Here's a picture of me last night at the weekly fire drill. I'm in borrowed turnout gear that doesn't really fit, big in places and tight in other places, sneaking a quick picture break because I think this is SO cool.
We're playing with a donated car. A few weeks ago we practiced EMT stuff, how to stabilize a person and get them out of the car. Last night we practiced how to get into the car. I got to break a window, and later I got to use a HUGE pair of hydraulic scissors to cut stuff up. Big man toys.
There is virtually nothing in my life that can make me forget the constant list in my head, the constant question of, "does spending time on this activity take me where I want to go," or "am I spending time on the right things?" Except this. I go to the fire station and my other life completely disappears from my head. I am completely in the moment, learning how to be a fireman, playing with man toys, learning the words and where to put things and how to be a productive member of this team. It's pretty neat, and for me, just plain fun.
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