Uses for Pillows

1. To cushion your head while you sleep.
2. To decorate a chair.
3. To give the cat a place to nap.
4. As ammo in a pillow fight.
5. Something soft to throw when the cat is scratching the bed.
6. To prop up an injured foot.
7. As building materials for a fort.
8. As a hiding place for lost teeth.
9. It's something to hug when you're feeling sad.
10. To hold something you want to display.

Three Bears

Three bears were sitting in the woods. The largest was covered in fluffy black fur, and despite his, size, there was a gentleness about him. The smallest had short brown fur patched through with scars, and a cunning glint in her eye that promised trouble to any that irritated her.
The third bear, was not a bear at all.
Clothed in a onesie that had a bear ear hood was a little boy with curly brown hair. He couldn't have been more than four, but although his cheeks held the evidence of past tears, right at that moment he was sleepily content to lean against the black bear's side.
"You can't keep it, Thomas," the brown bear growled, glancing down at the child with distaste. "Those kind go crazy when they see one of ours near their young. Do you really want to get caught up in that kind of mess right before summer begins?"
Thomas the black bear looked down at the boy, noting that he'd finally fallen asleep. "Look at him, Tilda, he's defenseless. If I'd left him where he was, something hungry would've come along and ate him."
Tilda huffed and and gave Thomas a look. "That cub is hardly a mouthful. Besides, it's mother is probably searching the forest for it. Do you really want to get between a mother and her cub?"
Thomas kept looking at the boy sleeping against him, something sorrowful in his gaze. "She isn't," he turned to look at Tilda, and she stiffened a little at his tone. "I found him at one of those clearing dens his kind like to make for a few days before abandoning. Their den was torn apart, and the only sign I could find of his mother was some blood in the destroyed den. He was all alone, Tilda, and no one was coming back."
Tilda looked away from Thomas, stifling a growl at the scene he'd described. "Was there any sign if what destroyed the den?"
"Nothing native to the forest." Thomas answered.
Tilda looked back down at the boy. "If they come for him, you've got let him go, Thomas."
"If they come for him, to care for him, then I will." Thomas agreed. Then he gave menacing growl that was only tempered enough that it would wake the sleeping boy. "But if those who destroyed his den come, if they try and harm him, I will destroy them."
Tilda bared her teeth. "You? Oh no, dear friend. You will get the cub to safety, while I rip them apart."
Thomas gave a rumbling laugh. "Fair enough."
"Now, if you're keeping him, the cob will need a name," Tilda said.
"Berry," Thomas said, warmth filling his voice again. "After all, I was looking for some berry bushes when I found him."
"Berry it is," Tilda said.
With that, the two bears settled rest, certain the coming summer would bring even more challenges now that there was a cub to care for.

Party Snacks

1. Fruit and dip.
2. Pizza.
3. Cookies.
4. Popcorn.
5. Chocolate.
6. Mini muffins.
7. A vegetable tray.
8. Chips.
9. Breadsticks.
10. Tartlets.

A Traditional Race

It was a tradition.
Rush around the forest, and challenge other creatures to a race.
A fox.
A goose.
Any creature would do.
But the true heart of the tradition was to challenge the tortoise. For there was only one tortoise in the forest, and he was oh so slow.
Story was, the first hare to challenge the tortoise was arrogant, rude, and lazy. He challenged the tortoise, then took a nap! And then kept delaying finishing the race, until finally he forgot about it until some creatures asked if he'd heard about the tortoise who beat a hare.
Well, he demanded a rematch, and swiftly won.
Then, he made sure one of his kids watched the finish line, and challenged the tortoise to another race.
And then another hare challenged the tortoise, and another, and another.
It's the family tradition, now. A tradition built upon two keys.
One: a hare should never laze about when something is to be done.
And two: learn the dedication of the tortoise, who never says no to a race he's only won once.

Possible Ice Cream Flavors

1. Chocolate cinnamon.
2. Lemon raspberry.
3. Strawberry kiwi.
4. Cranberry orange.
5. Hazelnut.
6. Apple almond.
7. Marshmallow cherry.
8. Mint banana.
9. Caramel coconut.
10. Malted pineapple.

