Even abnormal can be boring

So, after finally figuring out how to get into my blog and posting again, I'm trying to think of what to post and I've come up with the big NOTHING. Two years have gone by, and I can't think of a single interesting thing to post.

We did have our sewer line replaced. That was an exciting (and expensive) time. Fortunately, we have (knock on wood) not had water spew out of our washing machine since the repairs. Of course, we now have to have our heating-oil tank and oil lines replaced, which means the plumber who installed the new sewer line (in front of the oil tank) will have to come out the day of the oil tank replacement to cut the new sewer line so the oil tank can be installed.

On day of said tank replacement, the local Dunkin' Donuts will be seeing a lot of me, as that is where I will be going to do potty business.

Since buying the house, we have managed to paint two rooms: the master bedroom and the dining room. We have had the house a little over 2 years now. So, I guess at the rate we're going, we should have the whole house painted by 2012. Mark your calendars for the open house! We have done a lot of other things, though...aforementioned sewer line repair for one, we installed one of them newfangled microwave/exhaust fan combination dealies above the stove in the kitchen (preventing the need for the exhaust fan mechanism the previous owner had slated to run through a shelf in one of the kitchen cabinets...not cool), we replaced the kitchen chandelier, my dad installed built-in bookshelves in the "loft" area at the top of our stairs, mucho yard work (removing tons of dead trees/branches that had been left to turn to mulch in the backyard), and just a couple of weeks ago we installed a door handle on the screen/storm door leading into our breezeway that actually LOCKS FROM THE OUTSIDE! The previous door only locked from the inside, which meant our breezeway was open to the public until a couple of weeks ago. Ordinarily, that would've been no big deal, but we have set up a storage cabinet in the breezeway for infrequently-used kitchen stuff and coats/scarves/whatnot that I didn't like leaving in the unlocked breezeway. Now, it's locked so no problem. Of course, I would not recommend to future owners of this property to remove said door handle mechanism...there are a number of holes drilled into the door that don't quite belong there...not my fault, I swear. You try and find a new door-handle mechanism that requires EXACTLY the same hole placement as the one you're replacing.

Actually, now that I look back at the list of things we've done in the house, it's not all that impressive. But, hubby and I take our time and make sure we're making choices in home repair/decoration that we're both going to be happy with. We didn't know what color we'd want the rooms until we had the furniture we wanted, and it took us a long time to find the right couch, dining room set, and so on. Once we had those, we had to decide the colors...rugs, walls, artwork. Oh, it's exhausting! Ok, I admit it. We're just lazy. No, that's not right, either. I'm still struggling with my health issues, and hubby also has a thyroid problem. We want to fit in "free" time as well...sitting and enjoying our deck in the summer, going to movies, going out with friends, visiting family, taking vacations...and just relaxing. A two-day weekend is just not enough, and with hubby working many Saturdays until nearly 1pm, it's difficult to get a lot done. Plus, weekend mean grocery shopping, prepping food for the week, laundry, cleaning...how the heck can a person paint a house with all that?!

That being said, hopefully we'll get the living room painted next month, when hubby has Saturdays off for once...

Of course, those Saturdays off mean we'll probably take a weekend to drive upstate to visit the fam, and one weekend the fam is planning on coming down to help us clear the yard of aforementioned dead trees...

Wow. I think I proved my original point. I've got absolutely nothing to blog about.

It only took 2 years...

I swear, I tried to blog before this. I was informed that I needed a Google account. Okeydoke, no problem. I go through the "sign up for new Google account" process. I enter an email address. Check. Enter a password. It's strong. Check. I verify said strong password. Check. I enter the crazy set of wavy letters. Check. I agree to terms and conditions. Check. Push button...and, BAM. Back at the "sign up for new Google account" page again. Okaaaay...maybe I didn't correctly type the crazy set of wavy letters. Try again. Push botton...and, BAM. Back at the "sign up for new Goggle account" page. Again. Ok. It is quite possible, being that I always try to do things too quickly, that I have, for a second time, mistyped the crazy set of wavy letters. Or, maybe I didn't mistype, maybe I just didn't see them correctly. I'll try it again. And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

You see where this is going?
Most normal people would've given up after the second, MAYBE third, attempt. Me, I just assume I'm doing something wrong (because 99% of the time, I am) and I continue typing crazy sets of wavy letters.

I still have no Google account, I can't get into my blog.

It took two years for me to recover and attempt again.

Ahem. The same thing happened.

