|Gretchen age 15|
|Enjoying a salad from Burger King. Oh yeah.|
|My mom and sisters at the Children's museum|
Misty was a unique teenage girl in a myriad of ways. Her mother bought most of her clothes at rummage sales and Goodwill, but she always styled those ensembles willingly, and with an air of confidence. She would say about herself "I look good in hats" and wore hats a lot. That kind of confidence was unheard of at my age. Misty did not mean it pridefully -- she had just been told she looked good in hats a lot, and so she knew it! She was also good at speaking, and when she met adults, she looked them in the eye and shook their hand. Her family was originally from Texas, so she was always saying "sir" and "ma'm" and always called all adults "Mr.or Mrs. so-and-so" even if they told us to call them by their first name. She was a good girl to have around as a friend. She didn't take writhe and quake about boys or what people thought of her. I'm glad she was my friend and rubbed off on me somewhat!
Near the end of my 15th year, my dad enrolled me in a driving school so I could take driver's ed. Since I was homeschooled, and it was summer, this was the only way it would work for me to be able to finish before I turned 16 (the obvious goal = getting the license ON 16th birthday). Pretty much everyone else at that driving school were high school drop outs or kids that had lost their licenses or something. I was this little green Christian homeschooler who knew nothing about the world, and could only begin to guess what the crass things on their t-shirts meant. In effort to show my faith, I wore all my best Christian t-shirts. I say that tongue in cheek now, but at the time, I sincerely wanted those kids to believe in Jesus, and I figured this would be a good way to start. Pretty sure those kids thought I was a loser! I totally had a crush on the teacher -- his name was Mark Bertram (I only remember his name because I wrote a character into one of my stories after him), and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. Our driving instructor was this older man who had me and the other girl in my car drive to impound lots and junkyards where he would show us cars that had been destroyed by drunk drivers. He repeated over and over "young ladies, you never ever get in the car with a young man who has had too much to drink." We also had to drive to Amish country. Lucky for us, we didn't actually see any buggies on the road.
And so ends my 16th year! Linking up to Mommy's Piggy Tales.