skateboard lessons. sort of.

My little brother Dalton was trying to teach me how to stateboard today. Of course, he knows absolutely nothing about skateboards, but this didn't bother either of us.
He demonstrates "proper form" and all this for me while my ADD brain is looking at a coke tab on the ground and wondering who put it there. Then he feels I am ready to get on, even though the feeling is not mutual.
Dalton pulls it back up the slope in our driveway. We have to ride downhill because we don't have a clue how to accelerate once you've slowed without falling off.
I suck up my wimpiness and have him stand still for me so I can hold onto him for dear life while I put my feet on. It's wobbily and shaky, but that could be because it's a little kid skateboard and a hundred-pound girl like me has no business being on it.
Dalton gives me my first instruction: "Let go of me now."
My fingers don't budge as I wait for him to explain in exact detail what I'm supposed to do. He didn't really know what I was supposed to do, but I had to have some direction if I was going to do this. He launches into this mini-speech about turning and slowing down, but all I can think is: I hope I don't die. Yes, I've always been a bit dramatic (but you already knew that).
Somehow I'm able to unpeel my fingers from his shoulders. As soon as I do, the skateboard lurches out from under me. It's the same experience you get when you ride the Titan at Six Flags for the first time. Next thing you know, I'm on the ground.
"Don't worry about it," Dalton tells me, as if falling down and looking like an idiot is perfectly normal (which I don't believe is true). He lugs the skateboard (and me) back up the driveway. "Next time don't hit the fence. Or dad's car. Or Abigail. When you want to turn, lean your body to the side...." His voice fades off as my fears once again seize me: I hope I don't hit the cat.
We repeat this for about five more times, Dalton patient as ever, me screaming the whole time, and the cat hiding safely out of sight.
Well, I don't need to go into more detail about the rest of my "lesson", but I can tell you with confidence that I will never, ever be a skater girl. This is a bummer, since I was really hoping on becoming as cool as Jillian.


The Bucket List

I started a new blog.

I know, I know, I've really lost it. 3 blogs is too much for anybody. (I have 4, if you count the private test blog.) It's too much to handle.

But an idea started forming in my mind -- or floating, or dancing, or whatever you'd like to call it. I just couldn't ignore it! That'd be cruel...like ignoring kittens or something.

That being said, I'd like you to meet my newest baby, The Bucket List. No, it has nothing to do with the movie, and it is not as cool as Morgan Freeman. It's a list of all the things I want to do before I get old and become restricted to feeding pigeons on a park bench in a little granny dress.

So please check it out, follow, comment, and tell your friends. Because if you don't, I'll cry. And we wouldn't want that.


In Which Our Church Praise Goes Crazy and I Inevitably Lose My Wits

Our first day in our new church building went well. Sort of. I was on stage with the band, banging on my jimbae like I'm trying to pulverize its very soul, mouthing along with the words and never missing a beat (OK, that's a total lie). Then, fdsjifjrieo! The sound system (which was very expensive and, in my opinion, not worth it) decides to be cute and go beserk. It sounded like those times when you're sitting at a red light and the car next to you is listening to rap music with the volume all the way up...only this was much louder. My mom, playing the pianon, wrinkles her brow; the bass player, who's amplifier is now going crazy, doesn't know what to do...even the worship leader looks confused. And what do I do?

I laugh.

It seems to me that the only proper thing to do at those such times is to shut up and go with it, which is exactly the opposite of what I did. True, you can't hear me laughing over the booming praise-gone-phsyco music, but I'm sure a few audience members were wondering why my face was spazzing out in a huge grin at the most inappropriate time.


Today is a Good Day.

Today is a day much like ones before it. I'm babysitting my pastor's kids with my dad (we're watching lame British cartoons). There's swing music playing in the kitchen; I was dancing to it earlier, before I noticed my dad glancing at me like I had really lost it.

I've been doing so much lately -- everything but read my Bible. I know that's really sad, and I do read it during the week for school, but I don't pay much attenion to it. I have been reading Breaking Dawn though. Why do vampires have to be more interesting for me than my Savior? It's so frustrating.

I'm really excited for tomorrow. For the past year or so, my church has been working on getting us into our new building. It's behind a Chinese restaraunt in the back of an old Wal-Mart. It's really big and really, really cool. It was totally empty when we decided to use it (except for the bathrooms, but they were really gross). We started from scratch, pulling up the tacky astroturf floors and putting up walls. It's been my job to mop, sweep, clean the bathrooms (their were homeless people living in the bathroom before we used it), and lay down the carpet (which is surprisingly fun). It's not complete, but tomorrow is going to be our first day of church in our new building! We've been waiting for this for a long time. God is sooooo good!

Lastly, my friend Travis started a blog, The Process Project. I absolutely love it when my friends have blogs. So please check it out and drop him a comment. :)