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Rip Current

June 16, 2008 By pia

I don’t usually pay attention to the many newspaper articles here that tell you to fill a hole in the sand if you make one as I’m not very big on making holes.

I was walking on the shore line. There was a very pretty castle. I didn’t see the accompanying hole that goes down to China as water had filled it. I fell.

Everybody knows you just get up from a hole. Not. The sand and water were whirling. I was caught up to my rip cage. When you swim if you’re in a riptide you swim to the side. But when caught in a hole, I had no idea what the hell to do. I didn’t feel fear; I felt angry. I finally pulled myself out.

The entire North Myrtle roving lifeguard squad stood and watched. A very nice old couple came to help me,

I didn’t need any help. My pride however….

The old couple and I talked a few minutes. The head of the North Myrtle roving lifeguards came over. I was out of the water. The lifeguards were watching me when I was in the water. I will be nice and say that I didn’t look like I needed help. Must have looked worst after I dug myself out.

That was me in the dark lime tee and white clamdiggers–the white clamdiggers that looked transparent. I felt like America’s biggest idiot.

My cell was in my pocket. I hear it might dry out. It has my life. Fortunately it’s Verizon–they don’t use Sim cards and I have a back up cell. Sweet talked the man at Circuit City, on Broadway in Manhattan, into doing that.

I live about four blocks from the ocean. It’s usually a beautiful walk. I spent it in fear that somebody I know would pass by. Fortunately most people I know in my immediate hood come for weekends except for the very nice mommy and three year old daughter, Isabella. Isabella became my newest bff Saturday.

My neighbor, Jimmy and his wife who I have had three conversations with and have gone from thinking she works with Alzheimer’s patients for thirteen hours a day to knowing she has Alzheimer’s thirteen hours a day weren’t home fortunately. They spend their time peering out the kitchen window and would have come out.

She’s a very proper Southern lady, and I thought I was losing it as I don’t understand two thirds of the things she says but W the male half of my landlord/friend combo can’t understand her either and W understands everybody and everything.

When I got to the townhouse I faced another dilmena. How do I get into the house of extraordinary cleanliness without tracking in sand? The outdoor showers near the beach don’t work. I tracked in sand and spent the next hour cleaning. Yet my Teva’s never even made it into the house.

The towels are in the dryer. My body hurts in places I didn’t think fell into the water.

I had been resisting going out all day. From the moment I woke up this morning something–mainly my head said “stay in bed.” But did I listen? It was a beautiful day. I was supposed to get some personal news that has been delayed until tomorrow. I was attempting and failing to be productive as the news I didn’t get yet is important to my life though mundane to the world.

When I get one of the “you must go out because it’s beautiful and there’s a beach with an ocean less than a five minute walk from your house, but I really want to stay home,” urges, I’m going to live less dangerously and stay home.

If I make any sense at all let me know. For the record my head didn’t touch water. Actually I went into kind of an altered state and made sure that my hair didn’t go anywhere near the water as I didn’t want it to get frizzy.

I called my two bff’s and my sister who claims I sound salty. Not in the cursing sense.

I will never laugh at those articles again and will go around the beach telling people to fill their frigging holes.

If this sounds familiar I was walking on what passes for the beach in Cancun and fell into a sandbag. That was a minor stumble and only my camera was ruined not even my pride. Really nobodies pride can be ruined in Cancun. Oh I do feel better. I think the shock is wearing off.

I want to thank Cooper, Patrick, Doug, and last but not least by any means MizzyB for this incredible post that makes me cry but not from pain.

I was going to write about my weekend with Bone. It was a wonderful experience. After Bone left North Myrtle, he found out that a post of his was in a book. Coincidence? I think not.

My body might be turning black & blue but my heart is filled with adoration for these five bloggers. I met other bloggers first but in my revised blogging history they were the first.

I don’t really like to talk about my political blogging experiences. It’s the reason I don’t moderate comments. I have learned things from each of the above bloggers.

I don’t want to get soppy. I never meant to even get wet today, except for my feet and in the shower.

Let me stop before……

Oh someday I will learn my own categories and explain them.

Filed Under: bloggers, blogging, north myrtle beach Tagged With: A northerner moves to the south, bloggers, blogging, north myrtle beach

« A phone call
Me and Obama smoking together »

Comments

  1. paisley says

    June 17, 2008 at 8:36 am

    in all of the years i have lived on the beaches of this country i have yet to fall in a hole… what a trip……

    love the tribute and it was ever so well deserved!!!!

  2. Bone says

    June 17, 2008 at 12:51 pm

    The closest I can come is slicing my foot open on a seashell.

    Glad you’re OK and especially that your hair didn’t get frizzy 🙂

    When you walk by Bonefish, think of me.

  3. sage says

    June 18, 2008 at 2:03 pm

    I’ve stepped in a few holes while surf fishing, worst is in late in the fall, with waders that fill up with cold water–glad you’re okay and it sounds like you had an interesting visitor last weekend.

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About Me

I live in the South, not South Florida, a few blocks from the ocean, and two blocks from the main street. It's called Main Street. Amazes me too.

I'm from New York. I mostly lived in the Mid-Upper East Side, and the heart of the Upper West Side. It amazes me when people talk about how scared they were of Times Square in the 1970's and 1980's.

As my mother said: "know the streets, look out and you'll be fine."

What was scary was the invasion of the crack dens into "good buildings in good 'hoods." And the greedy landlords who did everything they could to get good tenants out of buildings.

I'm a Long Island girl, and proud of it now.
Then I hated everything about the suburbs. Yet somehow I lived in a few great Long Island Sound towns after high school.

Go to archives "August 2004" if you want to begin with the first posts.

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