she was looking directly at the marigolds nodding on their stems next to her face. She couldn’t really believe what she was hearing but, it was definitely coming from the flowers. Before she knew what she was doing she reached out a finger and touched the nearest blossom. The crying started anew and spread to the other blossoms until she felt she was nearly suffocating in small cries and chokes and newborn sniffles, all coming from the marigolds on her Mother’s grave.

From that day on, she knelt by the flowers at least once a day, little by little unearthing the enormity of her discovery. She found that the flower-babies, as she liked to call them, liked the sun and rarely cried when the weather was good, but on cloudy days they whimpered and grizzled until she couldn’t stand it any longer and retreated into the house to escape their cries. Thy didnt like it when she weeded: that almost always threw them into full-blown tantrums, but she weeded anyway, with balls of cotton stuffed in her ears because she couldn’t bear the thought of Mama’s grave covered with weeds. But, what they liked the most was when Flora knelt down in the dirt and put her face right in amongst them, sang to them, and told them little stories of April rain showers an butterflies. Then she could actually hear them laugh and giggle in their high-pitched infant voices, and it made her smile, thinking of their happiness.

She began to take careful notice of their growth, finding that the largest and healthiest buds bore the flower-babies with the heartiest laughs and the best dispositions.

One day, before Flora knew what she was doing, she reached out and plucked a deformed bud from its stem, and then watched in horror as it wriggled and twisted in her palm, until it finally died several minutes later. She determined never to kill another one again, but soon she found she couldn’t bear the shrill screams of the disfigured blooms that emerged from the diseased buds. The poor things were in constant pain, she could tell because they were the ones that never ceased crying, even when she snuck out of the house and sang lullabies to them in the dead of night. So, she took to plucking the ill-fated buds and then squashing them between her fingers immediately. She hoped it was a merciful end.

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Things might have gone on like this forever if it weren’t for something that happened two years after Flora discovered her flower-babies. The sisters were expecting the minister and his wife for dinner, and Merryweather sat with the visitors in the parlor, laughing and talking. When Flora walked smiling into the dining room to see if dinner was ready, Fauna was setting the first course on the table. Flora stopped abruptly in the doorway of the room, watching her sister with her heart in sudden spasms. Fauna carried out two more salad plates and set them on the table. It was a beautiful salad, green and fresh, but what caused Flora’s shocked silence was the garnish: a wonderful contrast of yellow and orange marigold petals sprinkled over the greenery of the salads. She almost fainted, thinking of it, but she breathed deeply and sat down at her place at the table, silently eating her salad with the others. Actually, it was quite delicious and the pastor could not stop praising it, causing Fauna to blush.

It wasn’t until all three sisters and the ministers wife discovered their unexpected pregnancies the next month that Flora made the connection and told Fauna and Merryweather about the flower-babies. Of course the sisters could not let their pregnancies continue. On the next full moon Fauna concocted a potion of herbs and oils, which aborted their babies, kneeling together on the bathroom floor and crying softly in each others arms. Hiwever, the minister’s wife gave birth the following spring to a beautiful baby boy with yellow eyes flecked with orange and gold and fine brown hair the color or rich, fertile earth. That is when Merryweather had, what she called, “the idea”.

She got up from her knees beside the grave and carried her basket to the shed, opening her eyes wide as she stepped into the gloom. The smell in the shed always reminded her simultaneously of wide-open fields of wheat and the cramped space of the church confessional. Flora and Fauna looked up briefly from the large pot that simmered over the small stove. Merryweather asked, “is it ready yet?”