This time, I KNOW it's not me. So, I wise up (after attempting the "sign up for new Google account" process five times) and try things differently. Instead of attempting to sign into my blog and be prompted to create a new Google account, I just go directly to Google and create an account.

BINGO!

I've got my account.

Things are rolling now.

So, I log into the blog with my brand-spankin' new Google credentials.

Now, I can't get into my blog. It's already taken, I'm told, by someone with no Google account.

Yes, I am AWARE of that...since I AM THE PERSON WHO TOOK THAT BLOG WITH THE NON-GOOGLE ACCOUNT 2 YEARS AGO!

Ok, taking deep breaths. I managed to make it through the "create new Google account" process, the rest of this can't be so bad.

Try to sign into old blog using old, not so brand-spankin' new credentials. Unfortunately, new Google credentials have been remembered on this computer (as requested by me, when creating new Google account). Ahem. Taking another deep breath. Sign out. Resign in with old credentials. Am prompted to enter brand-spankin' new Google credentials. Stop taking deep breaths, in order to hold breath...........

I'M IN! I'm blogging! It only took 2 years, 15 attempts to create new Google account, 2 attemps to log into blog, and 17 deep breaths!

Thus the title of blog. Does this happen to anyone else?

As promised...

Yes, it's been over 2 months since the last post. I guess I just sort of blogged myself out with that last one. But I'm back, and as perfectly abnormal as ever.

As promised to a very good friend (you know who you are!), I am updating the blog with a new, less depressing post. The following was sent to my mom, entertainer extraordinaire, in an email last week.


hello darlink mom. thanks for the xmas present hints. i do not like duplicating presents, i don't.
i am working lalala much fun. my neck hurts, not much fun. i am no longer going to the damn chiropractor because i never feel any better and i'm not going to continue paying her just to tell me my head is on wrong.

for thanksgiving this year, the our residence will be serving:
1. Turkey breast with orange/honey herb glaze stuffed with oranges (combination of 3 different recipes I'm so daring it better be good)
2. Small spiral ham (this little piggie went into the oven)
3. Smashed 'taters (I'm not so good at these for some reason, must hope for the best)
4. Peas and onions (items 2, 3 and 4 specifically for brother who will be attending)
5. Smashed sweet taters (need something orange, don't want carrots)
6. Green bean casserole (note to self: call mom for recipe)
7. Biscuits-from-a-can (thank you Pillsbury)
8. Perhaps a Romaine salad with dried cranberries, Granny Smith apples, pecans and feta cheese with Balsamic Vinaigrette (I love this salad, especially in the autumn, but haven't decided yet--we really don't need it...)

Of course, it wouldn't be Thanksgiving (as above-mentioned brother has already pointed out) without a relish tray containing black olives, pickles and stuffed celery. We will probably be having Thanksgiving dinner at dinner time, and just like dips (hot artichoke? hummus? mmmm) and cheese and crackers for "lunch".

hubby has wednesday before thanksgiving off, so i probably will take that day off too to prepare my wee self. i must make a list. lists lists lists i couldn't live without them.

1. Call mom for green bean casserole receipe
2. Make shopping list
3. Go shopping for items on list
4. Drink a fortifying martini
5. Peel potatoes
6. Peel sweet potatoes
7. Wash lettuce
8. Wash celery
9. Drink a martini
10. Find pots for potatoes
11. Swear because pots for potatoes are dirty
12. Drink a martooni
13. Open shoup for green bean casherole
14. Open green beansh for green bean casherole
15. Drinks maroonies
16. Mixtheglaze for that damn bird
17. Where the hell'sh the bird?
18. Drink another martooney or 3
19. How'sh I'm shupposhed to open thish ham thingydoodle?
20. Call for pizza

Five years

This morning as I drove to work, the radio station I listen to every morning out of NYC observed two separate minutes of silence--one at 8:46 am, the time 5 years ago today when the first of two hijacked airplanes crashed into the World Trade Center, and the second at the time of the second crash. It was impossible for me, as I'm sure for millions of others around the world, not to recall the events of that day 5 years ago with extreme sadness. Remembering the images, the fear, the horror of that day gave me the chills. I could picture myself driving to work after an early morning doctor's appointment that day 5 years ago, bawling while listening to the first-hand accounts on the radio. I can remember vividly the terror I felt not knowing where my husband was and wondering if he was safe--he had left before me that morning to take the train into NYC on his day off. I remember hearing helicoptors flying over our apartment 50 miles away in CT all night--I imagined they were transporting the injured to hospitals.

