Educated Doesn't Necessarily Mean Smart......

I was all psyched up to go to water aerobics again today. I thoroughly enjoyed it last Wednesday, and after only four more days and a 23-mile bicycle ride, my calves finally quit screaming. I emailed my friend yesterday sort of apologizing for not swimming on Monday, but she said there was some problem with the pool pump and it was closed anyway.

Today I dressed in my swimsuit and put sweatpants and a sweatshirt on top of it. I packed two towels, a bottle of water, and my iPhone, and I put on flip flops. I didn't want to be the nerd walking around the pool in tennis shoes again this week.

I KNEW in the back of my mind there was a possibility that the pool was still out of commission. The SMART thing to do would have been to pack ADDITIONAL work-out clothes, like sneakers and yoga pants. Or even shorts.

But no. I didn't do the smart thing. There I was at the "Y" in a swimsuit with no pool. Lots of classes and machines, but no proper attire.

So I came home and played Mario Brothers on the Wii. At least my thumbs got a workout. And I guarantee my heart rate was elevated.

Duh me.

Something I Learned About Hubby Today......

Just when I think I know everything there is to know about Hubby.

Today I learned that he can't open his eyes underwater.

That explains why he always sends ME to get the rocks, golf balls, hair thingies, and pool toys from the bottom of the pool.

We were talking about how pretty the beaches and the water are here [while we sat under a shelter and watched it rain into the Gulf of Mexico]. I was telling him that it didn't even burn to open your eyes underwater, which I normally wouldn't do in the ocean.

He said he has never opened his eyes underwater and won't ever. He's tried. They just won't open. Not even in the pool.

Huh.

I wonder if it has anything to do with a strange palsy-like affliction his uncle had one time. He couldn't open his eyes at all. Period. Until it finally went away, and then he could.

Nah, probably not. Although I think Hubby DID actually have a mild form of the same thing one time. I'd ask him, but he's already asleep.

And then at dinner Hubby went and ordered a baked potato with sour cream on it. He's never done that in the 12 years we've been married.

Wonder what surprises tomorrow will bring?

Ocean......

I can't seem to get enough of the ocean. I take picture after picture of the ocean, and Hubby says they all look the same.



He says the same thing about the pictures I take in the mountains.



I feel drawn to the ocean. We can't see it from our room, so every time we go down to the pool, I have to go look over the wall at the ocean. Just in case something has changed since yesterday.


I only wish the rooms at this resort were closer to the ocean. I like to leave the sliding glass doors open at night and listen to the waves.



Today we walked to the point seen in the distance in the picture above. We wanted to see what was just around the bend. We found crowds and lots of "little bastards" (that's what Hubby calls annoying little children) and decided it's a very good thing we're staying where we are.

When we got around the point, we saw this shipwreck (you can barely see it dead center), a local snorkeling attraction:


We saw the same wreck when were in the Dominican Republic four years ago, but we approached it from the other direction. That was the only reference point we had to figure out where we were relative to the other resort.

This sign is on the beach right in front of our resort. I found it quaint, especially considering the luxury that is everywhere else on the resort. No really, it's quaint.

This one made me think of Billy Joel's song "Storm Front." To be honest, there aren't too many things that DON'T make me think of a Billy Joel song. This sign said, "Caution. Undertow. Hole here." Well duh. If you stick a sign in the beach, there's GOING to be a hole.

The warning flags weren't out on the beaches either below or above our stretch of beach. I'm not that familiar with undertow and what causes it, so I don't know if it's the curvature of the shoreline, the currents, or if there's just a steep drop-off there.

I think I met Mr. Undertow once. When I was young, I could never understand it when I heard stories about people drowning. With all my youthful logic and ignorance, I remember thinking, "Why don't they just learn how to swim?" I was absolutely certain that I could not drown because I knew how to swim. I don't mean I thought it would never HAPPEN to me. I just thought any person who knew how to swim could swim out of any situation.

Then one time when we were at the beach either in Jacksonville or Savannah, I lost my footing in fairly shallow water and got pulled under. I didn't know up from down or surface from bottom, and I panicked. I guess that's when I figured out that it was indeed possible to drown even if one knows how to swim.

