Today I seem to keep traipsing down Memory Lane. And since today I'm aligning myself with Carissa for Miscellany Monday, I thought I would bring you along for this journey.
 Wall Ball - Being a girl (though not necessarily of the girly sort) I was never allowed to play wall ball, but the boys at the church where my grandaddy preached and I attended during the summers played religiously [no pun intended]. I'm really not sure that there were ever any rules. Think a whole bunch of teenage boys (PB included) slinging tennis balls as hard as they possibly could at a brick wall and then attempting to catch them again. I believe if you didn't catch your ball you lost. Honestly, though, I'm not even sure that rule was enforced. It's silly now to think that I so wanted to be a part of such a stupid game.
 The Tin Can - The name I unceremoniously gave to PB's last place of residence. Now albeit this little abode was on the more recent end of Memory Lane, but it now resides there just the same. The Tin Can is a camper that is at least as old as me if not older. And I have apparently fallen in love with it. My best memories in the Tin Can include winter nights cuddled up on the couch, eating steak in the dark on one plate with no utensils due to many technical difficulties, summer evenings lying on the bed with the window open just letting the breeze blow over us while we chatted aimlessly, countless movie nights, especially watching Love & Other Drugs while attempting to lie very still on the folded out couch [apparently the couch was no longer bolted to the floor so it would tip over like a seesaw], and the stereo that could wake the dead 5 miles down the road.
 The First Time PB Kissed Me [or I Kissed Him, you decide] - PB & I were friends in high school. I do believe he dated ALL my friends [He swears he didn't, of course]. And while we had started talking and passing letters, I really don't think PB was prepared for the 14 year old flirt that I was. One day he walked me to the bus and being the smooth ladies man that he thought he was, he leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. Being the 14 year old flirt, I laid a heckuva kiss on him. You should have seen the look on his face. To this day I remember that kiss. We've shared many since then [including one that knocked the motorcycle over & a New Year's kiss], but that first one holds a very special place in my heart.
 The Day My Grandaddy Moved from Washington [GA] to Ogelthorpe - PB says this is the first time we met. I beg to differ, but regardless I remember that day well. It was raining [leave it to my crazy family to try to move in the rain!]. PB was helping lift boxes into the trailer. The actual details of WHY he was helping my family have become fuzzy over the years, but regardless he was there. And he filled my dreams for weeks. PB has always been model material and as a young teenager I was a bit infatuated [ssshhhhh don't tell anybody but I might still be]. Watching him lift heavy boxes of books with his wet clothes sticking to his muscular body. Blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Yup, I was a goner. Was it really "love" at first sight? No, probably not. But boy howdy you better believe I went all valley girl and squealed, stammered and threw in a few "like likes" when I told all my chicas how "HOT" this guy was :)
 Freshman Year of High School - Not necessarily my prettiest memories. I tend to remember the worst. The kid who was crying out for attention in ways that I was too young to understand. Looking back I wish I could have seen it. I wish I could have stopped the events that followed. The girl who I had shunned in middle school because she didn't fit our cliche dynamic. The knife incident in the brick hallway. Mornings in the brick hallway. The band room. The drummer who might have thought he was a vampire and who I eventually dated. [See? I was into vampires before it was cool to be into vampires ;)] PDA's galore! Boyfriend swapping between best friends. A million notes passed. On again - off again relationships. [I smile now watching my teens switch relationship partners daily (or hourly)]. Tenth grade was exceedingly darker than ninth. My freshman year was a good mix of love, friendship, teenage angst, stupidity, heartbreak, anger, and meanness. Did anyone absolutely love their freshman year of high school?