If your lucky you have a person in your life that makes you laugh. I don't mean ha ha kind of laughing. I mean milk squirting out your nose kind of laughing. The kind of laughing that just makes your day better.
Willow has always been one of those people in my life. She makes me laugh she has always made me laugh. She has guts and courage and the kind of smile that just makes you want her as your friend. Over the past couple of years she has left comment after comment that had me giggling.
Yes giggling.
Finally at long last I have coaxed her out of the comment page and onto an actual post. One day she will start her own blog and become an over night success. Until that day I plan on stealing her talent.
Hey, what are friends for?
So without further ado here is the Beautifully Wicked Willow's "My Memory Monday," post.
Go ahead I dare you not to laugh. Leave comments it took a bit of coaxing people.
Now then, about my bike. Well, about my first bike, I am fairly certain that few want to hear about the two-wheeled nemisis begging to be ridden. My first bike, however, she was a beauty!
Flash back many, many years to my 7th Christmas. I had casually been dropping hints for months that I wouldn't mind if Santa brought a bike. My brother had a 10 speed, my sister had a nice set of wheels... but I had only an oversized trike. Yes, at 7 I was proudly (well, maybe not proudly) riding a huge Radio Flyer tricycle. It was bright red and went about as fast as a snail on a skateboard.... faster than a snail is regularly, but not fast at all. I was more than willing to trade my three wheels for a lovely two-wheeled bike.
That Christmas morning Alyssa, John, and I tip-toed out to the living room to see what Santa had brought for us. It was about 2am, Santa had always delivered to our house by 2:00. To our horror, there was nothing there.... NOTHING! Sure family gifts surrounded the base of our ribbon and twinkle light adorned tree, but there were no Santa toys, presents, or anything of the sort. I quickly turned on my much older siblings and firmly placed blame on them for their naughty behavior. After all, *I* was the good kid. A few minutes of kerfuffle later, we all went to bed fairly dejected.
Knowing that only coal awaited us, we were in no hurry to get out of bed. We stayed in bed until somewhere around 9:00. By then our stomachs were complaining, and we decided to face our Christmas of coal. However, there was no coal. There were toys from Santa... everything we had hinted at and hoped for. We walked around in wonder -- we had been good kids, who knew?
At first I didn't see it. It was tucked between the tree and our piano. However, I caught a glimpse of a white tire.... then a second white tire. Then I saw, in all of its pink and purple glory, the most beautiful, girly bike in all creation. It was pastell pink with purple accents and had the largest, longest, whitest banana seat I had ever seen! My new bike was gorgeous!!
Still in my pajamas, I begged my dad to teach me to ride. I knew the basick idea, but had never ridden on just two little wheels before (incidently, I had told Santa in a letter that big girls do use training wheels. Santa was kind enough to not bring training wheels for me). We went outside and Dad jogged along as I started to pedal tentatively. It was rough going at first, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly. In under 15 minutes I was riding at record speed down my block. I flew past the neighbor's houses and as I approached the corner, I realized that Dad hadn't taught me to turn or stop. OH SNAP!! With only a few feet of sidewalk left, I did the only rational thing -- I veered into the grass and crashed... hard. I was skinned and bleeding, but who cares when you can ride that fast! The rest of the day was spent perfecting my riding skills and playing with my siblings.
Years later, Dad taught me how to drive. However, that time he taught me to turn and stop before I even started the engine.
Willow has always been one of those people in my life. She makes me laugh she has always made me laugh. She has guts and courage and the kind of smile that just makes you want her as your friend. Over the past couple of years she has left comment after comment that had me giggling.
Yes giggling.
Finally at long last I have coaxed her out of the comment page and onto an actual post. One day she will start her own blog and become an over night success. Until that day I plan on stealing her talent.
Hey, what are friends for?
So without further ado here is the Beautifully Wicked Willow's "My Memory Monday," post.
Go ahead I dare you not to laugh. Leave comments it took a bit of coaxing people.
Now then, about my bike. Well, about my first bike, I am fairly certain that few want to hear about the two-wheeled nemisis begging to be ridden. My first bike, however, she was a beauty!
Flash back many, many years to my 7th Christmas. I had casually been dropping hints for months that I wouldn't mind if Santa brought a bike. My brother had a 10 speed, my sister had a nice set of wheels... but I had only an oversized trike. Yes, at 7 I was proudly (well, maybe not proudly) riding a huge Radio Flyer tricycle. It was bright red and went about as fast as a snail on a skateboard.... faster than a snail is regularly, but not fast at all. I was more than willing to trade my three wheels for a lovely two-wheeled bike.
That Christmas morning Alyssa, John, and I tip-toed out to the living room to see what Santa had brought for us. It was about 2am, Santa had always delivered to our house by 2:00. To our horror, there was nothing there.... NOTHING! Sure family gifts surrounded the base of our ribbon and twinkle light adorned tree, but there were no Santa toys, presents, or anything of the sort. I quickly turned on my much older siblings and firmly placed blame on them for their naughty behavior. After all, *I* was the good kid. A few minutes of kerfuffle later, we all went to bed fairly dejected.
Knowing that only coal awaited us, we were in no hurry to get out of bed. We stayed in bed until somewhere around 9:00. By then our stomachs were complaining, and we decided to face our Christmas of coal. However, there was no coal. There were toys from Santa... everything we had hinted at and hoped for. We walked around in wonder -- we had been good kids, who knew?
At first I didn't see it. It was tucked between the tree and our piano. However, I caught a glimpse of a white tire.... then a second white tire. Then I saw, in all of its pink and purple glory, the most beautiful, girly bike in all creation. It was pastell pink with purple accents and had the largest, longest, whitest banana seat I had ever seen! My new bike was gorgeous!!
Still in my pajamas, I begged my dad to teach me to ride. I knew the basick idea, but had never ridden on just two little wheels before (incidently, I had told Santa in a letter that big girls do use training wheels. Santa was kind enough to not bring training wheels for me). We went outside and Dad jogged along as I started to pedal tentatively. It was rough going at first, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly. In under 15 minutes I was riding at record speed down my block. I flew past the neighbor's houses and as I approached the corner, I realized that Dad hadn't taught me to turn or stop. OH SNAP!! With only a few feet of sidewalk left, I did the only rational thing -- I veered into the grass and crashed... hard. I was skinned and bleeding, but who cares when you can ride that fast! The rest of the day was spent perfecting my riding skills and playing with my siblings.
Years later, Dad taught me how to drive. However, that time he taught me to turn and stop before I even started the engine.
Comments
Diana, thanks. As I told Krissi, my stomach has been doing flip-flops ever since I sent her the post.