What lies at the bottom of the ocean and twitches? Amy who was a nervous wreck: Boogie:board failure

"Let's go boogie-boarding after church," I suggested to Sydney, thinking to myself, How hard could it possibly be? There are seven year olds and grandmas out there doing it, for Pete's sake. My friend Joan and Sydney had already boogie-boarded twice during our visit to San Diego and, now, with Joan gone (Don't be sad, friends, she's in a MUCH better place now--Wyoming County), it was my turn to step up to the plate as Sydney's adrenaline-junkie boogie-boarding partner. "Mom, the waves will barely reach your knees," Sydney clarified, "I'm not sure how much adrenaline is going to play into this little adventure of ours."

Before I proceed, allow me to explain that there were several factors against me here, beginning with my admittedly unreasonable but hysterical fear of sharks. "Why would you wear that to a beach?" I snapped at a man sporting a tank top emblazoned with Jaws. It's like Smokey the Bear wearing a snazzy t-shirt advertising matches. Second, there is the matter of my limited vision. My optometrist once requested a special consultation with Brad. "If she ever loses her glasses in the woods," he told my husband, "tie a rope around her immediately and tether her to you." We laughed. He didn't. He even made a little note of it in my file Frequent followers of my blog are already well-acquainted with my marked lack of athleticism so I don't think we need to re-hash that topic.

Add to these well-established factors, a new one: What the hell is a riptide? That's all anyone talks about here aside from bragging about their grass-fed beef. You know those dooms-sayer prophets who stand on street-corners proclaiming the end of the world?I took up residence screaming about how ALL cows are grass fed. "Hay is grass, people!" I shouted to passing cars. "Silage? Guess what? Grass! You're living in a commercially-induced fantasy world designed to force you to pay four dollars more for your hamburger!" A nice man gave me a dollar for my cause. "Don't even get me started on reverse osmosis water," I told him.

So, with my heart hammering wildly, I walked blindly into the ocean, tethered to my boogie-board. I swished my ankle around in the Pacific. "What are you doing?" Sydney asked. "I'm testing the water for a rip-current," I told her. The first wave knocked me down. "That was actually more of a ripple," Sydney reported, picking me back up.

"Normally I'm a big fan of your excellent posture," she told me after she'd picked me up three more times before we'd even gotten in to knee-high water, "but maybe you should spread your stance out a bit and lower your center of gravity."

Oh my goodness, Syd must have sucked in too much of that reverse osmosis water. She was going California-kooky. "You can't change your center of gravity," I informed her as I was almost swept away in a rip-current. "You think apples are going to start falling up now?" 

"Try bending your knees," she sighed.

We finally made it out where we could catch some gnarly waves. "I think that's a shark over there," I whispered to Sydney (so as not to catch the attention of the Great White lurking nearby). "That's another swimmer," Sydney said. She clarified that the thirty sharks surrounding us were ALL swimmers before beginning my boogie-boarding lesson.

"I love your sunglasses," I said, squinting at her.

"Thanks, they're perfect for boogie-boarding because they stay flush to my face."

Well...let's just say they WERE perfect.

"Mom," Sydney sputtered, "it works better if you jump WHEN I say jump instead of AFTER I say jump."

It was a rip-wave if I've ever seen one...well, if I could have seen one. It crashed over the top of me, grinding me out like a human cigarette on the ocean floor. Sydney had to make a choice: Her sunglasses or her mother.

"I think we're done for the day," she said, brushing buckets of sand out of my hair before leading me back to my corrective lenses laying safely hidden in my shoe thanks to the unwritten code of the beach. We watched as a lifeguard pulled up in his fancy golf cart and announced to the ocean the presence of a rip-current. Sydney and I scanned the ocean for evidence. How do they know? Is it a different shade of blue? I've helpfully decided to google this so you'll know: The website was titled Learn How To Identify a Rip Current So You Don't Die On Spring Break. Very reassuring. Apparently there are tell-tale gaps in the water (Like Moses-Parts the-Red-Sea gap?). Look for discolored water (like yellow?) and an alarming line of seaweed going in the wrong direction. 

I apologized all the way back to the car. "I'm sorry I ruined our fun time," I told her as we paused to watch two Monarch butterflies playing? Locked in battle? Oh...we blushed and hurriedly moved on.

"Don't you dare be sorry," she scolded, "You tried really hard. I bet you'd be a great boogie-boarder if you could see...the sea." Who knew that my fear of sharks and rip currents would make me consider corrective laser eye surgery?