Aquatic attacks and the new year
Yesterday morning 4 friends and I decided to send the year off with a bang (a chilly, damp bang) by hopping in the Puget Sound and poking around for a couple hours. That sounds like far less fun than it actually was...
What should have tipped me off about the coming adventure was how much the other divers in the parking lot were talking about nesting fish. Yes, there were many other crazy people out there (Edmonds Underwater Park) even at the end of December and yes, fish nest. Fish are not sociable when they nest. Fish are generally unsociable year-round, but their normal behavior is sitting around eyeing intruders warily so I didn't really think much of the chatter. I've also mentioned this before, but the fish in Edmonds are in a protected marine sanctuary and can reach lengths of 6+ feet.
Oh boy.
The five of us split into a couple groups once we got out in the water, since the surface swim is a long one and two of the guys were new to the sport and getting winded. Myself, a beginner girl (L), and a very experienced guy (D) kept kicking and went out to one of the farther buoys (I have pics of the site - there are buoys marking the underwater features sprinkled all over the water - but my photo hosting site is down right now. Will add later) and submerged to find one of the larger wrecks. The cabezon were everywhere, eyeing us with their giant, bulging heads and flaring their spiked fins when they felt we got too close. The laid-back ling cod lounged on the edge of the prow and hid in the kelp, spooking every now and then but mostly appearing to be in hibernation mode. Visibility was good, and after a lap around the boat (it was gorgeous! Must go back soon) we headed down one of the "streets" made of submerged, kelp-coated cables that bisect the park. I was in the lead and taking my time, checking out the random sculptures that litter the sand and the fish that inhabited them.
We came across a loose teepee made from giant poles and cement tubes, and I swam blithely through one of the holes made by an outer leg. That was our downfall. The good will that had previously been extended to us by the finned and flippered inhabitants went completely out the window and I found that I had a 3'-0" cabezon determined to head-butt me into oblivion. I whirled and dodged, but it flared its orange speckled fins and followed me through every move. My compadres circled around the melee until finally I was far enough away from the nest to cause the mother/father/great-uncle/??? (they're fish, it's hard to tell) to return to the babes.
Winded from the fight, though excited to find that it IS in face possible to say "holy crap" with a regulator in your mouth, I swam to catch up to my buddies and found myself in the lead again (they swear it was accidental). Suddenly there was a purple flash, and I was being paced by a 4-5'-0" long ling cod. Its head swung toward me, and I remembered the people in the parking lot telling us that ling cod bite pretty hard (I'd only known about the head-butting previously). My arm flung out in its direction but it didn't swerve an inch, so I flared my fin-brakes and stuck my foot in its face, thinking that's the only thing I was willing to sacrifice to a cod bite. Keep in mind that it's impossible to move quickly underwater (particularly with a 7mm double layer wetsuit on), so this came remarkably close to being a blow-by-blow reenactment of the slow-mo fight scenes in "The Matrix", except with a human/neoprene sausage and a giant purple fish. It circled and lunged again, I flipped and kicked, it dodged and snapped, and finally I made solid contact with my rubber split fin on its side and it retreated enough for me to sprint off to hide behind L and D (L said she used up probably half her tank hyperventilating, thinking I'd be eaten by a cod).
We flew towards the shore, staying clear of all structures. When air ran low we surfaced and prepared to kick the rest of the way on our backs, hoping that the fish would stay low and close to their nests. We weren't on the surface for five minutes when D suddenly yelled at me to look out, and I spun to see the grey whiskered face of a Harbor Seal swimming about 3 feet away from me (I wasn't even in the lead this time!). I assumed ninja position but it kept heading out to sea, apparently unimpressed.
My heart was beating a million thumps a minute and we kept a 360-degree watch until we reached the shoreline and staggered up on the rocky beach. Hot cider and cookies relaxed things a bit, but both of my partners decided to call it a day after that dive (it was also just a tad bit cold). I did a second dive with the other two fellas even though my lips were blue, but apparently the cod memory is a short one. We were eyed but not attacked, and explored in peace even after I dared take an errant golf ball off the sea floor and flipped over a hermit crab (yes, I flipped him back).
What a great way to send off an exciting year!
Happy 2007, all.
Here's hoping that all are protected from cod fury in the new year.
