It's All In My Head... Well, Kind Of...

*I started writing this a long time ago, I just got around to finishing it and posting it...*

Thursday night (September 26th) we had a softball game against Auburn at home. Top of the 4th inning. We were winning 11-0. There were two outs, and I was playing center field. Our time expired at the end of the 3rd inning; we all heard the timer go off. Morgan pitched a strike, it was a high strike so when the girl swung, so hit the bottom part of the ball with the top part of the bat. This caused the ball to go VERY high in the air with a dreadful spin. I started hustling into the in-field... That stupid ball was going to land right behind second base and short-stop. It technically should have been the left-fielder's ball, but she wasn't paying attention. I ran so that I was within the usual 45 degree angle that you are supposed to take when you catch a fly ball. I was "Camped under it" (a softball term for "standing and waiting for it to fall into your glove") for about 4 or 5 seconds. I lost it in the sun for a little while, but then I found it again. I was sure that the stupid ball was going into my glove. I don't exactly remember how it happened, but somehow it missed my glove and hit me right above the bridge of my nose in between my eyebrows. A sharp pain went through my entire body. I instantly felt like I was going to throw up and fall over; I could barely stand. I closed my eyes and saw spots for a while, but I could still hear people yelling, running, and collectively saying "oh". I opened my eyes to see Sierra, a girl in Rudy's class who is our short-stop, saying, "How many fingers, babe? How many fingers do you see?" The base umpire was doing the same thing. I couldn't even think, so I shut my eyes again until I heard Coach Bob. He was asking me all kinds of questions, but he wasn't making any sense. I tried answering, but apparently I wasn't making any sense either. He asked me if I could walk, I told him that I hadn't tried yet. He wrapped his arm around me and practically carried me off of the field. He set me down on the bench, and then a flood of people swarmed me. Everyone was asking me all kinds of questions that I just couldn't give answers to. Coach Isaacs was there, as well as Mr. Wentz (a family friend and the middle school principal), Sam Parde's dad who is an EMT, Coach Bob, my sister Elle, and my Mom. They put ice on my forehead, and then I heard Coach Isaacs tell Mom, "If this was my daughter, I would get her out of here right now and get her to the Emergency Room." Within a few seconds I could hear Mom on the phone, "Hello, it's Shanna, I am on my way to your ER with my 16 year old. Possible concussion. Nauseous. Difficulty breathing. Conscious. Have a room ready for her." Two men carried me to the golf cart that they use to take elderly people up and down the long walk-way to get into the field. Mom kept asking me where my keys were and where all of my stuff was. I answered the best that I could, but I'm not exactly sure what I said. Mom loaded me into her car with the help of a few other people. She put my softball sweat towel over my head and then told me to hold the ice pack. That was the most terrible car ride I have ever experienced. I get car-sick VERY easily, and it didn't help that Mom was in a hurry, I was already nauseous, and that I couldn't see. I almost threw up. I was shuffled into a wheelchair, and as we entered the Emergency Room I heard a lot of familiar voices. There was Donna, a family friend of ours who is a nurse at the hospital. Doug, a nurse that Mom worked with when was the Director of Pharmacy at that hospital. Carla, the PA at the hospital. All of the emergency rooms were full, so they put me in a regular room. They ran all kinds of tests and asked me all kinds of questions. After a long string of questions Carla left the room and then came back a few minutes later. She told me that I had a concussion. She also said that I would not be able to play softball, dance on dance team, or march in marching band. I was crushed. I started crying. After they finished my paperwork, mom and I left the hospital and went home. I fell asleep and didn't wake up for a long time.