“Almost,” said Flora, and the steam from the pot curled around her head, like a halo in the shadows. Fauna added a few more spoonfuls if sugar to the mixture and Merryweather took the flowers over to the pot, waiting for Fauna’s nod of approval. It was Fauna, the most proficient cook among them, who had turned out to be the best at making the tea. Somehow, Flora’s came out strong and bitter while Merryweather’s smelled of spoiled milk, even though they all had followed the same recipe. When Fauna leaned her head over the pot and breathed deeply, drawing the steam down into her lungs and holding it there, Flora and Merryweather held their breaths too, waiting. Fauna finally let her breath out, all at once, in a whoosh that stole the steam from around their heads and carried it to the farthest corners of the shed; she nodded with a smile.

“One if the best, I think,” Fauna said and then reached for Merryweather’s basket. “It’s time for the flowers.” She took the basket, then looked at Merryweather and Flora. “Do you have your cotton in?”

“Of course,” said Merryweather too quickly. She really did hate this part, when the blooms were added to the brew. She couldn’t understand why they all had to be there when the flower-babies were cooked, but her sisters had insisted they do it together. Somehow it had made them closer: acting as accomplices in some dirty deed, even though they knew they were really helping scores of women conceive darling little babies with yellow eyes and earth brown hair because if what they did there, in the gloom of the potting shed. It was almost shameful, like having your slip show in church, only much worse. But, at least they did it together, with cotton shoved down deep in their ears to dampen the guilt.

Fauna held the basket over the boiling liquid, then quickly, without hesitation, she dumped the flowers into the pot. Flora folded her arms over her chest and watched the flower-babies swirl and sink into the tea. The tea immediately began to change; the color of marigolds diffusing through the liquid and turning the brew from a nondescript brown to a pale, iridescent yellow-orange. She closed her eyes, imagining that she could hear the flower-babies as they died, just to make her,self feel some of the guilt she had felt the first time they did this. But the cotton balls worked, as they always did. She was only able to hear the familiar hushed roaring, like some great sea off in the distance. When she opened her eyes again, her sisters were looking at her with stem-haloed concern on their darkened faces.

“I’m sorry. I just got dizzy for a moment,” Flora said, trying to smile but Fauna took her by the arm and led her outside into the brightness of the morning sun and left there without a word. Flora stood there for a minute, the sun setting around her shoulders like an old blanket, warm and familiar. Then, glancing behind her to make sure Fauna had gone back to the shed, she strode over to Mama’s grave and knelt by the marigolds.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry,” she whispered, and the flower-babies gurgled and laughed at the sound of her voice. A warm breeze skipped across the yard and the blossoms bobbed and danced in the wind. Flora could almost hear them forgiving her as they always did, even when she was killing them. She lay face down in the dirt next to the grave, pressing her tear stained cheek into the sun warmed earth. Her eyes closed while she ran her hardened fingers through the moist soil and stroked the leaves of the flower-babies, gently touching their petals, and when she encountered a withered bud she plucked and crushed it between her thumb and forefinger, without thinking twice.

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Stairway to Dishcloths

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I feel really strongly about making supplies for the home in the home. It is a lost art. People are too quick to buys things that cost too much money, have wrapping that just goes in landfills, and is of a lower quality.

This is a neat dishcloth pattern that looks like descending stairs. It is basic enough for even a beginner, but has enough bumps to scrub your pots and pans clean without scratching them.

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Size 5 straight needles
Worsted weight cotton yarn

Cast on 38 stitches

Rows 1-4: P1, K1 , P1, *K2, P1, K1, P1,
repeat from* to end of row.

Row 5: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 6: P1, K1 , P1, *K4, P4, repeat from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 7: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 8: P1, K1 , P1, *K4, P4, repeat from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 9: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 10: P1, K1 , P1, K2,*P4, K4,
repeat from* to last 5 stitches end; K2, P1, K1, P1.

Row 11: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 12: P1, K1 , P1, K2,*P4, K4,
repeat from* to last 5 stitches end; K2, P1, K1, P1.

Row 13: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 14: P1, K1, P1, *P4, K4, across from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 15: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 16: P1, K1, P1, *P4, K4, across from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 17: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 18: P1, K1 , P1, P2, *K4, P4, across from* to last 5 stitches, end; P3, K1, P1.