Revised product warnings
(on the Sonicare toothbrush that Santa gave me this year) (I love it when Santa gets all practical - I also got socks)
What the directions say: "Gel toothpaste is recommended"
What they mean: "If you should be a lazy butt and choose to not run to the store to purchase gel toothpaste especially for this new fancy toy you've recieved, you will regret it immediately. Your existing paste toothpaste, which you love and have bought for use with your hand-powered toothbrush for years, will foam alarmingly when used with the Sonicare toothbrush and quickly fill your mouth with (tasty) suds.
You will not be able to remove the toothbrush from your mouth to lessen the production of increasingly uncomfortable paste bubbles since the Sonicare has a very particular 2-minute timer and you are a little obsessed about brushing your teeth for the exact 2 minutes. What you will end up doing is having an uncontrollable waterfall of suds dripping from your face as you attempt to manuever the wildly vibrating dental appliance evenly around your mouth, frightening local children, canines, neighbors, and the elderly (who by now really should be immune to shock when it comes to drooling)."
What the directions say: "You may feel a tickling or tingling sensation when first using your Sonicare toothbrush."
What they mean: "Five hours after using your Sonicare toothbrush, you will again be able to pronounce the "th" sound without producing (paste-scented) spit bubbles. Your jaw, however, will not cease vibrating until 8+ hours after toothbrush use, which is fortunately right about the time you need to brush again."
What the directions say: "Try not to allow the back of the tootbrush to come in contact with your teeth"
What they mean: "You will only do this once. After the initial pained yelp and tearing up, you will attempt to unhinge your jaw in order for it to never, ever happen again (because of course you can't STOP - it hasn't been 2 minutes yet!). Any further brushing will be done with your mouth open and stretched in directions both unnatural and inhumane in order to allow the demon bristles to do their work far from any neighboring teeth, lip, or gum. These contortions, in combination with the fact that you are spewing foam uncontrollably and still slightly weeping from the first brush/tooth contact, mean that no one will ever be allowed to watch you brush your teeth ever ever ever in the future. Ever."
Comparison
Ways in which I am a total guy:* Like to burp
* Get excited about building things
* Love motorcycles and going fast
* Know a lot about woodworking
* Get excited to go outdoors, and particularly on long backpacking trips where I know there will be no showers but definitely blisters
* Don't like wearing jewelry
* Have a hairstyle that requires minimal fussing in the mornings
* Love Jack Daniels
* Have worn clothes to work that were stuck together with double-sided tape
* Can lift heavy things
* Can start a campfire with one match
* Don't freak out in stressful/critical situations
* Like shooting guns at targets (non-living)
* Love drafting and figuring out construction techniques
* Favorite pants are of the "sweat" variety (okay, they're yoga pants but since they're basically sweatpants without leg elastic I like to call 'em as I see 'em)
* Cry about once a year
* Have a seperate storage closet just for camping and outdoors gear, and yet it still has exploded all through my house.
Ways in which I am a total girl:* Feel a little off if toes are exposed without featuring toenail polish
* Tend to clap and squeal when really excited
* Have no interest in spectator sports
* Own 10+ pairs of high heels (all have different purposes, I swear)
* Don't like beer
* Have a million pet names for my dogs (most recently = Montigue and Roomba)
* Can tell minute differences between colors and get upset/disturbed when combinations are bad
* Love dancing
* Wear lipstick or lipgloss often (hey, it's winter and lips are dry)
* Haven't bought winter boots because none I've found have been cute enough yet
* Recently did a Goodwill scan through my closets and came up with five grocery bags' worth of clothing
* Am using two closets for my clothes
* Can sing much of ABBA's repertoire (multiple parts)
* Have been recruited by drag queens because of my mad make-uppin' skills. Can apply foundation even over stubble.
* Actually think he's going to call when he says he's going to call
* Actually think he's going to back off/respect my boundaries/not grope me when he says he's going to back off/respect my boundaries/not grope me
* Love to go for walks in the park just to see how the foliage has been changing. Wait - that might be guys too... while I'm walking in the park watching the trees I often also have the urge to sing "Super Trooper" and complete the idyllic landscape.
Freak magnet still functional
Last night I was slowly walking back to my car after a long night of dancing in 2.5" heels (my feet are out of practice, meaning slowly = sloooooowly, and with cringes every now and then) when I heard a male voice call out from behind me "Hey! We're wearing the same skirt!". Unable to resist the curiosity, I turned to see a scruffy man wearing tight black pants and a shirt undone to his navel, exposing a healthy thatch of soft-looking reddish chest hair. He was carrying a giant pink duffel bag and a container of take-out food, and a hat that was pulled low over his eyes. Here is the conversation that followed:
Me: "Nuh-uhhh"
Mr. Fancy: "You don't believe me?"
