True Story Tuesday-Does Blood Really Attract Sharks?

It’s been a bit of time, but Rachel and Mr. Daddy from Once Upon a Miracle have hit the big time with their True Story Tuesday and I don’t want to be left behind this blog sensation that’s sweeping the nation.

Well, you may remember one of my first scuba diving adventures…

You know, where I got sea sick under water and then “fed the fish”.

Later that dive, I was stung by a Portuguese Man of War as I surfaced.

Then in my story I pretended I never went scuba diving again, when actually:

I went diving at the Great Barrier Reef and could not convert to the metric system (Okay, stop thinking less of me, I was young and stupid)…well, I dove so shallow that I ended up being swept away by the current and had to be rescued by a glass bottom boat.

Oh and I did a giant stride off of a platform of a dive boat but forgot to put my regulator (breathing device) in my mouth.

“My reeeggguuullllaaattttoooorrrr!”

Let’s face it, I was dangerous.

But, there may have actually been a purpose for my quest to be the best diver ever (ha!)…

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One cloudy afternoon in Cancun I boarded a dive boat. I was alone on vacation and decided to use the scuba skills that I had so carefully honed. After a few minutes, the boat headed out to the open ocean. The waves were pitching the boat briskly up and down. My weak stomach held out, for which I was thankful.

About a half an hour later, the boat came to a stop far from land.

“Okay, listen up!” the Dive Masters shouted over the roar of the wind. “We’re all going to do a giant stride into the water. As soon as you’re in, decent and wait for me at the bar beneath the boat.”

Standing at the edge of the boat, I did a huge scissor step out and landed in the warm water. A giant swell hit me a moment later and I eagerly abided the order to descend.

Letting air out of my buoyancy vest, I slipped below the surface of the gray blue water. The weights around my waist moved me swiftly downwards, sinking below the boat. The ropes holding the heavy bar below the boat became visible and I grasped one and descended farther and farther until I reached the bar.

Holding on tightly, I was pitched up and down with the movement of the boat. Above, the silhouette divers came toward me in slow motion, like a platoon of paratroopers floating to the ground. They gracefully moved closer and closer, until they were able to grab onto the bar.

At the back of the boat was a huge propeller. As the boat pitched, the giant blades thrust downward. Out of the corner of my eye I caught glimpse of diver heading into a perilous situation.

Waving my arm, I tried to attract the divers attention. Sliding down the steel bar, I moved toward the diver. He still did not see me.

Suddenly, the boat pitched lower than ever and neared the divers head. It was a disturbing sight.

With all my might I reached upward and grabbed the divers ankle. I thrust my arm down with seemingly superhuman strength and pulled him toward me. At that moment I saw the blade strike his head.

Pulling him further down, I grabbed his arm and brought him face to face with me. His eyes looked dazed at first, but then he focused in on me. Blood from his head began flowing into the ocean. Head wounds usually bleed profusely, often making things look worse than they actually are. At a glance, the wound didn’t look too bad.

It was a miracle that the diver had not been decapitated, no less come out with only a small gash to his forehead. It looked more like a shallow laceration.

Using universal scuba signs, I gestured to the diver “You okay?”

He nodded his head yes.

It seemed that no one had noticed what had just happened. Keeping hold of the diver, I urgently waved the dive master over. He came quickly, and I turned my victim over to the hands of a professional.

The two communicated with hand motions. They were pointing up and pointing down. I was hoping that the guy would be escorted to the surface to be checked out, but to my astonishment the diver followed the dive master as the group moved downward.

We all continued our decent to the ocean floor. The visibility was improving and the sun was burning through the clouds and permeating the water.

Vague memories are all that I have of the adventure. I’m sure that I saw some fish and a reef. But I couldn’t tell you much more.

Two questions swirled around and around in my head…

Would this guy make it safely through the dive?

Would the blood that continued to stream from his face attract SHARKS?

Or maybe the questions were in a different order.

After what seemed like an eternity, we all surfaced.

As soon as I saw “the victim” I approached him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said casually.

With that he walked to the other side of the boat.

“Hey, dude!” I shouted. “I just saved your life!”

Just kidding.

Stunned, I sat staring out at the serene blue waters.

Not another word was said about the drama that had unfolded less than an hour before.

My Own Little Paradise

Once again I am joining Rachel and Mr. Daddy at Once Upon a Miracle for True Story Tuesday. Pop on over there for some great stories.

When I moved to Hawaii for the second time, as a staff nurse, not a traveling nurse,

I decided that I was going to live right.

No apartment with snotty old roommates,

no riding the bus,

no more hitchhiking

(just kidding).

So, I shipped my car over and went in search of the best darn place I could find.

You know the real estate saying…

Location, location, location.

Well, I took that seriously!