Mom decided to keep me home from school on Friday, which was completely understandable... my ability to focus resembled some orange/green substance that you might find squashed in a trash can somewhere in the mid.... SQUIRREL.... yup, that is exactly what my ability to focus was like. That morning I slept in really late, and then, while enjoying the peace and quiet, finished all of my English 3 homework, scanned it on to my laptop, and emailed it to my teacher. That afternoon, wearing my SHS dance team uniform with pride, I went to Savannah's house to get ready for the football game. (She is a senior on Dance Team.) The entire team was happy to see me and they all kept staring at my forehead. There was a little bruise but not one that was extremely noticeable. After that we all went to the football game together. I was really hoping that word hadn't spread about my concussion because it was a rather embarrassing experience. But much to my displeasure, word had definitely spread. All of the teachers knew as well as all coaches and administrative personnel. It's amazing how fast something can spread through a small school. John came up to me and hugged me right away. "Holy crap, I heard about your head? Are you okay? Please tell me you can march. We can't afford another whole in our drill, especially with Columbus next week." John is the perfect best friend. His warm embrace and charmingly egotistic personality just lifted my rather depressed attitude. A few minutes later Matt and Kade came running at me. They were searching through the air shouting "I got it! I got it!". Then Matt made a "clunk" noise and then fell over. They were making fun of me. "Hey, Stazia, you know that brown thing in your hand when you play softball, yeah, that's your glove... USE IT!", Matt said through a fit of laughter. After glaring at him for a solid 10 seconds, he finally apologized and hugged me. At the start of the football game, all of the dance team members went to warm up and stretch, I stayed to watch the game with my friends. I was kind of glad that the junior high band was doing pep band that night, I don't think I could have handled all of the noise. During halftime when my team took the field to dance, I stood down in front on the track. I watched intently and cried a little bit. I had finally passed my test out for that dance, and I had worked so hard to learn it, and I didn't even get to perform. I left soon after half time, and I went home and went straight to bed.

The next week was torture. Not only could I not play softball, but I couldn't dance a Dance Team practice, and I couldn't march in band. It was so hard to focus, especially during College Algebra and Chemistry. My teachers were very gracious and often let me wait to take tests/quizzes and a few of them even let me take a nap during class if my head hurt. That Tuesday, during 8th period, I was in Poe's office, and I fell asleep listening to All State music, I slept for almost an hour before Matt came into Poe's office after school and thought I was dead. Ms. Poe just said, "No, her brain is broken, so she is letting it rest." I had to leave a few minutes later for our softball game in JCC that I didn't even get to play in. That morning at early band, someone made a comment like "You should be able to march with a concussion. Why are you just standing there?" Unfortunately, I let my emotions get the best of me and I flipped out. "You have no idea how much it is killing me to just stand there while you guys are marching. Don't you think that if I could be out there, I would? I would give anything to march, to dance, or to play softball, but I can't. So back off." At the end of this rant, I was in tears and Mr. Parde came over and yelled at the person that made the rude comment. The whole band was silent. After rehearsal, a lot of people came up to me and congratulated me for putting that rude person in his place. I just felt terrible.

Wednesday (the 2nd of October) I went in for my check up with the doctor. He made me retake my concussion test on the computer, and then he did a series of physical tests. I PASSED! In fact, one of the areas on my test improved, which was a little odd. I was able to play in my last softball game of the season on that Monday, although coach was worried about me so he didn't put me in much.

Since then, I have days when my head will hurt REALLY bad, and there are days when I am just completely out of it. I didn't think that the side affects would stick around this long, but they did. Moral of this story, use your glove, not your head.

Test Outs

This morning we had dance team practice at 6:30, and I was really excited for it. It was test out day! Test out means that you perform the dance that will be performed at the next sport event with only two other girls in front of the coaches. The coaches give you scores out of 12, you have to get at least a 6 to pass. If you don't pass you can retest as many times as it takes to be performance ready.

On Friday we will be performing our "Team Dance". This is the dance that my entire team learned at the camp that I could not go to. I had one of the girls teach me the dance, but I found out on Saturday that she had taught almost the entire dance to me incorrectly. I had to relearn almost the entire dance on Sunday night before our marching exhibition. I felt like I had a pretty good grasp on it, so I was confident going into test outs. After practice the coaches handed us our score sheets and my heart sank as I looked at it. I needed a 6 to pass, and I received a 5 and 1/2. I was so upset. Tears were already swelling.

