Feelin' Froggie?

Life has really got a way of just letting us feel as if we are doing good, then dealing us a bad poker hand.  My husband albeit small, was incredibly tough.  He's short and believe me, while young and a tough fisherman he'd pick out the largest man in the bar and go at it, and win.  Win what I never understood.  What was the point?  It's a testosterone thing I guess.  I love him deeply, but I would have to admit, he most certainly had a Napoleon Complex.  In some strange way, it was sexy and funny to me.

Anyway, his saying for everything, including when life would stare him in the face was, "You feelin froggie?  Then come on and leap." Then he'd hold both fists up in the air. 

Well, now I know what that saying really means.  I feel like life is saying, "You feelin Froggie" and I'm responding "You betcha" and leap toward life.  Off I go, finding myself going over the edge of a cliff being scraped up by the thorn bushes I grasp to stop my fall. Until I hit the cold water at the bottom, the fall itself is a complexly painful unstoppable drop.  I gasp a breath of air and think, "Holy Moly, what a ride, glad it wasn't cement down here."

I wonder if one should not take those damn leaps to begin with.  Sometimes it proves to be a very bad move.  I'm a sucker every time it seems.

Why I do this, I do not know.  I have a feeling I've been doing it a very long time.  Just as I used to laugh so hard when my short little fella would say to someone, "You feelin Froggie?" because it was just who he was,  I respond with the leap. It is the way I am. 

I think I've always been the leaper.  I think he held a harness on me with a bungee cord attached and would always make sure I wasn't hurt and I bounced back up unscathed.  But now, no safety cord.   I am finding that I tend to take on the leap trying to be tough.  Why is this so?  Do women have testosterone?  Only God knows the reason, which he/she/or whatever deity you believe in,  may not know why and is just slapping hand into forehead saying, there she goes again.

What a pity, cautious me, being a dangerous leaper.  How does that figure?  Very contradictory to who I am.  Yet in reality this is exactly what I am doing and it's always been who I was.

Grossly enough, I always find my way back up the cliff, bruised and scathed, but always make it back up.  Then I look down and think, why oh why would I do something so stupid?  Shaking it off isn't as easy anymore.  The leaps over cliffs are having an adverse side effect.  Ya think? 

All I have to say is watch those leaps.  They can sometimes hurt.  Each one takes its toll on both the physical and the psyche.

Since this is how I've always been, I better find a parachute to enable better landings.  Professional leapers pack their own parachute to ensure it is done correctly.  As many leaps as I've been taking, I have come to the conclusion... I'm a professional leaper.   I need to start checking my own chute before I go leaping!  Good luck out there my widowed friends,  be sure to check your chutes!

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