Some Book Covers

Ha! Wow. Getting so old. Practically a geezer.

Yeah, anyway, just thought I'd show off some book covers! As an aspiring graphic artiste`, thought I'd get cracking on my portfolio. So without further ado, I present my works of art:

(photography found on weheartit.com... as I've yet to properly photograph my own book covers)

Visitors and Soup

Levi and Kassy pulled into our bumpy, L-shaped driveway last night around 8:30. They brought along the newest addition to their family, an adorable German Shepherd pup christened 'Chewy'.

 I had just finished hurriedly sweeping the house in prep for our guests while Mum kept her eyes glued to the window. Dad played with the touch screen Dell, a concentrated wrinkle in his brow. As for Jesse and Nanner, the other two occupants of the house, they were splayed out in the living room with nothing better to do than play iPad games.

 I had the privilege of being the first to see my older brother, after I'd finished my chores and pulled on a hoodie to head outside. The sky was navy and my eyes caught the glare of two headlights piercing the darkness. A smile lifted on  to my face, I'm sure.

Two groggy figures emerged from the car doors, and I rushed over the slippery driveway-leaves to claim Chewy from Kassy's arms. Priorities, people.

We spent the night catching up with them. It was kind of nice; laughing and exchanging barbed comments with my older brother over a bowl of my Mum's should-be-world-renowned Italian Wedding Soup. It made me flash back to when family time was all the time. To when I shared a house with five older brothers. Now, with the ever-changing present, it's almost sad to stand back and watch myself grow up.

Nano Failure

I officially hate my lack of inspiration. It has ruined NaNo for me.

You know about NaNoWriMo? All of November is devoted to novel writing, for aspiring writers across the world. You have 30 days and 50,000 words... or another goal of your choice. It's now the 13th and how many words do I have? Little over 2,000.

Yeah. Don't think I'll be fulfilling the quota for this year.

I was supposed to finish my book. I was supposed to power through writer's block like a 300-pound linebacker.. but no. I guess not. I guess this year, my novel will have to sit untouched, unwritten, and unread for another 365 days... or however long it takes for this fog of uninspired blah to get lost.

Seriously. I just want to write again.

Tired

Do you ever just feel tired?

Not so much the sleep-deprivation type, where all you have to do to feel justified is blame the seven cans of Mountain Dew you chugged before passing out at 2 AM. That's the simple kind of tired, the kind that lets you indulge in a nice, long nap, and then miraculously it dissolves into normality once more.

But then there's tired. Tired as in mental exhaustion. And it would take more than a fleet of Sith fighter jets lasering the surface of the planet to drag you out of it. You're not sure from what, but you know it hasn't always been this heavy.

 It occurred to me, as I was laying there with my head on my binder during Biology, daydreaming once again about taking a bubble bath in herb-scented soap: I was really freaking exhausted. At the same time, I couldn't think of anything I wanted less than sleep.

Why does that happen? What makes our bodies become internally heavy? My brain feels like it's chained to the back of my head, squished into a balled-up-rag-shaped mush.

It's not just my attention span that it affects. It's everything from Food to Free time. Instead of swallowing five casadillas without taking the time to chew, I feel to exhausted to eat. I'm too exhausted to organize my locker. Put my papers in their respective binder-slots. Brush my hair. Get up.

Pretty soon I get home from school and all I want to do is sit on my computer chair and scroll slowly through Memestache. Over and over again. And when my eyes start to feel like sandpaper, I lay down.

And I'm way too exhausted to make my bed, so it gets to the point where I stop getting up. I just hear my alarm go off in the morning and I lay there for five minutes; ten. The rest of the world is moving fast-paced as always, but I'm stuck in a state of constant REM. Walking REM.

But when I Googled all this stuff, my symptoms told me that I was, like, depressed or something.

And that just seems... sad.

The Flat-Belly Resolution

I had a moment of panic today when I realized my size-9 shorts fit me ah-lawt better than they used to, about ten pounds ago. Argh. Sadness. After-school snacking and a lack of good exercise weather has really taken its toll on me.

So I'm set on shedding my sophomore ten (if that's even a real thing), and I'm not exactly sure how but THE FLAB MUST COME OFF! PRONTO!

After last summer- no, wait, make that two summers ago- after a successful two-month period where I actually got rid of twenty-or-so pounds, I'm thinking recovery is still possible. I just have to sacrifice my after-school casadilla. And probably my beloved Chai Lattes for a while.

