On the fourteenth, some time in the afternoon, I arrived home from camp. After a long and rather odd week away from home—odd because I missed my parents a great deal, yet likely had too much fun for my own good—I arrived home to hugs from mommy, chocolate milk, and cookies. I am guessing that the surplus of cookies that I received was likely because daddy has not been home for a few days, he’s been away. Mommy said that he has been away on business, but I know what that really means. It means that he likely took a trip to the North Pole in order to speak to the big man (Santa Claus, duh!) before every other parent gets there. Yes, I know, I know! It’s only July! But see, if parents wait too long? Then they have to stand in line, and daddy isn’t the standing in line kind of person. I don’t even think he’d stand in line to shake Darth Vader’s hand. Okay, well, maybe he would for Darth Vader. I’ll have to ask him.
Oh, yeah. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Darla. Darla Elena Caroline Mill, actually. (It’s a mouthful, I know, I know. But I tend to talk a lot, so I guess it fits, sorta’?) And this is my mommy’s blog, that which I’ve sort of taken over in order to share a story with you all. If this will or will not grant me a time out, well, I won’t find out until later. Nonetheless, I’ve actually never sat my bum on a time out chair, ever. I told mommy that I think I am allergic to the wood varnish. Really, I am.
On the other hand, claiming that I am allergic to water never goes over well, especially not when I’ve just arrived home from camp and the first thing mommy did, after I managed to gulp down an entire glass of chocolate milk, was grab my hands, look down at my nails and scream. “We need to trim those! There’s dirt under your nails!” Well, okay, maybe she didn’t actually scream, but she definitely spoke loudly and gasped at some point.
Kids, whip out your notepads and write this down. It’s important! Here it goes: If you like bubble baths and want to take them often, you have to remember one thing, and one thing only. Convince your parents that you do not like baths. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. You don’t like bath time! Not now, not ever! That pretty much guarantees that you will always be bribed with, “But you can take a bubble bath and play in the water!” They won’t care much if you make a mess of water splashes, so long as you are taking a bath without giving them a hard time. See, I love water! I love taking baths and pretending that I am one of King Triton’s daughters. (I’m only Ariel every once in a while. See, she has red hair, like my mommy. I have brown hair, like my daddy. Yeah, he’s bald now, but he had brown hair once upon a time, or so he tells us.) But if mommy thought that I enjoyed bubble baths, then she’d likely never bribe me with the offer of bubbles and Under The Sea playing on the CD player, right? She’d probably just say, “Darla Elena Caroline, go take a bath, quickly, it’s almost bed time!” And you know when they use your full name, well.. it’s serious business.
Well, getting back on track here. After my bath, it was bed time. This is where the story really begins. The night I arrived home from camp I hogged my parent’s bed. See, not only are the pillows much more fluffy than my own are, but my bedroom isn’t done yet. We just changed homes (the magic of SL, huh?) and with being away at camp and all, I haven’t had the time to make everything blue and cozy. Yes, blue. Baby blue. It’s my favorite color! No Peptobismol on my walls, no way. That stuff only goes in my tummy.
I often have vivid dreams. I’m not entirely sure if it is my overactive imagination or the simple fact that I always sneak in a snack before bedtime. Grandma’ once told me that eating before bedtime will give me bad nightmares, and yes, I’ve had nightmares a time or two. They usually end with mommy making me some chocolate milk and daddy pretending to zap all the monsters under my bed with a light saber. So, really, having nightmares isn’t so bad after all. But most of the time, well, I just have really vivid dreams. This was one of those, for certain.
After having fallen fast asleep, snuggled cozily with my life-sized mommy pillow (you can buy your own at Turducken), I passed through the seven levels of the Candy Cane forest, through the sea of swirly twirly gum drops, and then I walked through the Lincoln Tunnel.. Wait. No. That’s a line from a movie, one of my favorites.. but it really did go something like that, except that I walked through a great many levels of lag (it is SL after all) as opposed to a forest of candy canes, and then through a sea of blue cotton candy, and then I walked my way through a tunnel that led me to a carnival of sorts. That is where I found a carousel with many horses, each horse with a small tag hung from it’s mane. Luckily for me my parents are nerds, the cool kind, and have taught me to read pretty well. Excitedly, and without a second of thought, I quickly mounted the first horse. (I’ve been taking horse back riding lessons with my aunt Meg for a while now.) This first horse was a majestic white color, with a long, flowing mane and gems adorning its reins.
