Swimming Lesson

For the Holiday Happenings program at my gym, East Hills/the MAC, I won a free swimming lesson. At first I was disappointed for two reasons: 1. I would need to be in a suit and 2. I'm not a great swimmer. I also had my eyes on the $100 spa giftcard or maybe a discount at the gym's clothing shop. After the initial disapointment of not getting a free trip to a spa, I decided it was a good prize because I could use the help in becoming a better swimmer.

Still, the idea of having an instructor watch me, a 28-year-old who can swim only well enough to not drown, is daunting. I haven't had a great track record with swimmng lessons.

I remember my first lesson at age 4 as clearly as I remember the taste of my mother-in-law's buttercake, which I ate five minutes ago. It's a vivid memory because I almost died.

I had watched my older sister, Julie, take swimming lessons for years from the metal bleachers at the Grand Ledge High School pool. I had watched my sister learn all kinds of strokes from a nice instructor also named Julie, and pass from one level to the next to the next. On the afternoon of my first "beginner" lesson, I was excited beyond belief for it to be my turn in the pool instead of the bleachers. After watching so many lessons, I figured I would be a natural. I would be the best student, swimming effortlessly while all the other kids struggled along. We were lined up in the water in the shallow end, holding the edge with one hand and our kickboards with the other. Julie, the same instructor, stood at the end. She was talking, and I just wanted to start swimming. I was so excited, I let go of the wall and just held on with one hand to the kickboard. I didn't notice, but I drifted out a bit from the wall. Then in my excitment, I let go of the kickboard.

And realized I wasn't a natural swimmer. Instead, I started to sink. I didn't know to kick my legs or pump my arms. I was straight as a pin and did the only thing that made sense: I raised my hand. The water closed in over my head. Luckily I had the sense to close my eyes and hold my breath, and leave my arm in the air. My feet probably hit the bottom of the shallow end, but my head remained under water. It felt like an eternity, but eventually I felt someone grab my hand and pull me out of the water by my arm. I gasped in air to my oxygen-deprived lungs, thankful to be alive.

Instructor Julie had jumped in the pool to save me, and quickly lifted me out of the water. Scared out of my mind at the near-death experience, I started crying. My mom had come over from the bleachers, wrapped me in a towel and hugged me close. No longer excited about swimming lessons, I begged to go home. Mom agreed.

It took me a couple years before I was brave enough to go back to swimming lessons. The second round of beginner swim lessons was a total embarrassment. Helpful, but embarrassing. By that point I was tall enough to stand in the shallow end and have my head above water. This was the key piece for me to agree to go back to the GL death pool. While I was glad about this, it was embarrassing to be the oldest and tallest of the kids in the beginner class. Other kids my age were two or three levels beyond beginners.

Also, Julie, the same one that had pulled me out of the water, was the instructor. And boy, did she remember me.

The real kicker? I failed beginner swimming lessons, because I wasn't consistent in breathing right in freestyle. At that point I told my parents I was a decent swimmer, and done with swimming lessons.

Until now.

The Separation of Work and Home

I believe in the separation of work and home. When I'm in my office, I work. And I work hard. When I'm home, I want to be free to be me and do what I want.

I'd much rather stay late at the office than leave on time and bring work home. That way when I do leave, I can just relax and work out, watch TV, hang out with Joel or friends, check Facebook or play spider solitaire. I can be there 100% in mind and body. I don't have a nagging reminder in the back of my mind to carve out time to finish something for work.

I like what I do, but I also like the feeling that comes when you've worked hard all day and are then free to go play.

Happy Birthday Dad

It's my dad's birthday today. I called to wish him a happy birthday, and I wish I would have recorded the conversation. It was classic Leon humor.

To mark this birthday, he bought a taller toilet for their master bath. Apparently he and my mom were lamenting the fact that they put a taller one in at their old house before they sold it, and now they have the standard height. He's going to install the taller toilet today and surprise my mom. I confessed I'm considering putting a new vaccum on my Christmas list. We had a couple laughs about growing older and buying practical things like toilets and vaccums as gifts.

