Secret Sunday Skinny Dippers

I am a library felon. On a fairly regular basis, Mike and I discover messages on our answering machine that go something like this. (Cue automated voice) "Karin. Maria. Gardner. This is the Seattle Public Library alerting you that you have TWO. Overdue. Items. Please return them to your neighborhood branch as fines are accumulating daily."

I am also a parking gambler. I park on downtown or Greenlake-area streets a few times per week, but rarely bother with the paid parking sticker rigamarole. Tickets are rare, and I figure if I get a $30 parking fine once or twice a year, I am still coming out ahead.

So today, as we launched from Day Street beach just as God made us, I wondered, am I racking up another small misdemeanor? It turns out that public nudity is not illegal in King County. But, ironically, I discovered that open water swimming, at a greater distance than 50 feet from shore, IS.

Good to know. I guess if we had gotten caught we could have said we were swimming so deep for modesty's sake.

I am going to resist poetry here. And simply say if you are like me, and believe the water is your true habitat, you have to try it one day. Even if you are a grown up and you think you're past this sort of childish pleasure. Believe me. You're not.

I should tell you that 3.2 miles is a long way to swim in any case -- in a wetsuit, in a swimsuit, and in, well... nothing. We were chattery and spent coming out of the water (I was shaking so hard I could barely untie our swimsuits from the buoy line at the finish, which had been secured by a kind friend earlier in the morning -- not to mention trying to wiggle into the thing when it finally came free), but I loved doing something new and so undeniably mermacious.