As sad as I was, remembering all the images and feelings of that day, I was saddened even more by feeling the state of the world has worsened in the 5 years since. I feel as though we're less safe now than we were then, despite being more aware. I feel as though we, the citizens of the world, have lost our way. How can we condemn certain acts of violence and commend others? How can we justify killing as retribution for killing? I remember the terror I felt not knowing the fate of my husband that day 5 years ago, and wonder how many Iraqi and Afghani women, how many mothers of American soldiers, feel that same terror each day fighting continues? I wouldn't wish that on anyone, including my worst enemy. I'm disheartened knowing that "love will conquer all" will never become the theme by which we live. Love, understanding, tolerance, acceptance are so much more powerful, yet so much less prevalent than hate, blindness, violence, revenge and condemnation. Is this what God, Allah, Jehovah, Yahweh wants? Is this what Their teachings have told us? I admit, I have never read the Torah or the Koran, but I have read the bible given us by the same God George W. Bush claims to follow, and I recall "love thy neighbor" and "turn the other cheek". It's human nature to claim vengeance, especially when our loved ones are taken from us. I understand that, and have felt it. Those who have stolen from us, who have killed, should not go unpunished. And I have to believe they will not. But I also believe that the road we have started down has no end. Violence begets violence. I've had enough. I don't want to live to see another 9/11. I don't want another 9/11 to happen even after I'm dead, when the sons and daughters of our generation are left to deal with the crap we've left behind. It brings me to tears, even now: WHEN WILL THIS END?!

I know I'm not alone in this opinion, just as I know there are plenty who would ridicule me for my idealism, my pacifism, my Christian faith. I'm fine with that--I accept there are those who think and feel and believe differently from me. I wish everyone could accept that.

All this sadness today, and yet the saddest thing of all: there is no solution. I feel no hope. There is no guarantee that 9/11 won't happen again. So I hope today, on the 5th anniversary of the worst terror attacks the world has known up to this point, I hope we WON'T forget--that hatred took away our loved ones. Hatred continues to take loved ones away the world over. Our hatred is no better, no different than their hatred. It all achieves the same thing in the end. So please, do something loving today. Do something good and peaceful. And try not to only remember the lesson on the anniversary--try to remember it every day. Even more so with those who AREN'T loved ones.

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8

Wow, it's been so long since I blogged on, I forgot my blogin.

I realized I hadn't updated the blog in a while when I scraped my arm on the bathroom door entering AND exiting about a half hour ago. Yes, folks, life has remained abnormal in my 2-week absence. I have cut various fingers on plastic, managed to sleep away all of Labor Day weekend, and had to resolve a dryer issue.

One of these days, I'm going to learn how to fix my appliances myself, rather than paying the first-available stranger $128 to come replace a belt. Ah, well, at least it was cheaper than buying a new dryer and paying an electrician $137 to come out and hook it up or install the appropriate outlet. Who knew dryers could be "direct wired". I sure didn't. Up until 2 months ago, I was happily unaware of how anything worked, except the miraculous "dial-the-landlord-and-wait-until-it's-done" phenomenon. Now I have learned more about plumbing, sewers, appliances, electrical whatnot and mold than I knew existed.

After discovering the dryer had stopped tumbling (found this out when I burned a hole into a set of sheets--tried to dry them faster by using high heat--the combination of high heat and "no tumble"=holes in sheets), I recommended to my husband we just buy a new dryer and be done with it. Since having a repairman out was about 1/2 the cost of a new machine anyway, I figured what the hey. The current machine looks to be about 20 years old, anyway. So we go to our friendly Home Depot, where we learn dryers can not only be gas or electric (!), the electric ones can be direct wired (where the electrical wires that supply the juice to the machine are hooked directly (get it?) to the machine--you don't plug in the dryer like with any other normal appliance. Of course, if this is the type of setup you have, the Home Depot delivery guy will drop it off and leave you to figure out how to direct wire it--they don't set up the direct wiring. The saleslady at Home Depot told me that direct wiring is no longer up to code. I wasn't sure what type of dryer we had--I knew it was electric, because I remembered playing with the circuit breaker one day and the dryer went off when I turned off that circuit, but as for direct wiring--no clue. But, since the saleslady said direct wiring wasn't up to code, I figured we couldn't have that--the contractor who sold us the house put a lot of work into updating the electric and other stuff. So, I figured, naw, we don't have direct wire, no problem, the Home Depot delivery guy will be able to drop off and set up the new dryer and cart the old one away.

Of course, when we got home, I checked and sure enough--direct wire dryer.