I quickly changed in the locker room and then hustled down to the band room. I put my stuff down, and then walked directly into the Vocal Music Room. By then I was sobbing, and Mrs. Rodgers (she will always and forever be Ms. Poe to me...) stood up instantly, held her arms out to hug me, and said, "Oh sweety, what's wrong?". I sobbed for a while in her embrace before answering. I told her the entire story. She told me that I reminded her of herself. We both take everything we do rather seriously and we give it our all. With this, comes dramatic failures. I do not take well to failure. (Unless it is in sports, then I am totally used to it.) I take pride in everything I do, and I do it to the best of my ability, so failing this test out was not easy for me. I cried for a little while longer before the bell rang and we had to go our separate ways. I had to go to band and she had to go teach a little kid music class.

Ms. Poe understands me very well. She is so good at reading my emotions, even if I'm not displaying them. I swear that woman can read my mind. Her and I have always been close, but I think these past couple of months have made us even closer. She expected more out of me as I moved up the leadership ladder, and I rose to the expectation. I always have at least one teacher (usually female) that I trust completely and that I could tell anything to. In Ogallala it was Mrs. Helzer and in Syracuse it is Ms. Poe (or Mrs. Rodgers or whatever you want to call her...). I don't know what I would do with out these two amazing women. Their influence on me is more than they will ever know.

We're Moving

We're moving to Kearney during Christmas Break. Again with the 18 months in one place thing. This is starting to get exhausting.

You Weren't There

You promised you would be there. We must have talked at least 5 times about it in the past week. I have worked so hard for this, and this was my first night to perform, and you weren't there. As we walked onto the field something didn't feel right. They announced all of the dancers, and when my name came up I did my peppy wave and looked into the stands, but you weren't there. Neither of you were. I have been working my butt off since March to get to this point, and tonight was my first performance, and you weren't there. The dance? Well, it went fantastic, thanks for asking. You would have been blown out of the water. I can't really describe what I was feeling out there. I felt like I was dancing on clouds, when in reality I was dancing on a lumpy football field with no shoes on. I rolled my ankle coming down from my spread eagle jump half way through the song, but you wouldn't know that because you weren't there. I guess I don't understand why you would show up to watch him play football and leave before you could watch me dance. Whatever. What's done is done. Thanks for the support. Not.

Welcome to High School Fall Softball

Thursday was our first game of the season! It was a JV double header, but since our team is slightly smaller than last year, the coaches decided to let everyone but the seniors come. We had 17 girls and we split into two teams, one for each game. Our opponent was Platteview High School, and this is the first year that they have had a High School Fall Softball team. They didn't want to bite off more than they could chew, so they only wanted to play our JV team. They made a big deal about this game. They had a pep band which never happens at a softball game, the mayor of Springfield gave a speech, the school board president gave a speech, they had an announcer announce all of our names (they actually pronounced my name right!), and they had two people throw the honorary first pitches on the new field. Those poor people had no idea what was in store for them.

The first game went on forever. I did not start the first game, I was assigned to the second game. During the second inning alone, we scored about 15 points, which is A LOT for an inning. In the third inning, my coach was coaching third base (the opposite side of the field from our dug out), and he yelled across the field, "OG! Go get warmed up!" I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my glove and visor. My coach likes to creates nicknames, and mine is OG. This started this summer during conditioning. I turned most of my Ogallala t-shirts into cut offs, and I wore them this summer at conditioning, so he started calling me Ogallala. After a few days he decided that Ogallala was too long, so he started calling me OG. He put me in left field, and it was a three-up three-down inning, and the game was over. We won 19-3.

