Life Interrupts

*Knock, knock*! Anybody hea?
I hear an echo.

Wes (youngest chile), and I have been out of town for quite a bit, and I've been 'puter-less for the most part. (Piece o' SHIT Toshiba laptop started heatin' up on me, AGAIN, and tends to scorch tha thighs after 20 min. or so. I can think of much more pleasurable ways to warm up mah thighs, tyvm. Fuckin' lemon.)

Anywho, I was guilted into donating some dive time by my best dive buddy ( and the only man I trust with my life unda water), Mark, to do some environmental recovery chit down in tha deep south. From Slidell, Looosiana to Gulfport, Mississloppy (covering over 26 miles of the gulf coast), Mark, some other fearless "frogs" and myself, hit seven marinas, logged over 20 hours of down-time, and managed to salvage miles of rigging, a few hundred pounds of cleats, winches and what not, and bag-lifted twelve sets of aluminum masts, and as many diesel, oil-leakin' engines.
Oh so much fun. Noooooot. 'Specially tha pawt when my regulator failed. Woo hoo!!!

There was however, a highlight to the last three weeks. I was able to witness, with utmost pride, Wes become a certified, P.A.D.I., open water diver. I've been working with him on pool skills for months, and he did his academics on-line with his instructor (down in Gulfport).
"Time to prove yer mettle, small fry!"
We chartered a boat, and motored out a few miles in search of the required 60 ft. depth.
"Mom, please don't go down. I'm nervous enough as it is."
"Sure, baby. Focus, remember to breathe, and you'll do fine."
I smiled, gave a "thumbs down" (dive sign language for, "going down"),as my chile disappeared into the murky chop, and then (of course...duh.), donned my gear, and headed down the anchor line to watch.
I hovered, ten feet above, and ten feet behind him as he executed his skills (flooding of mask, regulator retrival, hovering, etc.), flawlessly.
Dive two went just as well, and as they were wrapping things up, I banged on my tank with my knife to get his attention, and gave him an enthusiastic, "A-OK!"
He was grinnin' like an idiot, and I was tickled to death.
With a bit of air to burn, we tooled around a bit, checked out the critters n such, and then ('cause I did it to his brotha too), I snuck up behind him, and cut off his air.
Welcome to my atmosphere, tadpole!