When I woke up this morning, the first thing I saw was a frog. Not just any frog, this frog;
This is a drawing I drew four years ago for a very old blog, that I have destroyed. Yes, he is a Webkinz. I bought a lot of them a few years ago, when they were popular. I’m a little ashamed of it. When I see a fad, I usually ignore it. Pointedly. But I got sucked in to the Webkinz thing. They were so cute and fluffy, it was hard to ignore them. Pointedly, or otherwise. My first Webkinz was a Love Puppy; a white dog, covered in red and pink hearts. She’s adorable. I was ten, and knit her a superhero cape. I named her Sugar cone. I’m not sure why.
Sorry, this is the best I’ve got. Another four year old drawing. (That’s me taking her for a walk) My camera has a dead battery and my charger is lost. I put it somewhere ‘safe’ and it appears to be safe from me as well. But, after shaking the frog off my shoulder, I got up to check the time. It was five o’clock. In the morning. On a Saturday! What is that? I don’t even get up that early on weekdays. I rolled over and went to sleep.
It was eight when I finally got up, that was still a little early for a Saturday. I didn’t have anywhere to by until eleven, but the sun was up, and I was up. I got dressed, made up my bed, etc. while listening to trumpet solos. I’m a sucker for a good trumpet solo. God only knows why.
The morning went by pretty quickly, as they tend to when you’re only half awake. I spent most of the morning downstairs in my mothers office. I played with some Silly Putty I found in my desk while listening to my parents discuss stocks, until it was time to put on my gloves (I just finished them, pictures to follow, once I find my camera charger) and leave for ice skating.
Mom dropped me off half an hour early. I walked around the ‘Cooler’ for a while, until I realized how suspicious I looked, and found an empty bench to sit on. I sat there watching the clock, waiting for the last class to leave, so I could rent some skates. I sat like that for twenty minutes. As always, my eyes seemed to slow the clock down considerably.
Finally, it was ten minutes to eleven. I walked through the blue doors, up to the skate rental booth. there was no one in it but I saw one of the ladies in my class, waiting there. I went up to her and we talked about what we did all week. I feel bad, she told me her name but I just can’t remember it. She’s the woman I called ‘the nice lady’ for those who read last weeks ice skating post. We talked, until a man came by. He walked into the booth and asked us what we needed. He looked in charge, so we told him our foot sizes, and he went in back while saying, “I’ll try to find them, but I don’t work here.” He found them, but while he was looking, the man that actually works there came in. He didn’t seem to mind, but we had a good laugh.
We were still pretty early, so after putting on our skates, we sat on the bench for a while, talking about Tomorrow. She really likes Halloween, and dresses up every year. This year she’s going to be a vampire. Not the moronic sparkly vampires from the accursed Twilight series, but a classic, fangs, melting in the sunlight, with a Transylvanian accent. And of course, a goofy wig. I really can’t picture it. She’s so sweet, and I sort of pegged her as a ‘milk and cookies’ kind of woman. It just goes to show; first impressions aren’t everything.
As soon as the last class cleared out, we stepped out onto the ice to warm up. I needed it. I can never just step onto the ice and go. I always have to wobble around, picking up my feet awkwardly for a few minutes. I suppose it’s equivalent to getting your sea legs. There was a gap of about five minutes when no one was on the rink but us, which was really nice, it gave us a chance to get use to the ice before the rest of the class got there. Then the coaches came. They have a weird system, they switch classes. I’ve had a different coach for the last four classes, including the last quarter.
The newish coach mistook me for nineteen. I’m used to people thinking I’m older than I am, because I’m very tall, and keep eye contact, which is unusual for most teenagers. But nineteen? It baffles me even more than the time the lady in Ann Taylor Loft tried to set me up with her twenty year old son. It doesn’t even make since if you phrase it like a math problem, which is helpful in the every day life of us geeks. Here’s an example;
What should I wear to the corn maze/bonfire tonight? Equation;
I will get corn in my hair + hay on my clothes + possibly lost + mud and hay on my pants + it’s mid afternoon in October = ponytail, casual sweater, bright pink scarf, tennis shoes, and jeans. Very simple. But there really isn’t an equation for how old I look. I’ve tried;
My height + posture + mature taste in clothes….
braces x 2 – obvious love of stuffed animals and sock monkey slippers….
Not only is it practically an endless problem, but it’s all relative and makes no logical sense, unlike weather factors and clothes. So I let it go. That was the only odd thing that happened during my ice skating lesson, but I did learn how to preform a backwards swizzle.
Let’s fast forward three hours. I have eaten a bowl of pasta, and some Starbursts. I have tried on several scarves, danced around, and watched a murder mystery. At three o ‘clock, Mom drove me to the church where I met a sixth grader and the youth pastor. I was early. Eventually, everyone that was going to come came and we divided ourselves into vehicles. A fellow Cubbie worker, and a friend of mine, Mrs. H, was driving her van there. She has a daughter in the youth group and was going for her, but her daughter, being a sixth grader, wanted the full youth group experience and waned to ride the bus. Roxy and I, being seasoned youths (ninth graders, but seasoned youths just sounds better) know better. An air conditioned minivan, always beats the church van. The windows rattle, the dirt of ages is everywhere, and the floor is reminiscent of a wheelchair ramp. Of course, spending times with friends is always a plus, but they’ll be there when you get there.
When we got to the dairy farm we paid, and Roxy, Mrs. H, and I went to find the entrance of the corn maze, buddy system style. We got the lecture ‘stay on the path, don’t litter, no eating the corn’, blah, blah, blah. They had the maze divided into phases. We went through phase 2. The whole maze took us ten minutes, but be ended up at the entrance to phase 1. We had no clue how we could have done that, but I was kind of proud. We went through again. This time through the exit. We had an hour to waste, so we tried to get lost. It wasn’t a very big maze, there was a guy with a tower for a chair, not a job I would want though, and I had a very large, vibrantly pink scarf that I could easily wave over the corn stalks. We were set, so we began walking in cimi-circles, full circles, passing one marker five times. But no matter what we did, or how many times we wandered off the path, we had no problem getting back. I have never before been annoyed at my inability to get lost.
Wow, it’s late! I better wrap it up! There was a bonfire, delicious sticky s’mores, and bumpy hay rides. It was very fun, and a great kick of to Halloween. This has been the random ramblings of Leila. Thanks for reading!