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Thank you, o pop cans who died for my sake.
Seriously, my day was turned around by a case of root beer falling off a top shelf, a bunch of cans being dented, one splitting open and spilling in a great brown puddle on the basement floor, and another gaining a micro hole in it that oozed root beer (that one I drank; the split one was beyond saving.) I burst out laughing, and my lousy mood vanished in a flash; for the next three hours I was feeling fantabulous. Nay, verily, more than two hours.
So if you're ever with me and things aren't going well, destroy a pop can (incidentally, one Robotics competition involved the robots racing from opposite ends of the board to see which would be first to catch a pop can. Among many other things work on this taught us was that Coke cans are tougher than Canada Dry. And in this particular experiment today, some Pepsi cans were also dented, but Mug root beer were the only ones that suffered loss of structural integrity. Moral: the big cola warlords get the tougher cans for themselves, and leave the smaller fry the cheaper stuff. Experimentally proven!)
My energy levels and mood levels jacked back up, after work I went biking along the Ottawa River. There near the chain of islands west of Lemieux Island, a large willow stretches over the water, its roots covered with the racing rapids still running high from this winter's near-record meltwater.
I decided to climb it.
If you've ever wondered whether anyone is brave/crazy/I-prefer-the-term-skilled enough to climb a tree over swift water and a hard rocky bottom probably closer than a safe dive, wearing a messenger bag over her back and, wait for it, two-inch-heel fashionable boots... I'm your woman; I did it and live to tell the tale. I only thought after I was safely ensconced in the crotch of the tree, mentally sending all of my problems carried away by the current --- that by the gods, falling off might be a little tricky. I am generally pretty confident in my breakfalling reflexes, but I have never tested them when falling fully dressed into rapids!
However, without incident, I sat there in that tree for what seemed like time outside of time but must have been ten minutes, meditating, drifting...and when I descended (this is going to be fun, thought I to myself, and shuffled down the sloping trunk a-crouch, feeling like a nuthatch) I had no worries. None whatsoever. I spent the rest of the day happily...moving a near-truckload of patio tiles. But it made me feel happy.
I need to go to the river more often.
Seriously, my day was turned around by a case of root beer falling off a top shelf, a bunch of cans being dented, one splitting open and spilling in a great brown puddle on the basement floor, and another gaining a micro hole in it that oozed root beer (that one I drank; the split one was beyond saving.) I burst out laughing, and my lousy mood vanished in a flash; for the next three hours I was feeling fantabulous. Nay, verily, more than two hours.
So if you're ever with me and things aren't going well, destroy a pop can (incidentally, one Robotics competition involved the robots racing from opposite ends of the board to see which would be first to catch a pop can. Among many other things work on this taught us was that Coke cans are tougher than Canada Dry. And in this particular experiment today, some Pepsi cans were also dented, but Mug root beer were the only ones that suffered loss of structural integrity. Moral: the big cola warlords get the tougher cans for themselves, and leave the smaller fry the cheaper stuff. Experimentally proven!)
My energy levels and mood levels jacked back up, after work I went biking along the Ottawa River. There near the chain of islands west of Lemieux Island, a large willow stretches over the water, its roots covered with the racing rapids still running high from this winter's near-record meltwater.
I decided to climb it.
If you've ever wondered whether anyone is brave/crazy/I-prefer-the-term-skilled enough to climb a tree over swift water and a hard rocky bottom probably closer than a safe dive, wearing a messenger bag over her back and, wait for it, two-inch-heel fashionable boots... I'm your woman; I did it and live to tell the tale. I only thought after I was safely ensconced in the crotch of the tree, mentally sending all of my problems carried away by the current --- that by the gods, falling off might be a little tricky. I am generally pretty confident in my breakfalling reflexes, but I have never tested them when falling fully dressed into rapids!
However, without incident, I sat there in that tree for what seemed like time outside of time but must have been ten minutes, meditating, drifting...and when I descended (this is going to be fun, thought I to myself, and shuffled down the sloping trunk a-crouch, feeling like a nuthatch) I had no worries. None whatsoever. I spent the rest of the day happily...moving a near-truckload of patio tiles. But it made me feel happy.
I need to go to the river more often.