Here is a photo of water hitting the rocks by the Golden Gate Bridge.
This week's Saturday Scavenger Hunt word was brought to us by Tara at Eclectic Spaghetti. She chose water. Which was perfect for me, because I still have tons of vacation, ocean pics, and I happen to love water.
Here is a photo of some kids towing a really long, really slimy piece of seaweed on the beach at Half Moon Bay.
With all of the cold and freezing rain and a little snow we have here in Iowa right now, I'm really missing this Summer's trip to California and all that beach time we got.
Here are some scuba divers in Monterrey Bay.
I also thought I'd take this opportunity to steal another post from my old blog. It's a little piece about my more negative experiences with water. As you probably know by now, most of the things I love, can tend to be a little dangerous. Okay, let's dive in, shall we?:
Here are a mix of sea lions and birds on the rocks at Monterrey Bay.
I love water. I always have and maybe that's why my near death experiences have both been drowning incidents.
As kids in Arizona, we all looked forward to monsoon season. Sometimes, it was the only rain we got all year. Once, it didn't rain for several months, and when it finally did, even the Mormon kids got to go outside after 8 p.m. to play in it.
When the streets flooded with rain we would sit on the curb and let the cars splash all the dirty, oily water off the road onto us. We also loved to have boat races in the gutters. My best friend Skip and I would find twigs and start at a particular place on our street. We'd race our twigs as far as they would go before they got caught in a big pile of tangled debris and we had to start again.
One day the water was particularly high and we made it all the way around the corner and onto Horn Street which was way busier. I was walking backwards, just ahead of the twig-boats because I was winning and really excited. Once we got to the next corner, I was suddenly sucked into a drain where the manhole cover had come off. I couldn't see or breathe very well in the muddy run-off. All I remember is that my friend Skip's hand found my arm and was able to pull me out against the force of the rushing water. I know I should have been indebted to him forever, but my friend Marcia and I stuck rocks down his pants where his butt-crack was showing the very next day.
I was four years old at the time of my first near drowning. My brother and I were both learning to swim at the same time. Back then, my Uncle Jack had been recently divorced and was living in an apartment building with a pool. My uncle was working with us on our swimming lessons that day. He left me to hang on to the side of the pool while he went over to my brother. At some point, I got tired of waiting for him to come back and I simply let go. I think it was the only time in my life when I didn't spaz the second I was in danger. I calmly sunk to the bottom of the pool, and when my Aunt Merilee saw what happened, she jumped in after me. She was of a heavier build and was fond of wearing those big, floral muumuus. I have no recollection of what happened after she saved me. Did I cry? Did my parents cry? Who knows. It's all eclipsed by the image of my Aunt Merilee's gigantic dress opening out like a parachute once she hit the water.
Finally, here's a guy fishing.