These are a few of my least favorite things

If you've been hanging around Brays of Our Lives for a while now, you'll know that not much scares me. I'm not afraid of wearing bells, towing poles, leaping logs, fording streams, passing trucks, carrying children, or crossing bridges. I'm not afraid of flapping tarps, honking cars, rumbling tractors, speeding bikes, flashing lights, or slithering snakes.

I am afraid of rainbows. (Click for the full story)

I am DEATHLY afraid of rainbows in puddles—reflections from the sky, or, even worse, shimmering pools of oil on the road.

I'm am nervous about footing changes. More specifically, I am afraid of stepping off of grass and onto gravel, or off of gravel and onto pavement, or off of pavement and onto dirt.

I am afraid of walking directly onto my own shadow. I hate walking away from the sun.

I am TERRIFIED of walking onto my own shadow during a footing change. Ask me to step away from the sun onto pavement from gravel and I may just fall into a dead faint.

I am not afraid of buzzing alarms, blaring horns, flapping wings, flapping coats, blowing bags, fluttering flags, or leaping elk. I am not afraid of rushing water, sucking mud, tangled brush, barking dogs, milling livestock, ringing bells, or crashing trees.

Just don't you dare ask me to cross a shadowed rainbow puddle at the edge of a paved road. I would die.

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