Well, I must have lost my ever-lovin' mind, because I'm about to move into a damned two-story treehouse 20 feet in the air next week. Rakli and I are finally taking that last step between civilization as I've always known it and the life she's lived but I have only talked about. We are going to practice all the skills we will need on the road while we take a break from reality as everyone knows and defines it.

The thing about what we are doing is we're going to live, not just talk about it or give in to the death culture, as Rakli calls it. The death culture is the pressure we are all given to conform or be cast out. At our age, we're supposed to sit on a damned rocking chair, gum our food and go into a nursing home like good little old farts. Fuck that! I'm alive and I'm going to kick and scream every inch as death tries to creep up and drag me into the abyss.

Anyway, back to fear factor. Those who have always known me as Jane know that she is afraid of heights, to the point that she has never been any farther above the ground than her own shoulder height. That has kept her from enjoying life and taking part in anything that involves climbing. When my 11 year old daughter went on a high ropes adventure at Mohican, I stayed on the ground. When she and her friends went to Climb Time every week, I stayed home. When I was taking theater classes and learning theater production, I couldn't go up onto the grid to hang lights or scenery. I couldn't do a lot of things over the years. But I'm not that scared girl any more, and I finally had a chance to prove it to myself yesterday.

Rakli and I were offered two options: rent downstairs rooms from Rakli's brother-in-law or rent his deluxe treehouse/deerstand. Rakli was as excited as any member of Peter Pan's crew would be, and so was I. This was a chance to live the way we've been talking about, out in the woods, no phone, no lights, carrying water in five gallon canisters, cooking on an old Franklin stove, practicing woodcraft and writing articles. I can't wait.

Anyway, we go to have a look and it's 20 feet in the air. You climb into it using a 32-foot aluminum extension ladder that pops up through a hole in the center of the floor. The first three rungs are single, then 12 double rungs and another 3 single rungs. The final rung is 18 inches short of floor level, so you have to pull yourself up to finish getting inside. I get halfway up the ladder and freak out, so Rakli has to put my feet on each rung as I climb down, babbling and crying that I can't do it. I spend a few minutes on the ground and Rakli's sister scampers up in a pair of flip flops. She's not being contemptuous of me, just trying to encourage me. Her being up there got my pride up, so I pulled my guts together and climbed, mostly with my eyes shut. I was as okay as anyone completely terrified can be and kept babbling at everyone not to touch me at the top of the ladder. I rolled into the cabin, laying on my belly and crying that I should never have gotten up there because I would never get back down. I wanted to throw up I was so unreasonably out of my mind terrified.

Rakli's brother-in-law was good about it, actually treated me like a guy, saying it wasn't bad, only 20 feet up and no way to really get hurt. That wasn't convincing my reptilian brain, though, because I had a death grip on the chair until Rakli took my hand and asked If I was okay. I closed my eyes and tried to pull myself together.

A few minutes later, I was able to look out the windows at the absolutely amazing views in all directions, but I couldn't look at the trapdoor hole without wanting to throw up. Finally, realizing that the treehouse was too far out for any fire rescue and knowing my alternatives were climbing down or being duct taped and slung down with a block and tackle, I asked Rakli to go down first and put my feet on the rungs. Anyone who knows me knows that I have NEVER trusted anyone like I trust Rakli. I babbled and gibbered, closed my eyes and made it down, damn near fainting with relief as my feet touched solid ground.

The upshot? Yeah, I'm scared shitless but we are moving into that treehouse next week. If I have to puke my guts out every time we go up, so be it. I'm tired of fear owning me. I'm going to own it.We are going to document and journal everything, including taking pictures, so expect to hear more. In the meantime, ask yourself what is keeping you from living? Go out and spit in its face!

Didn't realize how long it had been since I posted here. Still no second grandson, although daughter says she's starting to feel a lot of  pain in all the right places. Still in Mississippi, still choking on the overly wet air.