tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63850645307492197522024-03-05T22:32:20.951-06:00Ickle Me Pickle MeSloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-51598692241958731152010-12-25T18:47:00.003-06:002010-12-25T19:03:24.476-06:00<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZV_mUPFKDQEnsup2tFXD-CXs6k69zHVsoz1WpeZNdwR1DCy3VdQYxpRa996N-PfPr17_S0cUmr9oRYa8MHWeQ3zlFENz0L5Tyjvsza7rCaBVhA0hrYPV1Zt8gzHqzTYMk0jTE8RUMqfF/s1600/christ+mas+tree.jpg"></a><br /></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">MERRY </span><span style="color:#009900;">CHRISTMAS</span></strong>!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't want to do a post a poetry post . Have a MERRY CHRISTMAS.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 440px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554789910852616370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NflkAmYU_ko0nVgMlCJyEhfgwB1LAXdW1Phq6PPxslJJ1bbCQJodXyd_JuF4iRKzkPAn4dgJ8rDKy7Dt8POT09sIhHd_LI2-P9nx4TyPf6eVFGJzc1JwczgEpXHm-J3dgWf5iAKKEzmY/s400/christ+mas+tree.jpg" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"></div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-84199271146276474952010-11-07T08:46:00.001-06:002010-11-07T08:46:52.098-06:00Running out of time...<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">My birthday is November 9th. Yikes! I don't think I am going to make all my goals. </span><br /><ul><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:georgia;">get back to my Saturday afternoon posts <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >- I'll start next week. I forgot to yesterday. </span><br /></li><li style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><del>get puppies</del></li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">finish addition in rocket math<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >- I'm close. </span></li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><del>start and try to teach puppies how to fetch and obey</del></li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><del>write eight letters to family members</del></li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">decorate my bedroom wall<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >- Mom says we can do this on my birthday since she is going out of town. </span></li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><del>go on three hikes</del></li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><del>reread <i>Black Stallion</i></del></li></ul><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Are you working on a list too?<br /></span>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-69397395055759405492010-09-26T15:39:00.004-05:002010-09-26T16:00:45.461-05:008 Things<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">My Mom did a list of things to do before she turned 40. It inspired me to make one of my own. I'd better hurry, my birthday is on November 9th. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">8 Things To Do Before I Turn 9</span><br /><ul><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">get back to my Saturday Afternoon Poetry posts</li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">get puppies</li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">finish all my addition level in Rocket Math</li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">start and try to finish to teach my puppies how to fetch and obey</li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">write eight letters to family members</li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">decorate the walls in my bedroom</li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">go on three more hikes</li><li style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">reread<span style="font-style: italic;"> Black Stallion</span></li></ul><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Wish me luck!</span></span>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-23460000441128829942010-07-04T09:02:00.004-05:002010-07-04T13:17:15.909-05:00God Bless America<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4140/4750705809_3ddf6eae46.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 333px; CURSOR: pointer" border="0" alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4140/4750705809_3ddf6eae46.jpg" /></a><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"><span style="font-size:180%;">Happy Fourth of <span style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,255)">July, everybody! </span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)">God bless America!