Milkshakes all around . . .

. . . is what we get if I pull a would-have-drowned child out of the pool, and she gets an all-clear on the lung check afterwards.  Yay!  A certain mother needs to work off a  little adrenaline now . . .

***

In the meantime, back-to-back interesting posts by Eric Sammons:

Just say ‘no’.  Hands down this is my number one spiritual problem (in addition to all the others).  And of course he posts these timely words just when I’m trying to goof off on the internet to unwind a little, heh.

And then, 100 things? I’ll consider it, if I get to count all my books as a single item.  Otherwise, I guess it’s 99 books and a toothbrush?  I think everything else maybe I could borrow from someone.

***

Funny story about self-denial and materialism: SuperHusband and I are in the market for a new motor vehicle.  Exact nature TBD, but we’re leaning towards a commuter-mobil.  There’s about $5K difference between the car he really wants, and a less-expensive, more practical car that would (we think – haven’t test-driven yet) do everything we’d expect from the dream car.   Poor guy, he’s checking out vehicles on the internet last night, and his wife leans over and says, “$5k would build a lot of houses in Haiti.”

Or, part of a hospital?  Investigate this one, if you are looking for a worthwhile cause.  No personal connection on my part, so do your own due diligence.

***

Meanwhile, a funny story from the child-not-drowning incident:

So I’m watching my preschooler from the sidelines at my local community pool, because I am one of those mothers who lifeguards her own children even when there is one lifeguard on duty and three others giving swim lessons nearby, and I see Squeaky go under.  So I walk in and pull her out — real easy, because we’re in the shallow end, and she is right next to the wide concrete staircase so it’s just step in, pick up child.  Hurray.

[Yes, my child was literally one step from where she could have stood up and been fine.  But she stepped down to where it was just over her head, panicked, and didn’t think “oh, just walk up the stairs”.]

I carry her up out of the water, do my check to make sure she’s okay (she is), and I’m standing there with her swim instructor from the previous hour’s lessons,  who had come over both because she saw the incident and because she had some papers to give me.  Then the lifeguard on duty looks over in our direction; the whole incident couldn’t have lasted ten seconds, probably more like three or five — and he didn’t see it happen.

[No fault here: there was nothing for him to hear – neither my daughter nor I made any noise through all this — and this one guy has an entire pool of swimmers to watch.  No one can physically keep their eyes on that much space and that many people simultaneously.  The best a lifeguard can do is scan continuously, and hope he sees what he needs to see when he needs to see it.]

So the poor guy sees me there standing soaking wet in my street clothes, realizes something is amiss, and comes over to speak to me.  And his brain has not connected all dots yet, so it falters on the what-happened-here process:   He kind of hestitates, then says, “Um, we’re supposed to wear swimming attire in the pool.”

I assured him I don’t *usually* swim in leather shoes.

***

Have a good week.  And no combox pile-on about my lifeguard.