Note: for context, this was written in my first ever journal, a blue, single-subject notebook with college ruled white paper. My mom, brother and I were spending the summer as we always did, in Cape Cod. This entry is not particularly interesting, but does give a view of what was important to me as a 13-year-old boy. The “skills and drills” I refer to in the first line were a series of soccer drills my father had outlined for me to do every morning in preparation for club soccer tryouts at the end of the summer.
Did my skills and drills in the early hours as usual. Played capture the flag at the ball field. Ate lunch. Fluff and Oreo’s. Ya! Played waffle ball. Mike and I vs. Drake and Andy. Score: 40-5. We won! What a cremation! Watched a tennis doubles match for awhile, then watched Mike beat Super Mario Bros. II without warping! Wow! Then we ate dinner. French bread pizza! Yum! After that we went to Andy and Dave’s. I had to babysit Stephen at 8:15. Then I had to write in my journal. Here I am. All caught up! Syanara!
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