The old axiom, “Never say never,” is not just for the times you have to justify the third piece of cake your kid is wolfing down. There are many situations one shouldn’t make early pronouncements about (like, say, how you’re going to raise a perfect kid), but I still hold firm on a few items. There are three things I said I’d never do again, and I am resolved. Here they are in no particular order: ride a horse, go whitewater rafting, and own a dog.

I was 17 the first time I mounted a horse not in a pony ring. Before I got my feet in the stirrups, however, the horse got spooked and took off galloping. Before this moment, I imagined all the ways I’d hate to die, but I never included falling off crazed, galloping horses as one of them. I quickly amended the list.

I held on for a good mile–which I consider a valiant effort considering the circumstances—before I was flung off like an annoying gnat. The only reason I got back on the horse a half hour later was because I couldn’t walk back. My tailbone was something sore, and I didn’t get out of bed for over a week. Nowadays, I admire horses from a polite, safe distance with a weak, nervous smile.

The second thing I don’t plan on doing again is whitewater rafting. My children need a mother, and I’ve had enough adventure to hold me over to the next life adventure: raising teenagers. I like to live on the edge, but I don’t like falling off.

The event that scarred me forever was a run on a Class IV rapid on the Ocoee River. I fell out of the raft, and went under in the churn. When the river spit me out, the raft was still over me.

The river spit me out a second time (or I should say, God, in His mercy), but it was downstream. I was far ahead of the group. This meant I was going down a river of Class IV rapids without a raft. I was rescued with a line, but not before I made peace with never going again. I get heart palpitations just thinking about it.

The third resolution has nothing to do with dying, just wasting away. I don’t own a dog because I can think of other ways to waste my money. For instance, I could just flush a few bills down the toilet, buy a lottery ticket, or support most any government program. And at least with these methods, there is nothing to clean up in your yard. All it involves is a quick trip to the garbage can; just throw the money away.

I already have enough folks in my lap, wanting to be fed and their backs scratched. However, when my husband noted that a well-trained dog (particularly, a Boxer) was a cheap security system layer, I started to hum a different tune. That baseball bat all-of-the-sudden seems kind of puny. My dear husband knows all my buttons, doesn’t he?

What he doesn’t know is that I found a dog barking motion detector for $59.99. But I will submit to my husband’s fancy anyway. After all, I like to live on the edge, and it keeps me humble when I have to retract my words.

I’m not moving on the first two issues, though. I’m not.