Off we go…

i should have known better than to drink whisky at a charity auction.  Just another Thursday night, and i was hanging out with Studley at a fundraiser for a local community outreach foundation.

Mostly, wanting to drop a little change in the till, peruse the raffle items, and encourage others to empty wallets, it seemed like a pretty brilliant idea.  i was also working the network of non-profits, kissing politicians buttbones and making connections to support my pet projects.

Four drinks into the evening, it was time for the live auction.  One of the items?  A chance to rappel down the side of a 30 story building during the annual autumn city festival.  Oh, THAT is a grand item for a woman with a paralyzing fear of heights!

My auction paddle (how DID i end up with an auction paddle, anyway?) jumped into the air and i started the bidding at $500.  Mercifully, i was outbid, and somehow found the good sense to put the paddle under my arse and stop bidding when it approached a thousand dollars.

Whew!  Crisis averted!

Momentarily, it turns out….

Not fifteen minutes later, there was another item that caught my attention.  “Fighter Pilot for a Day”.  Hello!  What’s that?  A chance to do ground school, and then sit right seat in a fast Italian turbo-prop acrobatic plane!  Well, that could be a good day.

Paddle flies into the air before i can stop it!  Bad auction paddle!  Stop that!

It was a bit of a frenzy, as there was a gentleman across the room who seemed fairly intent on indulging his testosterone on a day in the wild blue yonder.

What?  Me?  i won?

Oh, shit…. Yeah.  How’d that happen?  Well… ummm…. (heh, heh) It’s for charity, right?

So it’s on.  Still to be scheduled, but i’m going to do this.  Likely sometime this summer, i am going to put on a flight suit*, do a little bit of training, and launch myself into the sky to do a little formation flying, dogfighting, and underwear soiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was posted on the book of faces later that night.  The next day at the office, i passed a friend in the hallway who had seen it.  He stopped me, shaking his head.

Bill:  You’re nuts, you know that?

daisyfae:  What?  i just bought a “Fighter Pilot for a Day”.  What’s the big deal?

Bill:  Have you figured out what you’re going to do with him yet?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i’ll admit, this is a little scary.  When i went to bed that night i stayed awake awhile, wondering if i could really suck it up, sit right seat in a very fast, acrobatic plane, and set myself up to pull up to 6Gs…

The next morning, i woke up with a very different thought.  Sure, i’m afraid of dying.  But i’m more afraid of not living.  Bring it…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* i will be wearing a substantial sanitary undergarment under my Muy Macho flight suit.  Video is taken in the cockpit.  It may be an hour of me screaming…

now what?

He was about 3 years old.  Playing on a short concrete wall at a local festival this afternoon.  Sky blue shorts – which no older boy would be caught dead in – and a matching print shirt.  Dad was watching close by, doing a good job balancing the need to let his child explore while maintaining situational awareness.  Knowing that a microsecond of inattention could lead to a multitude of problems…

Slapping me upside the head was the memory.  Taking my young creatures out to festivals, hauling their tired asses around in a wagon.  Watching parades.  Eating shit food at the amusement park, while they got sticky-gooey goodness all over their hands, faces and anything unfortunate enough to be within splash range.  Giving them the requisite ‘spit bath’ before throwing them back in the car…

There was clarity and focus then.  Every decision i made had to be weighed against potential impact to my children.  Not a formal process, just something my mind did naturally.  Often, the answer was “no impact, rock on…”, but there was a natural step in my decision calculus to assess how it might affect the kids.

i knew my purpose.  i knew my priorities.  And when necessary?  Nothing got between Momma Bear and her Cubs.  It made me stronger in so many ways.  More fearless.  More assertive.  i grew a great deal during those years…

Now?  With The Girl, at 22, graduated and seeking employment, even though she’s temporarily lodged in my basement, she does her own thing, and i do mine.  The Boy returns to the university in a couple weeks, and is pretty much on his own.  Our time together is different.  Very enjoyable, but the relationships have changed.

Seeing the little critter today, perhaps more so, watching his father… i realized that some of my aimlessness and restlessness could be directly attributable to the simple fact that no one needs me.  Not a single soul is dependent upon me for much of anything…  A thought that is simultaneously liberating and terrifying.

Settling in…

It’s strange, but good.  After twenty years in a comfortable family home, i’m starting fresh.  Some observations on differences and adjustments…

– My dog can shit four times a day.  When i just put him out back in the fenced in yard at the old homestead, i didn’t stand there watching him do a poo.  Until i started walking him three or four times a day, i had no idea what a complete shitting machine he is… 

– The bathroom just isn’t right.  No shelves for all that “girl shrapnel” (make up, potions, lotions and gooey things).  Putting it in drawers isn’t the same.  Made a run today for some small shelves/baskets to help organize it.  Won’t be truly settled until i can put on my make up in a pre-caffeinated haze in the morning…

– My dog likes going for walks.  The first few times, Mr. Pickles was timid, nose down, and skittish.  After a few days?  Head up, tail up and a jaunty sproing to his step.  Sniffing here, peeing there, he’s having a great time when we go out.  Probably clocking in a mile or so every day, i look forward to the morning and evening walks as well.

– Speaking of evening walks… it is a bit difficult to find and bag dog poo while holding a flashlight – and a hyperactive dog.  i need one more hand.  Perhaps one of my camping headlamps?  Need to come up with something before winter sets in and it’s dark after work…

– Quiet.  i mean reallyquiet.  No street noise, generators, lawnmowers… or voices.  Just frogs, crickets, cicadas.  The Stepford Neighbors don’t seem to go out much after dusk…

–  i don’t miss the old house.  At first i had moments of squishy, nostalgic glurge… “my babies grew up there…” and “we had so much fun there…”.  After spending the better part of the past two weekends repairing odds and ends there?  Screw it.  i’m sick of replacing screens, washing windows, replacing outlet covers and mucking around in the old place.  ARRRRRGH!  i need it rented, and i want it behind me!

– i still have way too much shit.  Today, i took three more bags of clothing and shoes to Goodwill.  More to go.  i’m still in a “pare down” mindset… and i feels good.  But so much more to pitch.  Overwhelming…

– Empty… The Girl is settling into her new gig in Beirut.  The Boy is in an apartment on the main campus of his university (rather than living in a small apartment in a cornhole town attending a satellite campus).  Classes start in about a week.  He’ll have plenty of distractions, not to mention, his own washer/dryer.  i don’t expect to see much of either of them this year… as it should be…

– In six weeks:  i leave for a two week trip to South America.  Holy Crap.  i’ve got a lot to do between now and then… unpacking?  Still at the top of the list…