<br /><br /><br /></span></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="color:#000000;">Photo by my Mom.</span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)"></span></span> </span></span></div></div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-26518978178503577612010-05-01T17:26:00.005-05:002010-05-01T17:37:26.100-05:00Saturday Afternoon Poetry, Week 6<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JcJJGCbzJgr5dAhcozEc6O1o2hpMLqBCc1BHYhqOWZmKNgKaZJUPxx9lnhbA6-WDtKXZ9OV7GyA1pG4hT2dZZvbUHT60Wv3shqr4syZnIwWnaP_yYYkrSosUduCst8eSLOhWSj2n2zwd/s1600/Medusa.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0JcJJGCbzJgr5dAhcozEc6O1o2hpMLqBCc1BHYhqOWZmKNgKaZJUPxx9lnhbA6-WDtKXZ9OV7GyA1pG4hT2dZZvbUHT60Wv3shqr4syZnIwWnaP_yYYkrSosUduCst8eSLOhWSj2n2zwd/s400/Medusa.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466433918275811682" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Medusa</span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Coil and hiss--writhe and twist--</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />My hairdo won’t get done.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />‘Cause one hair hissing, “Ponytail,”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />And one yells, “Simple bun,”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />One whispers, “Cornrows,”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />One screams, “Bangs.”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />One shouts, “Just wash and dry it.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">One snaps, “No, curl and tie it,”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">One hollers, “Bleach and dye it.”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />And how am I to fix my hair</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If my hair will not keep quiet?</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />~ Shel Silverstein </span><br /></div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-38039110747413236642010-04-03T12:16:00.003-05:002010-04-03T12:16:00.153-05:00Saturday Afternoon Poetry, week 5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6UBb9slCcCjkrXzBrlLNygpitjfIbqiy-t8wMrLGu5Yd8m_dlNgq5uyuRjnhaVDwSB_2HRljRJfTJn3KvVnTbRQCZ8PSS9F6zUEEgCEI9mUigkNJD4waBZZTTxwZwO-69YvkaKyl96mye/s1600/reading+lamp.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6UBb9slCcCjkrXzBrlLNygpitjfIbqiy-t8wMrLGu5Yd8m_dlNgq5uyuRjnhaVDwSB_2HRljRJfTJn3KvVnTbRQCZ8PSS9F6zUEEgCEI9mUigkNJD4waBZZTTxwZwO-69YvkaKyl96mye/s400/reading+lamp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453474317012923570" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-weight: bold;">Making Light of Auntie </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">by X. J. Kennedy</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I like to shuffle in my socks</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />across our scuffy carpet.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />And touch Aunt Sue</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">and give her shocks.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I gave her one so sharp it</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">caused her to shoot right out of her shoes</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">with WOW a big blue spark!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Now Auntie Sue's the bulb we use</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">to read by after dark. </span><br /></div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-3629345390214242352010-03-27T19:37:00.006-05:002010-03-27T19:49:57.519-05:00Being a Good StewardMy family and I hate littering. Why do people think it's OK to throw their trash on the ground? We were on a hike today at the Roaring River State Park in Cassville, Missouri. We came to a very beautiful place. See?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUmH506gQKn9TZTo3ht405VkPpTjSj22irJkoqJVPeikG_K-lNaCpgJLO4ecwU4AF8yqPvSz9v0XFs8znpiXRySrs474x3Wmng0L4UdSep9BrNzxBlF5J-CT1Q3dR5Jn8mmvs4xIgtpYj/s1600/by+Sloane+130.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUmH506gQKn9TZTo3ht405VkPpTjSj22irJkoqJVPeikG_K-lNaCpgJLO4ecwU4AF8yqPvSz9v0XFs8znpiXRySrs474x3Wmng0L4UdSep9BrNzxBlF5J-CT1Q3dR5Jn8mmvs4xIgtpYj/s400/by+Sloane+130.