Flying Is Just Falling And Missing The Ground

I'm not afraid of running for it, or even jumping off the edge. It's the falling that gets me every time.

This weekend, my little sister had her birthday party. Tons of her friends came (and some of mine as well), but only Anna (4th grader) and Grace (one grade younger than me because she failed the third grade) stayed the night. Grace (who is about the same age as me) stayed up half the night playing Mushimonsters with my little sisters. Before that we googled pictures of her favorite band, Panic At The Disco, for which she is stalker obsessed with.

Later the same weekend we went to a trail behind my house and went behind the lake to the railroad tracks that me and Ashley discovered last year. She pulled out her MP3 player and played Jingle Bells. It was completely random but totally awesome. So we sang jingle bells while walking on opposite sides of the railroad track, the MP3 headphone cord dangling between us. My voice was hoarse because of the cold I now fully have. It was fun, though. Fear because we could've been hit at any moment by an oncoming train, and excitement for the same reason. My little sisters were there too, but too afraid to go any farther than the edge of the lake.

Then later that day, we were stalked by a 4th grade giant. I'll explain in my next post. Hope you're all doing well and don't completely hate me for being the slowest catcher up-er (um?) on blogs. I promise I'll check up by Friday. Wish me luck on tomorrow's concert. =)