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@melodyjoy

Hey! Lothlorien is from J.R.R. Tolkien’s ‘The Lord of the Rings’ series. It’s a beautiful forest realm where elves live. In my imagination, one of the elves Legolas, found me and adopted me as his younger sister. So I am not actually an elf, but I live there a lot. 🙂

I understand pretty busy. XP But you should seriously try to read Wingfeather as soon as you can. It’s amazing.

I do love Merida’s hair! Out of the eight other people in my immediate family, only one brother has red hair, but I’m still hoping there’s enough of it in my genes for some of my kids to have red hair. Or maybe I’ll marry a red-head with strong genes. 😛

Interior design is actually another of my hobbies! I don’t get to practice it much, only when we decide to reno part of our house, so mainly it’s me looking at magazines and books and drawing up plans in my head. I’m really excited though because I’m getting a new room to myself in our basement and it’s a chance for me to come up with a whole new design for my room!!! All centered around my three bookshelves, of course. 😀 Graphic design is actually a huge part of interior design now… graphic art and design uses a computer to create art, but it can also be used to create floor plans and rough ideas of room decor. There’s all sorts of software out there now that interior designers are using to help them go through ideas of designing rooms without having to switch furniture around all the time.

The live action Beauty and the Beast was pretty good. I actually just saw it again at a drive in movie theater last week. YES, the human prince was… so weird looking. When I’d heard they got Dan Stevens for the prince, I was like… ‘um, he’s kinda good looking, I guess, but… good thing he’s a beast most of the time’ XD

Oooh, yes Mysterious Benedict Society! Have you read the newest one, ‘The Riddle of the Ages’?

I’m glad you think my book sounds interesting! Actually… I’ll post the part of the bike accident, if you want to read it. It’s in the second chapter of the book…

” A cheap hotel may seem like a good idea when you’re exhausted and poor lighting can’t reveal every little dirt smudge, but in the morning when the sun is filtering through the ratty curtains, it looks a lot less like a good idea.
I scrambled away from the crumpled bed-covers that looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks and gingerly picked up my bags from the floor. My clothes and shoes were still on, due to the fact that I was too tired to change last night and didn’t have any pajamas with me anyways. I was more than eager to leave this place.
Leaving the key on the check-in desk, I mumbled an evasive reply to the desk worker’s question about my satisfaction and walked out the door, praying my bike hadn’t been stolen. It hadn’t, so half an hour later I found myself once again on the road, riding one handed while I ate a greasy breakfast sandwich from a fast food place that turned my stomach almost more than the hotel. But I had to eat, and the flavor wasn’t half bad.
I biked for miles again, skipping lunch simply because I didn’t find any other place to eat. I called myself an idiot again for not getting something I could take with me, but I excused myself from the lack of forethought because of what I’d been through.
The sun blazed down on me like it was intent on burning me to a crisp before I could find another place to spend the night. The trees all seemed to be leaning away from the road, offering no shade as I pedaled exhaustively along.
I started to sing to myself, an attempt to keep from being lonely. I changed my voice, singing lower or higher to make it seem like it was somebody else, but my lungs needed all the air for cycling, and eventually there was none left for even talking.
Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. No more ‘Welcome to our town’ signs had appeared, and a clearing with a few large trees to my right tempted me. I dragged my bike into the field and hunkered down against a huge oak tree. I wiped at my brow and upper lip, but the sweat was only replaced by more. I picked the worst time of year to be kicked out.
I laid my head down on my school backpack and heard a crackling sound. I shot up and shoved my hand into a side pocket, pulling out a crumpled but still entirely edible granola bar.
“Glory, hallelujah.” I wanted to shout it but was too tired to do anything but mutter.
I rested for as long as I could, but I knew all the time passing brought the day closer to night, and I did not want to be out on the road in the dark. Not even sure I could, I mounted my bike again and pedaled slowly on.
It seemed as if the road had no end. It didn’t turn, it didn’t change. No signs, no houses, nothing. I fell into an almost trancelike state, pedals churning a slow, heavy rhythm.
Tires rumbled behind me and I veered closer to the shoulder. A van trundled past, suitcases strapped to the top, blue paint shining, and a heavy beat thrumming through the air. Happiness and irritation spilled out with the exhaust fumes and lingered in puffy little clouds over the pavement.
Funny how you can have two totally different feelings at one time, like you can divide your heart into parts for a few moments. Unfortunately, my attention didn’t seem to have the same quality. I was so busy watching the feelings drift behind that car, I didn’t see the pothole until it was too late. My front wheel hit the edge, my back wheel churned the air, and I was thrown into the sky.
It was the best accident that ever happened to me.
I flew off that bike right into the arms of holes-in-his-blue-jeans-heart-on-his-sleeve-Irish-eyes Clay Dawson, and my life was changed forever. For the better.”