Life Underwater

The past few weeks I've been a little busier than usual. I signed up a while back for a SCUBA class, and as of yesterday I'm officially certified for open water diving.

The class, which I took through West End Diving, and at Bonne Terre Mine, was fantastic. We met for two days of work in the classroom and a local indoor pool, then the following week two days diving at the mine.

I'm not a fan of cold, and the water there is a balmy 58 degrees, but despite being certain when I first jumped in that I would either a: fail the class, b: quit the class, or c: die of hypothermia, none of these things happened.

Instead, despite being uncomfortably freezing during the first few dives, I enjoyed it tremendously. We did skills the first day, which meant sitting still a lot and waiting. That's when the cold really got to me. Once we were done with the self-rescue stuff (clearing masks, retrieving dropped regulators, working out leg cramps) we got to be more active, and the cold became less of a factor as the muscles started to work harder than the brain.

Day two at the mine was all active and I barely noticed the cold. We learned to set our bearings on a compass and follow them underwater. We learned to maintain neutral buoyancy while swimming and changing depth. We played circus and swam through a series of rings, and played catch with a pool torpedo at 30 ft. And yes, I throw like a girl underwater, too.

Between our second and third dives I was sitting on the dock swimming in my own little emotional whirlpool. I missed Karl so much during the class. He would have teased me about being cold and found it brisk and invigorating. He would have cheesily held my hand as we swam on the tour. He would have made instant friends with half the class, and told wonderful stories of our SCUBA adventure to all our friends at home.

But if he were here, we would have never been in the class. The only way I could justify the expense, really the only way I could pay for it at all, was the life insurance policy I've been so hesitant to touch for two years. It's my safety net, and my security blanket. That money will help make sure Elliot gets a good education. It may also help me build a studio someday. Despite wanting many reasonable things, I haven't dipped into that reserve till now.

When my friends invited us to go on a Disney cruise with them, I felt like it was something I had to do. It was something Karl would have done. He didn't let money, or the lack of it, get in the way of life.

As several people in the class said after loosing equipment over the 130 ft abyss of the mine, "It's only money. We'll get a new one." Granted my classmates were in an entirely different tax bracket, but still, it's true.

I sat on the dock, missing Karl, but happy, and knowing I was doing exactly the right thing. I've wanted to get certified since I took a recreational class in high school. That's been, well, more years than I like to admit.

I've always been responsible with my spending, sometimes to the point of denying myself even small luxuries. When I got married, I had zero debt and a healthy IRA started. My husband, well, let's say he had other priorities. And I'm coming to believe he was right about that to.

How we spend our time is far more important than how we spend our money.

Extremely bad planning with my finances will lead to time badly spent, but a little indulgence here or there, especially on experiences that mean something, truly are priceless.

So, SCUBA + Disney Cruise + Bahamas = smaller bank account = bigger life.

I can make more money.

I can't make more time.

We leave Black Friday for Florida. Sometime around Monday, I'll be jumping from the deck of a boat into the ocean, chasing a long time dream. Karl will be right there beside me, reminding me to go ahead and buy that underwater camera, because you only live once, and it's only money.

I can't wait to report the underwater conditions when we get back.