Month: October 2011

Susceptible

Hank: Mom, watch this!
(He grins and dunks a jar underwater. Water splashes up on his face, and I laugh.)
Hank: Why did you laugh?
Me: Because you looked so happy, it made me feel happy.
Hank: Oh. You caught it?
Me: I caught your happy?
Hank: Yes.
Me: I did.

Lifelist: Go Scuba diving? Check.

Oh, I’m sorry. Is this air tank turning you on? As an open water–certified, international woman of mystery I find people have trouble controlling themselves when my fins are in play.

And if the mere sight of me in Heidi braids gets you hot and bothered, meet Lesta, the world’s dreamiest Dive Master:

I know, right? Lesta, the Internet is ogling you. Do something Dive Master-y.

Yeah. That’s working for us.

As I’ve mentioned, deciding to get certified was spur of the moment. Over the years, I’ve found there’s never enough time to do the things on your Life List if you don’t just shoe horn them in. So when an opportunity arises to check something off, I try to say yes, even if it seems inconvenient at first. (Like, say, you need to arrange child care for a week, buy an international plane ticket, and take several hours of classes in the next eight days, but you’re also hosting a conference two weeks after your return. For example.)

The week before my flight, I studied for my written test.

Then I did a little time in the pool at Bamboo Reef in San Francisco.

When I arrived on the island, I had a universal referral form that let me complete my open water certification there, so Lesta took me and Geri-Ayn out diving where I ran some skill drills.

I practiced putting my equipment together.

I learned how to take my fins off in the water without knocking my teeth against the boat ladder.

And I filled my scuba mask with water over, and over, and over again until the inside of my nose was aflame, and my eyes stung with brine, and I could taste tin in my mouth from the panic. Then instead of lunging for the surface and screaming that Lesta was trying to drown me, I blew the water out of my mask, breathed deeply, and refrained from attacking him while adrenaline coursed through my veins.

Aside from mask clears, scuba diving is one of the most peaceful things I’ve ever done. People at the resort kept asking me what I saw on my dives, and the question still confuses me. I saw the ocean! From underneath! And I was breathing!

The thought of it still makes me feel little.

If you’re ever diving in St. Lucia, I can’t recommend Lesta’s services more highly. He works at Ti Kaye resort and you don’t have to stay there to dive with them, so just give a call and they’ll help you.

More of my posts on Scuba diving:

More photos of my trip
Lifelist: Learning to Scuba Dive
On Fear and Scuba Diving

On Fear and Scuba Diving

I’m not sure how I got here.

As a kid, I refused any activity that could hurt me. I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was nine. I refused to leave the steps of our backyard pool until my big sister essentially insisted that I learn to swim before she’d let me out of the water. At the time I was convinced that she didn’t grasp the concept of drowning. Why couldn’t I just go read on the patio? No one ever died of reading. This might also be true of kickball, but even as an adult I remain dubious.

The first time I tried snorkeling, I hated it. Nothing like inhaling salt water unexpectedly while 300 fish crowd around your face mask and your legs are shredded by coral! Hey sharks, I hear you can smell a drop of blood in the water from a zillion miles away! Come and get it while I’m blinded by these tropical fish!

The second time I snorkeled, I was on the Great Barrier Reef, where I hated snorkeling for eight hours straight. When I turned thirty, I went to Belize and thought I’d finally gotten the hang of it. It was amazing, until our guide unexpectedly chummed the water for sharks. That was one of the first times I decided my overactive risk-o-meter wasn’t useful anymore. As I watched everyone leave the boat for a front-row view of the feeding frenzy, I realized it was time to jump.

Since then, I’ve learned to roll in a kayak, jumped off the top of a redwood tree, and went on a surprisingly adrenal dog sledding adventure. And last week, I got my open water scuba certification.

The more I do these things, the more I realize I just have to shut my eyes and jump. We’re afraid of the unknown, and once it becomes rote it isn’t scary anymore. The process of turning fear into comfort is all about familiarity. This is true of adventures, of travel, and of each other.

Tomorrow, let’s talk about scuba diving. I think you should try it.

Memory Scrapbook, St. Lucia

After nearly 24-hours of travel, I’m back. It was an incredible trip. A few small differences between St. Lucia and home:

  • The spiced rum has actual spices in it.
  • There are small cotton flags with handprints and stars on the telephone poles. They’re advertising for local political parties.
  • The kids wear school uniforms, and all the girls have matching blue ribbon in their hair.

  • It can be tough to keep the birds away from your food while you’re eating.
  • The bananas on the trees have blue bags around them to protect them from insects and birds. Bananas are the major export and the trees here are threatened with a fungus that’s affecting banana production worldwide.

  • The spiders are bigger. They especially seem that way when you open the drapes of your hotel room and find one on the wall.
  • There are hand-painted ads for Coca-Cola on every block. On the fruit stands, the trucks, the sides of buildings.

  • The grocery store aisles have predictably strange beverages, and beer is sold on the same shelves as liquor (also sold by the single bottle).
  • Instead of squirrels, they have mongooses.
  • The ketchup is made of bananas. It’s sweeter and richer than tomato ketchup.

  • They’ll bottle coconut water for you at the fruit market.

  • Young men call each other “daddy.” My girlfriend and I immediately adopt this habit with one another when we do anything laudatory, “Yeaaaah, Dadeee!” Cue high fives.

