I just don't want to fall in!

Over the long Memorial Weekend, Dan and I decided we would go with a few friends up to Yosemite to camp along the Merced River. You see Dan is a rafter. He has rafted some awesome rivers in the world, one I have no idea how to spell in Chile called the Foolefoo or something like that, not to mention the Grand Canyon 3X plus many US rivers up to class V.

Now before this weekend - I had heard these rafting stories like old mystical legends. These trips seemed to have a certain boys club anonymity. I was sure you had to have a secret decoder ring to be a part of one; but not this trip = Girls included. So off we went. We were going raftin'. I was now a part of that club.

On the early morning drive there I had one thought about my upcoming river adventure - What if I fall in? You see I am not a strong swimmer? If I fell in there was only one place I would be falling and that is in the frigid cold water of the smashing, yet shallow Merced river. And when I say smashing I don't mean handsome. The last thing in the entire world I want to do is fall in.

Fear set in. Panic mode was beginning and I did not know if I could do this. I want to be brave, truth is - I am not. I want to be adventurous - truth is - I am not. There came a point in our drive that I was paralyzed with fear - not to mention - the smell of cow crap along the rode was penetrating.

As we arrived - we were able to drive the road that ran next to the river so I could get a good look at the water highway I would be riding down the next day...... {not so bad, I can handle, not intimidating} - BUT - What if I fall in? I can't swim real well and the water is frickin' ice cold. If I fall in, will I freeze and panic and have a heart attack. If I fall in, will I conk my head on a rock and be rendered unconscious only to gulp river water and drown. Regardless of this interior monologue - I put on my brave face and smiled at Dan and said, "I am in." He smiled. I think for the first time I was jumping in (pardon the expression) to something he loved passionately. This was the least I could do for him after all of the theater I had dragged him too in the past months- and the most recent play had a naked man in it. Not cool and certainly no way close to being fun, by Dan's definition ( which I now totally understand).

SO long story short - we rafted on Saturday. It was awesome. I was able to really see Dan in his element. When I was telling the story to a friend this week - she said to me, "Did you fall all over again.". Not hearing what she was saying completely - I said "No - I almost fell out but I did not fall in." She corrected me and said - "No, did you fall in love all over again?" I had to think about this for a minute because I have learned to believe that "falling in love" is actually dangerous. By definition - "falling" means decreasing in amount or degree, becoming lower or less and coming down under the influence of gravity. Now I don't know about you but anytime I fall - I normally get hurt and I am not talking just emotionally - but physically. If you fall down on the pavement - you get road rash, if you fall off a ladder you break your arm, if you fall in a freezing cold river with enourmous rocks, well ---- you get the picture I am sure.

I believe what I feel towards Dan is more of a "climbing in love". The past two years my love for him has grown in degree, it has risen and it has been steadfast and unwavering. We have been climbing together towards a life that is in front of us. We have never once fallen or felt less than the day before, we have only climed. So how can that expression "falling in love" be a positive. After this weekend - and after Dan rowed that raft through two pretty technical rapids. I realized - He would never let me fall. He would never let us fall.

I thought before this trip that I trusted him - now I know I trust, and it is not because he is a good rafter - it is not because I did not fall out of the boat. It is because I realized as we were stuck on that rock - and the rapids thundered in my ears, as I was holding on to the rope, the dog, and my beer - that there was no way - I was falling in.

Dan rowed the raft to shore once we had completed the last rapid (Class IV). We were safe. Adrenaline pumping - cheering and acting like we had just defied the river God.

I climbed out next to Dan which is exactly where I want to be for the rest of my life.

Just so you know - if I had fallen in -- he would have saved me. I am sure of it.

Driving Miss Gina

So I had the unlucky privilege to go to the in the incredibly overcrowded grocery store on Friday night after work. I normally avoid grocery stores at the end of a weekday, it just seems like every idiot is doing the same thing I am - shopping in a hurry, and trying to get out as soon as possible, which we all know is the exact opposite of what always happens.

As I was approaching the check out station, which seemed eerily like a hungry lion creeping up on some innocent prey, the way I was swarming behind the check stands waiting for one line to not have some jackass in it with 55 items. I mean seriously did everyone not realize that M-F grocery shopping should be for 1-6 items only. Who does that much shopping at 5.30 during a weekday - hello - that is what weekends are for.

Anyways, check stand #1 seemed to be free of a line, I darted down from check stand 6,5,4,3,2, and then....1. I was carrying that little plastic, unforgiving basket that they give you for "just a few" items. By the time I had shopped for my 6 items and carried the damn basket up and down the aisles my fingers were completely numb on my right hand. Could they not make a thicker handle. Does it have to be as thin as a straw. Think about it, basket designer people - really?

So I slide into aisle #1 thinking I was the winner to beat out the other 15 people jockeying for the same aisle when I realized and almost collided with the cute little hunch back old lady that had somehow, mysteriously beat me there. Where on earth did she come from? I did not see her as I was sprinting to the end. Regardless she only had 3 things: a potted plant, a horoscope booklet and frozen peas - not a problem I would be out of this place in no time. I looked at the little old lady and I noticed I immediately tried to stand up straight. I guess the fact that she was hunched over so badly made me try and stand tall. She looked over at me and I smiled. I did not want her to think I was starring at her (which I so was). She did not smile back at me. She knows I am pretending to stand tall. Crap.