I got a place at the base of beautiful

Diamond Head.

It was so lovely there.

Lush tropical setting.

My own private beach.

(Yes, I am serious)

Well, actually I did share it with a few neighbors, but it was MINE!

And I had rich and famous neighbors .

Like a guy who played dorky G.P. on the Andy Griffith show.

We had dinner parties

(Ok, maybe not)

But, I could look into his estate from my private entrance to MY beach.

Most days, I would take a walk around MY volcanoe

and stop as often as I could to watch the sun set over the Pacific.

There was only one downside to my new place…

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It was the size of a postage stamp!

View of my kitchen (note ameneties:toaster oven, microwave, mini-sink. Yep, that's it)

View from my kitchen( note furniture: futon, coffee table, side table, and mini dining set. All in the same room as the kitchen!)

I lived in the basement apartment of a wonderful estate and my rent was astronomical.

But I loved it!

Yep, it was my own little paradise.

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While I was looking for the photos of my tiny apartment

I found this photo of me taken when I lived in paradise.

~Oh to be that thin again~

True Story Tuesday

Happy Tuesday! Yep, today I am joining Rachel and Mr. Daddy for another True Story Tuesday.
Click here to see what adventures and misadventures people have been up to.

I can now see the folly of missing that very important day of my 10^th grade science class. You know, the day that I decided to sleep in the closet all day and ditch school.

Yes, I am sure if I had gone to school that day I would have heard this:

“Now boys and girls, one day you will be so thankful that you are good students and come to class each and every day,”

“Today I will share with you real life physics. It’s a lesson you will NEVER want to forget, so listen up!”

“One day your twelve year old will come to you and say something like-Mom, can I have some of that soda we put in the freezer about 5 hours ago. I know it not all the way frozen. So can I have some? Please! Please!”

“At that moment boys and girls you must do this: Shout “NO! Don’t touch that bottle! If you open it, the contents will explode forth and spray soda over the ENTIRE kitchen and into the NEXT room too!”

At that point, I am sure that the science teacher went on to explain the scientific reason for this phenomenon.

Had I ACTUALLY gone to class, I am sure I would have learned this valuable lesson.

Yes, Sunday was the day that teacher warning the smart children about. Dumb me!

And here are some lessons I learned in real life and not in class:

• One day every mother will be thankful she buys diet soda.
• When you hear a large popping sound after you give your kid permission to open the frozen soda bottle you will run into the room and find soda dripping from your ceiling.
• The child will be so stunned that he will stand immobilized holding the overflowing soda that is now running into his shoes on onto the floor.
• His sister will be standing across the room soaked and looking quite a bit like an upset Marsha Brady.
• That soda will then soak into the ceiling and you will frantically scrub it with Spic and Span while standing on the kitchen island!
• However, before you even think of cleaning the ceiling you will crawl around on your hands and knees getting every drop of said soda off of the pristine carpet in the living room.
• You will then feel thankful you spent a bit extra on the carpet because 50 of the 100 drops will sit nicely on top of the carpet pile and not soak in like the other 50 drops.
• After finishing the ceiling you will wipe down the kitchen walls and the front of every cabinet in the kitchen.
• When you get to the top of the refrigerator you will realize that you have neglected it and go ahead and wipe the thick layer of soda drenched dust off.
• When you climb up on the kitchen counter tops to get the soda off of the soffits you may find your husband’s long lost needle nose pliers that he has been looking for. (You will realize that you borrowed them to pry off the miniblind to clean it about 4 months prior.)
• You will follow all of the higher cleaning with a good scrub of the floor and bleaching the grout on the kitchen tile (that two nights before you had polished to an incredible sparkle that would make the neighbor ladies drool).
• Finally, when the preteen who started the chain of events comes down stairs, after showering off the soda (and while his sister is still in the bath removing said soda from her entire body) and apologizes with sweet doe eyes, you find the grace (with the help of the Lord above) to hug him and say “It’s alright sweetie. I‘ve cleaned it up. Don’t worry about it."

The Night the Strangers Came Knocking

I’m joining Rachel and Mr. Daddy today over at Once Upon a Miracle for True Story Tuesday…pop on over and read some awesome true stories.

This true story happened to me about five or so years ago…

Sleep eluded me. I was exhausted, but as tired as I was, I could not fall asleep. One o’clock passed, then two o’clock, then three a.m., nothing. Firehubby was at the station so I went ahead and turned on the light and began to read. At about three forty five, I could hear a car driving through the neighborhood, it sounded like it was a few street over. Being that I was upstairs, I enjoyed having the window open, I could hear the car very clearly. I heard honking of a horn in the distance and then some squealing tires. What the heck was going on, it was the middle of the night.

