*It's a reviewer thank you time! Thank you to Gothic Valley Girl, Max, Krystar, beeluvztin, FrannieGurl2006, anastasia, brittney, and infinitykat for your great reviews! Keep 'em coming! Also, I might want to add, Debbie Travis has her own TV show, The Painted House. She is a wonderful designer. She does such cool stuff...not all that modern crap you see today which is made 98% from pony-skin and costs 10 billion dollars. She makes mostly her own stuff. Her website is: [1]www.thepaintedhouse.com. I did not make her up.... just so you all know! *
-That night-
My room in the palace is going to be great. I can't wait until it's ready. Grandmere says she's going to take pictures of it when she goes back.
To which I had to reply "GOING BACK?!".
Her answer to that was, of course:
"Yes Amelia, I have been in New York far too long. I must go back to Genovia in order to get things done! For a few weeks, however, your table manners are atrocious!"
Let's hope the baggage handlers don't go on strike again. I sincerely hope they don't.
After that, my Dad walked in and was all:
"Dear Lord, Mother, if she hasn't got it by now she's never going to! What with you and your severe hollering!" (In a whiny voice) "Left foot-heeeeel toe. Point your toes. Heel toe, point, point, point!"
When Dad gets pissed off, he reeeeeeeeeally shows it.
-Next Morning, homeroom-
This morning, I woke up to the sound of Fat Louie coughing up a hairball.
Only he didn't stop after the hairball came out. He coughed and coughed until Mr. G. came into my room and whacked him on the butt. This only caused him to cough up some blood, and collapse. At the moment he is at the Greenwich Village Animal Care Unit, probably having some expensive surgery being done to him. Or he could be dead.
I wanted to come with Mom, only she said I couldn't. Mr. G. sided with her, saying it would be just that more difficult for me, having to wait in the waiting room.Routine, Routine, and more Rountine is what I need. Mr. G couldn't go either. He has an eleventh grade advanced math course he just has to get to. Mom said she'd page Lars if and when anything bad or good happens.
And to think yesterday I was positively psyched for Grandmere's vacation.
I think I could cry.
-At home-
Fat Louie requires a long stay in the pet care unit. He ruptured a throat valve, or something like that. All I know is that for the first time since I was 6, I have no little kitty with me.
Think of all the kitty-massages I have given him, all the cans of seafood feast I have fed to him.
If there are bumps at the bottom of my page, it is only because I am crying.......even as I write this.
I'm too sad to do anything. I think I'll call Lilly....or Michael.
*A/N: I am sorry for the sad one, I'll update Saturday. If I don't, I give full permission for sad, sad, reviews!*
References
1. http://www.thepaintedhouse.com/
-That night-
My room in the palace is going to be great. I can't wait until it's ready. Grandmere says she's going to take pictures of it when she goes back.
To which I had to reply "GOING BACK?!".
Her answer to that was, of course:
"Yes Amelia, I have been in New York far too long. I must go back to Genovia in order to get things done! For a few weeks, however, your table manners are atrocious!"
Let's hope the baggage handlers don't go on strike again. I sincerely hope they don't.
After that, my Dad walked in and was all:
"Dear Lord, Mother, if she hasn't got it by now she's never going to! What with you and your severe hollering!" (In a whiny voice) "Left foot-heeeeel toe. Point your toes. Heel toe, point, point, point!"
When Dad gets pissed off, he reeeeeeeeeally shows it.
-Next Morning, homeroom-
This morning, I woke up to the sound of Fat Louie coughing up a hairball.
Only he didn't stop after the hairball came out. He coughed and coughed until Mr. G. came into my room and whacked him on the butt. This only caused him to cough up some blood, and collapse. At the moment he is at the Greenwich Village Animal Care Unit, probably having some expensive surgery being done to him. Or he could be dead.
I wanted to come with Mom, only she said I couldn't. Mr. G. sided with her, saying it would be just that more difficult for me, having to wait in the waiting room.Routine, Routine, and more Rountine is what I need. Mr. G couldn't go either. He has an eleventh grade advanced math course he just has to get to. Mom said she'd page Lars if and when anything bad or good happens.
And to think yesterday I was positively psyched for Grandmere's vacation.
I think I could cry.
-At home-
Fat Louie requires a long stay in the pet care unit. He ruptured a throat valve, or something like that. All I know is that for the first time since I was 6, I have no little kitty with me.
Think of all the kitty-massages I have given him, all the cans of seafood feast I have fed to him.
If there are bumps at the bottom of my page, it is only because I am crying.......even as I write this.
I'm too sad to do anything. I think I'll call Lilly....or Michael.
*A/N: I am sorry for the sad one, I'll update Saturday. If I don't, I give full permission for sad, sad, reviews!*
References
1. http://www.thepaintedhouse.com/