I started the next game in center field. We I was up to bat, I hit a ball in the gap between second base and center field. They tired to throw me out at one, but it was an over throw, so as I rounded first, coach was yelling, "OG! JimmyJohn! JimmyJohn! Get down on three!" This was not the call I was expecting. JimmyJohn means running first to third with out stopping at all or looking at the ball. We usually use this play with our super fast runners who can slide well, not throwers who just plop on the base without sliding properly. But I did it anyway, and surprisingly, I beat the throw to third, so technically, I hit a triple. The next girl up hit a single, and I was able to score. The next time I was up, I was walked to first, and then stole my way around to third. The next girl up was a freshman, and she had a beautiful hit down the third base line, the only problem was, it drilled me in the ankle. I instantly brought my knee up to my chest and clutched my leg. Through tears I looked down and saw that I was in fair territory. Crap. I was called out, and the freshman was given first base. I was scared to let my foot touch the ground; I seriously was about to hop back to the dug out. I slowly dropped my leg and let it touch the ground. The second that I put weight on it, I fell. The first thing that popped into my head after I fell was "Crap, I'm not going to be able to perform at Fall Kickoff with the Dance Team". I got up, and gimped back to the dug out, and after walking on it for the rest of the inning, I was able to go back into the game. I was so angry at myself because the coaches have told us so many times that when we are on third, we need to do our lead off in foul territory. I did, but I wasn't watching the ball when I started running, I just listened for the CRACK sound of contact, so when I started running towards home, I drifted into fair territory, and then when I realized that it was coming straight for me, I tried to jump, but it was too late. Had I been in foul territory, I would not have been called out, and I would have scored. When I got back to the dug out, my coach said, "Stofer, I have a new nickname for you, OG just isn't working for me." I laughed, "Alright was bizarre name could you possibly have come up with this time?" I was a little surprised at his answer, "Big O!" So now, when ever I do something well, he yells, "Atta Girl, Big O! Big O!" (He holds on to the "Ohhhhh" forever. It is annoying.)

We ended up winning that game 16-3. I feel bad for Platteview, they had no idea what was coming. Fall softball so different than Spring ball and traveling teams, and that is what those girls were used to. Welcome to High School Fall Softball, Platteview High School. Enjoy the ride!

P.S. I will be able to perform at Fall Kick-Off, and I have a an awesome bruise! All of us girls on the softball team compare our bruises, and currently mine is the best! :)

'Tis the Season!

Fall softball season started on Monday, and I am very excited! The first day of practice was kind of difficult, but it always is. It's weird how much you fall out of routine if you haven't done something in awhile. The last time I had played softball before Monday was the week before All State Camp. It was strange. Routine push-threw ground balls were catching me off balance and ill prepared. I forgot all of the little things such as don't turn and burn with your glove in the air, don't say "no cut" if you don't need a cut, 30 means 30... RED LIGHT. These small things that I have been yelled at for biffing up numerous times completely slipped my mind the first day. Thankfully, I was not the only one who let all of these minor yet important details slip my mind. The second practice was definitely better. The general team attitude was a lot lighter, and the coaches didn't have to yell as much. Although, my coaches yell A LOT... and cuss, they like to do that too. Anyway, we were doing an outfield fly ball drill, and I was running after a ball that was soaring high above left field. I didn't think I was going to be able to catch it in the air to get the out, but I kept running anyway. I looked up and noticed that it was starting to drop at a weird angle, so I jumped up in the air to get. I successfully caught it, and in the process fell to the ground. As I stood up the whole team was laughing at me. I asked, "What's so funny?" with a confused expression. As I returned to the line, my friend Shae finally stopped laughing and told me what happened, "It was just so funny because we can totally tell that you are on dance team because you did a perfect leap when you caught the ball. Your back leg was so straight and stiff, and your jump was graceful." This made me start laughing because just last week in Dance Team Practice we took 45 minutes of our time just working on leap technique. I could do a leap in my sleep. (Ha! That rhymes!) Today at practice, I got a home run off of a bunt, which should never EVER happen. (For those of you who don't know, a bunt is when you hit the ball straight to the ground in front of you. A bunt doesn't go more than a few feet in front of home plate.) Anyway, the coaches were pissed. "You just let Annastazia Stofer score a home run off of a bunt! Annastazia Stofer! No offense Annastazia... But seriously girls! She isn't fast at all and you let her score a home run off of a (bleep) bunt!" That ended poorly for the girls that were playing defense, but all the girls on offense were laughing.