Within a few minutes, my doorbell began to ring. Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding dong. Pound, pound, pound, pound. I nearly jumped out of my skin! Without hesitation, I picked up the phone and dialed 911 and then ran to the kids rooms. I scooped up Scout, ran to Princess’ room and then placed him on her bed. Her room was toward the front of the house and had a view of the street.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

“Someone is ringing my doorbell and pounding hard on my door!” I replied breathlessly.

“Can you see who it is?”

At this point the pounding began to sound much louder, like they were trying to break down my door.

Opening one slat of the mini blinds, I saw a full size, extended cab pickup out front and could make out at least four guys running around my front yard. I described what I could see to the operator.

Then suddenly, one of the guys looks up at me, he could see me through the single open blind, peering out, even though the lights in the room were off. He pointed up at me, then another guy looked up at me and threw something towards my upstairs vantage point and it hit the window. I don’t know how the window did not shatter, but I was not going to wait around for the next projectile.

Now, fighting hysteria, I gather my kids and ran with them to my room. The bashing at the front door continued as I closed and locked the door behind me and head to the master bathroom. Slamming the door, I quickly lock it. The operator continued on the line as I explained what was happening.

“Mam, we have officers on the way. Be calm,” the operator said, hearing my anxiety heightening.

Holding the children on each knee, I prayed out loud.

“Dear Lord, please help me, please help me,” I pleaded.

“Mam, you need to stay calm for your children,” she said with a scolding tone.

Oh my gosh, I was doing my best! Can you really blame me for getting anxious?

Within five minutes, the operator told me that the police were in front of my house.

Then a few minutes later she told me that they were at my door. I went downstairs and opened it up.

The police officer told me that there were reports of hoodlums terrorizing multiple houses in our subdivision. At one house they were shouting for a guy named David to come out. They had actually turned the power off at that house. The officer surmised that the guys who had been at my house had been looking for someone, but had gotten the wrong address.

The kids and I lay awake in my bed until sunrise, I tried to reassure them. Later in the morning, I called Firehubby. He was upset that I had not called him as it was happening. Could you imagine how he would have felt, getting a call from his wife that someone was trying to intrude into our home, when he was forty miles away? Horrible.

One of our neighbors came by the next day. He lives a few houses down. He told us that he had just come out of his house to workout in his garage, at about 03:45, when he heard the commotion. Not knowing what the guys were up to, he started down the street to check out what was going on. All four of the guys rushed into the truck and sped off, shouting “It’s none of your business.” This neighbor happens to be a probation officer and was likely armed. So, he had saved me.

Another neighbor woman had turned on her lights to try to scare them off.

The Lord clearly provided protection for me that early morning, in many ways. The fact that I was awake at that weird hour was a blessing. I can not imagine how I would have reacted if I had been awakened from a sound sleep. Then, of course, He provided people to come to my aid.

Additionally, when Firehubby came home the next morning he found evidence that the bad guys had been mule kicking my door. If you know how these houses are made, not the most solid construction, you can see that the Lord absolutely kept us safe by not allowing them to kick in my door. I am so very thankful.

Firehubby took this picture of our door:

Only by the grace of God was I able to rest in my home again when Firehubby was away at the fire station.

The first night when I was home alone, as I settled into be, I noticed something on my bedroom door… more of His grace.

It is a source of comfort to me every night when Firehubby is on duty and I am home alone. I keep a light on so I can see it (me, afraid of the dark?).

Can you see it?

The Cross.

An Eight Legged Day

Seems that everywhere I go today I am seeing and hearing about spiders…

Oh, freak me out!

Now, being a Firewife, I’ve had to come to terms with getting them out of my house, since Firehubby is gone so much.

Today, the Princess was brave enough to escort one out of the house…thank you sweetie (what’s wrong with that girl, doesn’t she know she is supposed to recoil at arachnoids?!)

Anyway, with all of the s----r talk, I was reminded of a TRUE STORY.

So, I thought I would join Rachel at Once Upon a Miracle for:

Many moons ago, when my nephew A. was about 3ish, he came to his mom with a bright smile and a closed outstretched hand. He clearly had a present.

Now, little A. didn’t use his sign language to tell mommy about his special gift. But, his huge grin told his mommy that this was indeed something special…

Was it a pebble?

Was it a flower?

Was it a lady bug?

Little A. opened his small little fist to reveal a…





BLACK WIDOW!

*tempting to post a picture here, but then I would have scared myself (and possibly you) away from my blog for awhile

God was looking over little A. that day, he was not bitten!
And thankfully my SIL didn’t suffer a heart attack!

Dare tell a True Story of your own?

True Story Tuesday

Rachel at Once Upon a Miracle is such an awesome bloggy friend that I cannot resist joining her in her really fun blog carnival...
When I was a nurse in Hawaii, I had a roommate and he was so cute. We actually shared a bed. He slept in it when I wasn’t home.