But, I figure, in all my 2-month homeownerly wisdom, that it doesn't matter--we have an outlet by the dryer, we'll just plug in the new one and shove the old off to the side to be carted away when we can figure out how to un-direct wire it.

NOT SO! A dryer doesn't use a regular plug or outlet! Didn't know that, either. There's some huge, slanted prongy thing to plug into a special outlet JUST FOR A DRYER! Who knew dryers were so special (probably everyone but me). So, I've got a new dryer I CAN'T PLUG IN ready for delivery, a dryer plug that I have no outlet for, and a dryer that burns holes into my laundry.

That's just too much dang dryer for any one person to handle.

Somewhere in the midst of all this dryer discovery, my husband wakes me up at an ungodly hour to let me know there's water leaking through the ceiling in the breezeway. I very calmly grabbed a couple of pots, placed them under the leaks, and crawled back in bed. At least it wasn't a dryer problem--in fact, it was the OPPOSITE of a dryer problem.

But, the problem's been resolved. The belt (to the tune of $128) has been replaced, the new dryer order has been cancelled, the useless dryer cord/plug (which, by the way, costs extra--it's not included in the price of the dryer, I guess because you could direct wire the sucker) has been returned and the leaking has stopped. All has returned to abnormal.

Resolution?

When I last signed in, we were up to our ankles in washing-machine drainoff down in the basement. I called our regular plumber, who came out the next night and looked at things only to confirm our suspicion that it was the pipe leading to the sewer that was clogged. Unfortunately, said plumber doesn't have the equipment to clear out a sewer pipe (and really, why would you? After having experienced it, what a disgusting job to have) so he gave me the number for a guy he recommends for just these situations.

What luck! The sewer guy was available that same night. I was relieved, because I didn't want to take time off from work to have him come the next day, or wait with sewer leakage until the weekend...

No worries, he came right out (when he said he would, even!) and began the dirty, disgusting job of snaking the clogged sewer pipe. At one point, he came upstairs from the basement for more equipment (always a bad sign!) and asked us how long we'd been having the problem. When I told him just since the night before, he was completely astounded. I took that as a bad sign, too--the problem was sounding worse than I'd originally feared.

So, the sewer guy was there for about 2 1/2 hours snaking and whatever, and then my husband (who was watching the whole process with some sick sort of fascination) tells me the guy's going to have to come back the next day. Grrrrrr. I'm going to have to miss some work, after all.

So, the guy comes back at 7:30am the next day. He's there until 10:30, still no resolution. He tells me that he is going to have to "jet" the sewer line. Not sure what "jetting" is, but he doesn't have the equipment to do it...apparently, the boss is the only guy with access to said jet, and he's on vacation (of course) until Saturday. Grrrrr.

Fortunately, Saturday morning was the first we started having backup in places other than the washing machine...the toilet and shower were very slow to drain. Not a problem, I figured, the sewer guys are coming back out today and this won't be a problem anymore.

It took only about a half an hour, and the guys were ready to roll. Note to all sewer dudes (not sure what the official term is for yous): MAKE THE DANG EQUIPMENT AVAILABLE TO ALL YOUR WORKERS! I guess I shouldn't complain though--like I said before, this could've been SO MUCH worse--the toiled could've started backing up much sooner than it did, or we could've been without water completely. Or the guy could've been unavailable for a month...

So, the story ends well. We're flushing, we're washing, we're shiny happy people.

Stay abnormal, everybody.

Oh what a night!

I'm a new homeowner--just closed on our first house June 15th, and moved in a week later. It's been great--no need to worry about other tenants in the building who might be loud, think we're loud, leave doors open, let stray cats in (that's a story for a whole 'nother blog)...it's quiet, it's perfect, it's OURS.

But, as is the case for all homeowners, owning property comes with responsibilities and stress. Take, for instance, what happened last night:

I guess it all began a week ago Sunday, when my husband cleared the poison ivy plants I had sprayed with "Death to Poison Ivy" (not product's real name) from our front yard. He was very careful to keep all skin covered--long sleeved shirt, long jeans, gloves, boots--but his caution was for naught, as he got a poison ivy rash several days later on his arms, legs and stomach. Unfortunately, at the time he was doing the yard work, my mind was not in the right place, and I didn't tell him to keep his clothing separate from the rest of the laundry. He did keep his jeans and boots separate, but not his t-shirt, and I'm not sure what became of the underwear. So, on Sunday night, when hubby informs me he needs clean shirts for the week and he's going to do laundry, I asked him if we could put it off until Monday night, since I wanted to buy gloves to wear while separating the laundry, since I knew some poison-ivy-infused clothing was in the hamper. Sure, says he. (By the time he informed me on Sunday night of the dire need for clean clothing, the stores were closed.)