As for exercise, we have a rowing machine with a thin layer of dust forming on it, and I think I shall put my viking skills to the test on that one.

It's funny how I've accepted the grown-up truth that I can't lose ten pounds in a week like I really, really want to. But now I've set a reasonable goal, I think, and it involves honoring my once-owned Coon Hound, Penny (who is now the property of some happy farm family off in Wonderland)

If by summer, I can achieve the taut belly that my old hound dog used to have, I will award myself with a Victorias Secret shopping spree. Along with the flat stomach I'm hoping to attain envy-worthy legs as well. Legs that actually look good in cutoff daisy-dukes.

Heh heh. I'm not so sure the daisy dukes will fly with mi padre, but a girl can dream, right?!

So, I Got a Job

So, I got a job.

Yep.

I just finished making my last flyer for the day, so I'm sitting here in the toasty-warm office trying to think of something remotely interesting to write on this blog. As a blogger, I have failed to do this. I have sat here before empty blogger pages time after time and filled up the blankness with paragraphs of nothing.

A short recap of the last six months: freshman year ends, Cheyla spends the summer sitting through driver's ed, sophomore year commences, Cheyla gets job, Cheyla gets an iPhone 4s. The end.

My life is boring.

And that is all.

Skater Wisdom

My last attempts on a skateboard didn't go so well, so I was reluctant to try again now, even if it was a whole year later. On the one hand, breaking my face for a second time and suffering humiliation was pretty low on my to-do list... on the other hand, I am hoping to acquire some skill on the board, and as Jesse so lovingly pointed out to me, if I wasn't willing to get hurt, I might as well sell my board.

So I let him coax me into it again a couple days ago. We drove into downtown Tonasket and took the back alley into the skate park. It was easily ninety degrees out and there were three of us in the front seat of the F250. Llama and I slid out the passengers door and surveyed the empty park with apprehension. Jesse went straight for his board and then headed eagerly for the bowl like he was Tony Hawk or something.

It was my job to push myself down the smallest ramp there possible again and again to regain confidence in my sense of balance. When that went well, I decided to try things a little riskier.

"Keep practicing until you don't look like an idiot while you do it," Jesse told me the discouraging truth. I shot him a look and steadied myself to look as un-idiot as possible.

What started off as a couple successful days of practicing smaller skateboarding feats have now resulted in a series of bumps, bruises, and cuts decorating my arms and legs. And hips. And did I mention elbows?

But as my brother so expertly put it: "Ninety percent of skateboarding is being willing to do stupid stuff over and over again until  you get something right."

(I may have fancied the words up a little bit.)

There's your lesson in wisdom for today.

A First Attempt at Insanity

In an attempt to appease my ever-growing need for exercise, I begged Aunt Chanelle to dig out her Insanity video so I could squeeze some high-intensity cardio and drop a couple pounds before bikini season ends for good. (It makes me so sad to say that). She readily agreed, but asked nonchalantly as she popped  the CD into her Xbox if I knew what I was getting into.

Of course, I had psyched myself up by visualizing that bikini body we women always see so clearly in mind. I just nodded eagerly, tugging at my sweats, and thinking in typical over-achieving Cheyla fashion, this is gonna be no sweat.

Pause. Rewind. If you don't already know, Insanity is this popular workout video that is, true to it's name, INSANE. It's based on short-circuit, high-intensity workouts that are designed to kill you, er, push you to your limits. I was munching on popcorn, splayed out on a hotel bed when I came across an Infomercial on it. Naturally, their six-and-eight pack abdomens were enough of a sell to me.

 Then, when I discovered Chanelle  owned the video, I thought 'aha!'

Okay. So, fast forward again, here I am, reading the fifteen-minute-long WARNING that precedes the home screen. Then there's this huge picture of a bulked-out dude who could be the Incredible Hulk's Cousin. I'm like: Cool! Whatever!

And then I press play. I PRESS PLAY.

Can I just say, I have never done a workout video where the warm up starts so quickly? The dude from the title screen is all, "Why, hello! I'm your trainer! AND HERE WE GO! TWENTY POWER SQUATS! GO GO GOOO!"

So of course I break out into a set of poorly-executed 'power squats', followed with some other crazy maneuvers. Mr. Buff Trainer Dude then proceeds to place intermittent 30-second water breaks, and then moves on to the real workout.

MOTHER OF PEARL.

