A comic about life, love, death, and paneling, in about three colors.
Later... Damn, I'm getting old.

Jump

2009-02-28

I have always been the jumping, climbing sort, and it has always served me well in those occasions where my wit fails me (i.e. impressing girls).

Age has come packaged with restraint, and now I rarely find myself jumping over garbage cans, Toyotas, fences, people, etc. I see these things and, of course, think about jumping over them. But usually I do not.

The dog park has five areas, each enclosed in a five-foot-high chain-link fence. For months, now, I have been eying those, debating whether or not to jump. And yesterday the wind gave me reason enough to try as it tossed the frisbee into another pen.

I stretched a bit, eyed the fence, cleared my mind, and ran, jumped, caught the top of the fence, flipped, and landed on my back. I am an experienced faller, though, so I bounced up without a scratch.

But my pride… What happened? Am I too old to jump? I decided it was the fault of the constricted girl jeans I was wearing, and readied for a second attempt, which I made successfully.

But still… two tries? There was a time I could have made that jump in combat boots. There was a time when, the morning after, I would not feel as though I were run over by a train. Damn.

At least I can still fall like a pro. Do girls find that becoming?

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