Row 19: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 20: P1, K1 , P1, P2, *K4, P4, across from* to last 5 stitches, end; P3, K1, P1.

Row 21: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 22: P1, K1 , P1, *K4, P4, repeat from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 23: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 24: P1, K1 , P1, *K4, P4, repeat from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 25: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 26: P1, K1, P1, K2,*P4, K4, P1,
repeat from* to last 5 stitches end; K2, P1, K1, P1.

Row 27: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 28: P1, K1, P1, K2,*P4, K4, P1,
repeat from* to last 5 stitches end; K2, P1, K1, P1.

Row 29: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 30: P1, K1 , P1, *P4, K4, across from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 31: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 32: P1, K1, P1, *P4, K4, across from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 33: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 34: P1, K1 , P1, P2, *K4, P4, across from* to last 5 stitches, end; P3, K1, P1.

Row 35: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 36: P1, K1 , P1, P2, *K4, P4, across from* to last 5 stitches, end; P3, K1, P1.

Row 37: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 38: P1, K1, P1, *K4, P4, repeat from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 39: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 40: P1, K1, P1, *K4, P4, repeat from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 41: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 42: P1, K1, P1, K2,*P4, K4, P1,
repeat from* to last 5 stitches end; K2, P1, K1, P1.

Row 43: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 44: P1, K1, P1, K2,*P4, K4, P1,
repeat from* to last 5 stitches end; K2, P1, K1, P1.

Row 45: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 46: P1, K1, P1, *P4, K4, across from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 47: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 48: P1, K1, P1, *P4, K4, across from* to last 3 stitches, end; P1, K1, P1.

Row 49: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 50: P1, K1, P1, P2, *K4, P4, across from* to last 5 stitches, end; P3, K1, P1.

Row 51: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Row 52: P1, K1, P1, P2, *K4, P4, across from* to last 5 stitches, end; P3, K1, p1.

Row 53: P1, K1, P1, K to last 3 stitches, P1, K1, P1.

Rows 54-56: P1, K1 , P1, *K2, P1, K1, P1, repeat from* to end of row.

Row 57: Bind off in pattern.

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Movie Review: Mama, Just Killed a Man…

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Before I saw Mama in theaters, I knew nothing about it. I don’t have TV channels so I miss a lot of commercials (Yay!) and movie trailers (Boo). All I knew was that it was a PG-13 horror movie, which was fine because I am always down for a scary movie, good or bad. Bad movies have value for me, comedic value (ba da bum).

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Although Mama has many traditional ad classic horror story elements, it is a true continuation of Guillermo del Toro’s work and style by mixing the genre with universal elements like family and love, but also how a mother’s love can be found in the most unlikely of places.

The story begins with Jeffrey (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau), a classic narcissist who decides that it would be easier to kill his family and then himself rather than face his apparent financial and violent crimes. After murdering his estranged wife, Jeffrey kidnaps his two young daughters, Victoria (Megan Charpentier) and Lilly (Isabelle Nélisse). He takes off at a ridiculous speed, with kids in tow, causing the car to spin out of control and off of the snowy mountain road. Having survived the accident, Jeffrey and the girls wander the frigid and wintry woods until they discover a seemingly empty and intentionally cliché cabin.

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Five years later, the girl’s Uncle and Jeffrey’s brother, Lucas (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, yes again lol), has been spending all of his time and money looking for the missing girls. His hired investigators finally find the cliché in the woods along with the two little girls still living in the cabin. But, Jeffrey is no where to be found.

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After being alone for the past 5 years, the girls have reverted to a feral and primitive state in order to survive the harsh conditions without the love and care of an adult. Once rescued, the girls work with a psychologist, Dr. Dreyfuss (Daniel Kash), who uncovers an imaginary caregiver that the girls created to give them the love and attention that developing children require. They called her Mama, but is she only in their imaginations?

