Sky diving?
Before Katya's birth 10 years ago, sky diving appeared as #5 on my List of 100 Things To Do in My Lifetime. After her birth, it remained on the list, but my resolve crumbled. One of my dear friends even gave me a gift certificate for tandem sky diving here in San Marcos. I accepted the certificate, put it into a deep desk drawer and ignored it pointedly until it expired and I was off the hook.
And then, my little brother (who is not so little anymore - he frequently tosses me around like a small doll to prove this fact) happened along with an idea.
He texted me on April 1st: Wanna go sky diving?
Believing it an April Fool's prank, I texted back: Sure! Next week we can fly to Mars!
Two weeks later, he texted again: We're signing up for early bird discount. Can I count you in?
This time my senses caught up to me, and I declined. He had the decency not to call me chicken. However, he persisted. Every week, he'd send the same message: come sky diving with us!
Much worse than peer pressure: sibling pressure. No way could I be upscaled by my brother, who until the age of 12 had been the stand-on-the-shore, sit-out-for-the-roller-coaster, never-do-anything-fun big chicken of the family.
I signed up.
We jump today. I am a little freaked. But I'll be sure to post something when we come back down.