And when I saw the warning flags today, I stayed out of the water. In spite of the fact that it is in my nature to rebel against all cautions, red flag or not. Plus Hubby wouldn't let me go.

Fred and Francis....

When Hubby and I first married, we often hung out at the local Moose Lodge. Not only was it fairly convenient, but it was the one place we were SURE my ex couldn't show up, since he wasn't a member. That was important then, because ex was A) bitter; and B) psycho. Now he's just psycho. We don't hang out there much anymore because A) we don't like the smoke; and B) we figured out it wasn't really that much fun.

There was a couple at the Moose with whom we were casual friends. Casual as in we knew their names, and we would occasionally shoot a game of pool with them. Not too often because I suck at playing pool, and I don't like to do things I can't win at. After a couple of Zimas with grenadine, however, I could be convinced to play because I would have forgotten that the week before I hadn't been able to make anything except the cue ball and the other team's balls. But I digress.

This couple......let's call them Fred and Francis.......were always at the Moose. They were probably in their 40's, both fairly good-looking. Although he was a double-wide salesman then and has gone on to sell cars, and he looks the part. I apologize for the generalization. And for the fact that none of this has anything to do with my story.

Like many men (people?), Hubby will often say things when he's had a few beers that he wouldn't ordinarily say. One night we were leaving the Moose fairly early, and Hubby announced to those nearest us that we were going home to swim. Those nearest us happened to be Fred and Francis. "Why don't y'all come over and swim at our house?" he said.

Hubby was at this time wearing a protective brace on his ankle due to a bad sprain he suffered when he fell off a ladder. Bless his heart, he was trying to be a good son, cleaning out the gutters at his mother's house. And I was trying to be a good daughter-in-law, keeping his mother engaged in conversation so she wouldn't tell him how to go about cleaning out the gutters. Instead of holding the ladder. He wound up coming down a lot faster than he originally intended.

Fred and Francis looked at each other and agreed that it might be fun to come swim at our house. We left immediately, and they were right behind us. We got home and changed and went out to the pool. We waited and waited and waited and waited and waited....... It wasn't annoying to wait for them or anything, since we were after all A) at our house; and B) in the pool. But we were kind of curious as to what was taking them so long.

Finally they arrived, and Sweet Girl showed them through the house and out the back door to where the pool was. (Why aren't pools ever in front yards? Just curious...)

Seems what took so long for Fred and Francis to arrive was that they had stopped by their house. To get.............towels. They showed up at our house with towels. That they got from their house. That's important.

Because what they DIDN'T bring were swimsuits.

We couldn't figure out why it took a while for them to get in the pool. Fred finally stripped down to his Fruit of the Looms. (God, I was SO glad Sweet Girl didn't venture out there.) Francis just went swimming in her clothes.

Talk about awkward.

They didn't stay long, but it was the longest however long it was I've ever spent.

When they finally left, Hubby and I just looked at each other, puzzled as to what made them think it was THAT kind of invitation.

Then it occurred to me that the invitation was issued in front of everyone at the Moose Lodge.

If Fred and Francis thought it was that kind of invitation.......................................

........................................did everyone else think that too?

Oh. My. God.

We're really not that kind of people.

Excuses, Excuses....

It's waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay past my bedtime and much too late to write anything of coherence. But I feel obligated to post every single day, so I'll just post this poor excuse for not posting.

To make up for it, tomorrow night I'll post a story about a couple whom my husband once invited to come swimming at our house, prompting me to kick him in his brace-encased sprained ankle.

First gymnastics meet of the season, and WE SUCKED. Fortunately for our team, we sucked less than the other team, so our pitiful little 195.425 held up. It pains me to write that score. I would not want to be those girls Monday morning. Hell, they might already be running suicide sprints even as we speak, er, type. I especially wouldn't want to be the two who fell off the floor. I can understand falling off a four-inch balance beam. Or missing the high bar after turning a flip or two. But falling off the floor makes sucking take on a whole new meaning. I know it's early. We've got a long way to go. And an SEC contest next Friday night in hostile territory. Sigh.