Tempting Fate

I’m such a chicken that it’s honestly amazing I haven’t sprouted feathers. Even reading about the exploits of extreme sportsfolk makes me break out in hives. When forced to watch the Indianapolis 500, say (which as the spouse of an Indy native has come up in the past), I clutch my rosary beads as the race cars hurtle at breakneck speed around the track.

I have also endured:

*driving Sheridan and Rose to go skydiving, then frantically scanning the horizon until I spied their chutes descending. My fave part was signing the papers releasing Skydive Philadelphia of any responsibility should my offspring go splat. Update: they did not go splat.

*merely watching the video of Evan, Rose and Julie’s “fun” trip to the Big Island in Hawaii. They relished poking at hot lava on a volcano with sticks, making a twisty-turny 2 AM drive up to the Mauna Kea observatory, and jumping off a steep, rocky cliff into deep water.

*witnessing Aiden and Peter running towards, and then somersaulting over, the family room furniture. “I see you! Good job, boys!” I carol through clenched teeth and with squinting eyes, as they barely clear the glass-topped coffee table and flip onto the sofa.

Here’s what really cements my status as Top Clucker: I think I deserve lots of credit for BRAVERY in these cases, even though all I did was watch.

Over the decades I know I’ve missed many an adrenaline rush. I have never walked a high wire, or washed windows on a skyscraper, or gone spelunking. I never trained to be a Navy SEAL, nor did I make any attempt to swim the English Channel or climb Everest. Tempting Fate, for me, involves eating cheese two days past the sell-by date.

But hey! I’ve almost made it to age 69! If I’m ever going to break out of my rut, now’s the time! Fate? Are you still with me? Or have you long ago abandoned me due to extreme boredom?

Therefore, the Year of Our Lord 2026 will (might!) see me:

Driving my car after sunset (at least during the 20-30 minutes of dusk that follow). I will only drive a block or so, but it should be exhilarating).

Wading into the ocean UP TO MY KNEES. I have promised my grandsons that I would one day cavort in the waves with them. In a few years they will be far too mortified by my existence to wish for such a spectacle, so carpe diem!

Leaving the pan of baked ziti on the counter for an hour and FIVE minutes, then serving it. I will make sure I have 911 on speed dial and get stomach-pumping lessons first.

Let my fellow oldsters tap into their inner Evil Knievel! I dance to the beat of my own, timid drum, and am proud in advance of the risky business in my future!

Would any of you like to go ice skating this winter? I’d be happy to ...

drive you. Before sunset, of course.