Sky-diving. Hah.

So, for some asinine reason that I can’t even begin to contemplate about, I decided to go skydiving.
I know. It’s insane; especially for someone who’s only valid reason for jumping out of a fully functional airplane is a bomb thread or a gun to the head…like it is to me. But there I am, inside this dinky looking plane–albeit bigger than I’d expected it to be–soaring through the air and practically torpedoing up into the clear blue sky.
Through the open side door, wind howling around me, and the instructor at my side, I see an impressive collage of tiny clouds dot the sky and swallow harshly as the instructor is shouting last-minute instructions at me.
Honestly, for the life of me, I can’t understand a word he’s saying, the only thought that crosses my mind is that he looks so very silly in the bright pink jump-suit, with the grayish belts buckled around his extremities.
My own suit isn’t any better, mind you. It’s poisonous green with black and yellow stripes in the most unattractive places, naturally, while getting pulled out of shape by the gray belts that match that of the instructor.
A lumpy backpack, feels like a ton, and the belts seem to be too tight, but I’m determined not to complain since I’d rather have them too tight, than too lose.
The ridiculous white helmet on my head makes my face look like a cherub, I’m sure…though I have resisted temptation to check, thank God.
Wisps of dull, ash blond hair have escaped the helmet’s edges and they’re tickling skin that has been numbed considerably by the fierce wind streaming into the gut of the plane.
Now, more than ever I’m grateful there’s no one around with a camera, ‘cause any snap-picture would have to result in bodily harm to the unfortunate photographer.
A red light starts blinking rapidly somewhere to the side, and it barely registers when my entire focus is consumed by a loose strap on the wall–slithering madly, like a snake on XTC–that seems to call out to me: “Come one. Grab me and you won’t have to go out there.”
The instructor places his hand on my shoulder with a reassuring squeeze and I swallow again as he gently, but persistently, turns me towards the exit. He’s talking again, gesturing wildly and mimicking a pulling motion somewhere on his back.
Right! Open parachute, pull on ropy thingy. Check! I remember that…vaguely, and nod my head since that appears to be what he wants from me.
Next he does a crouching impression of falling forward in a spread-eagled position, before looking back at me expectantly.
With my second nod, he gives me a double-thumbs-up and squats beside the open door by the time I have returned the universal sign of “OK”.
Gamely he gestures me to follow him, and I do it blindly, doing a rather inelegant semi crouch seconds before I clasp my fist around the handle beside the door in a death grip.
Insanity! That has got to be the reason why I decided to do this. I’m sure of it as I peer through the opening, squinting through the bulging goggles protecting my eyes, and see the sea and land clash together in vibrant blues and greens.
Another thumbs up, and following his straying eyes towards where the red light has ceased blinking and turned a bright green.
Mountains loom to the left; the sea stretches endlessly to the right. I could have been lying on the beach right now, I tell myself, trying to swallow down the lump that seems to have lodged itself in my throat permanently.
The instructor is grinning broadly, enthusiastically nodding his head towards the opening as he waits for me to hurl myself out of the flying plane…the plane that has no engine trouble and could easily land with me still safely inside. Gawd!
A full minutes passes–or so it feels–with me gazing out of the gaping gut of the plane, when a motion from him draws my attention once more. He’s patting his big watch impatiently; reminding me that if I’m going to take the jump I have to do it fast…like right now.
Closing my eyes, I peel my uncooperative fingers from the sturdy metal handle and literally let myself fall forward into open air.
The bottom drops out of my stomach immediately, giving that rather hollow feeling of falling as I tumble down, and down. Finally, I dare to open my eyes just a bit.
I am flying through the sky, literally. There’s nothing around me to grab hold of, only clouds spiraling around me as I see the green dappled ground like a huge slab of color stretch out in amazing flatness.
My face feels like it’s being pulled over my ears. Teeth are bared by the sheer force of the wind that valiantly tries to keep me afloat…and fails, when a mental bell inside my head begins to ring, reminding me that at least fifteen seconds have past and that I really should start thinking about that rope thingy on my back.
What with my velocity, and the pull of gravity, I barely manage to crook my arm backwards, grasping, and missing thrice, before I get a firm hold on the rope and jerk.
I hear nothing except for the roar of wind, beating incessantly against the sides of my helmet, but there it goes, this tiny little parachute sizzling up and then unfolding as the rope stretches, and stretches–forever, or so it seems.
For a moment there I fear that the parachute won’t open, but then, red and yellow streams from my backpack like a tide of water. It pistons out and up, a stream of color against the sheer backdrop of bright blue sky when a sudden gust of wind sweeps inside.
I feel a jerk and then…I wake up. Phew. Yeah. What did you think? That I was stupid enough to actually go skydiving? That is so not my thing.

I admit to feeling a bit breathless when I wake from that dream, blinking up at the familiar ceiling over my bed, and groaning softly when Mosha realizes I’m awake and bounces onto my chest in a jubilant greeting.
That was certainly something, I’ll admit, wondering why anyone would ever want to do something like that for real when a dream will do the job just as well.

It’s an hour before my alarm is supposed to go off, and for a while I lie there waiting for my heart to regain its normal rhythm. I doubt, for a while, if I’ll be able to fall back to sleep, but next thing I know the alarm is ringing and the dogs are making a racket in their eagerness to be led out of the cabin.

I love it when a dream stays this clearly in my mind. It’s so much better than just having faint images that make no sense whatsoever. At least these kinds allow for some actual entertainment during the course of the day as occasional memories of it surface.
Besides, considering the slow day, it makes for an interesting read. Hah.

But anyways…I take my time going through the morning rituals today, reading a chapter or two of another re-read, stretching the kinks from my back and making the bed before getting dressed.

Only a little laundry is waiting for me when I get down to the house, so I hang the wet and take down the dry for folding. Once that’s done I have a quick breakfast, and put coffee on.

I set the computer up and spend about an hour reading previous pages before getting back to writing. Not the most productive day for writing, only a page or two to add to the total of pages necessary for the book, but still, two is more than none and every bit helps.

By the time the evening falls I shut the computer down and start on dinner.
Italian potatoes with veggies and a white cheese sauce.
Raw potatoes baked in herbs, sugar, salt and pepper, with chopped carrots, bell peppers, sweet corn, peas, onion and lots of garlic. It sends a delicious scent throughout the house, and makes my mouth water enough to stir up an appetite by the time dinner is ready.

I actually manage to eat a full portion today, without battling nausea afterwards. Excellent! Afterwards I read for a bit in a book I’m reviewing, managing about a chapter and then watch the “Closer”…a new episode at last, yay…and then put on the rented DVD of “Wall-E”.

A wonderful animated Disney. One of the firsts in a long time, I’ll admit. I actually had fun with it, which I hadn’t expected at all. Pleasant surprises are the very best that’s a fact.

I do feel a little useless by the end of rather slow day, but those are necessary too, I guess. The body does need to relax every once in a while.
It is my intention to get some work done tomorrow, however…if I can get myself to do so, of course.