Two years ago i had gotten chroniclely sick. I was in seventh grade at the time. Terrible stomach pain and on going vomiting. I went from doctor to doctor and they all said the same thing “I am a mystery girl.” just what i wanted to hear right.My mom and dad pulled me out of school for the rest of the year. It was so tragic i could hardly stand it. I was so dehydrated so weak i was also losing a lot of weight and i was not fat to begin with.

School is out now and i am starting a new school for a fresh start. still sick and not eating all day i signed up for girls basket ball. What a mistake i was too tired to carry on. i felt bad for my mom and dad i felt like a terrible burden. what parent wouldn’t want there child to be 100% healthy? Well i also got pulled out of that school for the same reasons. That year passed i was home alone all day and it was really getting to me. lots of testing also but no answers. the doctors put me on lots of acid reducers but since i have been taking acid replacers i have been much better.

I am going to start a new school year and make lots of new friends. What i have learned from all this is to really thank god for your health, in one second everything can change. i had never of thought that i would have gotten sick for two years. So remember to enjoy life give lots of hugs and kisses and thank god for your health.

Eve

Today for breakfast Melinda decided that she wanted chocolate muffins. So she found a recipe on the internet and we started making them! …Well, actually, she made them, I just read the directions. Anyway, the fun thing about this was that we had to use the oven. What’s so funny about using an oven? Well, I’ll tell you. When I first arrived here one of the things Melinda warned me about was the Smoke Detectors. “They go off at the tiniest hint of smoke,” she noted. “They are very sensitive.”

It’s been about two months now (Holy Jersey Cow! Thats quite a while!) and I haven’t heard them go off once! I admit, I began to wonder if the Claybrooks really had been telling the truth. (Haha, just kidding) They mentioned that if the oven was ever used, or if the toaster was ever used, then the Smoke Detectors would go off. (Let’s just say, my Toast and Jelly days were finally over, just because I’m too afraid to use the toaster)

Then the other thing about the Smoke Detectors: They are all linked. If one of them goes off then they all go off. It’s like when a baby cries during the Sunday meeting. When one starts, they all start. And before you know it the entire congregation is crying. Even the ones that aren’t children. -Or like when you yawn. If a person sees you or hears you or even thinks about yawning, they unavoidably, without fail yawn too. How bizarre is that!?

So, the chocolate muffins were made and divided up into their own little hole, then placed in the oven to cook. After about ten minutes or so Melinda asked me, very serious, I might add, if I was ready. I had to ask why.

“Because,” she said handing me a checkered hand towel with an earnest look, “I’m going to open up the oven and the Smoke Alarm is going to go off.”

I took the hand towel slowly from her grasp and remained in the hallway, just under the small white sensor pressed against the ceiling, while she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Okay!” she hollered. “I’m opening the oven!”

Quick as a flash Melinda opened the oven and quick as a flash she yanked the muffins from the depths of the oven. (She did it so fast, in fact, that on the last round, more than half the muffins fell to the ground. It was really rather funny. I laugh just thinking about it! Of course, they’re were only three muffins in the pan to begin with, but hey, it was still more than half)

I remained under the detector watching as Melinda worked. So far the alarm hadn’t gone off and I was beginning to wonder if it ever would. I guess I wasn’t too surprised when it finally did. (Beep! Beep! Beep!) I was a little busy laughing at folly’s to fan the smoke away. Melinda came round bopped me lightly on the head with another towel and started whipping away the smoke from around the abhorrent sphere.

Although I had plenty of good laughs at this small act, I was a little disappointed that I had not been entreated to the full effect. The alarm only went off twice. The other detectors in the house hadn’t had a chance to go off yet. Oh well. I’d like to say simply, “better luck next time” but somehow that doesn’t seem to fit right. Oh well.

When we were each done eating our muffins (which turned out rather well, if I do say so myself) we decided on a couple of things. The house, for one, is a boy. The car, however, is a girl. The car is a girl simply because she has her days of when she feels like starting or not. Plus, it just looks like a girl. Then the house is a boy because, as Melinda put it, “It makes weird noises.” And it does. Really. Whenever I find myself home alone, the house makes the strangest of sounds. There are times I even think that I’m not alone, because it makes so much noise. We also decided that the smoke detectors alone aren’t really a he or a she. They’re just an “it“.

So yeah. That’s how my day went. Interesting hu? ….yeah, you’re right. It was actually very boring….Oh well. That’s life!

I guess the lesson to be learned here is that the unpredictabilities of life are indeed very unpredictable. Strange things can happen and quite often do. …-Oh, and another lesson is that you should always have a towel handy when cooking muffins. You wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors or give yourself a heart attack.

Julia Willis

From my experience, my friends and I can eat hot dogs more quickly than most people would assume.