Finish Line

Time is ticking away, and yet the tortoise has yet to cross the finish line.
Seasons change, and still there is no sign.
Families grow, families move out and others move in, and still the tortoise delays.
Generations pass.
The finish line fades to a memory, of a race few who live where there to see.
A tortoise crosses the buried line, chips of paint peeking out beneath the leaves and grime.
A young hare hops by, and laughs at the slow tortoise.
"Slow, am I?" the tortoise rasps, and the young hare pauses to stare. "How about a race then, young cottontail?"
And so the finish line was unearthed, and a young hare darted off with a confident cheer.
While the tortoise looked around the clearing, again vibrant with excited creatures, and took one slow step after another back toward an ever-distant finish line.

Foods that go with Swiss Cheese

1. Ham.
2. Macaroni.
3. Rice.
4. Turkey.
5. Quiche.
6. Chicken.
7. Crackers.
8. Salami.
9. Burgers.
10. Toast.

Sea Folk

The world was spinning, the rushing roar of air drowning out any other noise.
Including my scream.
What else was I supposed to do? Tumbling through the air doesn't give you many options when you don't have wings.
I knew I shouldn't have gone up to the deck tonight. Cabin boys aren't paid to investigate strange noises. At least, I wasn't. Nope, all I needed to do was go back to sleep until it was time to help Cook prepare breakfast.
But no, I just had to see what was happening.
Turns out, it was the start of a mutiny, 'cause some of the newest crewmen were actually pirates.
And they didn't like a cabin boy stumbling in on them getting ready to attack the Captain.
So, I'd managed to sound the alarm and wake the rest of the crew.
But they didn't get above deck in time to save me from getting thrown over the side.
If we'd been an old-fashioned vessel, I'd have splashed into water and could've been fished out.
But no, I had to live in the age of cloud skippers, because nobody with any sense dared sail the forbidden seas anymore. It was much safer to travel in airships. At least, so long as you didn't fall off.
So here I was, plummeting to my death. I wasn't even screaming anymore. No point, when I'd been falling long enough for the terror to fade to a glum knot in my stomach.
Folks fell off airships all the time. During storms, when fighting off the rocs or pirates, or just because of poor luck. It was the risk of being on an airship. Sure, sometimes you're lucky enough to be harnessed to the ship, if you happen to fall while doing repairs. And some noble ships give their passengers and crew personal parachutes. But the Dandelion Fluff wasn't well off enough for everybody to get a 'chute, and even if I'd had one, it probably would've still been by my hammock.
I wasn't sure how long it would take to reach to ground. Didn't really want to think about the landing, actually. Though it probably wouldn't be on land, since we'd been on a course across one of the forbidden seas to deliver supplies to the islands of Harv'olos.
So, I'd probably land on water. Not gonna be nice, not that any landing would've been nice at this speed.
At least between the air ripping at my face and the darkness of night, I'd never see the water comin—

