A Once a Year Thing

I know--too long and so forgotten! Here I am again and what is new, you ask? Well more fabric....lol...but now it's organized and compact in it's own little place in the "Girl Cave". That's what the Mister calls it, but it's much too nice. It's not in the basement but in a sunny bedroom on the second floor. I have a great view of the river and the woods, although I kind of miss the neighbor's trampoline. You see they used to have one right on the property line between our houses, and their son would spend hours....and hours....jumping and flipping on that thing. At first it made me so nervous because he was out there by himself, and we all know how dangerous one of those things are. Or at least I was always told that. I do remember a boy in high school falling off the trampoline and having a severe injury that included paralysis, so maybe that's the story our mom's reminded us of when we wanted a turn. Anyway, I would watch him try to flip and land on the back of his bent up neck time and time again. Ugh! I held my breath so often because I had to watch to see if he got up each time...I don't think I got much done! But as the weeks/months went by, I came to admire that boy and his determination. Over and over again he would try. I could see he was trying different rhythms to his jumping before he would ball up his fists and throw himself head over heels. The first time I saw him flip completely around and land on his feet, I let out a cheer. I guess he heard because he stopped and kind of looked around. At some point I guess he noticed me watching and he would look up to see if I was clapping for him. I know he was probably wondering what that creepy old woman next door was doing watching him from the window. He didn't know my computer was open in front of me and I was working. But the local police never showed up to ask serious questions (thank goodness) so I guess it was sort of our secret. When the hurricane came through this past fall the trampoline was caught in the wind and twisted itself into a pretzel around the fence. So it's kind of sad to not hear that scretching sound the springs made as he bounced for hours as I wrote or sewed. So back to the point--it's not a girl cave because there is nothing cave like about it. I will think of a better name --maybe tomorrow.