CHEESE NIBLETS ON FRIDAY.

I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE REAL WORKOUT.

MY BODY IS ON FIIIIIIREEE!!!

Every round just stretches on longer! I sound like Darth Vadar or something, I'm just gasping and wheezing as I rush to keep up, my limbs flailing all over. There's sweat pouring off my forehead, a puddle collecting at my feet. Then finally, finally, he moves into the last stretch, and gives this uber-goober grin at the camera, telling us to keep at it every day, for sixty days, and we'll have our results.

I dropped to the ground, whimpering, feeling for my muscles, begging them for mercy.

At some point, Aunt Chanelle made me drag myself to the shower, because I really stank, apparently.

And there you have it, my first attempt at Insanity. I'm doing it again tonight.

Sadistic Computer

I am going insane. Our dear computer has flaked out on us for a good three months now, allowing itself to be revived in 3-minute intervals at random points in time. I don't know when our how our Dell became a sadist, but evidently it's determined to deprive me the joys of typing on a real keyboard. So now I have been typing on the iPad for what seems like an eternity- one cold, dark eternity of undeserved spell-checks corrections. I even had to scroll through failblog like this. Curse you, computer. You and your stupid blue screen of death. Um, anyway. Moving on. So I'm wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, plopped on the living room floor in my Aunt Chanelle's. Spent an exhausting 8 hours in the car today, escaping Tonasket just in time to miss the best storm of the season. Hmmph. It was one of those awesome, thunder-and-lightining type, hail streaming from the sky, everyone facebooking about it. Wanted to stand outside and reenact dramatic movie scenes, just to make good use of the weather. Tomorrow I'm going paint balling. I've got my kevlar vest in the car, and my AK-47 is in good repair. Now I'm going to pass out. Because I'm seriously exhausted.

Various Updates of Awesomeness

It occurs to me that I have blog-design ADD. Due to the fact that I have posted nothing meaningful for the past two weeks, I thought I ought to at least share that self-diagnoses with you guys.

Eight followers. Wow. Eight people in the entire web clicked on my blog and found me entertaining enough to cyber-stalk. Is it just me or is that dismal? There's a cheese fan group on Facebook that has more subscribers than I do.

Then again, who am I to compete with mozzarella?

For any who are interested, I have officially survived my first entire year of public high school, and I now remain the sole member of my family still going to school, and will continue to hold that honorary title for the next three years.

Jesse got his GED. Dakota and Gabe- both graduated. The other two finished high school a long time ago. The rate at which we're all growing up seems to be alarming, with almost everyone employed save for Jesse and I. This summer I'm stuck with endless hours of Driver's Ed, which means I still won't be able to sleep in.

I added another job to my potential-career-possibilities list: Video Game Graphics Designer. Technically speaking, it's still a job in Art. That in mind, the full list is up to three- not including my inevitable job as a successful published author.

In Honor of Jude lives. The manuscript is currently in re-write mode, since I decided to start fresh several months ago. The characters, plot and storyline live on in my head, but everything's a bit of a jumbled mess that I still need to properly execute.

Till next time.

Ciao!

Coastie

Nothing like a photo such as that to make me feel totally girly. The above was taken a few months ago in a Spokane mall, during a 'Coastie Splurge Trip' as I like to call it. It's funny to me what characterizes a 'coastie' according to valley-goers. Multi-term coffee orders. Brand-name jeans. Smart cars. Typically, city slickers are easy to pick out around here; find someone nervously buying Godiva and bottled water, and viola.

We ogle them like they ogle the deer we see so often grazing alongside the road. I reckon you dangle a Starbucks mug before them and they're baited.

Only joking. Kind of.

Lazy Sunday

Sunday again. It's overcast for the first time this week, kind of a welcome break by my opinion. There's this soft little breeze tickling the apricot-bearers, and I've always thought the whisper somewhat melodic. Anyways.

It's been sort of a fun weekend at casa de Rainey; yesterday the Metric Hogs rode en masse through Republic, up to Bonaparte. A half mile outside of Curlew Gabe's beloved Vulcan had a little engine trouble, postponing lunch for my poor little grumbly tummy. After Dad and Gabe pushed the steel horse to salvation, we finished the ride up to our signature lunch spot and dined on burgers and fries. Well, that is, they dined on burgers and fries; I ordered my usual salad and suffered through endless taunts by Gabe, who stated matter-of-factly that my food was pathetic.

