Yeah...

On Saturday, we got up early and drove from Boston to Maine for the wedding. I wanted to attempt another open water swim, this time in a large bay of the Atlantic, near Portland. Here you can see my "I don't f*&%ing think so" stance. I did manage to force myself to go into the water about chest high. I did it twice, in fact, and forced myself to take three swimming strokes each time. But, in the end it was way too scary to swim. The waves were bigger than I could deal with and the crunchy bottom (why is it crunchy?! what am I stepping on?!) proved to be more than I could handle. The good news, I guess, is that the cold didn't bother me at all.

After this swimming attempt, my mother and I were yelled at by a bitchy Maine beach-house-owning lady for my "obscene" changing on the public beach (which she called "her front yard"). If anyone can explain to me how wearing a very modest tri-suit covering me from knees to neck, a wetsuit, a big black sweatshirt down to my knees, and a towel around my waist can be obscene...I'd love to hear it. Also, if my 70-year-old, Baptist-raised, prim and proper, Southern lady mom didn't see anything while standing two feet away from me...well.