Posted by Keith | Posted in Baby Guppy, Fefe, Grandparents, Holidays | Posted on 09-01-2013
A LOT has happened in the past few weeks, there’s been so much going on, that my computer and I nearly got a divorce due to the fact that we’ve spent next to zero minutes together recently. Let’s see, a quick rundown: My mom came to visit, Fefe’s Dad came to visit, we had Christmas, we had Tre’s birthday, New Year’s celebrations, plays, date nights, and the list goes on and on. But the most memorable moment of the past few weeks by far is the day I almost died. Could you imagine what your lives would be like had you lost your favorite Daddy blogger to a freak accident? I know, you can’t fathom the thought, so let’s move on and discuss my experience of flirting with the Grimm Reaper.
Actually, I had two near death experiences; the one you saw above resulted in a sore body and one hell of a neck cramp. The trampoline incident couldn’t have been avoided, there was no way to prepare for that first jump, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, so I don’t feel so bad about nearly breaking my neck and providing comic relief for the entire building. The other event however was completely avoidable. I was able to escape the other event unscathed and the danger was probably more exaggerated in my mind than in actuality. But none the less, I was scared as hell and I have no one to blame but FEFE. She put me up to taking on this insanely outrageous task and even played the “I’m pregnant, you can’t disappoint a pregnant woman” card to get me to agree to something that was so ridiculously out of my skillset and ability. She forced me to hang Christmas lights on the roof. Yes people, on the freaking roof! The nerve of her right? Now up until this point, I was completely unaware of the fact that I apparently have a fear of heights. This was news to me as some of my bucket list activities include skydiving, hang-gliding, bungee jumping, etc. After the Christmas lights debacle, I’ve decided to fill my bucket up with water and drown the list in it.
I think what shocked me the most about my newfound revelation is the fact that as a kid (unbeknownst to my Mom) I used to hop roofs for fun. Yup, me and my 7th/8th grade buddies used to climb on top of houses, building, etc and hop from roof to roof for entertainment. Let me tell you folks, there are few things more rewarding then making your way to the top of a McDonald’s roof! You may be thinking that sounds like a pretty dangerous and idiotic pastime and believe me; your statement is completely accurate. I’m sure the kind police officer who chased us once would have informed us of the same thing had he ever caught us. I guess it’s pretty safe to rule me out as a candidate for “Smart Kid of the Year” Award, (sorry Mom).
At any rate, given my previous extensive background as a roof hopper, I gladly agreed to the request to put Christmas lights on the roof. Unfortunately, there were several things that failed to materialize in my mind before agreeing to this job: A) I was nearly 20 years removed from the roof hopping industry. B) Climbing onto roofs is probably a hell of a lot easier at pre-teen weight vs mid-life crisis weight. C) I had no business on roofs back then and certainly had no business on them now. My temporary lapse in judgment pacified the pregnant one and everything was golden. It was golden until the time came for me to actually get on the ladder, at this point, golden turned to brown and brown with a really nasty smell if you know what I mean.
After doing the first string of lights around the doorway and along the gutter (approx. 10ft high), I knew good and well that the roof was not the place for me. 10 feet off the ground and I was already piecing together conspiracy theories: what if the wind blew and knocked me over, what if a cat ran under the ladder, what if an earthquake hit? I could be seriously injured! As I write this, I realize that the potential to be “seriously” injured 10ft off of the ground is probably minimal, but try telling that to a guy 10 feet off the ground! As all of my “what if” scenarios played out, my eagerness to make my way onto the actual roof dwindled away. Sharing these thoughts with Fefe didn’t go over too well. Actually, I didn’t share these thoughts because I didn’t want to look like a punk, so I came up with some pretty weak excuses as to why the lights around the door and gutter were good enough. Fefe had a differing opinion and to keep my ego and manliness intact, I drudgingly made my way onto the roof.
Once I was up there, I was completely terrified! Fefe was on ground level taking pictures, getting into the holiday spirit and I was on the roof in Grinch mode clinging to the shingles for dear life. After about 5 minutes, I mustered up enough strength and courage to actually move; and by move I mean scoot on my stomach inch by inch. After a painfully long process to get the lights up, I was faced with a monumental problem: I had no clue of how to actually get off of the roof. Climbing back onto the ladder just didn’t seem as easy as climbing off, so I spent the next 10 minutes trying to engineer a way to get back onto the ladder. Eventually, I was able to make it safely back to the ground, but not before learning a valuable lesson: an ego is such a small thing when being compared to losing your ENTIRE LIFE. Next time, I’ll let my ego take the hit instead of my blood pressure.
Did I mention that the “roof” in question was the garage roof and not the actual house roof? Thought I’d leave that tidbit of information for last in hopes of saving some embarrassment in case some of you didn’t finish the entire post.