sharks.

A conversation with my mother: 

Me, “I’m going to be able to tell my nieces and nephews that I spent my whole 28th year in New Zealand. Like, exactly, from Sept. 19th to Sept. 19th. I’ll tell them I swam with sharks, I bungee jumped…”

Mother, “<sigh>. You better not. If you got bit by a shark, that would hurt. It might kill you. Or you could lose a limb. You could be mutilated. Think about that. Please think about that. Living like that would be hard.” 

Me, “I’m going to blog about this.” 

Mother, “You better not, what if it offends somebody? What if that happened to someone?” 

Me, “You think the soul surfer is reading my blog? I’m not going to swim with sharks. I dislike sharks more than you dislike the thought of me swimming with sharks.” 

 

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