But mostly she taketh. Like a sneaky little street urchin.
I've lost two precious lives to the depths of Poseidon's realm. Nearly three. The nearly one was Rob. Next time you see him, ask him about the time he almost drowned in Morro Bay. It makes him seem like such a bad ass. Except that it was all for vanity! Learned that lesson the hard way, didn't you honey? (J/K HAGS, Robby! Don't ever change!!!!!)
The first real casualty wasn't actually the Pacific. But who cares? Aren't oceans really all the same ginormous body of water? I mean, if you pee off the coast of Southern California, doesn't it just stand to reason that some unassuming Australian is going to have to wade in your urine at some point? You should think about that next time you have to wee to the beach.
Anyway...casualties. It was my pugga. That was how I tried to say "plug", which is what my parents called the pacifier, which I'm assuming was inserted into my face to shut me the hell up. Apparently, I was a very loquacious toddler. (Surprised?) But I was nearing the age of three and it was time to move on to other silencing techniques (read: duct tape). When I lost that pugga to the greedy Gulf of Mexico, it would be my last. I don't remember this really at all. I just have the vague recollection of standing and on the shore, screaming, panic-stricken, and feeling an acute sense of loss. Years later, I was filled in on the details. (Note to parents: tragic loss of a pacifier leads to thumb-sucking, which leads to nail-biting, which somehow leads to perfect teeth. I don't get it either).
Last weekend, I lost another of my dearest treasures: iPhone the Second. We were standing on the sands of Laguna Beach, gingerly dipping our toes in the surf, when a huge rogue wave attacked without warning. Rob and Sarah saw it in time and, being the nimble creatures that they are, jumped back with only a few droplets on their pant legs. George was not so lucky. He freaked, spun, and fell, spraining his wrist and soaking his trousers. But I, being the only one with my back to the sun, and consequently the silent-but-deadly-ninja wave also, was soaked from head to toe. Where was my phone? My back pants pocket. What about the contents of my purse? Bone dry. Yep. Had the phone been inside the purse, it would have survived. But fate had other plans for iPhone II. Plans of death and dismemberment.
You'd think my pale skin and jiggly butt would keep me far from the coast. I'm definitely an inland creature by nature. But don't worry, Pacific. I've learned my lesson. You're clever, I'll give you that. But you'll eat no more treasures on account of my mistakes. Because now, you're my nemesis.
This. means. war.