Me: "Nope, sorry"
Mr. Fancy: "Hold on, let me show you..."
(here he drops the duffel, sets his food on top, and pulls at what I thought was the top of his pants. Oddly enough, I wasn't frightened (as is usually the case when someone wants to show me something and goes straight for the pants). He adjusted the material until suddenly it straightened, revealing the fact that his navel-bearing shirt was actually the top half of a very slinky women's dress that came down to his knees and actually did resemble mine quite strongly)
Me: "I have to say I am impressed."
(then I noticed that in addition to the dress, he was also wearing a very snazzy women's straw pillbox-type hat with a bow on it. Also black)
Mr. Fancy: "THANK YOU. Nobody believes me anymore. You know? What do you know?"
Me: "Not much tonight, apparently."
Mr. Fancy: "Do you know who I am?"
Me: "Can't say I do."
Mr. Fancy: "Neither did the guy at the bank. They said I was crazy, but I fooled them all and went into the hospital and sat there for three months, and then when I got out the guy at the bank counter stole all my money. You know how much I had? Do you? $45,000! They thought I was crazy but crazy guys don't have that much money. But now I don't have it anymore, and they put me out on the streets."
Me: (nodding, thinking in one corner of my mind that the most I've ever had in the bank at one time is around $3,000, and if you count the fact that I had -$20,000 in school loans at the same time I've actually never had a positive balance. Which means I must be crazy)
Mr. Fancy: "You match so well. Your skirt, your jacket, even your hair matches everything."
Me: "I am a ninja" (serious voice)
Mr. Fancy: "Now the bank guy has all my money and nobody knows who I am, or believes me."
Me: "As long as we keep wearing our fancy skirts, everything will be all right."
Mr. Fancy: "That's right, sister."
Me: "Have a good night, babe."
Mr. Fancy: "YOU ROCK!"
Brain powering down in 3... 2... 1... (zzz)
How odd is it that I've been told three seperate times by three very different entities that I think far too much and need to turn my brain off? Is this a common problem? Is the world full of over-thinkers whose tiny brains are glowing red, straining at the upper end of the thinkometer gauge and steaming slightly while the whistling noise grows slightly louder?
New mantra: I dunno.
The first time was when we were decorating a women's shelter and I was trying to organize the group into teams that would tackle different areas. There was a ton of decorations and lights and I was contemplating dividing them up in an orderly manner, but with 20ish volunteers and more boxes of goodies coming in waves, organization was unlikely. Finally the non-thinking advice sunk in, and we all just grabbed whatever was nearby and went to work. A few hours later, the place looked wonderful and materials were used in ways that I wouldn't have imagined (uh, in a good way).
The second was at conga lessons. I finally have the handwork down and no issues with the basic rhythms, but I kept dropping out when I listened to hard to the other parts and was trying to figure out the interrelated patterns (I
polyrhythms). Mr. funky teacher man told me to stop thinking and just play it, and when I did all of a sudden my hands started acting independently and it all came together and my brain went straight to the happy place.
Then I had my retest for the motorcycle endorsement. I only missed the mark by 5 points last time (out of 100), so I was determined to pass the thing and continue my goal of world vehicular domination (next up: camels). The test is comprised of 4 different sections: A double U-turn in a 20 x 60-foot box, a quick swerve to avoid an obstacle, an emergency stop withing a certain distance, and a double turn that is mostly gauged for speed and control. The U-turns were/are my nemesis, mostly because to accomplish them within the given space you need to swing your butt far off the seat in the opposite direction and lean JUST SO as you're cranking the handlebars. And I have no butt. Last time I not only went far out of the box, but I also put my foot down for balance. Not good. This time I gave myself options: Either foot OR box (ended up being the box, which meant I had better balance but still no butt). Last time I also let my failure on the U-turn test psych me out for the others - except the swerve, which I always rock - and I rode far too slow to get full points. This time the instructor yelled at me "STOP THINKING!" and I finally took his advice (and the drum instructor's advice, and my friend's advice...).
What I found is that in order to completely slow/stop my brain's frantic meanderings, I need to distract it with something that is simple, shiny, and makes it do the brain equivalent of skipping along a sunlit path in a meadow full of flowers. As I sat on my motorcycle, warming my gloved hands on the idling engine (freeeeeezing, but at least not raining or snowing), I started singing quietly to myself "I'm pick-ing out a ther-moooos, for YOOOOU... Not an or-di-naaary therMOS, for YOOOOOU..."
And then I passed, with points to spare.
