Wizard of Oz aunt (Day 21)

Updates:
Today, pretty uneventful.

Kick Spanish test’s ass. Check.

Well, that’s pretty much all I care about.

We’re starting poems in English though.

I’m not thrilled about this. Don’t get me wrong, I like poetry, I’m up to the challenge, but I don’t want to write my own.

1. it’s harder than just normal writing, you have to think.
2. generally poems have more personal meaning to them, so I don’t like the idea of presenting one to the class

Also, poems have a lot of hidden meaning, and if it comes down to a test on it, no matter how good at science I am, that equation just might not work out.

I feel about poetry the way I feel about the writing of transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. I like the ideas, I like the concept, but I don’t like the practice. (On a side not, Emerson SOOOO much better than Thoreau. Thought you all needed to know)

Anyway, off of the subject of English, laughs? More laughs?

Alright, if you insist.

When I was younger I had an active imagination when it came to people, especially people I didn’t know well, but came in contact with every once in a while.

I was also very easy to scare. You know the old Disney movie Rock’a’Doodle? I could only watch it once, because the only part I could remember after the first time was a scary part. (to this day, I have never watched that movie again)

Well, one movie I was especially afraid of was The Wizard of Oz, which was unfortunate because it was my sister’s favorite movie, so I ended up having to watch it quite often.

My aunt Chris also loved this movie, so I would end up seeing it with her. The problem was I only saw her about 3, maybe 4 times a year and began associating this scary movie with her at an early age. This is why I became convinced that my aunt was the wicked witch from the movie.

She looked like her, she laughed like her, and I would hide under my bed when she came to visit so I wouldn’t have to go give her a hug (I wasn’t big on the hug thing anyway, I’m still not, but come on. At least I don’t hide under my bed to avoid giving people hugs anymore)

I did get over this fear (obviously) but I always remembered how I used to think of her.
Then one day while my family was at my mom’s family’s summer house (which is now my uncle’s primary house. It’s just a big complicated house thing, but you get the just) we decided we were going to go for a bike ride.

There were a lot of us so we had to go to the basement and take out some very, VERY old bikes so there would be enough.

Guess what the bike looked like that my aunt rode, go on guess.

If you guessed JUST LIKE THE WITCH’S IN THE MOVIE, you would be correct.
JUST LIKE IT!!!!

I immediately began laughing and as my sister came up behind me, having known my fear of her when I was little, dropped her bike- which was over her head-on top of me because she had started laughing too.

Lesson of the story, stay under your bed.

You won’t get a mountain bike to the head.