Today was blood test day. I don’t eat breakfast, but when the words ‘fasting bloodtest’ begin my day…yeah, I want something. Took my crochet to the doctor’s office. Spent more time in the waiting room than being stabbed. Boom….outta there. Stopped by Koco Java’s for a caramel macchiato, extra shot and dropped by the museum to leave MT’s socks and tell them I’d be in to work in the library before my pastel class with them tonight. Love when everything is packed tightly together.
These are little mug rugs I crocheted for the ladies at work. Only one tea drinker.
When I got there, the street was blocked off by a hook and ladder fire truck and another in the parking lot on the other end of the building. Whoa !….but only a false alarm and they decided to use the opportunity as a ‘practice’ run. It reminded me of when I was a kid.
My best friend in the whole world (of a five year old that’s a pretty small circle) from across the street decided one day to walk over to Wilber Park together. This was back in the day when children were free range. We spied the huge black water tank and decided to climb up. We wandered around the walkway, admiring the view, seeing our houses and the park below us. When we decided we’d seen enough, we went to climb down. Neither of us could reach the ladder rungs going down. We were greatly surprised at this. We had had no trouble getting up. We hollered out, but there was no one in that end of the park to hear us. We sat there, huddled together, holding each other, and crying our eyes and lungs out for over three hours.
Finally, a park worker happened by, but he could not help us. He called the Oneonta Fire Dept and they sent a hook and ladder to rescue the two errant children. They took Christy down first and then came back for me. I was all over that poor man like a kitten scrambling up a tree. I gripped him so tightly around the neck, he had to unclasp my hands and tell me if I didn’t calm down we would both fall to the ground. Slowly, ever too slowly, he descended the ladder and placed me on the ground.
By that time our parents had been summoned and we were whisked away to our homes for a change of clothes and a good talking to. We were not punished as much as admonished for our adventure. We were told we could never do that again…..like, fat chance of that happening. (ever notice how fat and slim chance mean the same thing ?) I am, to this day, afraid of heights….or more like afraid of falling. I have no problem flying, or being in an enclosed gondola, or even having something (a railing) that is at least waist high….but an open space ? If anyone ever tells you I committed suicide by jumping off a building, know that I was murdered, because that would NEVER happen. Climbing a tower is the primary reason I stopped wanting to be a Forest Ranger.
It was so bad that when I went into Navy boot camp we had to jump off a two story diving board into the pool to pass PT. I would climb the tower, walk out slowly onto the board, my life passing before my eyes, crouch down and back off the board. Finally my instructor told me if I didn’t do it, I would wash out of boot camp and be sent home. I asked if it mattered how I did it and she said no, as long as I did it. The next time, I crawled out to the end, closed my eyes, and tipped over off the board and fell into the pool. When I came up, both my company and our sister company were surrounding the pool clapping for me. I still sweat thinking about it.
Okay, gots things to do now that I’m home.
oh, look………..shiny