Today I marched in the Otoe County Fair Parade. Holy crap. People need to learn how to march, count, and when to chair step. It was terrible. I feel really sorry for Mr. Parde, he is trying so hard, and people aren't working hard in return. That's all I'm going to say about that. After we were done marching, I had to run back to the start of the parade to get in the back of the "Dance Team Truck" and throw candy at small children. It was so much fun, and it is so cool to see how much the little girls look up to us. There was this adorable little girl with poms-poms who came up and hugged my leg! She was adorable, and she had cute curly, bleach blonde hair!

With the start of softball season also comes the start of school. Tomorrow is the first day, and I am actually excited to back into a normal routine. As for homework and studying... not so much.

Be Thou My Vision

I've probably mentioned this before, but Be Thou My Vision is by far my favorite hymn. (The old version, not the up beat new version with the different melody...). We sang it today in church, and it was wonderful because the orchestra is back from their "summer break". It was also amazing because Mr. Boehr was leading worship, and not the new young guy. Mr. Boehr is so awesome, he is so smart and he is so dedicated to the Lord. I noticed something about the orchestra today that I don't think I have noticed before. If you have ever watched someone play violin, you will notice that they usually lean or rock back and forth a lot. Well today during the big crescendo came during Be Thou My Vision, the entire violin section leaned at the same time, some of them were practically falling out of their chairs. I don't know why I found this so funny, I mean, I'm sure it happens with other orchestras. I want to join orchestra so bad, but I really don't think that I am good enough. All of the instruments either have microphones attached to them, or attached to their stands. That means no wrong notes, that also means that if I randomly stop playing they are going to turn my mic up which means my playing will be exposed even more. One of the oboe players broke her wrist or arm or finger or some sort of arm part last year, which opened up a spot, but I was too scared to try to take her place. This morning we also sang What a Savior by Laura Story. My friend Kaylee was standing next to me, she poked me and said, "It's your solo!". During the chorus Kaylee  and Lauren sang their respective Soprano 2 part, and I sang the Alto part. It wasn't the same as singing it in Girls Choir, but it was still good.

This evening I went to Nicole's wedding. Nicole is Kara's older sister, and she is my adopted older sister. She has been my role model since Kara and I became friends in like first grade. She is beautiful on the inside and out, and she loves the Lord. Nicole used to be our Nanny, so after spending entire summers with her, we became very close. (She could tell you numerous horror stories about babysitting us; we were very naughty children. One time we locked her out of the house for about half an hour. Let's just say I had trouble sitting down for a couple of days after the spanking we got from Dad that night. Ouch. It hurts just thinking about it.) It was weird to see her standing up there with her new husband. To me, she always be teenager-Nicole, not newly married Nicole. She was a major factor in my choice to become a Nurse. She will graduate from Creighton University School of Nursing this year. It's just strange to think that just a few years ago she was driving us to the pool, making us lunch, making sure we didn't kill each other, making sure we got our chores done, cleaning up our scrapes, cuts, and other "owies", and now she has to babysit her husband. Time has flown by. Nicole will always be like my older sister, and I can't wait to witness her pursue her walk by faith with her new husband.

Official... I guess?

