You don't believe me? You say, the content of this blog doesn't support the statement "that I used to be just like Patrick Swayze in Point Break." Um, I'm pretty sure I told you guys that I once dyed my hair with purple Kool-Aide, AND, once in high school, when my parents were out of town and a friend was staying over at my house with me, we ordered a pizza and got it delivered. Dude, we could have been murdered before the weekend even started! But we took that risk. Because we were young and careless and... other stuff. And, in college I used to walk from South to Central Campus after my night class. By myself. In the dark. (But that was mostly because I didn't want to ride the campus bus with my creepy English professor. He used to stare. And smirk. Dude. Either stalk me or belittle me. You can't do both. CrrrreeeeEEEEeeeepyyyyy!) So obviously I used to flirt with danger like Amelia Earhart used to flirt with aviation. Meaning, she didn't because she was totally out flying in the face of it!
But lately I'd been wondering if I'd lost that dare-devil in me. Had it been drowned with copious amounts of coffee, strangled through a lack of restful nights, smothered with a plethora of "whys"? So, I sat down this morning, butterfly coffee cup in hand and made a list of some of my daring ways:
1. I drink my coffee out of a cup that has "Not For Use in Microwave and Dishwasher" stamped on the bottom. I totally pulled it out of the dishwasher this morning too.
2. I routinely teach Sunday School without giving the kids candy. Even at Halloween and Christmas.
3. I run each morning wearing all black. Even in fog and early morning darkness. Without one of those blinky red lights either. (OK, this one might actually prove my stupidity rather than my audacious nature.)
4. I iron my shirts with my hair straightener. While I'm wearing them.
5. I brew espresso beans in my full size coffee pot.
6. I mow the grass when it's wet. With my electric lawn mower. (OK, I don't actually do this anymore since Jon found out and explained to me that "the weird feeling I get in my hands" was actually me electrocuting myself. Over and over and over, eh hem, again. He then Craig's Listed the mower and bought me a reel mower. Because it doesn't plug in. Even though I had already scrounged up a pair of plastic dish washing gloves and wrote "ELECTROCUTION GLOVES" on them in Sharpie. It's like he doesn't trust my understanding of basic science or something.)
You know what? I think I'm done listing things out. Because it's totally obvious I haven't lost that madcap part of me. I mean, sure my days running from men with smirking facial expressions is gone, but my days writing on the internet about other stupid stuff I've done have only just begun. So, excuse me, because I have to go make a tornado in a bottle with my kids. Now where did I put that jar of glitter?