Yesterday my phone produced nothing but garble for those listening on the other end. So, alarmed, I went to the Sprint store and they tested it and looked at each other, went and got their own iphones and called from them and people heard garble.  They believed the network was overwhelmed by the tens of thousands of people who did come to Apple Festival. I had noticed that traffic was extremely heavy on the main route I normally take and came home a back way that looks like you’re going into an abandoned factory area, but at the last minute the road turns and there you are, a block away from the bubbing hub- or the hubbing bub. Whatever.

By the time I got out of the store, I could tell the temperature had climbed as the fog dissipated and I decided I would wait until Sunday to go over to the Apple Festival. You see, being just 5′ tall is not too nifty when you are in a winding, massive crowd that is hemmed in by permanent buildings and temporary vendors’ kiosks. If you are in the middle, you see nothing and if the temperature is above 70, you pretty much feel as if you are in a winter mitten. If you are on the outside, you risk being knocked into hay stacks, poles, buildings and people trying to stand to the side to eat their food that they stood in line 30 minutes for.

It’s not that it’s intolerable if you are alone and have a couple of destinations in mind, but if you have someone with you, it is necessary to have physical contact. One year I negotiated such a setting with Summer attached to my shirt tail, which had started out tucked in.

So today: cooler with maybe a shower. I can do showers. I got myself ready to go – even if I could not find a companion – and opened the door. It was pouring down rain. I still thought, maybe . . . in a rain slicker with a hood.  Then I heard that hint of a wheeze in my chest that is just now starting to clear after a week of antibiotics and I thought of wet feet and how crummy it was coughing through the night. I hesitated; I believe my mind was scurrying around for still another excuse, because after all, adventures are really fun and provide great stories, and I felt my knee throb. I suspect I usually ignore it, but wimpdom was hovering over me and I watched the puddles form and decided to sit down. I looked at weather.com and rain is to be on and off, but mostly on.

Now I am feeling guilt and  this urge to go in these conditions is pushing me. My father would exclaim, “Well, if you want to just go out there and get sick . . .  Nobody could ever tell you anything.” Actually, he only said the last part once, but, boy, it has stuck with me and I feel bad about being dumb and arrogant and my daddy having to see it all those years. Reminds me of the time I talked about a convertible . . . “Well, if you want to go out there and ask to be killed . . .”

I’m off topic – it seems; but, of course, in my heart I’m not.

Damn. The more miserable it seems out there, the more I am drawn to going over and standing 5 feet tall in a massive huddle of wet people seeking shelter in the swine barn. Maybe I can entice Summer into going. Kind of use the backdoor way of persuasion – “Oh, you’d have to be stupid to do that. Imagine getting dripping wet for a Bayou Billy CherryWine! Dumbies.” You see, I once told her, “You remind me of what my father said about me once: Nobody could ever tell you anything. I was trying to help her learn from my mistakes . . . but, well,  she’s young, a cold won’t stop her . . . and her knees are fine.

Oh, dear, I feel the presence of THIS LOOK coming down on me. The look that I know translates into the constantly repeated, “Use  your own good judgement and don’t let anyone talk you into doing anything you know you shouldn’t do.” But, then, again, nobody could ever tell me anything . . .