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453478211930393858" border="0" /></a><br />Anyway, we got out of the car to take pictures and saw a TON of trash all over the place right above where this picture was taken. Including three tires, a garbage can, a case of beer bottles, an old sweatshirt, two dirty diapers, and a bunch more trash. (SUPER DISGUSTING!) I said, "I wish we had plastic bags to pick it up." Luckily, Mom keeps a thing of WalMart sacks in her trunk. Of course, we got them out and our family picked up trash. Look what we found.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUdsddax0E8GYT22rg0C1lt9v00UjUWCTPNfSR3JWm38vKDlK7EFYXPn9dE4RC_RcoGG9BcqS4OONe816COHSnzEXdZ7UyX-8MT0cH68rWUdmiUcpi0BdDKX44S6s9KmpIlBAHiCfY-Gj/s1600/by+Sloane+132.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUdsddax0E8GYT22rg0C1lt9v00UjUWCTPNfSR3JWm38vKDlK7EFYXPn9dE4RC_RcoGG9BcqS4OONe816COHSnzEXdZ7UyX-8MT0cH68rWUdmiUcpi0BdDKX44S6s9KmpIlBAHiCfY-Gj/s400/by+Sloane+132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453479174021298210" border="0" /></a>We felt fantastic about helping a pretty place look better. After that we went for a hike up to a spring house. The spring house wasn't so great, but look at what pictures I took.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL0GPEQ5KLQj7rsxXXx_nOggWqZpz4dKYARz72pmufx7vLX4s_F8YjzdyX1TfweHkCBHL1esNhRcA4dTMwfMMcqLwciipm6Q6WFp3JSIwhMnTVw-GLKLJOOkBsBSYhu-sWP5whqQu0KPRp/s1600/by+Sloane+145.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL0GPEQ5KLQj7rsxXXx_nOggWqZpz4dKYARz72pmufx7vLX4s_F8YjzdyX1TfweHkCBHL1esNhRcA4dTMwfMMcqLwciipm6Q6WFp3JSIwhMnTVw-GLKLJOOkBsBSYhu-sWP5whqQu0KPRp/s400/by+Sloane+145.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453480195363943506" border="0" /></a><br />Missouri really is a beautiful place to live. I'm proud that we left the place nicer than we found it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7WghwJzrXj6xXA5Lv3RIPJpIcGaC2MY6Vo5ZvWG_duXVxdUj4bkopeA3DdzeGJXaKTpK_9Bx4sJOA0IsbtjEeD8NhJUhqnRM2X8uzSRtic2eK3tYx8lkRY_uZohQzCGmQa9Uf54Vnzqx/s1600/by+Sloane+142.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7WghwJzrXj6xXA5Lv3RIPJpIcGaC2MY6Vo5ZvWG_duXVxdUj4bkopeA3DdzeGJXaKTpK_9Bx4sJOA0IsbtjEeD8NhJUhqnRM2X8uzSRtic2eK3tYx8lkRY_uZohQzCGmQa9Uf54Vnzqx/s400/by+Sloane+142.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453480187031026882" border="0" /></a><br />Please tell me you don't litter, do you?Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-48256866313722032022010-03-06T08:49:00.003-06:002010-03-06T08:53:10.479-06:00Saturday Afternoon Poetry, week 4<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPkB0IsiKc8VHjB1qehendTbEbxqU161tiK9fULoBEb6w22g3WCK7kXGs7neJZf_I5c88CLJXhZGaavi4ujFqxoUlWcm4kBj49z6hmJHSgNfeKARLZwQP00omxMT7dvaVg3CdsSY3nMvM/s1600-h/tummy+bubble.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445533952088659186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPkB0IsiKc8VHjB1qehendTbEbxqU161tiK9fULoBEb6w22g3WCK7kXGs7neJZf_I5c88CLJXhZGaavi4ujFqxoUlWcm4kBj49z6hmJHSgNfeKARLZwQP00omxMT7dvaVg3CdsSY3nMvM/s400/tummy+bubble.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"><strong>Tummy Bubble</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">by Jack Prelutsky</span></div><br /><div align="center"><em></em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>A burp is just a bubble</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>that forms inside your tum.</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>But, if it goes the other way</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>say nothing, just play dumb.</em> </div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-74498106723128753482010-02-20T09:23:00.004-06:002010-03-27T19:27:39.114-05:00Saturday Afternoon Poetry, week 3<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBf64ZkMS_uKhyesegR0u9WSF4IpDavwfTafyZxfoVRJDlY__nsaQLQisiUMDxZszQjX0zfhRuOTShIRVXqOGXszkXkl4HJv4HndA45oLOR6Fq39U7BRkCzk4JZ52QSGDA8T3F3Qvuk9jw/s1600-h/one+inch+tall.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440348092334139682" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 81px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBf64ZkMS_uKhyesegR0u9WSF4IpDavwfTafyZxfoVRJDlY__nsaQLQisiUMDxZszQjX0zfhRuOTShIRVXqOGXszkXkl4HJv4HndA45oLOR6Fq39U7BRkCzk4JZ52QSGDA8T3F3Qvuk9jw/s400/one+inch+tall.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:130%;" ><strong>One Inch Tall</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">by Shel Silverstein</span></div><br /><div align="center"><br />If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school. </div><br /><div align="center">The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool. </div><br /><div align="center">A crumb of cake would be a feast </div><br /><div align="center">And last you seven days at least, </div><br /><div align="center">A flea would be a frightening beast </div><br /><div align="center">If you were one inch tall. