So, today I'm going to take a break from all that teenage angst crap and tell you a story. But first, a teensy bit of background: I noticed the other day that the scar on my hand was almost completely faded. This made me sad, because I like my scars. When I was younger I always wished I had some scars and I was happy when I finally got a couple, even though the process of getting them was very unpleasant. But those aren't the scars I'm going to talk about today, and that's not even really the reason I'm a bit sad about the fading of this one. It's because the scar is a reminder of how I got the scar, and that is a story. It's not a particularly special or exciting story, but it's still a story. When I noticed I could barely see the scar, it occurred to me that the story could soon be forgotten. How horrible, I thought, I should write it down. -And then do what with it. -*gasp* I should blog about it. And that brings me to where we are now. This looks like it might get to be another really long post, sorry. Maybe I'll make the font smaller. So here is my story:
I went to a family camp in the black hills last summer called Outlaw Ranch. One of the things my age group did one morning was hike to Outlaw Mountain. Not everyone in my group went, but most or all of the guys did. and I did. I was the only girl from the age group, but this doesn't seem to be overly unusual in my life. I wanted to hike up a mountain. And it was a tough hike, it was really steep and pretty long and there were tree branches literally everywhere. EVERYWHERE all over the ground. My legs got all scratched up. Sometime on the way to the top, I noticed that there was a nice red scratch on my hand. It didn't really hurt and it wasn't really bleeding, so I didn't realize until I glanced down at my hand. I figured I had scratched it on a tree branch, but later, I decided that I had probably scratched myself hopping over the short little barbed wire fence on the way.
We were a little late coming back for lunch, so we decided to make up a story about how we got attacked by a mountain lion, and it scratched me, but then this kid in my group named Jay knocked it out with his water bottle and we ran off before it woke up. That was the story that I was going to tell people if they asked about the scar, until I realized that hopping a barbed wire fence sounded almost as badass as fighting off a mountain lion, and it was more realistic, because it actually happened. Then I decided I should say I hopped a barbed wire fence while being chased by a mountain lion.
That's really all I have to say. It was pretty long. sorry.
Quote of the moment: "Are you a battlement?" -some really dumb chick on amazing race
"Hi, I'm Tom from Australia" -Tom from Australia aka frezned
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