Draft Box

Hey guys, just cleaning out my draft box. Here’s an unfinished post from Saturday. There isn’t really a point to it. Enjoy!Yesterday, I went to the mall, with two good friends. It was a blast, and I needed to get out and do something fun. I’ve been in a rut for a while, and being to young to drive, I have to wait for the rents, or my sister to have an opening in their schedule and take pity on me. They’re very nice about it, though. It was nice to catch up with some friends, and walk around the mall, laughing at purple eyeliner, and being over the retirement of the Samantha American Girl. The last store we went to, was Lands End, where I bought a fabulous purple scarf. It’s lightweight, but as wide as it is long, and it’s long. It was thirty percent off, and I had a gift card, so it was practically free.

I had a different ice skating coach again. I liked her. She looked a lot like a girl in my Sunday school class. It made her more approachable, and easy to talk to. And, our conversation helped me keep my mind off the awkwardness that is trying to imitate my classmates, and, for the most part, doing poorly. The lesson went pretty well, as a whole. I learned how to do a slalom, the name’s more fun than than the action. I had to go through an obstacle course, made of orange cones. They made me a little mad. The lines weren’t where I thought they should be. In other news, I still can’t spin. I can’t get enough momentum, but I can almost skate backwards. Almost. The lesson went by quickly, and before I knew it, I was going back out the blue gate. I didn’t realize, until I took of my ice skates, how much my feet hurt. This was probably the roughest lesson, in they way of sore ankles and thighs.
After my parents picked me up, we all went to Target, to shop for our Operation Christmas Child boxes. We’ve developed a pretty good system over the years, so it didn’t take long.I’m not sure why I didn’t finish it, but I just wanted to get it out of the draft box. In the words of Carlton Lassiter, it reeks of failure.

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