Under no circumstances will I EVER willingly jump out of an airplane wearing a parachute. Except under extreme emergency circumstances.
My husband did it when he was in college, drunk and under peer pressure, but i’m here to tell you there is not enough drink in the world –or peer pressure–to get me to jump out of a plane. Not just “no” but “HELL NO!”
Ferris wheel or carousel.
Or this horrible ride pictured, whatever it is. Just…NO. Under the best of circumstances my balance has always been iffy. Anything that goes in circles is NOT my friend. And that includes those spinning cups and saucers at Disney parks. No. Thanks.
Where do I begin… First, I have absolutely no understanding of aerodynamics and no interest in learning. I would instantly forget how to pilot the damn thing. Also, I need terra firma under my feet. I just do. And did I mention I have no sense of direction? None. So I’d end up in some strange country. Or that’s my fear, anyway. No, I’ll never hang-glide.
Climb a mountain. Or ice.
Don’t get me wrong.
I love armchair mountain climbing.
I have read just about every single account of climbing significant peaks and seen the movies, too. I have even talked to climbers at Yosemite.
I admire them and also think they are batshit crazy.
I, myself, though, am too old and out of shape to consider it. And also scared to death. No, I’ll settle for the books and films.
Get married again.
I would say three husbands and four marriages are more than enough for a single lifetime, wouldn’t you? And of course, I have the best husband in the world so no one could ever surpass that. Done with marriage. (Please remind me of this post if I ever mention marrying again.)