I woke up (missing my honey who was out of town) and rallied to shower.

Checked the weather and decided the day was too glorious to wait indoors.

So of course I logged on to warcraft.

Not, with the intention of getting sucked in to play indoors all day but rather to rally and see if Jason S. and Jackson might want to get some sunshine too and head out to the beach.

Of course, they were in game. With Ernie. And rallying to finally hit the Outlands. (Huzzah!)

By late afternoon we were ready to head out and I picked up both Jason and Jackson and mozied down to Ocean Beach. (After a stop off in Jtown for snacks first, of course).

The beach was CROWDED as clearly our idea of sunshine, fresh air, and playfulness is not an original one on a gorgeous day as was today.

Corrientes Peligrosas

Originally uploaded by Moncrief Speaks.

As we walked along getting sand under our toes we saw a guy standing about armpit deep in the rough waves waving his arm about.

Inner Monologue: “Is he saying Help? Alf? Al? Hemp? Is he just waving to friends? Is he joking?” I pointed yon at the guy.

Then we saw him collapse and fall.

Jackson and Jason immediately set forth to go help him up.

As they helped him to his feet a passerby walking his dog (herein the rest of the story called Citizen Dogwalker) rushed to me.

Citizen Dogwalker “Is he ok?Has anyone called the 911?”

Me: “No. Call 911.”

Jackson and Jason had helped Swimmer 1. to his feet and closer to shore where he promptly collapsed again, coughing.

Swimmer 1′s friend came to see how he was doing and was told by Swimmer 1 “How come you didn’t come when I was yelling HELP?!” She looked stunned and shocked.

Citizen Dogwalker had at this point flagged down the beach police patrol.

Beach Police patrol guy was questioning Swimmer 1 re: if he needed an ambulance and if anyone else was in the water with him.

Swimmer 1 responded “No, I’m alone. Charlie’s already come in, right?”

The Friend of Swimmer 1 said “No, he’s not in. Where is he?”

At that point, Jackson went out back towards the water (knee deep) to start looking for another head bobbing in the water. He was joined by 3 other Citizens who went as far out as they safely could in the rough waves to look and see if they could spot anyone.

At that point 3 very crucial things happened.

Beach Patrol called Surf and Rescue and the Citizen Dogwalker had run down the beach to see if anyone in a wetsuit or a surfer could possibly rally in the desperately shrinking window of time where someone could be dragged further out into the oceans by the riptide. The 3 Citizens and Jackson were out aligned along the water to spot.

Citizen Surfer arrived and was promptly pointed towards where a bobbing head was exhaustedly flailing and swam out to Charlie, reaching him, having him grasp his surfboard and stay afloat.

For a desperate few minutes as the sirens from Fire Engines, Surf and Patrol, and an Ambulance came to our location, the Citizen Surfer and Charlie were dragged back out by the riptide and eventually, exhaustedly made it to where the 3 Citizens were. The 3 Citizens promptly hoisted Charlie over their shoulders and brought him in towards dry land.

Charlie’s lips were blue and he looked exhausted and stunned. Absolutely silent and nominally responsive but breathing.

Charlie and Swimmer 1 were taken by Ambulances and treated for hypothermia and taken to the hospital. I imagine that they are now better, safe, and most importantly alive.

This was, most certainly, not what I’d anticipated from a leisurely sojourn and trip to the beach.

I’d say absolutely that were it not for the quick response and reaction of the Citizens in this tale, that the ending to this story might be quite different. While I have huge respect for the Beach Patrol, Surf and Rescue, and EMTs that came to the scene after the boys were on the beach and drier land, there were many crucial minutes prior to that where everyday folks wound up taking great personal concern to a stranger’s welfare to make sure that this day didn’t end up in tragedy.

Thank you to the Citizen Surfer, Citizen Dogwalker, 3 Citizens, Jackson, Jason, and all else on the beach that day that stepped up.

My faith in humanity is buttressed. (It doesn’t need restoration, just a boost).
As an after note. After all was said and done and Jackson, Jason, and I had gotten to settle our nerves and adrenaline rush from the episode, we’d gotten a bite to eat at Louie’s and walked back towards our car parked in the Ocean Beach lot.

Jackson started gazing out at the ocean as if to search for more potential vulnerable souls in need for rescue.

And I had an odd flash of a visual in my head that, well, I kind of never want to have again.

And that is of Jackson West in a bright red swimsuit a la Baywatch running in slow motion across the beach and having his man boobies heave with every breath.

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This is not a confession that I’m a bad cook. To the contrary, I’m a pretty decent cook. I’m just very inconsistant.

Inconsistancy in the frequency of my cooking.

Inconsistancy in the quality of my cooking.

(Dinner parties ~5-6 dishes, 2 are A+, 3 are Bs, and 1 will be eaten alone, afterhours, in the dark, under the stairs, seasoned with the salt of shame from my tears and served with a rusty spoon which will in fact actually improve the failed creation’s flavor)

But my most pressing problem in the kitchen is not, as many folks may encounter, in the cleanup of the aftermath (though my hubby may differ in opinion on my general chaotic culinary endevors).

It is in SCALE. Understanding the SCALE of cooking.

For 1. For 2. I just can’t do it.

I can’t cook for a group under 6.

No matter how much I try, things just grow out of hand.

For instance this evening.

Now yesterday I’d made a batch of biscuits. Nothing fancy, just out of the box biscuits. Tasty but missing something.

Tonights midnight cooking inspiration was to concoct some sausage country gravy to go with the biscuits.

Mind you, I have little more than a dozen biscuits left. I only wanted to make a small pot of gravy.

So here’s how it went.

MJ dethaws the Jimmy Dean and tosses is into the pan.

“Honey?! What’s the ingredients for country gravy? General white sauce right? flour, oil, milk maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

“OK~!”

MJ takes the cooked ground sausage out the pan.

MJ uses a small bowl to mix olive oil with flour to create a roux and mixes is well. Measuring by instinct and her hands only. Looks like less than a cup at most of flour. Paltry it seems.

MJ tosses is into the pan to cook and brown, stirring as it bubbles. She tosses in salt.

MJ adds in a a 2 cups of milk and walks to the compy to watch a silly video about the security db/login/flaws of a certain microblogging everywhere messaging service.

MJ goes back to the pot to realize “HOLY SHIT THAT LOOKS THICK”.

MJ adds a cup of water to the pot to thin it out, stirring it vigorously so it’s lump free.

MJ adds a cup of water to the pot to thin it out, stirring it vigorously so it’s lump free.

MJ adds a cup of water to the pot to thin it out, stirring it vigorously so it’s lump free.

MJ adds a cup of water to the pot to thin it out, stirring it vigorously so it’s lump free.

MJ adds a cup of water to the pot to thin it out, stirring it vigorously so it’s lump free.

MJ waves hands exasperatedly in the air exclaiming that gravy is like the TRIBBLES. IT JUST GETS OUT OF CONTROL.

MJ moves the gravy into a larger pan and turns off the heat before adding the sausage back into the gravy, making sure the only lumps in her gravy are from the sausage.

MJ sits at the table at midnight, wondering what on earth she will make to go with the gravy after the biscuits run out.

So what on earth shall I do with all this FUCKING GRAVY.

…

…

At least it’s quite tasty.

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