Another air space you need to be aware of is your mask.

If you don’t equalize your mask you could possibly have what is known as a “mask squeeze”.  This can pop the capillaries in the whites of your eyes and results in a really scary thing where all the whites of your eyes turn red.

You can prevent this simply by exhaling through your nose every few breaths.

Luckily for us this is completely painless and goes completely away in just a few days on it’s own.

So if you’re going to do this make sure it’s Halloween and you already have the rest of your Dracula costume.

Happy Diving boys and girls!

for instance:

i can no longer gambol naked along the beach and through the surf during a full moon.

(how’s that for a visual?)

when i walk down the road i look like a geek who’s trying to learn how to pimp walk.

i have to lean to the other side when i wipe my … well, never mind.

every time i try to kick a kitten the wind whistles through the hole in my foot and  throws my aim off.

wait, wait, there’s more!

i can blame my staggering on the bite when i leave the bar.

i’m discovering new pharmaceutical cocktails for reducing inflammation.

(have you ever noticed the way potatoes are ALWAYS staring at you?)

anyway, my foot has been redacted and i’m having trouble adapting to that.

i was hoping at first that maybe i would gain some kind of spidey powers that might prove useful.

not much luck so far but the other night i was sitting on the edge of the bed reading James Michener’s autobiography.

i nodded off (did i mention i was drinking a beer?), dropped the book on my foot and, without even thinking about it, found myself climbing up the wall.

it’s a start.

at least in my barrio.

due to a change of legal ownership of the property the business will be moving to the other end of the island.

as a result, since i walk everwhere, i most likely will not be seeing them very much.

so.

since i showed up here more than 15 years ago the 7-11 has been a source of solace and reward for me.

they’ve always had the very best and most extensive selection of U.S. branded candies and snacks of anywhere on the island.

bar none.

whenever i found my self jonesin’ for a Snickers bar (preferably one that wasn’t melted) Samanthas’ was there.

i believe they were the first store on the island to put the most popular chocolate snacks in the cooler.

an ice cold Magnum (vanilla ice cream dipped in chocolate and almonds) was my refuge from the heat.

Samanthas’.

Oreos.

Baleadas stuffed with ground beef, pickled onions and cheese.  the perfect supper after a long day of diving.

Pastelitas for lunch with ice-cold chocolate milk (sometimes frozen).  man…

BBQ chicken and pork chops with refried beans, homemade tortillas and a cabbage salad.

Always friendly, always patient with my bad Spanish, always offering to let me pay later when i forgot my money.

i may have to buy a bicycle after all.

It’s time!

Time for the 6th Annual Driftwood Bar & Grill Chili Cookoff!

This year the money collected goes for Christmas toys for the children of Sandy Bay.

I, personally, will be a judge this year because, frankly, I think it’s time to give someone else a chance to win this thing.

There are, I think, at least a couple of people on this island who are resentful of my continued success and, well, I sincerely feel sorry for them so I guess it’s time to share a little bit of the glory.

As usual the rules include the time-honored no beans, no veggies, and no foo-foo garnishes.

The winning chili will consist only of meat, tomatoes, and spices.

Anyone caught including potatoes (you know who you are), lima beans (you should be ashamed of yourself), or okra (i just don’t know what to say about this) will be summarily disqualified by walking the plank off the Driftwood dock and being pelted with chunks of said potatoes, beans and okra.

And being invited back next year (we’re not a vindictive bunch) for more chili fun.

This years cookoff includes people from all over the world and, as such, is truly an international event so the winner can truly call himself a world champion chili chunker.

There will be copious amounts of name calling, beer slamming, chili chugging, cornbread eatin’, moaning, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.

All for one of these:

Ladies and gentlemen unwrap your Tums.

“Hey!  You need to stand a little closer to your razor.”,  “Need a cat?”,  and “That doesn’t cover nearly enough of your face.”, are phrases I don’t need to hear for a while.

There were 12 guys who started this long road and only seven actually stayed the course.

It was a long, long month.

Myself, JJ, Bruce, Dave, Erik the Swede, Scotty and Brooks completed the challenge.

Two have succumbed to PTSD (Post Traumatic Shaving Disorder) and are currently undergoing a regimen of alcohol and Schedule II pharmaceuticals.

Just to be on the safe side the rest of us are, too.

The end of the month long whisker fest was only the beginning of the pain and humiliation, though.

We also were put on display at Tranquila Bar and our beards were sold to the highest bidder.

Then the torture began.

Armed with dull razors and shears that were dangerously low on battery power the winners of the bidding began their work.

Through the howls, screams, moaning and crying could be heard the cheers and maniacal laughter of the crowd.

Now, with patchy beards, gaping cuts and scarred souls, we have to stay like this for at least three more days before we are allowed to shave normally.

With shaving cream this time.

But we managed to raise more than $600 to buy Christmas gifts for the children of this little island.

