... and hope for an encore.
Friday, March 30, 2012
You really need a blind eye observer to make full use of a friend. Who else is going to be there when life runs away like a self propelled walker? Friends help you stay fired up and think outside the matchbox. When a true friend calls, abandon the deserted crowd and step out into the protective shadows of the wind. And remember, your best friends often come from the Unified Brotherhood of Non-Conformists.
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Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
For blind eye observations, road trips can be alot of fun -- if you leave your two brothers behind. But somehow mom and dad don't see it that way. I'm already 8-months old and you'd think people would listen to what I have to say a bit more. My name is Katie and they tell me I'm new around here, but I've known this family all my life.
Let me tell you what a car trip looks like from my depth of experience and lofty perspective. We'll take a really important journey -- like a trip to gramma's. First I have to load up all my supplies in a big carry-on bag, or maybe two for starters. Sure don't want to leave anything important behind. Brother Larry, age 4, and brother Justin, age 11 also have to bring along their valuables in their bags. But they call them pockets.
I get my own special seat in the car. But even though mom has had a full 8 months to figure the thing out, she still keeps putting me in backwards. I don't know what's so difficult about this seat. But almost every time she straps me in, mom makes a funny face and runs back into the house to get something she's forgotten. It sometimes takes her two or three trips to get everything she needs to hold me into that car seat. Facing backwards isn't so bad. I can keep a good eye on where we have been in case we have to turn back in a hurry for some reason. Larry and Justin get told they might need to go back quite a bit. Once we're breezing down the road I can start watching all the interesting sights we don't care to stop at disappear out the back; like the tree tops, powerlines, overhead signs and street lights. I really need to stop and examine those things sometime.
Elbows. I've learned alot about those from my fellow passengers in the back seat. Elbows really don't taste very good and they don't feel very good up side of the head either. But I'm sure they're good for something. Justin once told me they were used for cleaning out your ears. Guess I'm not big enough for that yet. Mine don't reach. Maybe I should start with Larry's ears first. I see about as much of elbows in the car as I do of the treetops.
A great roadtrip requires a great collection of toys. There's your round colored ring for putting in your mouth, your cloth book for putting in your mouth and your brother's Leggos for putting in your mouth. Sometimes the more fun a toy is the more everyone jumps at me from all directions to take it away. It's always good to share. That's why I try to toss as many of my toys up to the front seat as possible.
One of my favorite pasttimes in the back seat is napping. I'm really quite good at it when you let me pick my own times. The trip to gramma's is great for nodding off. That way I don't have to listen to mom and dad trying to decide how fast to go or which side trips to take.
Everybody should share a good roadtrip from time to time. I've come to really appreciate these adventures to gramma's place all the way across town over 12 miles. It's as least as good as my next bottle of milk which I don't have to share with my brothers. Buckle up everyone, let's go see what we're leaving behind.
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Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Blind eye observation is a matter of perspective. That became ever so clear when we took a short trip to Mexico; a land filled with sea and sky.
The wife saw my para-sailing adventure from below where I saw it from above. This is a relatively new sport where they strap you into a modified parachute and hook you behind a speed boat with a long rope. Why did it feel like the unstoppable force connected to the unmovable object? The goal is to let the boat pull you off the beach and into the air before it drags you into the ocean. They give you 15 or 20 feet to make this happen. Usually that's enough when there's a head wind. This day there wasn't much wind at all. The fellow who strapped me into the life vest and harness seemed to have some reservations. He looked at my height and weight, put a finger up to the calm breeze, tapped me in the mid section and simply shrugged. Fortunately he shrugged in Spanish so I didn't know what he meant.
They signaled for the take off. The boat roared out to sea gobbling up all the slack rope on the beach. Then I took two or three strides forward and sat down on the harness straps. There must have been enough wind and air speed to fill the para-sail because I was able to look down on the place where the sand met the surf rather than up. If there wasn't enough wind, I was prepared to make some more by hollering.
The rest of the experience could have been perfect. In fact the flight itself was. It's always exhilarating to sail through the air held up by a support you cannot see and propelled by a force you cannot control. I get the same feeling every month when we pay the bills.
When we turned to come back into shore I realized how much I wanted to stay in the air. Seems they had cinched the straps so tightly across my legs that all the feeling was going out of them. I wasn't sure they would hold me up again.
By now we were making the final approach back toward the beach. They had told me to watch for the red flag below. When they held it up I was to pull on the cord over my right shoulder to guide my flight out over the land once again. When they lowered the flag, I was to release the cord while the boat slowed down to lower me back to the ground. What I failed to tell them was that I am partially color blind and don't see reds all that well. While I was approaching the shore everyone seemed to be lowering and raising red flags. Maybe the leg straps were blurring my vision.
When I finally spotted the flag bearer and started pulling on the strap nothing happened. When they say pull, they really mean tug, yank, strain or jerk. That one narrow strap was holding up my entire body and firmly fixed in place. And it wasn't about to be moved by one little hand. So I used two or more. Now the flag bearer was getting equally energetic. If I didn't pull longer and harder, I might come down in the water. They sure didn't want that. Something very unfortunate might happen. When I was finally far enough over the beach, the boat stopped. The flagman lowered his flag. I dropped the overhead cord and slid down into the arms of four anxious Mexicans. Everything was secure. The gringo was standing in ankle deep water and their precious cargo, the para-sail was high and dry on the beach. I could dry off in a matter of minutes. But their precious para-sail would take hours to dry before they could make money with it again. Once it was out of the way of the next incoming wave, everyone was happy again.
That same day we bought my son a small toy fashioned after the para-sail. It has a hollow little man that flies along with it. Now I feel a real kinship with that figure. Maybe we're both empty headed.
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