Life is not a dress rehearsal.

"Life is not a dress rehearsal."


I have heard this statement several times without really listening to the words. It rapidly swam through my conscious and settled in the Red Foxx junk room of my mind.

Seriously. We all know we get one chance. Unless, of course, you get bitten by a vampire who decides he won't take all your blood and let you live a miserable existence not eating chocolate or drinking wine or devouring big loaves of yummy smelling bread slathered in salty butter and cinnamon sugar. Heyyyy, that's me for the past five weeks. Okay, let me just get back on track.

I think most of us try to do it right, life that is. It's just that overwhelming curiosity that overcomes me when I see a rock strewn, tree shaded, dirt path perfectly set up to roll some big fat tires over right when the day seems to be at the calmest point. I never hear the impending roar of Niagra falls around the right hand corner. Nor, do I see the people lined up standing in their barrels ready to jump into the white water.

Sooo, while I think I am on a shortcut to the main road, I am usually on some crazy ride through moonshine country dodging bullets and bothersome black flies. Don't get me wrong. It's fun to take the side roads....until it isn't anymore.

So, at this point in time, I do solemnly swear on this computer, to hesitate at least five minutes, er, a few minutes, ah, wait a minute. Back up. I will promise to cup my hand around my ear to listen for the sound of the crashing falls in the distance. Hopefully, I remember to cup my left one because my hearing in my right one is faltering some. Anyway, my eyesight is pretty good as long as I have my contacts in...without them, I am hopelessly blind. So, I will open my eyes wide and peer into the shadows of the trees to see the barrel wearing people. I really hope they were pink because that is sooo much easier to see in dark shadows.

You get what I'm saying. Good.