It's football season, Charlie Brown

It's a cool, rainy morning in the Northwest.

A perfect day for football!

 It's officially fall. At 3 pm PST today, there will be the first kickoff of the 2013 season.

There is new hope! All the disappointment and frustration of last season matters no more because it's a new season.

A new season, but the same old superstitions are observed.

My superstitions involve not speaking of my superstitions.

And with a new season you have new hope.  And because it's my team I normally have the Charlie Brown moment, of believing this time, this season it will be better.

And like Charlie Brown this always happens to me:

 

 

The ball represents my hope and dreams for the season, which are always pulled out from under me because my team is a jerk and likes to cause emotional pain.

 

Just like Charlie Brown believing Lucy will not pull the ball out from him, every year I think it will be different.

 

And like Charlie Brown, it is always the same. Lying on the floor and wondering why I got my hopes up again.

 

And I'm depressed and sad for rest of the season.

 

 

 

Some people don't understand the seriousness of football season.

 

They have these silly sayings of "It's just a game." Or "It doesn't really matter."

 

But no. No, it is way more than a game. And these games do matter.

 

It's very serious, this football thing.

 

It's so serious my happiness of the week revolves around the outcome of a game. So by saying football doesn't matter, you're now saying my happiness doesn't matter.

 

And I may have taken the football a little far with that last sentence. And it may be a little nutty but it's okay because IT'S FOOTBALL SEASON!

 



So from here on out I'm busy on Saturdays and Sundays from about 9am to 8pm, and you can find me on my couch yelling at players and coaches like a maniac.

But that's okay too.

You know why?

IT'S FOOTBALL SEASON!

Acrophobia

There is something to be said about the security of my feet on the ground. It's where my feet are supposed to be and I like them there.

I didn't read "Wuthering Heights" in high school because the idea of a strong gust of wind blowing me off a cliff is a real fear.

So when the opportunity arose for us to go to a high (55ft in the air) ropes course this past Saturday, of course I said yes.

I've ziplined in Mexico, and completed the high ropes course in my hometown, I've bungeed jumped, and skydived, why shouldn't I do the high ropes?

Because of the small detail of I hate heights.

How much do I hate heights?

This much:


























Please note the tears.

And the "I'm going to be sick" look.

I would have loved to have backed out and played it safe. But I had already paid, and you can't get your money back if you're being a wimp.

So then I do this:

Granted, liquid courage was needed on two of the tree, and peer pressure took effect while skydiving. But I did it, and was happy I did it, and so glad I survived.

And I'm so glad I did it, I can actually admit I had fun, even if I was so terrified I could barely walk my legs were shaking so bad.

So at the base of the high ropes as my friend looks at me in shock and says, "You're afraid of heights?"

I nodded, because my voice stopped working in fear.

She had, after all, seen me jump off a cliff a month ago. I was the last person to jump, and I was so scared I forgot to breathe.

It's a common thing. The same thing happened on the ropes course as I walked ten feet on a tightrope wire. The poor staff member probably thought I was going to pass out and he would have to save me, as I dangled 55ft above the ground.

I'm like the worst  Acrophobia person ever, because I'm terrified of heights, and still think going up into the air is a good idea.

"Need a pep talk? I'm awesome at them!"

She really is. She had to give me one while I was standing on a cliff.

I shook my head, as Chris answered: "She'll be fine."

And I was fine, even if I thought I was going to puke while looking over the edge of the first obstacle.

I gave a whole new meaning to tree hugger but I was fine.

I made sure all my safety lines were properly secured, and I made sure I always had a firm grasp on the wire lines wrapped around the tree. And I hugged the life out of those trees. I'm pretty sure you can see my body indent on some pine trees.

"The tree is shaking," someone said.

Yes, yes it was.

But not because I was hugging it so hard.

What's that old adage, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

I don't know, but I do know I'd be making a sound if the tree fell over with me in. It would sound like this:

EAAAAAEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH

"We could die from here."

Shut up.

"These cables could snap at any second"

Shut up.

"This tree is ready to fall"

Shut up.

The only thing I could say the entire day was "shut up" in various tones.

Everyone was very nice in they never tried to shake the line or obstacle I was on.

They were very mean in speaking everything I was convinced would happen.

Luckily, they did not.

I made it through the course, and I lived to tell about it. Chris was ready to go into the next course, higher, and bigger, and more challenging. I was happy my feet were finally on the ground.

But if you ever get a chance, go to Northwest Trek. It's amazing!
http://www.nwtrek.org/