This week I have been helping out with Jr. High Band Camp, and upon my arrival at home after band camp on Monday, my Momma had some pretty exciting news. The sale of our house has been finalized, the closing day is September 12th! We set the closing day for the house in Unadilla for September 12th as well. Mom also said that on September 12th we will leave for school from our house here, but when we go home we will go home to the house in Unadilla. I am excited, but I am worried about moving during the school year. The first time I moved, I had two weeks to get my room organized before school, the second time I had an entire summer, and now I will only have a few hours when I get home (after school and softball practice). I have not actually seen the inside of this house, so I am a little curious as to what it is like. Momma told me that my room is the smallest because they had to give Rudy the biggest room because he is going to have to get a super long bed because he is going to be so flipping tall. Today when we were shopping Mom and I were talking about my room colors and decorations and such. I'm not a fan of a lot of decorative items, I think they just make rooms look cluttered. I am a big fan of simplicity. Momma and I decided that my colors are going to be yellow and grey. Ideas were flowing through both of our heads about verses that can be put on the walls and a hamper to match my blanket and an antique desk that we are going to paint and use and such. But then I pointed out that I would be moving out in two years anyway, so why put so much effort in to it. This created a dreary awkward silence, but then Momma said that it would be worth it even for the short amount of time.

I am very excited for our new house, except for one thing... it is in town. We are NOT town people. We yell, we fight, we walk around in minimal clothing, we are obnoxious, we are messy, we are Stofers! It will be interesting to see how this all works out. I can guarantee that the cops will be called at some point. Our neighbors are going to hate us. There is a reason that we live at least a mile from all possible neighbors and surround our house with a tree line. Also, the house only has a two car garage... that won't work with our 5 and 1/2 vehicles. (Rudy's pick-up currently is not able to be driven yet, so I only count that as half of a vehicle. It's so funny to watch him try to work on that thing. Last week he was out there almost the entire day just cleaning up rat poop and removing some gas tanky thingy. That thing seems to complicated to actually fix.) It's not going to be an easy adjustment, but I am excited that I will only have to drive 5 miles to school! That cuts off at least 30 minutes of driving time per day. It will be wonderful, and maybe then my parents will stop nagging me about my gas bill. Some kids fear the day when their phone bill comes in the mail... I, on the other hand, fear the day when my gas bill comes in the mail. It usually ends in catastrophe, and by catastrophe, I mean a lot of chores. On the bright side, school starts this week! Only two more years!

Defying Social Standards

I have been thinking a lot about stereotypes, defying social standards, and social status lately. If you haven't noticed, I am not a stereotypical teenage girl. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I do not tan into a perfect golden brown color in the summer. I enjoy going to church to learn more about my Lord and Savoir. I have straight A's, and it will stay that way all through High School and College. I desire to serve people, which is why I want to become a Nurse. I am not stick thin, nor will I ever be. I don't go to wild parties, in fact the parties I do go to can't even be called parties, they are "Nerd Gatherings". My hair will never be perfectly straight; I will always wake up in the morning with an Afro. I despise school dances, yet force myself to go to them anyway. I am respectful to my peers, teachers, and other such elders. I do not date, and I am not on a man hunt. I would rather write in my journal or read a sappy romance novel then talk on the phone or waste time on the computer. I do not strive for popularity, first of all it is stupid to set your mind to something like that, second of all I am pretty sure popularity is unreachable for me. I say stupid things, and my mouth usually speaks before my brain can process whether I should say it or not. I am in LOVE with Math and English. I flea from any potential drama. I love singing and dancing, but when those two actions are combined, it usually ends in some sort of catastrophe. I love to use large words, and it makes me even more happy when I have to explain what said words mean to other people. Country music puts me to sleep every night, and every night before I go to bed, I sing my All-State scales and arpeggios. I guess what I am trying to say is... I'm not a normal high school aged girl, and I feel like there is always a lot of peer pressure to conform to social standards, but I don't want to. I don't want to become a typical, robotic, snotty, drama-infested girl. I have watched far too many girls fall into the social standards, it really makes me sad.