And that’s a good thing.

remembering friends and good times.

there will be plenty of time for remembering bad times later on down the road so there’ll be none of that today.

i have truly been blessed by the places i’ve been and the people i’ve met and i’m grateful for all that.

i have a greater appreciation and respect for life in all it’s forms.

especially the bacteria that causes fermentation.

today will include a nice sunset, a few cold beers, and a couple of good friends.

interspersed with all that will be fragments of time called forth in memory of all those beautiful souls whose paths have crossed mine.

you know who you are.

i’ll laugh, chuckle, tell a few lies and probably snort beer through my nose.

and i’ll wonder what the hell the big deal was about having a BMW when a plain old BM is much more satisfying.

i miss you all.

mostly out of key.

it’s a visceral sort of feeling.

i mean…is a vegemite sandwich really that iconic?

(as a fan of marmite i really don’t know just how to take that.)

i was, however, in a strange ‘watching a train wreck’ kind of way, looking forward to the chunder part.

then, a few beers later, the ladies got to that part of the evening where they remembered all those assholes that somehow couldn’t live up to their expectations and, since they weren’t there to berate, decided to open up a big ol’ can of  “i will survive” on the rest of us.

of course the gangstas had to stand up and represent.

i was truly in awe.

as in “awe, shit, why couldn’t i have just gotten a couple of beers and gone home?”

by this time i was beginning to understand why it is always better to ARRIVE at a party drunk and high rather than to go sober and straight and try to catch up.

and then came “the voice”.

you know how, when things seem darkest in your life and you’re almost ready to just give up, you suddenly see a light that shows you the way out of the pit?

that’s what “the voice” is at a karaoke party.

it’s like an angel coming and putting her arm around you to say “lighten up, every little thing’s gonna be alright.”

or was it the back-to-back shots of Jim Beam?

i jumped out of bed in gleeful anticipation of the new days glory and almost fell on my butt because of the pain in my foot.

now, as both of you who read this blog know, i’m a pretty tough guy.  it’s going to take more than the loss of a toe to take me down.

i says to myself  “self, whoever put that pain in my toe must be a professional because he put it in exactly the right spot in order to maximize the pain and increase the volume of my little girl screams. i wonder who this could be?”

not being very loquacious i shut up at that point and began the arduous process of examining the offending digit.

right there.  at the base of my toe was a glaring hematoma (get it? …  hema-toe-ma?)  anyway…

…this wasn’t your basic blister.

there was a bite mark right in the middle of it.  not a fiddleback or a black widow.

this was a tarantula bite…a curly brown tarantula bite.

those ungrateful bastards!

i’ve welcomed them into my home (ok, they were here first), swept their competition out of the house, left chopped up, spider bite sized (and i know just how big that is now) vienna sausages out for them, and protected them from the ravages of hurricanes, tropical waves, and blue northers and this is how they repay me.

now i know how the american indians feel about thanksgiving.

this is a clear warning shot across the bow of my manifest destiny.

this morning when i woke up i found the head of my favorite gecko on the pillow next to me.

it was a sunny day in early november with a nice steady breeze and just enough cloud cover to keep things cool but not enough to hoo-doo your tan.

all things were right in my world and i couldn’t imagine anything messing it up.

then it happened…out of the corner of my eye…something big…hairy…making unintelligible noises…grunts, growls, groans and moans as it tried to pull the golf cart to a stop.

i thought it was the end…my life started to flash before my eyes.

during the intermission i realized i was still breathing and not in too much pain.

by this time we had pulled into the Driftwood parking lot and everything seemed to be ok.

as i pensively sipped my ice cold salva vida i figured maybe it had all been a dream or a short blast of an haluccinatory experience.  some leftover detritus from a former life.

so i forgot about it.

then Brooks (not his real name) came running in all out of breath.

he took a breath, a slug of beer and said to me and Bruce (not his real name), “OK, guys, a group of us decided to shave and re-grow full beards for charity.”

(that voice…)

“We’re not going to shave for a month and, at the end of the month,  for a donation to the cause, we will shave our beards just the way the winning bidders want us to and not shave any other way until the appointed time.”

(that smell…)

“We will all put in an entry fee in order to be a part of this glorious quest and yea verily any who shall shave their beard before the appointed time shall be held accountable. “

(there aren’t any mountains here, why is he talking like Moses?)

“The proceeds will go towards buying xmas (yes he said xmas) toys for kids on the island.  Can i have another beer?”

and that is why i have this scraggly, scratchy beard.

can i have another beer?

hell, i already knew all the math i was ever likely to need as far as i could see.

11 eggs to a dozen, 13 doughnuts to a dozen, and doing the dozens.

99 cents was all you needed at the dollar store and there was two bits to a quarter (and that was all you needed for a movie, a coke, and a box of popcorn).

i was only 16 and i was all set.

then one day, blissfully unaware that things were about to get more complex than i could ever have imagined, i stumbled into an algebra 1 class.

i had never seen so many strange symbols all at once.  that chalk board was covered with ‘em.

now, being raised in Texas (take off your hat) i knew about brands and marks.

i could recognize mr. chisums “jinglebob” and i knew about mr. kings running W.

i knew mr. c.c. slaughters long S and stephen f. austins fanciful F.

but those things on that board just blew me away.

kinda like this:

i love math.