"You're really making fun of me for being healthier than you?" I pointed out as he shoveled food into his face, pausing long enough to raise an eyebrow and say;

"That would bother me if I couldn't outlift you by 100 pounds."

"Yeah, but you couldn't pull off a bikini as well as me."

And even he couldn't argue with that.

Next weekend is bound to be good, given the extra day of relaxation. My plans as of now are up in the air, but they're bound to come down eventually. For now, I'll enjoy a lazy Sunday afternoon and pop in the Alanis Morissette CD Mum requested that I listen to.

A short post, I know, but I'll try and write some again this week.

Break out those sunglasses! Ciao!

Drone Convert

I've been searching out the time, motivation, and muse to sit down and blog again, but finding it gruelingly difficult for a few different reasons.

1) Nothing happens in my life.

2) Nothing happens in my life.

That isn't fair. No, no, I'll retract that... it's just that I feel a little dead inside surveying the amount of posts where all I write is, "I am bored. Nothing happened today"; or, "Today I went to [this place] and blah, blah, blah with so'n'so  and then I went home, and now I am blogging."

Curse my uneventful posts! No wonder I only have...7? 8 followers?

So, now that I've thoroughly berated my subject matter, I find it only fitting to make a new summer's resolution: Blog once a week about something meaningful. Even if it means I have to Google 'things to blog about' on my dad's iPad. Because the computer is evidently under the weather, and not planning on getting better anytime soon. (I'm typing this on my brother's laptop.)

Today's post is actually featuring the newest installation into my life, my major time-sucker: school. Cue creepy music. Yeah, I finally joined the ranks of public-school rats and juvenile-delinquents-in-making. All I need now is a tattoo and leather pants.

Kidding! ♥

Really, the reason I decided to take a peek into the dark side was experimentation at first. Being a home-school success story for the past three years, I didn't really consider anything different until I was handed the choice while washing dishes with Mum on a Sunday night as we discussed my future plans or something like that.

When she asked me if I'd ever considered public school, I realized that I had; never once fathomed it would be an option. But I was wrong, because two days later I was holding my new class schedule and facing a hallway of rushing peers.

It was kind of weird, at first, adjusting to the continuous period-by-period schedule. It was weird being surrounded by so many people who had been doing this every day, who weren't fazed by locker combos (still haven't gotten the hang of mine) or dashing from one classroom to one at the other end of the school in three minutes. It wasn't elementary school where your classmates size you up day one, and friendship starts from there. I had seven different classes, and different sets of students in each one. Cliques and friendships had already solidified by the time I showed up mid-year, and I started to feel like I'd have morph into one of those hermits, hide under a dark hoodie, and listen to emo music just so no one would feel bad that I was sitting there all alone.

But lucky enough for me, my new colleagues took a liking to me after not too long, and all previous fears of loner status were shed completely.

One thing I noticed about the difference between public and home school (aside from having to sacrifice sleeping in on weekdays) is the structure you get. To me, its helpful to have deadlines and schedules. It helps me achieve. Yeah, it's difficult. Like, I'm totally not used to teachers getting in your face and demanding that 3,000-word-count essay on slime molds, because it was apparently due last Tuesday. But you pick it up pretty fast after getting used to 'the system'. I guess it's not for some, but this girl likes it.

Then there's the drawbacks. Time for the con list. My only complaint would have to be this:

When you're stuck into a population of 400-odd students, something's gotta give. In my case it was my academic individuality. At home, where the student population consists of three brothers, it's easy to be the star pupil with shining colours. But try bragging about a three-point-eight at school, and you're met with a couple unimpressed eye rolls. My peers were so not having it. I was initially a little shocked by a subtle grade-drop upon entering school, until I realized that strict adherence to the teachers and instructions was now vital. No more was the occasional format mishap 'no biggie'. It's a biggie.

Then, of course, there's the social aspect of school, the popularity game, the rumour mill, and all those fabu perks to being a publicly educated drone. I'd like to think I'm liberated, free from the cliques and the gossip. As far as the hierarchy goes, I'm not exactly a top dog by any means. But I think I've escaped the bottom-feeders at this point. I have my friends. My acquaintances. So far no enemies, but I'm wary of hungry gossip feeders; if I can avoid them, I've learned, my seas are smooth-sailing.

