To appease the blogging gods (who knew they were so ruthless?), I am again posting on my blog. I am about to enter a new stage of life: the tweens of the twenties. Never to be a teenager again, but not yet an adult. It’s a between-stages stage. If that is possible.
But first, let me tell you of the adventure I had this morning. As I walking around grabbed her by the leg and started dragging her into the dense underbrush of the
a massive lion leapt across the sidewalk and swiped the back of my leg with its terrible claws. I faltered, but I kept running. I could feel cool blood from my ankle filling my shoe. Have you ever squelched your toes in blood? It’s not a comfortable sensation. At any rate, I got to the duck pond and distracted the crocodile, who proceeded to sweep through the area and rid us of those annoying whispering-sweet-nothings do-gooders. When I got back to the walking group, no one believed my story—until I showed them my bloody sock. A hush fell over the crowd.
Moral of the story: you best have a good story when you come home limping after only walking a few miles in