The Day I Almost Died

I almost died.

I probably almost die all the time, but most of those times I'm completely unaware.  This time, I was very aware.

It started out with a miscommunication problem.  Or, a-not-reading-correctly moment.  Which ever you choose..The main point is, it was not my mistake.

Our plan was to make a trip to visit Iss and her husband.  And watch the horse races.  And gamble away our 3 pennies.  I don't believe in gambling.  But Big D does, and when he gambles, I cross all my toes and fingers and hope for luckiness.

But when we got to Iss's house, and looked up our next day's frivolities - we were crushed to find out that "somebody" had misread the calendar. *ahem ahem*  And there would be no gambling.  Which lead to tears.

And then there was this extra time that needed to be filled. And what better way to enjoy friends and the beautiful end of summer than to go to a state park?

Sounds lovely.  The idea was pitched to me like this:  "So, it looks like it will be a great day to head to the park, if that sounds nice to you guys.  We could pack a picnic.  They have some fun little playgrounds.  Even a zip line.  And then a little hike if you want to."

Oh my, so low key.  And manageable.

(Silly me to think such things.. . . )

We had a beautiful lunch.  Perfect sunny warm and crisp air.  Perfect combination of poo poo and J with plain salty chips and dilly picks - that Ed ate most of.  Which made us sad.

And then the kids and the not kids had a grand time on the zip lines.  And we made theories and hypothesises of which zip line was longer and which zip line was faster.  And all sorts of silly conversations that made us feel smart.

And then the world blurred, while I was kidnapped and wisked away to the hiking location.  I really am not sure what happened.  But then, we were "there". And there were a lot of happy people.  And families.  And picnickers.  And backpacks.  And hiking shoes.  And I felt very nervous, because:  a) I don't hike b) the thought of hiking makes my tummy hurt c) when my tummy hurts, I get diarrhea explosions d) there are no bathrooms on hikes and e) I wasn't wearing a backpack.

I was also led to believe that this particular hike was "short" and "easy".  That we would get to a "certain spot" and then turn around and come back.

And the hike began.  It began with a flight of metal stairs that went straight down.  Straight down the side of a mountain.  Like your old grandmother's stairs that go down into the basement.  Steep and narrow, and practically on top of each other.  Like, you have to walk down with your feet sideways.  Because there's no room for a full foot facing forward.

Welcome to hiking.  And death.

And then it went from bad to worser.  At least with the stairs there was a railing to hold on to.

Not so much with the rest of the hike.

The entire hike was on the ledge of a mountain.  The foot path was a whopping yard wide. To the right was mountain that went straight up.  To the left was mountain that went straight down.

Did I mention we had the beautiful children with us?

Did I also mention that the place (aka footpath) was over crowded with every troll, mountaineer, billy goat gruff, and lunatic that thought it was a good idea to go hiking on the ledge of a mountain that day as well?

Now, I'm not scared of heights.  However, something physically happens to me when I'm up high. (I think it's because my buns are so used to being smooshed on the couch, in a "low" position.)  I get really dizzy and my legs shake in a non-queen like manner.

Being shaky and dizzy is not a good mixture for ledge walking.  Or for any type of walking.

I kept looking and judging the other troll mother's faces.  Trying to get a good read of enjoyment or exhaustion.  Or pure horror.  And every other troll looked as pleased as punch that they chose such a death defying activity for the day.  Which made me even more grumpy.  I could not identify with anyone.  I couldn't make "eyes" or share in knowing, sympathetic head nods. Or even lip crumples.

And then, after I had given up hope for ever finding the "certain spot" to turn around - the trail ended.  It was over.  And I renewed my secret oath of never going on a hike ever again, for real.  And signed it with my own blood.  And thanked Jesus that I didn't dive over the side of the mountain head first.  And also thanked Jesus that neither kid bolted over the side of the mountain.

Take Aways
1)  The Foxtrot belongs on her couch.
2)  I do not like thinking about my scraping by.  Therefore, I shall not think about it.
3)  Big D thought the hike was grand.  That's because he has no sense of parental protection.
4)  Which makes me really excited.
5)  The pickles were nice.

The end.