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door, </div><br /><div align="center">And it would take about a month to get down to the store. </div><br /><div align="center">A bit of fluff would be your bed, </div><br /><div align="center">You'd swing upon a spider's thread, </div><br /><div align="center">And wear a thimble on your head. </div><br /><div align="center">If you were one inch tall. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum. </div><br /><div align="center">You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb. </div><br /><div align="center">You'd run from people's feet in fright, </div><br /><div align="center">To move a pen would take all night, </div><br /><div align="center">(This poem took fourteen years to write-- </div><br /><div align="center">'Cause I'm just one inch tall).</div><br /><div align="center"></div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-45292027046126388572010-02-13T07:00:00.002-06:002010-03-27T19:27:58.820-05:00Saturday Afternoon Poetry, week 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFFMb_mw9k36T0rlpA-yBpDM4s0efTlOBZxOLUmTeJN2K85J2HlGs6Mgq2ZNeHiYoSVhs8ON5NlbNW3J89G8kIenUWUPJU4-wE4nGbcafTP8N05_R0pP2vR6TTjRNZWLrNOMAFebpo_Hk/s1600-h/boa+constrictor.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFFMb_mw9k36T0rlpA-yBpDM4s0efTlOBZxOLUmTeJN2K85J2HlGs6Mgq2ZNeHiYoSVhs8ON5NlbNW3J89G8kIenUWUPJU4-wE4nGbcafTP8N05_R0pP2vR6TTjRNZWLrNOMAFebpo_Hk/s400/boa+constrictor.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437387933294526562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" >Boa Constrictor</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">by Shel Silverstein</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br />Oh, I'm being eaten</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >By a boa constrictor,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >A boa constrictor,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >A boa constrictor,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >And I don't like it--one bit.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Well, what do you know?</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It's nibblin' my toe.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Oh, gee,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It's up to my knee.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Oh my,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It's up to my thigh.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Oh, fiddle,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It's up to my middle.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Oh, heck,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It's up to my neck.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Oh, dread,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:georgia;font-size:14px;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff . . .</span></span><br /></div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-28093165565803533572010-02-07T07:08:00.000-06:002010-02-07T14:00:23.047-06:00Three American Girls<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94o-Vhvy9S3jahe3vH1i5pL5rS1C38RXoeCD34XgC2rG5pNni6Yre0_nUD8aZLln8ydMXveTpHYrNdDbRIJeNaRvkq7LhOUWGtM1AdhdIe1jFya0ioqMvhMyIFPZ6SYBI5skoCIeqRfmC/s1600-h/Kit+Kittridge.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400327322693913426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94o-Vhvy9S3jahe3vH1i5pL5rS1C38RXoeCD34XgC2rG5pNni6Yre0_nUD8aZLln8ydMXveTpHYrNdDbRIJeNaRvkq7LhOUWGtM1AdhdIe1jFya0ioqMvhMyIFPZ6SYBI5skoCIeqRfmC/s400/Kit+Kittridge.jpg" border="0" /></a>This is Kit Kittredge. She is from 1934. That's so old! That was during the Great Depression. Kit and her family really had to work together because there wasn't much money. She was robbed and everyone thought it was by a hobo, but it wasn't. Her father had already lost his job. They were going to loose the house, but then Kit's best friend Ruthie talked her father, the bank owner, into letting the Kittredge's keep their house for two extra months. Sterling, a boy from Kit's class, had to come and live with them when they took in borders. Kit saw a dog that no one could feed anymore and her mother let her keep it. The dog's name was Grace.