Today, I set out for the local library with my trusty GPS system. I ended up at a park. It's official - I am so bad with directions, a GPS can't even help me.
But that's another blog. Because I'm rightly glad I stumbled upon this Great Falls Grange Park. The last two vehicles had just left the parking lot, leaving this land of wonder deserted. Up I went on a slide, which, incidentally, is not a good idea in flip flops, according to my right knee. Ah well, that's why they get caps.
Down the slide awaited the the pearl of all playgrounds, by which I judge such monuments: four light plastic swings. For 26 years, swings have been the pinnacle of any playground experience. The perfect swing is set just high enough from the ground to drag the toes of your feet and supple enough not to make your butt hurt as you fly through the air. The chains neither pinch your hands nor stand too close to your face, and they are just long enough and free enough to be on the same plane as the bar should the swinger be brave enough.
For just a moment, your problems slide off and you can feel your stomach dance with delight.
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