Climb a Tree

So, in my second day of trying something new, I decided to climb a tree. Despite what all you adventurous types out there may have done in your childhood, I have YET to climb a tree in my whole life. Not sure why, but it may have something to do with the fact that they're high off the ground and I'm chubby.

My husband said he used to 'spend hours' in the tops of trees as a kid. He even said he'd get up in there with a ball of twine and MacGiver some type of macrame hammock that he'd lounge in. This is what he claims he did, though in 11 years of marriage, I've certainly never seen any loveseats crocheted into our Mulberries. I think maybe he was trying to pump me up, to let me know that climbing a tree is a piece of cake.

Let me just say that if I WAS to become a full-time tree climber, I'd want to hammer some stairs onto the trunk of the tree. Without such stairs, well, you end up with a video such as this...




My husband turned the camera off in lieu of acting disappointed and calling me retarded. Eventually, though, I DID make it into the tree without any help or special equipment (yay!!).



And it felt kind of good. For a few minutes. Until I realized that I'd have to come down. I've come to terms with what a naive and sheltered baby I am because I literally began feeling the onset of a panic attack while up in that tree.

Ask a cat: coming down is never is fun as going up.

Thankfully, the video camera was off for that chapter of this experience. It involved some colorful language. And possibly a plumber's smile.

I scraped my hands a bit, but I survived. And that's one more thing I can add to my repertoire of new experiences.