Barefoot Adventures

On Friday, being the fun, outgoing, friendly soul that I am, I hung out with some friends after school. We had a mahvelous time. By which I mean, I curled up on her couch and kinda sorta fell asleep. But then we decided, "Let's actually go have a mahvelous time! Let's do something exciting! Like go to a park!" So to a park we went.

We had had to walk quite a ways to get to my friend's house from Trax, and after this long and arduous journey, I decided to give up on shoes. I took them off as soon as we got to her house, and didn't put them back on for the rest of the day. This was great fun at the park, because it was all grassy and sandy and such. And who needs shoes when you're swinging as high as you can on a swing? No one.

Then, one of us had the cheery idea to go walk around in the cemetery conveniently located right by the park. There was even a gap in the fence that separated the two, so it was terribly easy to get into. This was when not having shoes showed itself to be a problem. You see, the cemetery has lots of pine trees. Which means lots of pine needles on the ground. Which means death to all feet! While my other friends were having a lovely time looking at graves, I was busy carefully planning where each foot would go, and saying, "Ow. Ow. Pine needles. Ow," and my voice kept suddenly shooting up two octaves. One time, I stepped on one, and when I sat down and looked two minutes later, it was still stuck in my foot. I hate pine needles. I really, really hate them.

At the cemetery, we saw a lot of prophet's graves. My favorite was John Taylor's, with a list of all his wives. Turns out two of the women he married were twins. The depressing ones were the baby graves, with birth and death dates on the same day. I also decided that I want violets to grow on my grave when I'm dead, because some of them had ten million violets growing on them, and it was wonderful.

I somehow survived my ordeal in the cemetery, and got back home, where I realized I had tree sap not only all over my foot, but also all over my hand. Then I was painting my nails, and had a minor spaz attack, and dropped the little brush thing. As I was frantically trying to mop it all up while it was wet, it got all over my hand. Add that to the tree sap, and I looked like I had some strange skin disease. It was great.