Somewhere around the summer between my 5th and 6ths grade years at EV Cain Elementary School a girl named Rhonda moved from Grass Valley to Auburn nike roshe run fleur femme noir , and there was something about her that fascinated me. I saw her sometimes during the summer, going to the show with other girls, or shopping downtown with her Mother. She was intriguing to me for some reason. I can't think of that reason now, but I wanted to meet her, or to do something, anything, so she would notice me. Once I saw her at the town park up by the Recreation Field, and since I was a fast runner in those days, I thought I might show her how swift I was, and thereby impress her with my speed. I had just seen a Superman movie, and was impressed with the whole idea of speed, and thought she might be too. She was sitting on the lawn with a couple other girls I knew, and I wished that they would go away so I could impress her without them saying something like "that's only Duane," or some other dumb thing girls said back in those days. I waited for probably a half-hour or more for my opportunity. Her friends didn't budge. But I spotted a beagle running lickity-split in her general direction, and I thought, "if she sees me running faster than that dog nike blazer fleuri basse , she'll really be impressed with me!" So I took out at an angle, until I was about parallel with the dog, and we zoomed side by side within a few feet of the girls and on to wherever the dog was headed. Before I got out of earshot I heard her ask "who is the dumb kid with the cute dog?" My heart sank, but my feet ran on. The dog seemed to know where he was going, but I didn't and within seconds I found myself sliding on my back across a freshly watered section of lawn. As I slid to a stop, the dog turned back, gave me a curious look, and licked my face as if to say, "Are you OK?" I couldn't bear looking back to see if Rhonda was watching, but I heard the girls giggling, so I was sure she saw the entire show. Later that same summer I was walking on the sidewalk in front of the Auburn Post Office where my Dad worked, when I spotted her coming out of the Post Office lobby. She looked so pretty in her curly, bouncy hair, pink blouse and pedal pushers, that again I felt the surge of desire coming over me to impress her. I spotted a magnificent Schwinn bicycle parked by the curb; a bike far more expensive than I could ever hope to own, and since I was just a few feet from it at the time nike air max fleuri femme , I kind of casually stepped over to it and put one hand on the handle bars, like I was just resting after a long ride through the foothills of the Sierras. To my great surprise, she DID notice me, and in fact walked directly toward me. When she was no more than a foot away from me she asked, "OK, what are you doing with my bike?" I mumbled something about being sorry I had mistaken her bike for mine, and she mumbled something with the word "stupid" in it, and that was the end of that. She never did notice me after that, and I guess it's just as well. I understand she went on to become a very successful waitress in old town Auburn. Now that I've been married for more years than I care to mention, I've given up the idea of trying to impress her. Oh, when I'm back in town and drive by the Cozy Spot Cafe where she works, I'm always tempted to go in and somehow let her know that the boy she scorned grew up to be a writer. But about the time I start to pull in, my mind goes back to my first two attempts at impressing her, and I visualize myself telling her about all the books I have written, and in my mind, she responds by sarcastically asking if I write about dogs and stolen bikes adidas superstar fleuri rose , and so I change my mind, and drive on. Of course, I knew lots of other girls as I was growing up, and I suppose I had a normal amount of curiosity about them that any young guy had. Roy Poindexter, a 5th grader, told a bunch of us 4th grade boys that the way to tell the difference between boys and girls was to tape a small mirror to the toe of one shoe, then walk casually up to a girl and engage her in conversation, and simply place the foot with the mirror on it between the girl's feet. Then while she was talking, we would simply glance down and get a glimpse of whatever was hiding under her skirt. Roy spoke with the suave confidence of one who had done it many times. In retrospect, I remember his Mom was a manager of women's undergarments at J.C. Penny's, so he probably honed his craft by practicing on the mannequins after hours. Despite his bragging, I have serious reservations as to whether he ever tried it on a real, live girl, who would have to be both blind and stupid to stand still for such an obvious ploy. But Billy Roberts believed him, and announced that he was going to try it the next day at school. Instead of the scenario turning out the way Roy predicted, the moment Billy walked on the playground Wanda Johannson spotted the mirror adidas superstar fleuri femme , and yelled at him across the basketball court "Hey Billy! What's that on your shoe?" So that was the end of that experiment. And with a few notable exceptions, up until about the 7th grade girls were those "other things" that we boys had no interest in and no use for, unless it was to check the spelling of some word or to double check on our homework assignment. We knew girls were different, but we didn't give much thought to how they differed, except that they threw a baseball funny and used two hands to shoot a basketball (even a lay up!), and they ran "like girls". Except Linda Polameri. She threw a ball the right way, ran like a boy, and nobody would have bet against her in a fair fight. The reason I know that is because she once got very angry with me in class after I beat her in a class election, and challenged me to a fight afterward. (Election of class officers was held twice a year, as I recall, and students pretty much voted by sex; the girls voted for whatever girl was running, and the boys voted for whatever boy was running. The only reason I ran was.