Swimming with the Sharks

OK, so I would have to say, this past weekend goes down in my book as one of those things you talk about at parties to make yourself look cool.

As many of you know, Debi and I got to get away from the valley for a little R&R (that's "R" for frolicking at the beach, and "R" for not having to set the alarm clock). Unfortunately, I wasn't able to leave the valley until Saturday morning, so I caught up with Debi and two other couples at the beach house in San Diego mid-day. As soon as I arrived, plans were quickly made to head down to the beach. So, after having scarfed down a lite lunch that I was told was a "salad wrap", but which I affectionately referred to as a "garden burrito" (something so awfully healthy I had to counteract it with 7 Double-Stuf Oreos); we grabbed our Boogie boards and headed to the beach.
After a couple hours of riding sweet waves (and getting pounded by some), we headed back to the beach house for some sand volleyball. That would have been fun if I was in shape --but that not being the case, I felt like a cigarette butt stuck in a giant ashtray. After a good hour of the girls being beat by the boys, we headed back to the house to make plans for dinner.
Since Benihana was booked 'til 10 PM we decided to eat at one of his distant cousin's restaurants, Shogun. We made reservations for 9 and we were quickly seated by 10:15. The food was delicious, but the service was pure entertainment. Our chef, who claimed it was his first night on the job, downed two 32 ounce beers right before he started flinging knives around. He only dropped three or four food items on the floor, including an egg and a good chunk of lobster. It was an interesting combination of amusement and fear of being stabbed by a stray ginsu. After a tremendous display of culinary insobriety and a few lewd comments, our chef announced that he was in charge of the entire restaurant. At this point, we were ready to laugh at any good joke.
We left the restaraunt that night with full bellies, and small headaches from smiling too much. On our way out, the hostess told us we were privileged to have been served by the head chef of Shogun!

After a good night's sleep, we packed up our beach gear and grabbed a yummy brunch from a coffee shop/cafe in La Jolla. From there, we headed to La Jolla Shores where us guys were going to do some snorkeling.
As we made our way down to the water, one of the girls shouted out "watch out for sharks!" and I sort of chuckled. It's the classic comment to make right before someone enters the surf. We waded in and swam out just passed the breakers. I adjusted my face mask while my buddies, Ross and Ryan, began to take an underwater look around. One of them resurfaced quickly and exclaimed, "Woa, that was a big one, did you see him?", I said "See who? What's big?". The answer came back, "There's another one just to your left!" "Another what!?" I wasn't getting any answers, so I snapped my mask and mouthed my snorkel and went under. Then, I saw them. Sharks. Lots of them.

Something brushed against my leg. It was Ryan. I didn't know it was possible to hyperventilate while wearing a snorkel. I tried to regain my composure, but there was this instinctive voice inside me that kept saying things like, "Sharks are not your friend. Do not swim with them. They are not vegitarians."

After the initial shock of being within a few feet of creatures that I had always considered best viewed behind a plexiglass barrier, I eventually began to relax a little. My fears subsided slightly and I began to just enjoy the moment. Swimming only a couple of feet above a leopard shark, I found myself trying to follow him. He didn't seem to mind or even notice. It was a very surreal moment. Just minutes later, some stingrays joined my snorkeling adventure. At this point, just about anything could have swam up next to me, and I wouldn't have been alarmed.

After a couple hours of snorkeling with my pals and the ocean's fiercest creatures (and only one incident that was a little disconcerting -- namely, being ditched by Ross and Ryan over a rather large patch of kelp and rocks, because they were scared of some baby stingrays --oh yeah, and the time that I got ran over by a rookie kyacker in the surf) I eventually headed into shore and joined the others on the beach.

That evening, we went to the Rock Church and then out for some tasty lobster burritos. It was a good weekend. I guess it wasn't as restful as it could have been. . . but what the heck -- I swam with sharks, baby.

~Jeremiah

The View From The Pew for 9/12/08

Today is my wedding anniversary. Twenty-seven years ago, on September 12, 1981 Lanette Sanford (insert your favorite “Sanford and Son” joke here, she’s heard ‘em all) became Mrs. Lanette Godsey. Our wedding was the culmination of a whirlwind courtship that turned into a lifetime together.
Lanette was a blonde young woman at Beaumont First Assembly of God, my grandfather’s church. I glanced her way in church one night, not knowing who she was. She was buttoning an errant button on her blouse, and she smiled at me when our eyes met. I definitely needed to find out who she was! I asked a woman in the church who the cute blonde was, and it turned out to be her niece. We ended up going to Carl’s Jr. with a bunch of other people, and that was it.
We talked on the phone and in person, but it wasn’t until later that I took Lanette out and really got to know her. My grandfather gave me money for lunch and coupons for Sizzler. As you can see, Lanette was clearly not into me for my money! There was something about her, though, and I told one of my friends at college, “I just met the woman I am going to marry.”
We gave each other our hearts on a road by Oak Glen, and I asked her if she would spend the rest of her life with me while we were in the mountains overlooking Banning. On September 12th she became my wife, and nothing has ever been the same.
Through all these years she has been right beside me. Oh, it hasn’t always been sweet. We have had our moments. Moments when we thought we couldn’t be happier, moments when we thought we might never be happy again, and all manner of moments in between. Through it all we have stayed together, out of commitment to each other, commitment to our sons, commitment to God, and just plain stubbornness!
We have raised two young men who I hope will one day find women as good as their mom. I pray that they will treat their wives better than I have treated their mom at times, and be better at fathering than I ever was.
I would do it all over again. After twenty-seven years I would change some things, but some things I could never change. I would change a bunch of things, but not the girl I married. I would buy her a bigger diamond, but I couldn’t give her more of my heart. I would be more attentive, but I couldn’t be more in love. I would spend more time with her, but I couldn’t enjoy it more. I would marry her again, except it took so well the first time I think I’ll leave it alone.
She has been with me through good times and bad, poor times and not so poor times (you can’t really say we’ve ever been rich). I can’t imagine my life without her, or anyone else I would rather have spent these last twenty-seven years with.
Our marriage of twenty-seven years really has been five of the happiest years of my life… Lanette hates that joke! She says I have been using it for years and that the number should be going up. I point out that no other number is as funny as five. Our life together is just about as full as it can get, and that is truer than any of my lame jokes!
Happy anniversary, baby… Jerry