It has crossed my mind that he may have snuck into bed with me at night, when I was actually home. But it really gives me the heebeegeebees to think about it.

Now firehubby is gonna be so mad that I posted his picture (and even told this story), but, I tell you this guy was special to me!

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He was my own little gecko (maybe I was his "own girl" as he lived there before me).

He was actually a better roomie than in my previous Hawaiian condo, but that will have to wait for another TSTuesday!

Ok, Ok, this is not actually him. But, I'll bet this is his cousin.

Come on, the guy was adorable!

Who can resist those awesome little feet.

There was one big down-side to having him as my roommate:

Every morning that I came back from work, I had to change my pillow case. My roomie always left me a special "present" to show how much he loved me.

Ok, that was not so cute, or sweet!

Yep, this is my true story!

I know your day wouldn't have been the same without hearing it ")

Happy Tuesday!

Firehubby has me laughing!

I'm loving Firehubby's true firefighter story today. Click here.

Swing by for a good laugh after you read my True Story Tuesday-Super Julie post ")

True Story Tuesday-Super Julie

Sometimes when I think about it, I think that it was actually a dream.

Then, I really contemplate the event…yes, it was real. It is a true story.

Rachel over at Once Upon a Miracle has a great blog carnival called True Story Tuesday.

I think I will join her and share this true story with you…

It was a cool fall morning in Southern California. I was in my freshman year of college and was getting ready to go off to class. The drone of a helicopter could be heard in the distance and, as always, I was interested in finding out why it was around.

The local sheriff’s department often sent helicopters out to search our neighborhoods. Not really sure why most of the time, but they would circle and circle and circle. At night, a spotlight would illuminate the ground as the officers above surveiled the suburban sprawl below. Often, I would sit inside my home and wonder if a criminal was creeping just outside my window, evading the brilliant spotlight.

But this was different, it was broad daylight.

What could they be looking for?

Soon, I heard the muffled sound of a loudspeaker. Was it coming from the helicopter? Running outside, I stood on the driveway looking for the airship.

Within a minute, I could see it coming towards me.

“We are looking for a lost boy,” the pilot announced, “7 years old, blue shirt, blue pants. Please call 911 with information on his location.”

The helicopter circled around, closer to my home.

“We are looking for a lost boy, 7 years old, blue shirt, blue pants. Please call 911 with information on his location,” the crew repeated.

A lost boy? I’m going to go find him!

I have always been a can-do kind of girl, and this was a job for Super-Julie!

Dashing into the house, I grabbed my purse and keys. I ran back out and hopped into my car.

That’s when it happened... I had a clear vision of the boy walking outside of the department store of our local mall.

Driving out of my cul-de-sac and through my subdivision, I hit the main road in town. Racing towards the mall, I felt an incredible sense of urgency. I had to get to this young child before anyone else does.

It was less than a mile away, so I arrived quickly. Driving to the backside of the mall, I headed directly to the area that had flashed through my mind. As it was only around 08:30 in the morning, the place was deserted. I parked as close as possible to the store fronts. Quickly, I unfastened my seatbelt and raced towards the buildings.

From a distance, I could see a small figure in blue.

Could it be?

As I got closer, I could see that indeed, it was a young boy.

Slowing down, I approached him cautiously, not wanting to alarm him.

“Hi there, I’m Julie. Are you here alone?”

He looked at me sheepishly, but he did not seem to be frightened.

“Yep,” he replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Where is your family?”

“At home,” this time he looked me in the eye.

“Well, I think that people may be looking for you. Please, come and walk this way with me.”

We walked together to the parking lot, and I began to wonder how I was going to get this boy into the hands of his family or law enforcement.

Don’t faint or laugh your bottoms off, but this was before the days of cell phones. OK, I have just aged myself.

So, I decided that I should try to walk him towards the boulevard and see if I could find a police officer.

We chatted casually as we walked through the parking lot. Then, at a distance, I saw a sheriff’s car. Waving my arms in a huge gesture, I tried to flag them down.

They saw me! Great!

The sheriff pulled up and rolled down his window.

“Sir, I think that this is the boy you are looking for,” I blurted out.

“Why is he with you?” the officer said with a furrowed brow.

“Well, I heard the helicopter announcement and I came out to look for him.”

He looked genuinely baffled, as he stroked his bushy mustache.

Then he shrugged, “Okay, hop on in,” he said to the boy.

The boy scurried into the back seat, and the black and white drove off through the vacant parking lot and disappeared around the corner.

I stood there stunned, trying to take in what the previous 10 minutes had held.

Then I turned and walked to my car.

School awaited.