By this time the checkout lady could not find a price on her plant. "Do you know how much this is?" said the check out lady . . . [no response]. "Did you see a price on these plants" . . . [no response]. "Maam" . . . [no response] - so at this point I am like you have got to be kidding me - why are you asking her - get the damn bag boy and have him walk over and get another flippin' plant [I did not say that]. I just stood there and smiled and tried to act like I was not so totally ready to FREAK out. I was pretending to be patient. All the while the little old lady stood there holding her wallet in her hand. She too was waiting.... Waiting with her hearing aid turned off obviously, but waiting nonetheless.

Now what seemed epic long the checker carried the plant over to the flower part of the store to search for the price. I stood there, shoulders back and smiled still. Looking back on this - I must have looked like a complete idiot. I mean what was I smiling about. Was I smiling that I was stuck now in a line that should have taken 30 seconds, which is now up to like 3 minutes? Was I smiling because I did not want anyone to think I was rude to old people? Was I smiling because I was so pissed off - I was about to cry? I have no idea. I just know I was smiling.

FINALLY - the checkout lady came back and told the little hunched back old lady that the plant was $6.49. "That is too much money," said the old lady. Which I thought odd as this damn woman did not hear the check out lady 5 minutes ago but now she could hear perfectly fine. "Do you not want it" said the checkout lady. "No I do, I just don't want to pay more than $5 dollars for it."

Okay - so this is when I am sure I have pissed someone off in a previous life. This is one of those moments when my ears kind of heat up, and my head gets a little full and dizzy. How did my innocent efforts to run in grab a few things end up totally thwarted by this little old lady. I took a deep breath and ... smiled, again. I think at this point I gave in. I tuned out and gave in.

I went somewhere deep in my mind for a few seconds and tried to imagine what I will be like when I am 80 years old. I am told now that I have more aches and pains "than an old lady". that I sometimes carry on about trivial things like "an old lady", that my drving at the best of times, "is like an old lady" and I am only 37. If this is what I am like now, imagine me in 43 years.

And then she carried her plant out of the store, and I was next. I quickly paid for my things and hustled to my car, backed out, and headed for the far side entrance cause left turns are quicker then the other side of the parking lot. As I made the second left back out on to the highway and drove paralel to the Stater Brothers Parking Lot - I saw her again, carrying her plant and a small bag to the furthest corner of the parking lot where there was only one car parked. There was an older man sitting in the driver seat, I will assume it is her husband. From where I was, he just looked like a husband.

And I realized, wow how lucky this little hunched back lady is. She is not in a hurry, she does not need to park the closest to the front of the store to run in and run out and she has earned the right at whatever age she is - to simply say, "I don't want to pay that price". Not to mention, there is someone she loves patiently waiting for her in the car to take her home.

I smiled.

No Ceramic Ashtrays - Simple really. Simple.

Over the past 30 years or more, this time of the year has always been a little bitter sweet. You see this is a holiday that I do not celebrate. I can't honestly ever remember celebrating this day in my life. I don't recall making some lame ashtray or a paper mache' flower collage out of construction paper and tissue. In fact, I don't even know what it is like to buy one of the cards that is specifically to a mom. The cards I have always picked out are the ones that say, "Your like a mother to me" or "Because you are a mom" or To my friend on Mother's Day. I have gone through the same motions of buying cards like this as long as I can remember with little or no personal feeling about that I was not actually getting a card for my mom.

Now I know that over the years of my life there have been many a surrogate that has touched my life. Most of these ladies I call "Momma". I have been blessed to know them in many ways. But there has never been one that I call MOM. The closest woman to ever be my mom, well I called her Mae. She was an African American woman from New Orleans that had a certain way about her that was borderline nutso but for all intense purposes - she was the closest thing to a Mom that I knew. And that "nuttiness" is what I really think what has made me the woman I am today.

I was hoping this year would be different. I would have for the first time been celebrating Mother's Day, but in a different way. I was going to be the mom. Someone would have got me a silly hallmark card that said Happy Mother's Day. For some reason, I felt that this year would have been the first "sweet" Mother's Day I had ever celebrated. No more bitter. Life had, as it always does, finally found a way for taking the bitterness away.

I am not sure why today is tougher than any other day for me. I am not at work being stressed, I am not sitting in traffic, I am not even up against a life changing decision. Today I just am.

I just am sad. I feel like it would have been really nice to have a mom last November when I miscarried, someone who did not embarrass me for crying, someone who was not going to rationalize all the medical facts, someone who was not going to expect me to immediately be "back to my old self" , or expect me to go straight back to work on Monday. I just need a mom to hold me and perhaps cry for a little while, someone that can be sad with me, someone that probably would have understood - understood SOMETHING I was and am going through.

So this year, it won't be such a impartial Mother's Day as it has been the last 30 years or so. This year it will be a little bit sad for me. And I deserve that. I deserve to be sad so that I do not have to be anymore. I am not strong. I am not the person the men in my life think I am. I wanted a mom, and there are times that I needed a mom and right now is simply one of them.

Simple really. Simple.