Stories. You Know You Want Them.

Hey! I'm alive! What????

So, I kind of lost track of my life there for a minute. I also lost track of why I started this blog in the first place. It wasn't to draw pictures or video my face. It was to WRITE STORIES.

I actually wanted to draw a couple of pictures with this one, but I can't find my awesome drawy thingy.

Today, I am going to tell you a story from my childhood. I don't think I have told a story from my childhood before.

A little bit of background: I am a firstborn child of an Ulster Irish father and a Texan mother. This winning combination was destined to make my life far superior on the awesome scale. Obviously.

With such awesome parents producing such awesome offspring (my brother, Bill, and I), there is clearly only one course of action. Action that my parents took very, very seriously.

PROTECT THE CHILDREN WITHIN AN INCH OF THEIR VERY SMALL LIVES!!

Now, when you're an itty bitty baby kid, you don't really realize just how protective your parents are. Sure, your friends get to do a lot more than you, but seriously. They're always covered in band aids and who wants that?

We grew up in a trailer. A NICE trailer, but a trailer nonetheless. Also, we had a kick awesome chain link fence. BE JEALOUS. Our yard didn't really seem all that small when we were mostly into baby things like attempting to hit a giant golf ball with a giant club. (A feat that I only managed to do BACKWARDS, much to the chagrin of my father who was REALLY hoping for a daughter who could make it on the Women's PGA Tour.) Also, there were large shrubs to climb (our trees were too big) and mud to eat from Mom's gardens.

Then it happened. We graduated to bicycles. Well, actually I had a bike and Bill had one of those "Big Wheels". Remember those things? Big (to a baby child), plastic, and louder than a banshee.

Ooh! Ooh! Quick! Just thought of another Big Wheel story. Once, I went over to a friend's birthday party. I think I was in Kindergarten. They had an unfinished basement that was very exotic to me. (Seriously. Trailers with basements were NOT an option in our neighborhood in '91. Trust.) My friend had one of the awesome girl Big Wheels. The white one with the lavender seat and light green wheels. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. It was in the basement, and for some reason the group of girls thought it would be awesome to see if you could start at one side of the basement, pedal as FAST as you could, and then stop yourself with the other basement wall. Who would do this? Who would complete this task? Who would be the brave one?

Me. DUH.

And I couldn't figure out why my Mom wasn't super impressed and proud of me when I showed her when she came to pick me up. What part of me crashing into a wall at breakneck speed and causing a loud "CRACK" sound as the front wheel hit and my head flew backwards WASN'T cool? (It was the first of many times I would be excited and proud as my Mother looked at me absolutely mortified. July 7, 2007 anyone? I digress.)

Where was I? Oh yes. Bicycle and Big Wheel.

In our front yard, there was about 10-15 feet of cement sidewalk. I can't remember because I was a little kid and I'm sure it seemed bigger than it actually was. The house is gone now, so I can't go measure it. Maybe it was 8 feet, who really knows? Sometimes, we wanted to ride our bicycle things but Mom and Dad didn't feel like going down to the cemetery for a walk. What were kids who weren't allowed outside the confines of the chain link fence without adult supervision to do?

That's right.

Ride your bike 10 feet (about 1 1/2 pedals worth), get off the bike. Turn it around. Ride back.

We would do this for HOURS. We would start after dinner and keep going until bath or bedtime. We were HARDCORE. We didn't find it odd at all. Oh, what the neighbors must have thought of us. "Those strange Irish children are outside on their bikes again! This is as amusing as watching small dogs chase their tails!"

We also thought that if we accidentally kicked our kickball into the outside exposed gas line, that our house would explode. But I'm pretty sure Dad just told us that because it made a REALLY annoying noise if you were in the house.