Summer fun and misfortune.

Other than studying for the GRE, I've been having a lot of fun. Last week, my best friend Becca turned 21 and I went out for dinner with her. This week I'll be 21, and then we can go downtown together!

Then last Friday, Becca and I road-tripped to Six Flags Great America. It was a lovely 4-ish hour drive. We set my GPS to speak in a British accent, which turned out to be quite hilarious when we took a wrong turn on the way home (it tried to make us go down a gated road that allowed "no thru traffic." Overall the day was pretty great. We had Taco Bell before the rides. We wanted Subway, but my GPS took us to Rainforest Cafe instead, so we settled for Taco Bell. We spent about 9 hours going on rides, and somehow managed to avoid sunburn (and tans. hmm). I did, however, manage to lose a shoe.

Well, I didn't lose it precisely. It was replaced with another shoe...I had to take off my nice (cheap but great) Old Navy flip-flops for the Superman ride. When I got back off the ride, I only had one of my steely blue colored shoes. Rather than having another, I had a gray Old Navy flip-flop. Close, but no cigar.

The shoes had gotten all mixed together, and someone MUST have thought that one of my shoes was one of theirs. In reality, my shoe was a size bigger (but the difference was so tiny that you could barely notice) and a different color. At that point, what do you do? No WAY would I walk around Six Flags barefoot. So...I wore the stranger's shoe. Becca and I chased down all the girls who were on the ride with us--none of them had it. Fail. But it was kind of funny, really, and the shoes were so cheap that it didn't really matter. Plus Mom bought me two new pairs on Sunday...for $3.61, which is why I love Old Navy's flip-flops.

Today was also an interesting day--another fun story. Well, maybe fun isn't QUITE the right word. I met Dani for her first wedding dress fitting, which WAS quite fun. And then we got some ice cream at the Pearl and ate it down on Riverside. Then, I drove home. Or started to. You see, there was a bit of a delay when I got rear ended on West Ave.

I can't really blame the woman who was behind me. She got rear ended first, which led her to hitting me. I pulled up to the stoplight on West Ave, to turn onto Mormon Coulee. There were two cars in front of me, and I saw this woman pulling up behind me. I watched her pull up, trying to determine if her car was white, or a really pale pink. I had just decided that it was pink (and that she was going to stop--something I always wonder when people drive up behind me). She did stop--but the person behind her didn't.

She must have been right behind me. I heard a loud thump, and then I FELT a thump, and it scared the CRAP out of me. It took me a minute to figure out what happened, and then I got out of my car to look at the back. It looked almost fine, just some minor damage. And the other two people got out of their cars to look at their cars...but then got back in. I had NO idea what to do, so I got in my car. I couldn't stay there anyway, because no one would have been able to turn properly. I immediately called Mom, who made me call Dad. Dad made me go back to the accident--had to be recorded on the accident report, in case there was damage to my car that I hadn't noticed.

I parked across the street and went over to the two women outside. They clearly had no idea why I was there, and I had to explain that I had been hit too. I don't really think they believed me, until they looked at the front of the pink car. The lady of the pale pink Mary Kay caddy was not pleased. I can't really blame her--I was just the bearer of MORE bad news. But she could have been nicer. At any rate, I talked to the police officer, etc., and then Dad came to check things out.

I'm pretty lucky to have my parents so involved in my life. I'm sure they've gotten used to me calling them for everything. There is so much that I don't know, and I can always count on my parents to help. I've progressed from simple questions ("Mom, does chocolate stain?" to more complicated ones ("Why do guys suck?" and "I just got rear ended...what am I supposed to DO?!"). It's never-ending, really, but my parents have always been there to help me. Sometimes they just laugh--I suppose that's what I get for locking my keys in my car WHILE IT'S RUNNING (whoops...that was a while ago, really). But in the end, they always make me feel better--and help me figure things out.

I'd be so lost without my parents. I hope they know it too.