All posts in the happy category

Gone Swimming (don’t know if I’ll be back)

Published 10 August 2012 by Miss Dilly

Itching and regretting are great ways to wrap up a night.   I realize that could get very dirty, very fast but I’m afraid today this is not a sex story.  I know many of you might have a life on Saturday night, but I had no plans, no prospects and no work last weekend.  So around 8:30 I decide that I wanted to go swimming.  I choose a spot I had never been before.  I walked out the door and down the block to catch a bus and it crossed my mind that I may have forgotten to lock the apartment.  I should have gone back while I had the chance.

From the bus it was a twenty minute walk to get to the lake.  The sun was setting, the sky was beautiful, the weather was comfortable and I was looking forward to a swim.  I get down to the water and there’s people swimming about, eating picnics, tossing a Frisbee, a classic summer scene.  I sat down on the outskirts watching, okay lets me honest, glaring.  I wanted these people to go home.  Wasn’t it time for them to fall asleep on the couch watching Disney movies with their hyped up kids only to be woken up the dog licking their faces instead of their long-detached-yet-what-they-believed-to-be-suitable mate?

At some point I decided the time was right.  I stripped to my bathing suit. Went down to the water, and waded in quickly. The water was the perfect temperature after warming all day.  As soon as I started swimming a tornado of black bugs swarmed my face.  I splashed water around and they backed off some, but stay close enough that when my arms tired they could pounce on my soft, vulnerable flesh. At the rate I was going, it would be a matter of seconds for that to happen.  Somehow my legs pushed me forward, as I got farther out the number of insects died down, leaving a few brave ones hoping for their big break.  I felt a gentle caress on my leg, and then another and then something fuzzy and I’m kicking around as if Bruce himself, the almighty Jaws, was biting my leg.  All I can think of is Creature of the Black Laguna grabbing me and pulling me underwater to his grotto. So I attempt to avoid the seaweed and god knows what else by planking in the water (I’m, like, totes, like, cool – so why not kill two birds with one stone?).

My experience exactly!

There was a wooden dock in the middle of the water, only reachable by swimming. It may have been my only salvation, so I swam another 50 feet and reached it.  There were ducks following me and the bugs had returned.  I climb out, hoping I had bested them both.  Alas, duck poop coated the entire surface of the dock and the bugs only seemed to be bigger and meaner on top.  I pace, trying to not to be eaten alive, I think maybe there is a corner of paradise somewhere on this island.  I look down and two large black insects have landed on my shoulder and chest.  I blow and flick and jump around, utilizing all my knowledge of outdoor survival skills in one grand swoop.  I decide it’s safer in the water than out. That, and to get back I had to swim.  I wobbled down the step latter, turned to gently easy myself in and do a face-plant right through the cloud of bugs to the duck poop infested waters where the lake’s hands-y seaweed feels me up.  I come up sputtering and in full motion.  There was no time to lose.  I swam back, continuously flipping from my stomach, to my right side, to my back, to left side trying to avoid the seaweed touching me in one place too long.  Had anyone observed me I probably looked like I was trying to launch myself to space via aqua-duck method, if such a thing existed.  I finally got enough close to shore to stand, as I dragged myself out of the water I stubbed my toe on the loose rocks and trip once again reuniting me with my  perpetrator.  A couple that was standing not ten feet away audibly laughs.

I sit and air dry for a few minutes reflecting on my near death experience, admittedly a bit sad that my life didn’t flash before my eyes.  I decided I wanted to take off my suit. So I get up and go the restroom. As I’m changing, I look at the inside of the bathing suit top and it has a layer of green goo covering the material.  And then in the bottoms there are green clumps all over.  My mouth is frozen in an ‘eww’ position.  I don’t even know where I should start the worry –Skin infection? A rash? Uncontrollable bowels? Bad hair days for the rest of my life? I might have to get married someday? Gross!

As the generally known, yet unspoken, bathroom law goes, a woman entered the stall right next to me despite four others completely unoccupied. So I have a bit of fun with her, I ring out my suit onto the ground, it makes the perfect noise and splashes, I’m pretty sure a little bit of water got on her toes and I could hear the lady make a sound as she thinks someone is peeing on the floor.  I smile.  I walk out of the bathroom with the grace of a drag queen after a long night of disco dancing, sans glitter and with an itchy bum instead.



How to Lose Friends (and make smelly ones)

Published 28 May 2012 by Miss Dilly

Shocking, I know, I do make friends.  But here’s an easy* way I’ve learned to get rid of them, if one really must.