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Staying true to his own style, as executive producer of Mama, Guillermo del Toro presents a horror story that has universally true themes such as the love between a child and a mother and loving non-traditional family structures.

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I really enjoyed Nikolaj Coster-Wadau in both of his roles because of his convincing nature and because both parts were written so well by director Andrés Muschietti, Barbara Muschietti, and Neil Cross. The girl’s Father, Jeffrey, was a wealthy businessman but also very evil and cowardly while his brother, Lucas, was a compassionate and kind starving artist. The same actor playing polar opposite roles could have been lame and corny but instead, I found it quite striking and moving. Coster-Wadau was so convincing that I had to look him up on imdb to make sure that both parts were him.

I really did like this movie so I will keep all of my soiler-comments to myself. If you did want to discuss the more specific parts of the film email me at bohemianmamameg@gmail.com

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Black Bean and Red Quinoa Soup

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That is the view of the creek that is behind my house. Looking back there on this winter morn with my coffee in hand, I contemplated what to make with dinner tonight. What better than soup to warm our frozen bones?

This soup is a real crowd pleaser. While I eat a mostly vegetarian/vegan and gluten-free diet, my lover and kids eat meat. This soup is so yummy, it makes everyone ask for more. Even my picky eaters (kids) gobble this up.

I like to top mine with pico de gallo, avocado, and tortilla chips but you can garnish it with anything you like:)

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Black Bean and Red Quinoa Soup

Gluten-free
Vegan

Serves: 6
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cooking Time: 20 minutes

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 yellow medium onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can diced tomatoes, with liquid
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 cup quinoa
2 large carrots, diced
1 1/2 cups frozen corn, cooked
2 bay leaves
6 cups vegetable broth, divided
1 24 oz can black beans
1/3 cup chopped cilantro

Serving garnish suggestion:
Avocado
Tortilla chips

1. Preheat a large pot over medium heat. Saute onion in olive oil with a pinch of salt for about 5 minutes, until translucent.

2. Add garlic and saute with the onions for a few seconds. Then cumin, oregano and red pepper flakes and cook for a minute.

3. Add quinoa, carrots, and bay leaves, and then pour in 2 cups of the broth. Cover and bring to a boil. Let boil for 5 minutes or so, until al dente.

4. Add the remainder of the broth, the black beans and tomatoes, both with their liquid, corn, and the cilantro. Cover and bring to a boil, then remove the lid, lower heat to a simmer and cook for 10 more minutes or so, to cook the quinoa the rest of the way.

5. Taste for salt and seasonings and let sit for 30 minutes or so to allow the flavors to marry and settle. Remove bay leaves and serve. Bon appetit!

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Meet the Girls

I thought for my very first post I would introduce the world to my girls: Marley, Charlie, and Luna. I have written a little something about each of them but also, I asked them a series of questions and posted their answers. I do not live and die by the zodiac but I find meaningful similarities in the girl’s personalities. Meet my wild women 🙂

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Marley

Marley Marie is my oldest daughter. At 7, she is beyond her years with a dry sense of humor and logical intelligence. She has grown into a beautiful and talented girl.

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A typical Virgo, she has not one prejudicial bone in her body. School comes easy to her which may be a motivational problem for her later on. She brightens even the darkest days with her smile but it hides a sensitive nature that easily gets hurt and damaged. Everyone adores her and she has love for everyone she meets; a natural empathetic and compassionate demeanor.

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1. What magical power would you like to have?
The power to change the weather from cold to hot.

2. What food could you eat forever?
Pizza, the sausage and pepperoni kind.

3. What food would you like to never eat again?
Spanish rice because it tastes weird and hot.

4. What animal would you like to be?
A monkey of course.

5. Where would you like to live most: the ocean, the moon, the jungle, or back in time with dinosaurs?
The jungle because that is where monkeys live.

