Hallelujah, the Barn is risen!

Yesterday, the temp was a balmy 60+ degrees, and Dad decided it was Time. We raised the barn in the time-honored way, which harkens back to the days of the Pennsylvania Dutch. In those days, Hamish and Sarah would have gathered all the neighbors together for a day of Barn-Raising. The men would have built the frame and lifted the walls and roof; the women would have cooked a massive feast of roasted chicken and shoo-fly pie. We recalled these traditions yesterday as we put the tarp cover on my mom's new "temporary" indoor ring. Dad called a bunch of his buddies; we bought them coffee, doughnuts, beer and pizza (in that order); we spent from about 8 a.m. to about 2:30 p.m. slinging a vinyl cover over a 45 X 90 aluminum structure. It was very Amish, thank thee.

My main regret came as we unfolded the tarp, which stretched broad and white and slick over the back pasture. I said -- yes, a little sadly -- that it would have made the best slip-and-slide EVER. And that gave my dad the bright idea that some of us should take our shoes off and pull from the inside as we readied the sleeve to be raised over the roof. So I did. And as we were all pulling and I was pulling -- and, I might add, walking backwards as I lugged this great big plastic SHEET -- I slipped on the thing and fell.

Big surprise, right? Trants, falling? I know. It shocked me, too. But it was no big. The roof got raised. And this brings me to my next point:

What IS it with boys?????

Why do they feel the need to do outrageous shit? Like even JOKE about peeing on an electric fence? Why do they climb up scaffolding without a net, a ladder, a harness, or at the very least a stiff, sturdy rope? What are they Thinking????

I actually have an answer for my own rhetoric. Boys like to flirt, even with death. Case in point: my brother, who actually hung from the rafter yesterday when his ladder went out from under him. He was about a story up in the air, and he hung for several goose-pimpling moments before he swung his legs onto the other rafter and hauled himself to safety. I heard about this; I didn't actually see it because I was on my way to get beer and pizza. But even the story was enough to make me freak. "Mike," I said, "what would you have done if you couldn't get your legs back up?"

He gave me Mike's Original Charming Grin (copyright, 1975), and said, "Well, T, I guess I would have fallen down."

He then went on to tell me that he's fallen from higher heights. Apparently, climbing tall shit without safety gear is more than a casual hobby for him: it's an obsession. Did I NEED to know this? Now, in addition to worrying about where he's living, whether he's eating, who he's dating and why he's not calling, I also have to concern myself with what he's climbing. GREAT!

Boys.