On the rocks… or in between.

Tonight, I watched 127 Hours.

For those of you who are not familiar with it,  127 Hours  is a movie, which tells the true story of an adventurous, thrill-seeking young man…. who was forced to cut his arm off to save his life. In my opinion, this could have been avoided. But the guy made some big mistakes if you ask me.

I see them as follows.

He went hiking (mistake number one)…… in the desert (mistake number two)…. by himself (that’s three)….. without telling anyone ( & four)….

The errors in judgement continued to spill forth. He climbed high on a ridge top, fell through a crevice, after grappling a boulder. That boulder rolled with him…. downward… downward… tumbling into the aforementioned fissure…. and pinned his arm against a solid rock wall. He was there for 127 hours before making the decision to remove that stuck arm… yes, remove it….. with a dull pocket knife. True story.

This is one shining example of why I am not an adventurous person, contrary to what the title of this project suggests.

I grew up in the House of Anxiety. Pretty much. Everything was dangerous. We had a multitude of slogans to live by… which were repeated on a daily basis. “Safety is no accident.” “Better safe than sorry.” “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” “Safety First.”   And, every time before we headed out the door, we heard “Be Careful.”

With seven kids in the family, in spite of all these suggestions…. my parents spent a fair amount of time in the Emergency Room at Good Samaritan Hospital.  I can’t say I blame them for issuing these cautionary remarks.

Needless to say, my adventurous streak was tempered… probably in the womb. As many of you know, my idea of roughing it is a black & white TV at a Howard Johnson’s motel.

Adventure for me these days… is trying to order from a menu without my reading glasses….. OR…..maybe….. drinking regular coffee after dinner. Two cups would just be plain wild and crazy.

I probably had my most dauntless era during the decade of my 20s. But back then, I drank a lion’s share of alcoholic beverages.   Yep.  The old noggin probably wasn’t firing on all eight cylinders most of the time.

Some people may call me unadventurous and boring these days. Well…. I call me stable. Anchored. Steady. Yes, if I were some kind of a comic book superhero, I would be Captain Sensible.

At any rate….. I better turn in early tonight.  While I won’t be doing any rock climbing tomorrow… I do have a basket weaving class at nine.    That’s right.   Game On!

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