I should have known. Being cavalier and taking spontaneous risks hasn't ever really paid off for me. But I was determined. I was going to be bold. I was at the beach, under the long weekend sun, I wanted to dive under the wave and feel the water churn above me on it's way into shore.

Of course I did this as I wore my Fendi prescription sunglasses.

The baby, who usually is resting on my hip in waist deep water, was on the beach with my hubby. My girlfriend Krissy was watching my other kids and her kids build sand castles on the beach. I had escaped to the water, seeking indepenedence, feeling the energy of the ocean water - very 'Point Break' like, and I saw the perfect wave coming at me - tall, beginning to break, getting loud, and I felt the pull of the water. All of a sudden I was 20 years old, gracefully young, adventurous, and free.  Most importantly, I was free. No kids around to check on. Just me and the Pacific and all that implies. I'll get you first, I felt about the wave. And I dove right underneath it...ahhhh. Freedom.

Wait a minute, where are my glasses? I had my glasses on? I HAD MY GLASSES ON! S***!

I looked at my husband on shore, like he could do anything about this crisis.  But he read the look on my face and held his hands up ... "What? Whatsamatter?"

Frantically, I begin brushing away layers of breakwater like this will help me find the brown glasses that are unfortunately the color of seaweed. "St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please look around..." I twist in 360 degrees over and over like I'm trying to make myself dizzy, looking in the water. "HONEY!" S***. S***. S***. S***.

I run back on shore and ask my husband to help me commence a search. "Well, you still have your hair clip," he says, rubbing my back, trying to make me feel better. The hair clip that cost me 99 cents stays on my head, unlike my expensive glasses, a rare indulgence, that were adapted to the shape of my head, abandoning me so easily.

I look in the water for a good twenty minutes, feeling piles of seaweed with my foot to see if the glasses are hiding there. My efforts are fruitless. The Fendis are gone. It's not that they were Fendis, name brands don't really thrill me - good fits thrill me.  Comfort thrills me. My sunglasses not only enabled me to see, protected my eyes from the sun and kept me from squinting, they multi-tasked as a hair fashion accessory, keeping my hair out of my face when I characteristically placed them on top of my head. They were my favorite headband.

Back up on shore, sitting under the pink, yellow and green umbrella, I call my optometrist. "That will be $498 dollars - shall I place the order now?" Gees, $498? I dread telling that to my husband who so good naturedly handled my error in nautical judgement. "But what about my insurance?" I ask. "We must not have your current insurance coverage in our system." Great. I left my insurance card in my wallet at home, have no idea who our carrier is, and their office closes at 4 for the holiday weekend. I'm screwed, I may as well just accept it. Life goes on, just a little bit brighter than it was twenty minutes ago.

I went to the optomestrist's office as soon as I dropped the kids off for their first day of school. I have been wearing these awful old glasses - I look like a newscaster from the 70s, and the lenses are orange. ORANGE. I get a headache just thinking about my occiptal nerve adjusting. "Feel free to look around at our frames." After keeping the baby from tearing apart the Spongebob frames for kids, I find the Fendis. They're still my favorite ones in the store. Good, I can order these, maybe expedite them, have my eyes back to normal within "seven to ten business days." Then they say, "We show your last eye exam in 2005. You need a new eye exam before we can fill a prescription, it's the law." The law? But the girl I talked to Friday was going to fill my prescription over the phone!

So now it's Thursday, almost one week later, and I have an appointment with the only place in my city that accepts our insurance. Who knows how long it will take them to fill my prescription, to get my glasses, until I can see in the sun without a visor on my head or the unfashionable pain of orange lenses. This is what I get for trying to re-capture my youth. An irritiating, protocol-laden nightmare reminding me just how much older and dependent I truly am.

Dive in head first used to be my philosophy, and it was fun when I traveled light, when I had better vision, even though I lacked hindsight. I'll get to you first is a way of thinking that has only ever landed me in a loss - even though the wave certainly didn't take it personally, it sure humbled me and my Fendi level of comfort. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've been inconvenienced but also, I find the whole thing amusing. It qualifies as small stuff, and I didn't (really) sweat it. That is good, for me.

I wonder if I'll learn my lesson about taking on waves...I can't imagine that I will. I am easily beguiled by powerful waves and seemingly still waters.  I know myself. Still learning too - and I plan to be cautiously spontaneous, smartly impulsive. Don't want to lose anything I can't replace.

Vision and judgement. One worse, one better. It's all in the way you see it.