Every summer, we pack up the kids and the dog and whatever else we can stuff in the car and head to a tiny beach in Connecticut. Let me preface this story by stating that I am not a beach person. My ancestors come from a place where damp is a season, and I spend most of my time slathering sunscreen on myself and anyone related to me who will hold still long enough. But the beach in Connecticut is a tradition, going back generations on my husband’s side, and I have come to accept that I will spend a good portion of my summer camped out under an umbrella, hiding from the sun’s rays with a bunch of other pigmentally challenged individuals.
There are two reasons in particular that I am not fond of the beach: I have to wear a bathing suit and there are sharks. Let us address the more upsetting of these two reasons first. The beach is tiny, as I mentioned, and as you step onto it for the first time that season it feels as if everyone turns around to say hello. For years I agonized over finding the right piece of spandex-lycra combination that would make me look taller/thinner/more in shape, that would make people think “Whoa, she looks good,” rather than “Um, hey, have you heard the beach shack started selling Skinny Cow pops this year?”
Then there are the sharks. I read Jaws way too young, and the memory of it has stayed with me for life. I am seriously convinced that when I step into the water, someone rings a dinner bell, and all the sharks out cruising in the ocean start hightailing it my way. I usually manage to stay in the water for about five minutes before panic sets in and I have to retreat back to the umbrella.
This has gone on forever. But then a few years ago, my son figured out how to walk, and the entire matrix changed. Instead of trying to find a suit that made me look good, I needed to find one that would stay on as I hauled down the boardwalk at warp speed, intent on keeping someone who could not swim from throwing himself in the water. When people stopped me to say hello, I was too busy to wonder what they thought of how I looked — I just hoped all pertinent parts were still covered.
Last year he learned how to swim, and several times attempted to make it to Long Island. (I lost my cell phone to the Sound jumping in after him the first time.) Now that he’s in the water, I kind of have to be too. And while I still spend a good portion of the time splashing the shallows and hollering at him to come back, I’ve found that sometimes you just have to dive in and swim, sharks be damned.
So, with that long-winded prologue, I’d like to introduce my website. I’m diving in and hoping I’ve got all pertinent bits covered. Let me know what you think.