<br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHzAIdCI_eV9SAOfD3lNzIt1o4Nczsp3-mYk6yAJ1oVsnyIEGj91uzJL6f6OInyZzMobthPwUnaiQ6RiixvibXZ8O2NAvLQ8i9Dxzm4_sP7iJ9OPYMiQJIp8nR_A8pU_Ll5J-jEzj7SnZ/s1600-h/Josephina+Montoya.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435250036425196226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHzAIdCI_eV9SAOfD3lNzIt1o4Nczsp3-mYk6yAJ1oVsnyIEGj91uzJL6f6OInyZzMobthPwUnaiQ6RiixvibXZ8O2NAvLQ8i9Dxzm4_sP7iJ9OPYMiQJIp8nR_A8pU_Ll5J-jEzj7SnZ/s400/Josephina+Montoya.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLf-53mJ254Rv7HoXvqkBbIl-qp8RqGqSjwIYzZo2LNIrgL35NM9Fu7SYT0FKbv-hqiUtNVnXU3wB3X9AC7fG9q1y3blAnUVB4YMr-0jX-lB3-x5PfCaj1CohQA4dqfz6wSXT1eM3P0Iv/s1600-h/brown+eyed+girl.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435250043126004034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLf-53mJ254Rv7HoXvqkBbIl-qp8RqGqSjwIYzZo2LNIrgL35NM9Fu7SYT0FKbv-hqiUtNVnXU3wB3X9AC7fG9q1y3blAnUVB4YMr-0jX-lB3-x5PfCaj1CohQA4dqfz6wSXT1eM3P0Iv/s400/brown+eyed+girl.JPG" border="0" /></a>This is Josephina. She is from 1824. Her mother died and her father runs the family. Her aunt, Tia Delores, still lived in Mexico City. When she came to visit, the girls realized how much they needed a helper so they asked her to stay. She said yes. During a flood the Montoyas lost tons of their sheep. Tia Dolores had the idea to use all the wool to trade for more sheep. Josephina three sisters knew how to weave, but Jospehina didn't. Tia Dolores and her helper, Teresita, taught Josephina how to weave. They need to learn how to read and write, too. Tia Dolores to the rescue again.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfrCs8N35fFQjOwn1LdjBS4JskCy6vod5Y-vVmdnyqKGC6MFHJsySM6P0D_pmIfGeJEEHq3VLp2xByJIOmMZ6wGRCSJ_grBTcJeebDHF3o45mzjq6zLmJ_aV5Kc-vjvpsyolIBH9yvs_n/s1600-h/Josephina+&+Kit.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400327314903838066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfrCs8N35fFQjOwn1LdjBS4JskCy6vod5Y-vVmdnyqKGC6MFHJsySM6P0D_pmIfGeJEEHq3VLp2xByJIOmMZ6wGRCSJ_grBTcJeebDHF3o45mzjq6zLmJ_aV5Kc-vjvpsyolIBH9yvs_n/s400/Josephina+%26+Kit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Now that I have both American Girl dolls, they are best friends. We are three American girls.Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-2522295019223702482010-02-06T14:49:00.006-06:002010-03-27T19:28:30.396-05:00Saturday Afternoon Poetry, week 1<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMJLrchC-0iulx2UoRbuMrb6DliWMCMJMs4aLa3l1OlbxKU4n3jmQrSAdva0uvVR8plsEgzxds43UCSnJErdmwfFMi6DpZwKxq6vLDxX2wXEaCw8NDvu9SRThJBwFlX5fMM7OrsF74uHE/s1600-h/sick_girl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 323px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMJLrchC-0iulx2UoRbuMrb6DliWMCMJMs4aLa3l1OlbxKU4n3jmQrSAdva0uvVR8plsEgzxds43UCSnJErdmwfFMi6DpZwKxq6vLDxX2wXEaCw8NDvu9SRThJBwFlX5fMM7OrsF74uHE/s400/sick_girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435236951494000130" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Sick</span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" > 'I cannot go to school today,'</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Said little Peggy Ann McKay.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >'I have the measles and the mumps, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >A gash, a rash and purple bumps.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I'm going blind in my right eye.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My tonsils are as big as rocks, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I've counted sixteen chicken pox</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >And there's one more-that's seventeen, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >And don't you think my face looks green? </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My leg is cut-my eyes are blue-</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >It might be instamatic flu.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I'm sure that my left leg is broke-</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My hip hurts when I move my chin, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My belly button's caving in, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My 'pendix pains each time it rains.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My nose is cold, my toes are numb.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I have a sliver in my thumb.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My neck is stiff, my voice is weak, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I hardly whisper when I speak.