With the approach of summer, I'll be graciously accepting a two-month break for tanning and Seattle trips. I'll be getting my permit this week (fingers crossed!) and I've officially started putting feelers out for summer jobs. My iPhone committed technology-suicide, and I'm stuck with a backup cell until I can raise enough to get the update.

Until next time, ciao! Let's hope I can find my muse with equal enthusiasm next week! 
  

The Fry

It was kind of awkward seeing The Fry again, after so many months of silence. I hadn't laid eyes on him since the seventh grade, and it appeared (outwardly, at least) that he hadn't changed in the slightest. Neither had I. Still I didn't hesitate sitting down at the computer next to his in the library, even though I fought every urge to turn and look at him. I wondered if I should say something. Something old friends say when they haven't reunited for a while. Except that was just it- we weren't friends, not by any definition. I never talked to him in school besides a passing hello every now and then, and as I recall he was pretty unpopular, and everyone just ignored him. Including me. So I didn't say hi.

 He was suddenly rigid and upright, so I knew he recognized me, too. Still no hello, not from either end. Just an awkward glance that we both exchanged inconveniently at the same time. I had no idea what to say. There was nothing to say. Like I said; we weren't friends. But at the same time, we weren't exactly the opposite, either.

 I guess it just made me a little sad, sitting there, mute. Not acknowledging his existence. Him not acknowledging mine. When he finally got up, gathered his things, and left, I watched him go. And waved.

5 Things That Do Not Make You a Tomboy

Being the only girl= blessing. Major blessing. You might think it would  be utterly horrifying at times... like when I have to clean the bathroom (which I probably should be doing right now), but the honest truth is that I wouldn't have it any other way.

Translate: I am so, so, so glad that I can at least have some minor grasp of understanding how dudes work. 


I feel for my friends. I really do. For one, we're all home-schooled, and that sets us back about ten notches in social life already. Two, its a small town, so take away about five more notches; and three: I am the only one who has interaction with the opposite sex on a regular day-to-day basis. Not counting dads.
What irks me- really irks me- is how much I see girls trying to act like they're pure blood "tomboys" lately. Not just my boy-starved (did I really just say that?) friends, either. Really, what's so wrong with being a little girly sometimes? In fact, there's nothing wrong with being a little of both. But don't try and say that you "never act like a chick", because that just makes me want to scream.
  Today I'm going to clear up a few popular myths about the "Guy's Girl".

1. Adding a "favorite sport" or "favorite athlete" to your Facebook profile.

Seriously, guys? There are lots of girls who like sports. Saying that the New England Patriots are "sooooo keeewwlll" does not qualify you as a tomboy. The same principle goes for saying that you like football. Sitting on the bleachers and cheering on the boys in jerseys does not change the fact that you are a girl sometimes. Unless you can prove your lack of femininity  by getting out there and throwing a clean spiral. In that case, I commend you.

2. "Oh, I get along with guys better than girls. All my friends are guys*."


I hear this all the time. 99.99999% of the time, ^that is total bull crap. As for the other .000001%, you speak for yourself. As far as I'm concerned, a girl will always feel a little more comfortable with her girlfriends  than with guy friends. Its not bad- its just nature. Besides, even if it were true... it makes you a flirt, not a tomboy.

*One of my friends actually told me this was the real, legit reason why they are full-on tomboys. 

3. "I can play video games. Therefore I am a tomboy."


Playing MarioKart does not make you a gamer. End of story.

4. "I hate shopping."


Possibly one of the lamest reasons ever. Being a woman (and this is not any sort of feminist rant, or anything),  being a woman does not automatically mean you like shopping and clothes. There are a lot of girls out there who aren't "tomboys", and they don't enjoy spending 2 hours at Macy's for a shoe sale. Even more to the point, I know of at least 3 of my guy friends who actually do enjoy shopping occasionally. Saying that shopping is a gender-defining activity has to be one of the most annoying pet peeves of mine.

5. Taking a picture of yourself with a jersey team sweatshirt on.


Oh myyy goodd. Every time a girl titles one of those pictures with "Hee hee... just me being a tomboy", a baby seal is poached.

When I say this stuff, I am in no way implying that girls who do this stuff aren't somewhat tomboyish. I just think that girls who do this stuff and then deny being girly at times are total liars. Every girl will act girly, and tomboyish in their life. Urgh... no further comments.

Jump-Starting the Year

With every new year comes change, but sometimes it's more drastic one year from the next. 2012 is bringing in more new challenges this first week than 2011 did in six months for me. In a span of 9 days I got registered for 3 races, and I became a vegan.

