I hardly dare check the calendar to verify this fact, but I'm almost certain I've passed the halfway point of my summer break. [moment of reverent silence] That sucks.

So far our summer has consisted of swimming lessons, gardening, and general "house work" such as de-cluttering and painting (living room, kitchen, bathroom). On a whim I decided to paint two of my kichen walls the other night which was very unlike me but very much like my dear-but-far-away friend. Maybe it's one way of staying in touch? This week we tackled the living room, and next week I'd like to paint the bathroom and the youngest's room. It's now or never.

My parents have a wonderful, secluded home with a pond, and the girls and I love to spend our summer days there. The pond keeps my dad incredibly busy with weed/algae control, fish feeding, beach grooming, and the like, which is okay because he can't sit still anyway. Monday afternoon he was on the pier, fiddling around with a stick (fiddlestick?) and the barrels under the pier when he lost his balance and fell in. The idea of him falling in cracks me up based on all sorts of character details of my father, so there's no need for a lot of "awww" or sympathy here. However, the unfunny part was that he was wearing his glasses and resurfaced without them. Damn. As anyone who wears glasses understands, replacing a pair of graduated bifocals costs about as much as a purebred labradoodle--and without the snuggles.

So yesterday he asked to borrow our scuba mask so he could search for them on the bottom of the pond. I don't know about you, but the idea of watching my 67 year old father (as of today, actually) struggle to the bottom of the pond in a scuba mask to search for his missing glasses is absolutely pitiful. The bigger question: is it pitiful enough for me to offer to do it for him, amidst the muck, mud, and weeds? *sigh* Yes. But as soon as I offered, the tingles of panic skittered beneath my skin. Let's be real: 10am or not, it was going to be dark down there, and fish don't loiter on the surface, folks.

My first dive was pathetic, and I'm embarrassed to remember it in the privacy of my head muchless recount it here. But I doubt I went down farther than two feet before I felt something closing around my throat. I came to the surface and mumbled something about it being too dark or cloudy or something, but the let-down evident in my dad's posture and face forced me to pull myself together. This sounds like melodramatic license, but in the spirit of the Odyssey and Odysseus, I was giving myself "battletalk" to dive to the bottom. [Allow me to add that I realize I am pathetic. The fact that I need self-delivered battletalk to dive sex feet into a small pond should make one wonder how I'm trusted with the lives of two children on a daily basis.]

Mostly what drove me on was the fact that this was a rare opportunity to do something for my dad. He's forever helping/bailing us out, and there's rarely an opportunity for repayment. Until now. For God's sake, find those glasses!

I dove again and this time made it close enough to the bottom to get a good look around. Huge mistake. It was carpeted with weeds--a year's worth of Ramen tangled together per square foot. What flavor Ramen? Perch. At least that's what my dad told me those little striped fish were.

I came up for air and felt a little bolder, having made it to the bottom without panicking. I made another dive and looked around. And another. Now that I was becoming an expert, I had my dad reenact the event (minus the actual fall, obviously) so I could venture a better guess of where the glasses may have settled. [Note rising confidence: now I'm a forensic expert as well.] Two more dives. Five more. I was staying under longer and getting better looks around, but it was still a tangled mess down there. I came up, and my dad said, "Well, what do you think?" This was not an actual question; it was my "Operation: You Have Permission To Call It Quits" cue. I was thinking of giving up and waiting for my husband to get home from work to give it a try, but I figured I should dive a few more times if for no other reason than I was already in the water. I went down to a little deeper area to look around, and just as I was floating back to the surface for air, something caught my eye. I resurfaced, sucked in air, and said, "I think I see them." I dove again, right back to where I had been, and DING! DING! I had them. Victory was mine.

I've never been an athlete or a huge competitor, but the feeling I had when I recovered those glasses was exhilirating. "Raaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwr!!" I rode that high for a good 30 minutes which isn't bad for something that was free and legal. And I think I've earned some pretty decent mileage with my dad, too.