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My tongue is filling up my mouth, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I think my hair is falling out.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My temperature is one-o-eight.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >There is a hole inside my ear.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what? </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >What's that? What's that you say? </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >You say today is...Saturday? </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >G'bye, I'm going out to play! '</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;">~ by Shel Silverstein ~ </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Sick girl art found <a href="http://www.erikajean.com/2009_06_01_archive.html">here</a>.<br /></span></div></div>Sloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6385064530749219752.post-31157824704410974772009-11-01T10:15:00.002-06:002009-11-04T12:58:07.833-06:00Hello, World<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDsSATgNFxU9a7uawKj2SmtMDpqj9BhyuBR2Yd9DxhTdHXO1HB_QX4LY0l-7mFEXB_z1HYhY1P163Xwinf1N66p53c9dBp0wE-KCGDmSxEmPdvscGS1ySEuLGWE2gr8EyCvkMpM6hdGAb/s1600-h/Ickle+Me,+Pickle+Me+picture.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQDsSATgNFxU9a7uawKj2SmtMDpqj9BhyuBR2Yd9DxhTdHXO1HB_QX4LY0l-7mFEXB_z1HYhY1P163Xwinf1N66p53c9dBp0wE-KCGDmSxEmPdvscGS1ySEuLGWE2gr8EyCvkMpM6hdGAb/s400/Ickle+Me,+Pickle+Me+picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399173138524484274" border="0" /></a><br />Hi. My name is Sloane. My blog name comes from <span style="font-style: italic;">Where the Sidewalk Ends</span> by Shel Silverstein. This is the poem:<br /><br /><h3><b></b></h3><blockquote><h3><b>Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too</b></h3> Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,<br />Went for a ride in a flying shoe,<br />"Hooray!"<br />"What fun!"<br />"It's time we flew!"<br />Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too. <p><br />Ickle was captain, Pickle was crew,<br />And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew<br />As higher<br />And higher<br />And higher they flew,<br />Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too. </p><p><br />Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,<br />Over the sun and beyond the blue.<br />"Hold on!"<br />"Stay in!"<br />"I hope we do!"<br />Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too. </p><p><br />Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too<br />Never returned to the world they knew,<br />And nobody<br />knows what's<br />happened to<br />Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too. </p></blockquote><p></p><br />It's my favorite poem. It has made me laugh since I was only two or three. That poem tells you a lot about me. But, here's more of my favorites.<br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Colors:</span> blue and green </li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Animals</span>: all of them, I really love all of them</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Food:</span> chicken and rice</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Candy bar:</span> Snickers orHershey's</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Other candy:</span> Mike n Ikes and Sour Skittles</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thing to wear:</span> dresses and skirts</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Place:</span> Disney World and home</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Picture book author:</span> Tedd Arnold</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Chapter book author:</span> Ron Roy</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Book:</span> I love lots of them. Some of my favorites are <span style="font-style: italic;">the Bible, Hugo Cabret</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Humbug Rabbit</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">Olivia</span></li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Artist:</span> Picasso</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Restaurant:</span> Macaroni Grill</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Veggie:</span> carrots, yummy</li></ul><br />Have a great day. Thanks for visiting.<br />Love, SloaneSloane Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996841947514784211noreply@blogger.com22