Lifelist: Learning to Scuba Dive

Things of which I have been afraid in the last few days:

  • Water filling my snorkel mask, and I drown.
  • Water somehow getting into my air tank, and then I drown.
  • Old-timey sailor sea-zombies pulling me to a watery grave.
  • I resurface too quickly and my lungs explode like a pair of mating puffer fish on a line.
  • Sharks.

Awestruck moments in the last few days:

  • I can breathe underwater.
  • Everything is so blue.
  • CHOOO-KAAAHH… CHOOO-KAAHH… This is what Darth Vader sounds like when he breathes under the motherf***ing water.
  • This is just like a flying dream.
  • I am a bionic turbo-mutant (half woman! half machine!) who defies the laws of physics with my awesome breathing powers!!
  • No one can reach me by phone.

So far, I’ve only practiced in the pool, but right now I’m on a flight to St. Lucia where I’m getting my Open Water Dive Certification for my birthday. I decided to get certified and take the trip about seven days ago, when a girlfriend said, “Do you want to go diving with me in St. Lucia?” And then I said, “Yes.”

For the record, I am also afraid of zombie sharks.

Winner! Tote Bag Giveaway

Congratulations to Jeannie! She wants to, “Have a studio of my own, with good light, and a door.”

Jeannie, you’re officially a person who wins things. Congratulations! Look for an email from me in your inbox.

And now a few more of my favorites from your Life List comments:

Heather: “Learn how to make my own undies. Really.”
Cassie: “I want to create a book of all my go-to recipes to pass along to my daughter when she leaves for college.”
Amy: “Defy the odds and walk again.”
JJZach: “Help save a farm.”
Sarah: “I’m removing the word “hate” from my vocabulary.”

Here’s to that. And then there’s Jen’s recounting of an item accomplished:

“My entire life, I’ve been promising myself I’d to go Holland and see the places my grandparents grew up. I finally did it, and took my baby boy along. My grandmother cried when she saw pictures of her great grandson in front of the house she was born in.”

Good job, team. Thanks to everyone who entered.

Kelly Wrote a Book!

This is my awesome friend Kelly Wilkinson. You may remember her from such adventures as Help Me Jump My Stupid Car and I’m Thirsty!

Most friends call to see if you want to grab a beer. Wilkes usually suggests a picnic on a film set:

Or an ill-fated smokey eye class:

In other words, she’s fun. Not enough of that going around these days.

I’m telling you all this because Kelly has been working on a book forever, and it’s finally here! It’s called Weekend Handmade, and it’s about craft projects you can finish in an afternoon.

As part of her online book tour, she’s writing up her favorite things to do for each day of the week. You can see them all right here, but Kelly has a particular talent for lazy weekend entertaining. It’s so nice to hang out with her and her husband Mike because it never feels like anyone is rushing around frantically. Here’s how she manages a perfect Saturday evening with friends:

Hi everyone! I’m thrilled to be here with Maggie as part of my blog tour for Weekend Handmade. Who doesn’t want to spend Saturday night with Maggie? Let’s all go to her place this weekend.

My ideal Saturday is some time outside, and then company and cocktails in the evening. We like to host casual dinner parties — no reservations or cabs, and you control the guest list.

Over the years, my husband Mike and I have scaled back our ambition on the food offerings. Especially in the fall and winter, a simple, slow-cooked pork shoulder or stew is just the ticket because you can shove it in early in the day, ignore it, and then, presto-chango, it’s ready that night and your whole house smells rich and warm.

During the week, our dining room table usually hosts my mess of craft supplies and projects, so I like to treat it right on the night of a dinner party, with a runner and placemats I made, and our collection of mismatched plates. Add food, candles, friends and cocktails, and nothing can go wrong. Or if it does, who cares? Pour another glass of wine.

Weekend Handmade by Kelly Wilkinson offers more than 40 projects and ideas for inspired crafting. Photographs by Thayer Allyson Gowdy. Find the complete blog tour at Kelly’s blog Make Grow Gather, or STC Craft’s site.

If a Clown, by Stephen Dunn

If a Clown by Stephen Dunn

If a clown came out of the woods,
a standard-looking clown with oversized
polka-dot clothes, floppy shoes,
a red, bulbous nose, and you saw him
on the edge of your property,
there’d be nothing funny about that,
would there? A bear might be preferable,
especially if black and berry-driven.
And if this clown began waving his hands
with those big white gloves
that clowns wear, and you realized
he wanted your attention, had something
apparently urgent to tell you,
would you pivot and run from him,
or stay put, as my friend did, who seemed
to understand here was a clown
who didn’t know where he was,
a clown without a context?
What could be sadder, my friend thought,
than a clown in need of a context?
If then the clown said to you
that he was on his way to a kid’s
birthday party, his car had broken down,
and he needed a ride, would you give
him one? Or would the connection
between the comic and the appalling,
as it pertained to clowns, be suddenly so clear
that you’d be paralyzed by it?
And if you were the clown, and my friend
hesitated, as he did, would you make
a sad face, and with an enormous finger
wipe away an imaginary tear? How far
would you trust your art? I can tell you
it worked. Most of the guests had gone
when my friend and the clown drove up,
and the family was angry. But the clown
twisted a balloon into the shape of a bird
and gave it to the kid, who smiled,
let it rise to the ceiling. If you were the kid,
the birthday boy, what from then on
would be your relationship with disappointment?
With joy? Whom would you blame or extoll?

(Sometimes, good stuff still comes via email. Thanks, Rosecrans.)