gravity.

It's one of those pesky little things in this world that you can't avoid. No matter how high up you go, it's bound to get the better of you at some point.

In my continuing efforts to "get a life" and "go do something", I went with my husband to an airshow just a few miles from our house yesterday afternoon. The Air Force Thunderbirds would be doing a demonstration and there would be several types of aircraft one could peek into and chat with a hot pilot in a green jumpsuit about. Aviation isn't one of those things that gets me all hot and bothered, but it was better than my original plan to make a trek to Wal-Mart for some much-needed Quaker Oatmeal and and make a dent in our stockpiles of dirty laundry. So I slathered on the SPF-50, cringed at the sight of my legs in khaki shorts, and accompanied my husband to the airport with a smile.

I've pretty much made my peace with the fact that Texas is insanely hot. But I consider 95 degrees on the first day of October to be borderline ridiculous. But it is better than the 110 just a few weeks back, so I was trying not to complain. We had been strolling around for about an hour or so, looking at all the different displays, pointing out the worst dressed people, and noting that a certain FedEx jet was likely the one that wakes us up every morning at 6am with a sonic boom. Thanks to our good ole war on terror, no one could bring in any liquids or food of their own; we went as long as we could without giving up three bucks for a bottle of water. However, I learned the hard way just how long was too long. I got a funky feeling in my stomach and started making my way over to the snack booth, ready to give them the equivalent of my 401K for a bottle of Dasani. As I huffed out my request to the vendor, I felt my legs beginning to give out. I quickly found myself flopped out on my butt on the concrete, trying to keep from passing out. I was lucid enough to become morbidly embarassed and get up to retrieve my water from the guy who saw me go down and only responded with, "Sure is hot today...". Jerk.

Okay, so here's why I was so ticked off about this:

Number one: If somebody tells you they think they're about to pass out (which I did) and they suddenly disappear behind your table, the least you can do is ask if they are alright and help them up. He was counting my money when I went down and was doing the same when I climbed back up.

Number two: Since when can I not handle heat? I spent every summer from 1995 to 2001 in band camp and never got more than a little sweaty and sunburned. Even when we had a tyrannical colorguard instructor who thought water was for wimps. Hmmmm. Maybe he's related to my airshow water nazi. I also get regular exercise. I'm not some freeloader who lays around in a recliner all day popping bon-bons, ho-hos, and dum-dums. I work very hard at everything I do. One hour in 90+ degree heat should not be able to take me out. But it did.

This incident, despite the long, drawn-out description, really wasn't that big of a deal. I got hot, went down, and felt like an idiot. It just make me kind of realize that so many things in this world demand the utmost priority. For example, you should drink lots of water in the heat or "you're just asking for it". Check the batteries in the smoke detector twice a year if you don't want your family to perish in a fire. Floss every single day or you're just plain nasty. Watch out for identity theft. Eat leafy green vegetables, but not spinach. No matter how much you do or don't do, you're going to miss something critical. It's impossible to put everything at the top of your to-do list. I just try to be a nice person, a good employee, and a decent cook. The gravity of wrinkle prevention and taking a multivitamin is just not something I have time to torture myelf about. I have to draw the line somewhere.

So that's my take on Isaac Newton's discovery. I guess one can have an epiphany whether an apple drops on your head or if you just fall on your own butt.