"—you thinking!" said a voice. It was kinda echoey, unlike any I'd ever heard. I was surprised to be hearing anything, though I couldn't figure out just why that was. My everything hurt, but especially my head. Did I really need to be conscious? 
"He was going to die!" said a new voice. Younger, maybe, but still echoey. "If he'd hit the surface at that speed without my charm, it would have killed him."
"Then should have let him!" said the first voice, who I decided I didn't like. Were they really upset the younger person had saved someone's life?
"He's just a kid. Groundlings already have short enough lives, why should I have let his be cut short?" the second voice asked, fully of the defiance of someone who knew exactly what rules they'd just broken. I should know that tone, as I'd once breathed it every minute of the day.
Maybe if I could convince my eyes to open, I'd get to see if the owner of the second voice was wearing the I-don't-care-what-the-rules-were face.
"What will your father say?" asked the first voice wearily.
"I claim responsibility for him," the second voice said, "I'll teach him our ways, make sure he doesn't accidentally wander into Trenceona territory, or any other foolishness."
"He's a groundling, not a hippocampi," said the first voice sternly, "your father won't be happy you saved him, and even less happy with how you did it."
Okay, eyes, we really need to see exactly what a groundling is, and why our echoey voices are fighting over its continued existence.
An odd moan escaped as I finally got too heavy eyelids to open. The world was tinted with an odd blueish light, and was strangely wavering, like a mirage brought in close. My eyes itched, almost like I'd opened them underwater.
Wait. Not almost like. Exactly like!
I turned my head toward the voices, and found the movement felt like it would've underwater. Odd. I couldn't actually be underwater, because I was breathing. And the last I'd checked, I couldn't breath water.
My eyes finally focused enough to make out the owners of the voices, and fear filled my gut. There were two of the Sea Folk mere feet from me! Deathly pale skin like a drowned man covered their humanlike upper body. Serpentine tails covered in ridged scales took the place of legs, strangely beautiful despite the horrific power within them.
I scrambled to run away, get away before these monsters could kill me. Sea Folk were supposed to stay in the forbidden seas! Why were they here? How could two of them have gotten on the Dandelion Fluff?
My legs weren't working right, I couldn't seem to get them moving.
Wait. I wasn't on the Dandelion Fluff. I'd... when thrown overboard.
One of the Sea Folk moved closer, somehow floating through the air. Or was it swimming?
No, I'm breathing, and I can't breathe water. My aching head twinged a little at my reasoning, but I'd worse things to focus on than something off about my breathing.
"You're awake!" the Sea Folk said with the younger voice I'd heard earlier. This was the owner of the second voice? The one who'd rescued a groundling? She had bright blue hair that swayed and melted into the blueish light of this place, along with neon yellow eyes. Behind her, an older Sea Folk gave a long-suffering sigh as he rubbed one webbed hand against his face.
"Wonderful, now you'll have a chance to bond with groundling, and nothing I say will convince you to leave him here," the older Sea Folk said, and I recognized him as the first voice. He had startlingly green hair, kept neatly braided. His eyes were equally green, in such a rich hue I'd never seen in a person.
"Wait," I said as his words caught in my brain, "I'm not a groundling, whatever that is." Since my legs still weren't working and they hadn't tried to eat me yet, my fear had decided to fade back into a glum knot.
The older Sea Folk looked at me and shook his head with a sigh. "Goundlings are those two-legged creatures that dwell above the surface and once tried to pillage the great seas. Lately, they've moved on to ships that sail through the clouds. You were a groundling, before Her Highness decided to disobey multiple laws in her attempt to save your life."
The younger Sea Folk gave the older one a stern look. "Norfis, I was well within my rights to grant sanctuary to one in need."
Norfis laughed. "One usually must claim sanctuary before it can be extended."
I quickly raised my hand. "Um, I claim sanctuary?" Guest rights couldn't be much different, right? Surely the Sea Folk don't eat people who've claimed sanctuary?
"Granted." the younger Sea Folk looked smug. She extended a webbed hand to me. "I, Princess Cassiopeia De'Curan of the Reefaros claim responsibility for..." she tilted her head at me.
"Zachary Michaels," I said after I realized she wanted my name. Wait, was it Sea Folk you weren't supposed to tell your name to, or something else? Well, too late now.
"...for Zachary Michaels, formally of the groundlings." Princess Cassiopeia finished solemnly, wiggling her webbed fingers in what I assumed was a hint that I should take it.
I stretched out my hand, but froze when I actually saw it. It was webbed. My head jerked down to look at myself, and my achy brain finally figured out why my legs weren't working.
I didn't have legs anymore.
Instead, a horrible serpentine tail coiled beneath me, ridged scales a deep midnight blue-black.
I'd been turned into a Sea Folk!
It was too much. So I fainted.

How to Begin a New Year

1. Get better sleep.
2. Try a new food.
3. Improve a skill you have.
4. Make a new friend.
5. Reconnect with an old friend.
6. Tell someone you love how much they mean to you.
7. Try to be a little happier each day.
8. Give others sincere compliments.
9. Start a journal.
10. Male someone laugh.

Proper Date

With the changing of year, some forget which date to write.
Others forget to change stories from, "what happened last year" to "a couple years ago".
But a new year brings opportunities, beyond mis-written dates. So go out and make memories, and maybe try to remember the proper date.