Brilliance, or the lack thereof

"The thing about blogs is that they do not have to be brilliant."  that is what Steph said after I erased what I had written for the third time.  "They just have to be you."

Kind of like an Oreo cookie in that way.  the Oreo cookie is not a great cookie.  it is bad for you, it is not terribly clever or delicious but people eat entire packages of them at a sitting.  Not because they are amazing but because they taste like Oreos.

Once Dave and Christine and I were playing in a wagon down Jessie's driveway (MUCH steeper than ours) I was driving the wagon and Dave was the passenger.  I thought that it would be pretty cool if I rolled off down the driveway while Dave was still hopping in the wagon - it would be like all those getaways you saw in the movies (you know, the ones where the heroes are riding red wagons down driveways).  I pushed off down the hill just as I saw Dave start to leap toward the wagon.  From the corner of my eye I saw that he had one good foot in and by golly that was enough!  

I think I was twelve then, which would have made Dave eight.  At that point he was a skinny little stick figure with an explosion of yellow where his hair should have been.  He was way into GI Joes, especially mine, and pinching.  Good old Dave.  I was starting to fill out to become a very fat child, and in some way I was already starting to see the difference between skinny and me.  And David pinched.  For all of those reasons I pushed off down the hill as fast as my twelve-year-old legs could carry me.  

Even at twelve I had some pretty strong legs.

 Dave started to yell.  Christine who was watching started to yell.  I was dragging Dave down the driveway.  he had one foot in the wagon while the rest of his tender eight year old skin was subject to the relentless savagery of asphalt.  

When I got to the bottom of the hill, Dave and Christine ran sobbing into the house.  I sat in the wagon trying to come to grips with almost killing my younger brother.

"Then what happened?" Steph asks from beside me.  I do not remember.  I will just have to leave the young Brodegard sitting there in the wagon while I figure out the details.  Mom probably fixed Dave up just fine with some colored band-aids.  Christine probably told me not to ride away in the wagon until everybody was solidly inside.  Dave probably stole my GI Joe's systematically over a period of weeks.

There is a moral here, but it would be too boring to draw it out for everyone.  Including me.  So instead I will post a picture of Steph riding a bike down a beautiful bike path. 

Love you all!