A whirl of white clouded my vision. Clear, bright lights flickered from every direction, and in the blink of an eye I was no longer wearing my jammies. I was in a flowy white dress, my hair up and loosely braided, and barefoot. Usually, mommy tells me not to walk around barefoot because I am quite clumsy. She never tells me that I am clumsy, but I know that I am and that she is probably afraid that I will trip, and fall, and break a toe.. and that would be bad, really bad. I’m a ballerina and I am pretty sure that ballerinas can’t twirl around with broken toes.
Running about, tugging up at my foofy dress and holding it tightly in the grip of my fists, I explored the castle where the white Andalusian horse had left me. (Heck yeah, I know my horse breeds. I’m four, but I’m smart!) The corridors were long, with stained glass windows that seemed to tell a story of princes and princesses of times past. Yet just as I was about to turn a corner and run my way down another cold and long corridor, I found myself back where I had begun. I was standing in front of that carousel, watching as it went round and round. I knew what to do, and so I did without hesitation.
Before I knew it I was tugging on the reins of another white horse, but this one had a red rein with golden buttons, a braided mane and a tartan pad underneath the saddle. And of course, my hair and clothes were once again different. I now had on black wellies, jeans, and a check jacket that matched the colors of the tartan pad beneath the saddle. My hair felt big, yet light and neatly put together with a thick and satiny, beige colored tie. As my horse and I galloped in the direction of a big, majestic clock, I began to take note of my surroundings. I knew exactly where I was, after all, I’d heard mommy talk about her travels to London before and this looked exactly like the pictures I’d seen in her scrap books.
It only took a few minutes before I found myself in the same place, again. And yes, once again, I knew exactly what to do.
In front of me was a small shop with a bright blue sign adorning the entrance way, that which read “Gelateria dei Micaela.” Behind me was a small post, and so I quickly landed upon my feet and wrapped the horse reins around it, giving the horse a soft and gentle pat followed by a kiss upon her rich brown mane. Her name was Chocolate. Yes, I’d already named her.
Smiling brightly, I dusted off the skirt of my multicolored dress. It wasn’t actually dusty, but the skirt needed a little foofing. Looking down at my buttery colored Mary Janes I shyly walked towards the front door of the gelateria. Ice cream is one of my very favorite things in the world, and it didn’t take much for my shy nature to strip away as I entered the small shop and laid sight upon the many flavors they had to offer. There was vanilla bean, and butter pecan, and cafe de leche. (Daddy might have liked that one.) Chocolate mousse, mango, mint chip, toasted almond, maple and honey, and mimosa. (Mommy would like that one, m’hm!) Ohh, and tiramisu, and even a fig flavored one. As you can imagine, picking a flavor wasn’t the easiest of tasks.
Tip toeing as I looked over a counter and caught the attention of an elderly man, he smiled gently at me and nodded. “Well, young lady” he said with yet another nod, “what flavor would you like?” Adjusting my headband, my eyes widened as I marveled at the array of flavors I had to choose from. Did I really have to pick just one? Sheesh! Huffing a bit, my breath blowing at the bangs of my hair, I peeked up and at the elderly man before announcing, “Tiramisu, please. And thank you!”
Moments later I had a large cup of tiramisu flavored gelato in my hands. Mmm! My mouth was watering. I quickly shoved a spoonful into my mouth, closing my eyes as the cold made my nose feel fizzy. And that’s when it happened, again. I found myself standing in front of that carousel a fourth time. Gosh, really? I didn’t even get a chance to enjoy my entire gelato!
(To be continued…)
* Please be sure to attend Hair Fair 2012. Portions of sales made at Hair Fair 2012 are donated to Wigs for Kids, a not-for-profit organization that provides help and hair replacement for children who have lost their hair due to countless medical reasons, including chemotherapy and trichotillomania. <3