I have a ton of ideas for different post floating around in my head making me crazy. The problem is that pictures are required to tell the stories properly and I moved all of my photos to my external hard drive. Which is not presently in my location.
So, you get this story instead...
Leaky is a cartwheeling fool. She has spent more time on her hands lately than on her feet. It is really a pain in the ass when you are trying to have a conversation with a child that is constantly rotating. I made the mistake recently of informing her that I used to be able to do cartwheels too. She scoffed at the idea. I took it as a challenge.
The good news is that I proved my daughter wrong and performed my cartwheel with perfect form. The bad news, I may have over stretched a muscle in my groin that I forgot was there. Let's just say I was walking a little funny for a few days.
All this action reminded me of my worst experience ever with the cartwheels. I participated in debate during my junior/senior year. We would travel to other schools to compete in tournaments once or twice a month. This particular event was being held at the school my cousins attended. I spent most of my free time hanging out with them and their friends. This meant running into someone I knew wasn't out of the question. I was done with my rounds by early evening as was on of my best friends Chrissy. We were screwing around and running from place to place in the cafeteria to catch up with everyone and see how they did. I was full of energy and a complete goof and chose the middle of the floor to perform a quick cartwheel. As I was turning through the air, I heard the loudest rip that I can ever remember hearing. I am fairly certain the sound caught the attention of the hundred or so teens BSing and playing hacky sack (who remembers that??) around my vicinity. I landed with my legs together afraid to move.
I hadn't just ripped my jeans a little along the seam.
I had torn the entire crotch out of my jeans. At the same time in life I had started experimenting with wearing thong underwear. I was completely frozen with mortification. Chris thought quickly and threw me her sweater to tie around my waist. If I walked really carefully that would help maintain the shred that was left of my modesty and my pants.
If any of you are aware, you are required to dress professional while competing in debate. The would have saved me with having a spare set of clothes. Except, I had forgotten my stuff at home that morning and had borrowed another friends during my debates and she had left already with her parents, while I would be taking the bus back to our school.
I spent the next few hours standing very still and awkwardly as to not expose myself (again) until it was time to go. I was never so excited to make it home in my life.