You probably had to be part of the conversation, but take my word, from there is where it got really funny. We talked about the cards that sing when you open them, and wondered if you could do the same type thing to the toilet seat cover. So when you lift it up, it would sing or say something. Like "happy birthday" or "happy mother's day" or "good morning" or the Rise and Shine song.

Just imagine getting up in the night, or groggily stumbling into the bathroom in the morning - and then you heard a voice when you were about to pee. What would you do? Freak out probably. Well, my mom is rather jumpy, and if you did that to her, she would probably go through the ceiling - or the door cartoon-style. The mental picture of that was hilarious. My dad was hooting - that's what he does when he laughs really hard - and I was literally crying with laughter.

Part of my laughter was there is a chance my dad would do something like that. And I kind of want him to.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Happy birthday, dad.

The Budget Committee Meeting

Communication is key in any relationship, but especially so in a marriage. I think Joel and I do a fairly good job of communicating, thanks in part to months of long distance dating where words were our only source of connecting. In the area of finances though, we haven't talked much. Joel is a fantastic money manager while I just get by, so until recently I let him worry about the details of our finaces. He pays all the bills, is responsible for saving, managing investments, etc. We discuss major purchases, but both just try to make reasonable decisions about smaller purchases.

To support my sister and improve my money-management skills, I joined a Dave Ramsey Financial Peace University course through our church. Using Ramsey's terms, Joel is the "nerd" who saves and likes to budget; I am the "free spirit" who likes to spend and not bother with details. Just two weeks into the course, it has stretched me to start caring about budgets, expenses, savings/emergency funds, etc. It has opened my eyes to the importance of being a team when it comes to fiances and spurred numerous conversations between Joel and I.

Last night we had our first "budget committee meeting" to determine our budget for the next few months. With the budget worksheet in front of us and pencil in hand, we looked at our income vs. expenses. We erased numbers, scribbled in new ones, circled areas and drew arrows to others when things didn't add up. We argued about priorities, voiced fears, and shared a triumphant high-five when the budget was finally done. It was one of the most difficult conversations we've had in our marriage thus far. But oddly enough, I think it is also one of the most beautiful conversations we've had.

Thankful

It isn't time for Thanksgiving - American (November 26) or Canadian (October 12) - but I am feeling thankful today.

Thankful for
...God's grace and love, which never cease to amaze me
...my family, as disfunctional as we are
...my wonderful husband, who loves me - good, bad and strange habits included
...awesome friends - each unique and fabulous, who inspire me
...a good job, one that allows us to not only pay bills, but help others and have fun
...our beautiful home, and all the good memories I already have there and all the ones to come

I am blessed.

Snapshots of Life

I realized earlier this week that next week is already September. Wow. It seems like it should still be the beginning of August. How did I lose three weeks of time without really noticing? So I'm going to try and be more deliberate about pausing to appreciate the snapshots of life.

My favorite snapshot was first thing this morning. I had rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom, and was brought to a stop by the beautiful scene out our window.

The sky was a bright, midnight blue. Not quite black and not quite blue, like it is right before or after a huge storm. Against this dark backdrop was a cluster of trees. What caught my eye was one brightly illuminated tree. The sunlight was hitting the top of the tallest tree like a spotlight with lasor-beam focus, giving an intensity to the green leaves like I've never seen. It was beautiful.

It lasted only a few seconds, then the sunlight went behind the clouds. The tall treetop when back to it's normal shade of green, like all the other trees.

I was glad I had caught that moment in time, that moment of beauty.

Left, Right or Middle?

Are you a left, right or middle?

Not in your political views...where in the bed you sleep.

The side of the bed doesn't matter much to me. But it matters to Joel. He prefers the left* side, which means I get the right* side of the bed.

But on nights when Joel works third shift, I've started sleeping in the middle. Or I sleep with my head on the right side, and my body diagonal so my feet are on the left side.

I'm sure it looks hilarious, especially when I sleep diagonal. But I figure that if it's just me in our big king bed, I might as well take advantage of the space!

*Note: Sides are based on if you're standing at the foot of the bed looking at the headboard.