Teaching [Holinshed style]

After manie daies and misgiuings concerning the great length of the class period, and after much preparation, in frensie and fun, Melissa went foorth and tavght her first class in this wise. Vpon arrival she fovnd that the class period was cvt in twainne, and perceiuing she could not couer all material, she was made to choose betwixt portions of her lesson planne. Finalie she was decided to haue the students read Act I of [as one might assume] Macbeth, and deuote the rest of the time to frvitvl discvssion. She reflects deeplie and profovndlie in her head, vnable to know how uell she reallie did. Yet, thovgh she is vndecided on her success, she was greatlie impressed with the vtterences of her students, and verie much enjoyed getting to know them better. She loued reading the answeres her woorthie students pvt on their homewoorke. She is glad to know she can do all things throvgh Christ who strengthens her.

*Holinshed's Chronicles were one of Shakespeare's sources as he wrote Macbeth. His (Holinshed's) spelling is verie funne. If you read Holinshed aloud, you'll realize it's nearly impossible to do so without some kind of accent. I prefer Scottish.

Excerpt from "The Partially Ficticious Memiors of Two Friends"

November Correspondence *More fun if read aloud*

Dear Miss Phelps,
I'm in such a rush, nothing could cause me to stop and send a note, save this. I want you to come with me on a tour this Christmas, we'll be in London two weeks, and perhaps visit our friends in Chatham as well. Do say yes, for I'll consider all other answers rude and unacceptable. More to follow.
Yours affectionately,
J. Ford
Hollister St., C.
PS. How is your mother? And you must bring that recipe when you come, I shall never forgive you if you omit to do so.

Dear Miss Ford,
I do hope this epistle finds you better in spirit than it leaves myself. This afternoon before receiving your note, I was reminded of you because of a song I heard on the wireless. I do believe the song was entitled You Got Me Feelin' So Fly by a diverting little artist called, *ahem, polite cough* Mr. Toby Mac. So you can imagine how amusing it was to receive your letter.
I must tell you; last night the most frightful of events occurred! While I was preparing to retire, I opened a writing book only to discover another of those dreadful centipede creatures among it's pages! I'm sure you will recall the one we discovered in my quarters recently. I hurriedly slammed the book, but when I acquired enough courage to reopen it, all I discovered was one appendage of the horrid creature on the blank page. I also discovered one next to the armoire! I killed it with one of my killing Inuit boots. Now it occurs to me, they may be nesting or something in the area. Because of your "expert knowledge in all things scientific", I appeal to you for help and information. Perhaps you know a bit about the breeding or nesting habits of said nasty creatures. I've seen three of the things, and I begin to theorize that there is some sort of colony. If so, I'm positive it's time to come down on the vermin as the immovable tyrant I am toward all things creepy-crawly. If you wouldn't mind looking into this, I'd be ever so indebted and grateful and all that.
By the by, Mum is well, thanks for asking. I'll certainly try to find that heavenly apple fondue recipe, no worries. My respects to dear Hannah, how I long to see her again. Thanks awfully for the invitation, I can't tell you how I look forward to it!
Regards,
M. Phelps
Young Street, C.

My Back-Up Substitute Living Room

When I'm at college, I don't have a living room. So I've been forced to find a replacement. Coffee shops. On Saturday, I desired one of my substitute living rooms, to be distracted from my inability to understand Algebra.

My favorite substitute is Coffee Emporium, because it is close and because the coffee is fantastic. However, I hate remembering change for the meter (not to mention parallel parking), so at times I fall on my back-up substitutes. Most of them are Starbucks.

So where would I go?
I don't like two in particular, because they are just entirely too busy.
Another I don't like because it has weird hours.
And there are several that are just too far away.

So I selected the Secret Starbucks, whose location I am sworn never to reveal. When I arrived I remembered what I dislike about that starbucks. The music. I walked in and heard some squally bluegrass chorus. Why do they play music like this? It is not in Kentucky (at least, I don't think it's in Kentucky). But they often seem to play music that is just too nasal, too twangy, too bluegrassy, too country for me.

In annoyance, I mused how the non-busy Good Music Starbucks would have been a better option. They play Dean Martin and Andy Williams and Ella Fitzgerald as often as not. One night I remember knowing and liking every song they played. I could, perhaps, have gone to The [other] Secret Starbucks. But I don't remember what type of music they play, and it is just a bit outside of my driving radius.

So I sat and thought how bitter it is to have no say in the music played in your own back-up substitute living room. As I sat in mid-glower, Louis Armstrong came over the speakers singing Let's Fall in Love. Followed by a croony guitar player. Followed by a pretty wavery French song. So I smiled and was at peace with the Secret Starbucks.

Excerpt from "The Partially Ficticious Memiors of Two Friends"

The Day We Planned Our Funerals Over Lunch
Chapter 1

Jaleesa: So, how was your weekend?
Melissa: I almost died twice.
Jaleesa: I'm glad you didn't. That would have been sad.
Melissa: I am too. I don't want to die yet.
Jaleesa: But I would have tap-danced at your funeral!
Melissa: Really? You can do that anyway when I do. Can I request a song?
*Breaks into off-key song* You fill up my senses - like a fizzy blue ocean!
Jaleessa: (to Dwayne) When I die I'd like you to find a huge bouquet of black carnations and lay them on my casket and cry like this (Jaleesa makes a weeping noise somewhat like a wolf howling at the moon and somewhat like an opera singer)
Melissa: I'd like you to leave a rose with a black ribbon around it lying on my grave, like the phantom of the opera did. It's absolutely so dramatic.
Dwayne looks non-committal.
Jaleesa: Mel, I'd like you to bring one of those Cracker Barrel sunflowers that sings, and play it as you stand in line to see me.
Mel sings "You are my sunshine" again, off-key.
Melissa: May I also bring confetti or glitter and scatter it over your casket?
(The conversation at this point becomes filled with gestures of tossing imaginary confetti on the part of both Jaleesa & Mel)
Jaleesa: Mazel tov to the dead lady. And I do insist on tap-dancing at your funeral too, Dwayne. (to Mel) You can sing if you like, while I dance.
Melissa: Oh I have the perfect song! "Danke schoen, Dahling, danke schoen! Thank you for all the joy and pain"
(Loud laughter all-round. Ok, that was one of the ficticious parts. Actually I think it was more of a collective groan)
Dwayne: (in tones laced with sarcasm) Yeah, I like that. Thank you, Dwayne... for dying.
(Non-ficticious laughter)
Mel: Wow. That was a good time.
Jaleesa: Too bad all that is totally inappropriate, so we'll never do it. -- Wait. Totally inappropriate. That sounds just like us.
Mel: Speak for yourself. At least we can include it in our ficticious memiors.
Jaleesa: We've really got to start working on that.