The Junk Drawer

Today I have a weird What’s That item for you to chew on. It’s on loan from my brother-in-law. He doesn’t use it. He got it from a store that was going out of business. The proprietors had it hanging on a wall for decoration.

The object is very heavy and I almost chipped a tooth on it during Christmas dinner. I jokingly held it up to my mouth as though it were some kind of medieval dental device and whacked myself in the teeth. I dumb.

How to play:

Simple. First person to guess this object wins a Junk Drawer magnet and a mystery prize involving eyeballs.

What the heck is this? And lookie here. I’m even showing you scale.

This is the object fully opened.

Fully closed.

This is the business end up close.

Geesh. It’s not like this restaurant was the epitome of fine dining. Actually, it’s more a bar than a restaurant. Whatever.

For the record, I ordered from the weenie drink selections with pride.

Some of you might know that one of my biggest fears was to fly on a plane all by myself. I managed to show that fear who’s boss last summer when I attended a blogging conference in Chicago. Let me tell you, I felt like a superstar getting that behind me. Kathy, 1. Fear, 0.

Unfortunately, I’ve got other fears, one of them heights, which was triggered when I walked over a bridge with my husband Dave in the Bahamas circa 1995.

We walked along just fine, until Dave exclaimed “Look! The water is beautiful!” I turned my head to take in the view and promptly lost my mind. I had to run over to the other side of the bridge and take a cab ride back.

There were to be no more walks over bridges for me.

Until today.

For years I avoided joining some of my coworkers who would take walks over the bridge for exercise or to enjoy their lunch hours at a summer music festival held every year on the other side of it. I simply could not fathom walking across that bridge. No how, no way.

But it bugged me that I couldn’t — wouldn’t — do something so simple as to walk across that thing. I mean, it’s just a sidewalk, albeit a sidewalk high in the air.

So I made a decision today to join my coworker Heather for a walk around town and a stroll across The Bridge. I’m pleased to report that I made it without crying in hysterics or having a panic attack.

Were there challenges? Yes. Did I sweat like a pig, even though it was only 20 degrees out? Yes. Oink.

If I looked to the left, there was fear of being so high up. Sure, there’s a railing there, but still. It’s the only thing between me and DYING.

If I looked to the right, I felt the closeness and rush of cars whizzing by and worried that I’d somehow fall over the guardrail, get hit by a car and DIE.

I had two choices: either look straight down at the sidewalk or look way, way off to the distance so that I didn’t have either death threat in my peripheral vision. I alternated between both methods until I reached the other side.

And thanks to my trusty co-pilot Heather, who gave me words of encouragement the whole time and notified me when we were and weren’t over water, it was almost a piece of cake.

If any of you have fears that keep you from enjoying life to its fullest, there’s pretty much only one way around it. You have to stare down that fear and kick its ass to the curb.

I know it sounds easier said than done, but I’m here to tell you that I thought I might die today and I didn’t!

Not dying is awesome, but living with one less fear feels even awesomer.

Our Windy is alone for the winter now. All the leaves have gone. No protection from the elements.

*sniff*

For those who’ve lost track of how long she’s been stuck in her tree, it’s 1 year, 8 months.

Is it too early to start planning her second birthday party? There will be cake again and I might rent a reception hall and hire a band. Too much?

For those who wandered into this blog and don’t know about the Windy saga, check out the Windy archive of posts.

Here’s a video of her I filmed this morning, marking yet another successful photo shoot wherein I do not fall off the roof of my building to my death. Yea for me!

OK, peeps. Some of you might remember when I wrote a post asking you about your firsts (first kiss, first car, first job, etc).

I had such a blast reading your responses. And now I’m going to ask you to dig deeper. I mean really deep.

Here goes. What was your very first memory?

I doubt any of you can remember when you were babies. I’m guessing the earliest age where one can remember anything clearly enough was around two or three years old.

Maybe your first memory was clear as day, or maybe it was only a hazy recollection. Maybe what you remember stuck with you for its seriousness or for it being funny. Whatever it was, think back and tell us!

As for me, my very first memory is of sitting in the living room, playing with toys, and looking at little dust particles dancing around in strong sunlight. My mother’s probably going to worry you’ll think I lived in a pig sty, but trust me, our house was antiseptic clean. I expect I was jumping around on the couches stirring up the dust bunnies.

I don’t know why I remember that. I do know I felt content at that moment, and curious about the fuzzy air I was seeing.

So let’s have it. What was your very first memory?