I guess the main reason I have been thinking a lot about this stuff is because this year I am defying social standards in many ways. This year I am going to be on Dance Team, usually only popular people are on Dance Team. I am not in any way, shape, or form popular, and I don't want to be. I also made Student Council, which is a total popularity contest. I am just a little nervous about this year. Everyone always says that Junior year is the hardest. I believe it. This year my math class, College Algebra, counts as college credit. If I screw that up, I am already hindering my chances of being successful in college. I also opted to take the hardest science class available for Juniors... Chemistry. I am not very good at anything science related except for human anatomy type stuff. In fact, I died a little inside when I found out that I will have to take Chemistry in college to become a nurse. It's not going to be easy. I am also worried  about my ACT. My parents have made it very clear that they have no intention of paying my way through college, so I need to have a good ACT score as well as my 4.0 GPA. I told myself that I was going to take it blindly the first time and not study at all, but I have changed my mind. I have been taking practice tests and studying like crazy. I have been praying a lot about all of this, but especially upholding my testimony through all of this. This year will definitely be a test of faith. I really need to stop worrying. The Lord's will will be done. I just need to pursue my walk by faith.

Unsightly Photos... Level: Stofer

So my mother was going through some rather recent photos, and she pointed out all of the ones that I look yucky or stupid in... there were a lot of them. Normal people would be embarrassed, but I'm not normal and neither is my family.

 

This is probably my favorite. Ahh Christmas card pictures... You see, we never actually send out Christmas Cards. Mom always forgets, and by the time she remembers it is too late. One of these years we will actually get them sent, hopefully before I graduate. Anyway, we go through the same routine every freaking time we take a sibling picture. No one can hold still. Someone is always blinking. The cat/dog/rabbit intrudes. (You can't see him, but our little rabbit Haas was hopping around on the floor in front of us. He was wearing his pink harness, and we felt that he was important enough to be in our sibling picture.) Mom has the camera messed up. Mom can't get the right angle. We are laughing at someone's bodily function whether it be a fart, burp, sneeze, or any combination of the three. And in this case especially, we make funny faces at Mom to piss her off because we are tired of sitting there. There is a quite hilarious story behind the conversation that went on right before this picture was taken, but all four of us have sworn to secrecy. Just know that it is quite embarrassing.

This is the "Like Father Like Daughter" picture. You see I am always VERY tired on Sunday afternoons. It just seems like a perfect nap time. On this particular Sunday afternoon, I was supposed to be folding clothes, and Dad was supposed to be working on his little fire report thingy, but as you can see, neither of those things are getting done. Why? Because we Stofers can fall asleep any time in any place. Some people think it's weird, but I think it's a gift. (Except for when you fall asleep some place silly like on a cement pad in front of a barn or on the deck because in those instances, you get really bad sunburns... Yes, I know this from experience.) Notice that we were both too lazy to even change out of our church clothes. 

This one was taken a few weeks after Dad moved back to our Eastern Nebraska house to work on the Omaha Fire Department again. Mom and the four of us were still living in Ogallala to finish up the school year. We went out to eat, and Mom said "Kids, scrunch together so I can take a nice picture and send it to your father." Yup, this our idea of a nice picture. It's too bad that the camera cut off Rudy's face in this picture. That was quite the sight. Notice my Grandpa in the background trying to grab his stuff and get out of there before people thought that he was related to us. Not really, but that's what I would do.

"Annastazia and Rudy! Look over here so I can take your picture!" "No, Mom, you have taken enough pictures." 3 minutes later... "Mom you have taken at least 20 pictures can we be done yet?" "Alright now you've done it. You've pissed me off. I'm deleting all of them, and after that I'm only going to take one picture, so you had better make it good." This is what we chose to look like in said final picture. I was laughing so hard that I was almost crying. In our defense, we had just gotten done with 20 minutes worth of family Easter photos, and that was a long and irritating experience for all of us, including those of us who did not get breakfast and were eagerly awaiting Easter Lunch. For some reason my family is incapable of taking decent pictures. Now I realized that the majority of this problem could be fixed by the four of us being more patient and understanding, but Mom is such a difficult person to deal with when she is behind a camera. It's a very good thing that she is a pharmacist and not a photographer. Holy cow. That would be bad. I could go on and on with unsightly Stofer pictures, but I will save you the anguish.