Today is Wahine Wednesday.

The 35th Wednesday on our road to 52.

And, ya know, sometimes things just don’t go as planned.

On the way to my plan of surfing this 35th Wednesday, I was stung by a stingray.  An occupational hazard when you are a surfer.  Tiare had actually been stung on Monday.  How ironic…two wahines hit within 48 hours.

I was walking into the ocean, anxious to join Tiare in the line up.  It was a beautiful day.  The sun was out. Not a cloud in the sky. No wind. The waves were small and friendly.  I would soon be surrounded by my surf peeps.

I was excited to get in the water.

I was wading in, knee deep in the ocean anticipating the moment I would propel my body forward onto my board and start paddling. Just then, a stingray decided I was invading his personal space. “BAM” – with a swift whip of the tail, barb makes contact with flesh. Before my body even found the water I had been ‘hit’.

I recognized the feeling immediately. This was my 4th sting.  And I knew this was a bad one.  I needed to get my foot into scalding, hot water immediately.  This was the main treatment to lessen the affect of the poison.  Damnit!!  I was pissed off.  I wanted to surf.  To enjoy the day. To be with my friends. And this little buggar was preventing me from doing that.

I was also in pain.  The poison was starting to seep into my foot.

I marched my way back onto the sand with only the lower third of my body even wet.  Cindy, who was steps from getting in, gave me a bewildered look and I explained to her what happened.  She was sympathetic having experienced the pain of a stingray herself.

As I got to the parking lot, Mike, Paula and Dave were also getting ready to hop in the water.  But, when they saw me limping up, they all went into caretaker mode.  Dave had the hot water.  Paula grabbed the epsom salts.  Mike was directing.  I wanted to head home but realized the 12 minute drive was too long to not have my foot in hot water so Mike and Paula threw me in my car and drove me to lifeguard head quarters.

The lifeguards were nowhere to be found. Luckily, I had my little angels Mike and Paula.  Once inside, they operated like a well oiled machine.  Sitting me down.  Alternating scalding water every 10 minutes or so.  Keeping me company.  Talking about Hawaii.

And Paula, demonstrating walking to the nose on an imaginary surfboard.

All to keep my mind off my sting.

They did this for an hour.

On a gorgeous ‘summer day’ in November they were taking care of me in a dingy, cold lifeguard tower instead of enjoying the sunshine and the water.

After a bit, Tiare, Cindy and Dave came to check on me.  They were concerned and wanted to make sure I was okay.  To see if there was something they could do.  Ready and willing to do anything I would have asked.

The reason I tell you these minor details of a pretty boring story is to drive home the point that I have amazing friends.

We should ALL have amazing friends.

We should surround ourselves with people that care about us.  That elevate us.  That are fun to be with.  That love us and show it.

I could go into detail ad nauseum of many examples of the love and care we have all shown each other.   We take care of each other like family.  We have each needed this care at one time or another and it always humbles me when I am on the receiving end.

This is my surf family and I am blessed.  Surfing has joined us and our love for each other grows with each day in the line up.

I have always known this but this evil stingray has reminded me.

We need these.

Reminders of how good life is.  How blessed we are.

Things, no matter how small, or annoying, or bothersome or painful to make us stop and smell the salt in the air.

To help us put into perspective the important things.

And the important things are the people.

I am so humbled by “my people”.  My surf family, my other friends, my real family.  I am so lucky to have their presence in my life.

I hope everyone can say the same.

There’s the the old saying… “We can’t pick our family but we can pick our friends.”

So pick some good ones.

Salty Kisses,

Karen