Go snorkeling.  You make new friends easy on the boat ride out, like a girl who realized her bikini top did come off when she dived from that high rock.  Everyone agrees to swim together and take pictures of each other.  Then you dive in and the world becomes quiet. And you can’t really turn you head too much because you’re snorkel will dip into the water and clog you breathing tube proving that you aren’t the Aquaman afterall.  The water moves gently and you float absentmindly enjoying the underwater world rivaling Seaworld by a mile and a half.  So as I’m swimming around it crosses my mind that I haven’t seen anyone in a while, so I pop up and I’m alone.  It’s great, I don’t want to worry about where other people are and making I have enough pictures to show people, I want to enjoy the few hours I’ve got in this new underwater world.

So I lost a few human friends but I made a few smelly ones, they’re awesome.

One of my favorites. There was a plethora of these fish but their colors were amazing!

The zebra fish. I was taking a picture of their group and on my screen one was really close, I was like this is going to be a great picture! Then I realized it was in between my camera and my face!

Fishy 🙂

Fish hiding in the coral. I have so many pictures, it was so difficult to just pick a few to post.

Can’t remember it’s real name so it shall be called Massive Fish. I like this picture since the guide gives an excellent size reference!

*Easy of course if you can jump on a plane, train or automobile and get snorkeling.  Now isn’t that easy?

I Choose to Believe

Published 31 March 2012 by Miss Dilly

Every once and a while things happen that we’d all probably rather forget.  Now I love driving.  I don’t so much like getting where I’m going as much as the ride there. Looking out the window, watching other cars, listening to music, signing loudly and just the general act of driving- it all thrills me. Many of the lovely drivers who gesture rudely, yell profanities, go below the speed limit or cut you off and then brake here in the US surprisingly don’t really know how to drive roundabouts.  I don’t want to seem like I have a huge ego, but I know how use a roundabout (and if you think so anyway, don’t worry my actions should compensate for the audacity of my claiming to know how to drive in a roundabout).

So one afternoon I was driving a friend home, and we approach a roundabout.  We’re talking about Kirk and why he hadn’t called her back and I was enthusiastically spouting my theory that he probably actually had been abducted by Hannibal Lector, who was enjoying his brain at the moment (what little there was of it) with a nice Chianti. We had watched it recently and I couldn’t even walk her out to her car that night, so at the time it seemed like a possibility, I’m sorry.  Anyways, I slow down as I approach the roundabout, finishing up my theory, I didn’t see a car so I gas it, I feel the car sway a little as I make the tight turn.  There was an extra-long beat as I wait for her to reply.  I look over and her hands are in little fists, squeezed tightly and the expression on her face looks as if she’s just been accused of beastiality.  I look in my rearview mirror and there’s a little red car on my my tail so close that I can’t see their headlights with this girl driving who is rudely gesturing and making mean faces. 

I start to laugh, “where did you she come from?”  My friend wasn’t quite as amused, she doesn’t really say anything.  I say “they weren’t there when I pulled out were they?” She nods and looks at me like—as one would expect I suppose—I nearly killed her.  I shake my head and laugh a little uncertain this time.  I had been pretty sure there wasn’t anyone there, I wasn’t that into my silly story. 

I say “No, I don’t think they were.  Whatever, they weren’t.”

She recovered a little and laughed and shook her head saying, “Nooo I’m pretty sure they were”.  

I retort “I choose to believe that car was not there.” Case closed.  Now, we use that saying once and a while, try it sometime just say “I choose to believe…” and magically history uses a Pink Pearl eraser and gets rid of your life blemish.

So, apparently once and a while I am one of those drivers who don’t know how to use a roundabout, it was a sad day.  A scrape with death really wisens one, I learned how to make excuses and not take responsibility for my actions- it’s great. 

Hello, Goodbye

Published 15 August 2011 by Miss Dilly

Last week I went to knit night, there were some of the usual suspects in attendance.  But that evening there was new character.  There were a few of us sitting next to each other all intently knitting and missing the entire purpose of going to knit night (If I didn’t want to talk to anyone or even hear anyone talk I would without hesitation stay in my own sanctuarty to knit madly.  But if I make the effort to get dressed, gather my scattered knitting and drive, I do intended to converse with someone if it kills the both of us which it probably does in most cases.) So, I struck up a conversation with this new face. Turns out she was a student visiting from out-of-state for just a week or so.  We got on well, talking about knitting (always a safe topic), school and our intended goal out of life (routine conversation at our age and not nearly as heavy-duty as such a topic maybe should be). Come 8 o’clock we pack up our things and she turns to me and says, ‘well, goodbye!’  Bye I said cheerily.  Interesting, no?  But really- as I walked back to my car I thought I will never see hCrowder again, to know how her life goals turned out and it isn’t really sad or surprising just a funny realization.  As I thought about it though, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I don’t want to know what happened, it was an enjoyable encounter and it’s just right to be left at that. 

Like this knit night phantom, most people we do encounter we never come to know, and even more people we never meet at all.  We’re all faces in the crowd and that’s great.