I normally hate Charlie Brown with the passion of a hundred burning suns – the kid is way too pathetic for my tastes, never seems to learn basic lessons after repeating the same mistakes a hundred times over, and whines about everything. However, he and I do share one little common factor – neither of us can get a kite in the air for more than a minute.
Of course, it's not kite-eating trees that prove to be my kites' downfalls. It's just that every time I try to go fly a kite, they never end up getting into the air. If the wind was blowing fairly decently, it's gone by the time I dig out the kite and go out to a field. If the kite did, at all, manage to get into the air, it would promptly crash. I don't know whether it's how I control them, how I build them, or how the wind just hates me. It could be all three.
My latest failures have been as a result of one of those tearaway calendar things – this one tears away into sheets printed with instructions on how to build paper kites out of them. And, sadly, the paper kites fly just as badly as their larger, heavier counterparts that I experimented with as a kid. The wind, in spectacular fashion, died away. The kites were bent and didn't get far into the air to begin with. The tails got all tangled together in a thready mess of doom.
Charlie was right, sometimes, after all. You can't win them all.
Of course, it's not kite-eating trees that prove to be my kites' downfalls. It's just that every time I try to go fly a kite, they never end up getting into the air. If the wind was blowing fairly decently, it's gone by the time I dig out the kite and go out to a field. If the kite did, at all, manage to get into the air, it would promptly crash. I don't know whether it's how I control them, how I build them, or how the wind just hates me. It could be all three.
My latest failures have been as a result of one of those tearaway calendar things – this one tears away into sheets printed with instructions on how to build paper kites out of them. And, sadly, the paper kites fly just as badly as their larger, heavier counterparts that I experimented with as a kid. The wind, in spectacular fashion, died away. The kites were bent and didn't get far into the air to begin with. The tails got all tangled together in a thready mess of doom.
Charlie was right, sometimes, after all. You can't win them all.