Talk about jump starting the year!

So-o-o, I can say for a certainty that I'm nervous... very nervous. I already committed to doing the mud run this June, with my fitness-obsessed Aunt Chanelle and my friend Akela. Because they live 5 hours away, our collaborating on training will have to be Skyped. Knowing that it's up to me to make sure I train and build muscle and endurance is a little intimidating, especially since that's not the only thing on my plate.

Mom and I plan on running the Seattle Rock & Roll Half Marathon (13 miles, in case you didn't know). Luckily we made a pact to go to the gym as much as possible and train with each other. She already has a master regimen planned out-- but then again, there's my mother for you!

Then- as if those two things aren't scary enough- I'm also running a full marathon this October, in Portland!

3 races. 3 grueling fitness challenges that will test my body to it limit. When I pull through- as I'm sure I will- I will only have my training partners to thank. And that stubborn disposition of mine... What's it called... ambition?

As regards to my newly-vegan status- that actually just started today. Last July I pledged to a month of vegetarianism, and I powered through that with little or no trouble. It surprised me how easy it was to drop extra weight by cutting out meat. This time, I've taken a step up by cutting out all animal products- and for 100 days!

Many friends and family- not just me- have decided to do this 100-day challenge. Sky and Dakota have both decided to completely raw vegan as well- only fruits, veggies, and nuts- and my Mom will be doing another juice fast like the one she just completed in November.

It's inspiring to me that so many people are really stepping it up to start 2012 off the right way. By the time 2013 shows up, I want zero regrets. I want to be able to say with confidence that I did all I could this year. And then I can set more goals for the ones to follow.

I'm going to rock my year.

So my question is this... can you?

How To Eat a Baguette

This is an experience I will share- albeit a little shamefully- about my service morning in Kirkland with Chanelle. It's funny how things have a way of getting back at you sometimes. Today I learned that humility overrules humor at the most inconvenient of times.

Our morning started off cheerfully despite the light drizzle of notorious Puget Sound weather. Clouds gathered overhead but we marched cheerfully to our car group shielding the literature from any stray rain drops, should they try and sneak their way through our guard. I sat up front with Chanelle, breathlessly greeted the brothers who had kindly sacrificed their front seats for us, and the morning began.

We weren't three calls into the ministry when it was established that the almost-illustrious coffee break was in order. So we parked outside of QFC and went in search for a Starbucks pick-me-up.

Chanelle detoured to pick up string cheese- you know, the little three-bite pieces of mozzarella for Lunchables and whiny toddlers- claiming near starvation due to lack of breakfast. Then, armed with her two string cheeses, she promptly informed me that she was also going to get a roll to have with them.

So I took a look at the Starbucks menu while she went hunting for those. When she came back, I did a double-take. She was carrying an entire baguette!

"I'm guessing they didn't have bread rolls?" I asked, raising an eyebrow almost mockingly. She said they did not. She said that she still wanted to have some bread to enjoy with her cheese.

I quickly pointed out that her ratio of bread to cheese was way off, but that didn't phase my apparently bread-ravenous Aunt. So we got our coffees, picked up the change, and resumed service as before.

Well I just couldn't stop teasing her about that baguette. My witty repertoire would not be exhausted. Even the guys in the back seat were chiming in after a while, asking if she might want a gallon or two of wine to go with her bread and cheese.

"If this were France or Italy, no one would be questioning me at all," Chanelle grumbled, ripping off a chunk.

The brothers in the back seat called on a man at roughly 11:45, and that was the turning point, because that call seriously lasted an hour. The clock stretched all the way to 12:40, and then I heard it.

Grumble... grumble...

My stomach was sounding the alarm. A none-to-gentle reminder that I hadn't eaten since the small bowl of oatmeal earlier in the morning. I tried to ignore it at first, my dignity too stubborn to let reality sink in, but eventually I had to give in. And so, turning humbly towards Chanelle, I dropped my head in shame.

"Is there any of that baguette left?"

A symphony of trumpets could not have competed against the sound of my aunt's laughter ringing mercilessly. I then proceeded to scarf down roughly a third of the baguette which was left. For the rest of the time I remained totally silent, bitterly cursing my feeble stomach.

So I guess you could say I learned a lesson in humility. If ever there was anything I could advise you, it would be this-

Never underestimate the power of irony.