It was the summer of 2003, and Eggy, Hot Nickels and I were coping with living under our parents’ roofs again. We had just finished our freshman years of college and had developed quite a taste for the sweet freedom of late nights and no supervision. The old high school jobs, girlfriends, and haunts seemed trifling in comparison to the debauchery and excess to which we had grown accustomed, and so when I saw the ad for the Chadds Ford Tavern’s annual hot dog eating contest, I was more than a little excited. It so clearly belonged to the world we now knew, the world of dorm cafeteria milk chugging challenges, drunken sledding, and Red Bull fueled all-night cram sessions.

Now, Hot Nickels is a man with large appetites for the greasier and unholier things in life, so I knew he would be easily convinced. I called him and explained the rules, 5pm, $10 to enter, 20 minutes to gorge, winner takes 1/2 the entrance money. His reaction was pitch perfect. “I mean, I’d pay $10 for all the hot dogs I could eat anyway, so I might as well try to make a buck.” Eggy, on the other hand, is the kind of guy who will place a dollar bet on who can land a loogie closest to a fire hydrant, so, while he knew that Hot Nickels would be the odds-on favorite among our crew, he couldn’t resist trying his hand.

As the event neared, it became the sole topic of conversation in our late night bull sessions. We talked strategy (I insisted that slow and steady would win the race, while Hot Nickels championed the “all out eating assault” method, but he could never explain what that actually meant), training regimens (I was certain that drinking mass quantities of water in the days leading up to it would expand my stomach, though I never actually followed through on it), and who our likely competition would be (“we better be ready fellas, because I’m sure the best eaters come from all over state to compete”). The day arrived, and Hot Nickels picked us both up in his wood-paneled Cutlass Cruiser and drove us into the Tavern’s parking lot. We were surprised that the lot had plenty of empty spots for what was, in our minds, a very big deal.

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Your type of drink can say something about who you are – if you believe the marketing companies who target the mass markets with multi-million dollar commercials and campaigns. But how much can this information be trusted?

Enjoying both beers and wines is not a mutually exclusive pastime – I personally drink both and conform with neither stereotypical image of either drinker – I’m not a young stud hanging out with great looking babes in a bar while ice-cold longnecks are guzzled by the truck load nor a wrinkly, liberal-looking, spectacle-wearing foodie with leather patches on my elbows.

The global cultural significance of wine and beer is due mostly to their extremely long histories. Who actually invented beer and wine is lost in time, but both originated from the Middle East and probably have been made since Neolithic times (around 5000 B.C.) – certainly the ancient Egyptians and various empires based to the East of the Mediterranean Sea have documented wines and beers as well as irrefutable archaeological evidence.

Certainly in those ancient times, there was no such thing as an NFL or Nascar event while cheese & wine parties were not exactly on the social menu. The division of potential consumers using marketing, and by extension, social stereotypes for beer and wine markets has created a false picture of who actually drinks them. Since wine producers in California started making headway in international markets bck in the 80’sWine was the alcoholic drink of the masses in Europe and not the upper crust – beer was drunk as water, simply because it was safe to drink due to the alcohol content and in fact, beer was not brewed for the purpose of getting drunk, at least, not in the beginning but to purify water.

Mass production of beer really started in the 20^th Century – in previous centuries other forms of alcohol dominated demand for getting smashed – and wine was one of the dominant beverages. With mass production came mass marketing and for beer sales, blue collar workers were targeted with drinks which were ice-cold and quenched thirst after a hard day’s work. Girls, cars, smiling friends and being Mr. Popular in the bar were all part of the marketing mix thrown at potential beer drinkers being sold on fizzy, yellow brews. The small breweries with a good brew have been left at the margins of the beer industry and appreciated by beer aficionados.

Marketing perception is rarely an accurate reflection of reality, if you consider that wine was discovered probably at an earlier date than beer from the archaeological evidence, wine would appear to have been the caveman’s first choice of fermented brew. If a caveman preferred wine to beer, this hardly matches the marketing perception that beer drinkers do not have taste nor being a hard-working macho-man precludes you from enjoying wine. If you’re looking for a race to drunkeness, while not advisable, wine is a better candidate since it is more potent.

On the other hand, wine experts and followers will probably point to the labor and skill which goes into creating a fine wine – the reality is that brewing beer also requires just as much artistry and imagination as producing a good bottle of plonk. The plethora of small breweries and family-owned brewers that have maintained their tradition for generations gives testimony to the great diversity of skill, taste, and ingenuity when it comes to making the best alcohol possible.

The bottom line – downing a beer or slurping a wine is not predetermined by social status or marketing categorization – it all comes down to one thing no matter who you are or what you do – your own taste.

By Mark Trumper, the guiding force of MaverickLabel.com, the Internet’s leading provider of labels, custom stickers and custom wine labels. From asset labels to shipping labels to custom wine labels, MaverickLabel.com can provide all of your label needs. Call 1-800-537-8816.

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