Paddling my own canoe. Oops, kayak.
So..the story is this;
I was reluctant to go. Why? Because I am loathe to be the least experienced at anything. But I went. Obviously. Thanks to my kayak-carrying mate and Jodi and my keen eye for jellyfishing. The water was freakin’ freezing as compared to piss-warm Florida standards. I found my rhythm, found my groove. I saw orange and purple starfish, too! Which, at this moment, reminded me of the orange and purple spatula sets that were reduced to clearance prices yesterday at the ol’ shop. But I digress.
It took me a couple of 45 minute segments to acquire the finesse needed to maneuver properly (and not look like too much of a complete friggin’ dork!) Despite my on-land instruction, I still managed to crash my plastic tube on a rock. I loved it, though. It was peace personified. That whole three hours of manning my own boat.
It’s pouring here in San Marco tonight. I imagine myself in the blue, sturdy canoe. Oops, kayak. Rowing upstream. Rowing against the grain. Rowing and rowing ’til my shoulder burns again…
I wasn’t the star and I most definitely didn’t shine…but I sit here this night crossing my memory’s finish line.
I’m glad I went. I’ll go again. Somewhere different next time, no tellin’ when.