6. If you could pick, what name would you like to be called?
Rose

7. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
The mall to go shopping.

8. What do you like best about Charlie?
She gets really excited about everything. Everything is a big deal.

9. What do you like best about Luna?
She is polite.

10. What is your favorite song?
Born to Die by Lana Del Rey

11. What do you love most in the world?
Spending time with my family.

12. What are you best at?
spelling tests

13. What are you not so good at?
Cleaning my room.

14. What is a pet peeve of yours?
When someone screams really loud in your ear. Like Charlie.

15. Who is your hero?
My Mom because I like her personality and Lana Del Rey

16. What is your favorite season?
Summer because we can swim; it is hot and we can play outside everyday.

17. What is your favorite movie?
Joe Dirt and Napoleon Dynamite.

18. What is your favorite book?
Flat Stanley

19. What is your favorite memory?
When we went to Pennsylvania and Sesame Place to ride on rides.

20. What would you do to make the world a better place?
Plant more trees and flowers.

Charlie

Charlie Given is my middle child and she fits the stereotype exactly. Looking much older than 5, she has a very young but determined soul. A true Scorpio, she is overwhelmingly passionate and sensitive.

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Hard headed and stubborn, Charlie is what I call my “contrary child” who has to want the contrary to everything I do or say. She believes in magic and gets confused about what is real and what is imaginary; I love that about her. She loves to get carried away with movies, stories, and scary thoughts until she is terrified. She lives in a beautiful world where anything is possible and I am lucky enough to live there with her.

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1. What magical power would you like to have?
Fire Power

2. What food could you eat forever?
Grilled cheese sandwiches

3. What food would you like to never eat again?
Hot peppers and anything spicy

4. What animal would you like to be?
A unicorn

5. Where would you like to live most: the ocean, the moon, the jungle, or back in time with dinosaurs?
Back in time with dinosaurs because it is beautiful there.

6. If you could pick, what name would you like to be called?
Sarah

7. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Fantasy Island to ride rides

8. What do you like best about Marley
She is silly and makes me laugh sometimes.

9. What do you like best about Luna?
When she keeps slapping me in the face because it really doesn’t hurt me.

10. What is your favorite song?
Trouble by Taylor Swift

11. What do you love most in the world?
Unicorns because they are fancy and beautiful.

12. What are you best at?
Singing

13. What are you not so good at?
I’m not very goo at guitar

14. What is a pet peeve of yours?
When things go MEEEH MEEEH MEEEH and not work. It gives me a headache.

15. Who is your hero?
President George Washington because I like his picture at my school.

16. What is your favorite season?
Summer because we can get warm in water and we can play with the sun.

17. What is your favorite movie?
Blades of Glory and Paul.

18. What is your favorite book?
Ruby’s Valentine

19. What is your favorite memory?
Going to Sesame Place an riding the roller coaster. Myrtle Beach too.

20. What would you do to make the world a better place?
Free pizza for everybody.

Luna

Luna Jane is my youngest clocking in at just 2 years old. Getting to know her better everyday, Luna looks young but is more independent than her older sisters.

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She doesn’t have much to say quite yet but when she speaks, her intentions, wants, and needs are loud and clear. Like many Aquarians, Luna chooses not to conform or follow her sissies every move. She enjoys playing by herself at times. Her favorite toy is a stuffed lady dog (from Lady and the Tramp). She is a genuine little souls who is able to identify her family members feelings and empathize with us.

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1. What is your name?
Pretty Lula

2. What makes you happy?
stickers happy

3. What is your favorite food?
bananas and popcorn

4.Who is Luna’s best friend?
Elmo

5. What makes you sad?
no foo foo

6. What is your favorite animal?
monster

7. Where do you live?
here

8. What do you want to be when you grow up?
monster

9. Where is your favorite place to go?
Go bye bye Gabby’s

10. How old is Mommy?
Old lady
How old is Daddy?
Old lady

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