So, we get home after dropping my car off at Hyundai for service last night, and I start preparing dinner. I had a nice recipe for grilled salmon with cheese sauce (aside for Tash: I usually don't eat seafood, but salmon I tolerate with a nice sauce to camouflage the fishiness) and I prepped some veggie kebabs to go with the salmon, since we needed to use the veggies before they turned.

Most normal people would realize that transporting almost perfectly round vegetables (slices of zucchini, yellow squash and whole cherry tomatoes) on a flat cutting board would be a bad idea. Do you have that voice in your head, the one that goes, "STUPID ALERT. STUPID ALERT. WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO DO WILL END BADLY!"? That voice that is so easy to ignore, because you figure, "Naw, man, I'm good at balancing stuff, surely I can carry a flat cutting board loaded with skewers of round veggies out the back door down one step to the grill on the back deck without incident. Especially since you, oh voice-of-the-stupid-alert, have already warned me, so I'll be extra careful."

Famous last thoughts.

I made it to the back door. I almost made it through the back door. To my credit, one of the kebabs remained on the cutting board.

When I yelled for my husband's help, it was already too late. He came strolling (he only runs for exercise, not for anything else) out to "help", and when he saw the veggie carnage, could only say, "That's my wife".

The salmon was good.

It was about that time (probably due to the residue of veggie marinade on my tank top) I remembered the laundry. Fortunately, on the way home from Hyundai I had remembered to buy gloves. So, while my husband took over the grilling of the salmon and the one remaining veggie kebab (for obvious reasons, I'm not allowed near open flame), I began sorting the laundry, and loading the machine with my husband's shirts.

Immediately after eating, I heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like water pouring onto a floor. I muted the TV, listened carefully, and the sound I heard reinforced my suspicion. So I ran down the stairs into the basement where the laundry is, and saw (to my horror) water gushing out of the drainage pipe from the washing machine. It's just gushing and gushing and it's not stopping and I'm yelling for my husband and he's strolling calmly down the stairs and I'm frantically searching for a bucket and the water's spewing and hubby coolly turns off the washing machine and peace returns. Except for the sound of water dripping onto the soaked floor.

Oh, it could've been MUCH MUCH worse. The laundry could be located on a main floor of the house, not in the basement where the sump pump is. My husband could've been just as dumb as me and not realized that turning off the washing machine is the immediate solution to wayward water flow. I could've electrocuted myself on the combination of water and electricity everwhere (I didn't). However, it looks as though the main pipe leading to the sewer is not only clogged, it's leaking, which is icky, and which means it's not just the water from the washing machine that's leaking, if you know what I mean.

To quote anyone who's ever heard a story from a new homeowner about something that's gone wrong in the new house: "Ah, the joys of homeownership." To quote my smartass brother: "Why don't you call the landlord?"

I love my house.

Stay abnormal, everybody.

Laughter

A comment I received on my last post got me thinking. I reread the post I had written, and realized that perhaps my complaining about the soap-spot on my sweater (nope, didn't dry nicely, it's still a huge wet-looking blob on my front) sounds self-absorbed and petty. I mean, wars are going on, people are dying, terror alerts are being raised, it's a frightening world we live in, and I'm complaining about a dumb soap spot on my shirt?

I can’t let myself get hung up on the little things—it would drive me bananas. If I freaked out every time I got a spot on my clothes, I’d be in constant freak-out mode! I try to see the humor in everything...small problems and big, good times and bad. That's what I try to share. I think it's darn funny that if I'm wearing white I'll pour coffee in my lap but if I wear black I dump a carton of yogurt on myself...even funnier that I would stain myself with the stuff made to remove stains…my complaints are good natured and (to me, anyway) humorous.

It’s often when things are really at their worst that we see all the good we have. When my husband asked me to take him to the hospital because he was having extreme abdominal pain (he ended up having his appendix out), I got a call from my brother, asking if I wanted him to come to the hospital to wait with us. When my husband needed to stay in the hospital two nights, my brother came to stay with me when I was having panic attacks at the thought of being alone in my house. Really bad time—for my husband and myself—but I learned that my brother is always there for me, and that’s a precious lesson to learn.

I joke around and complain about silly stuff, but I know what’s important and I’m thankful for it.

I’m thankful every day for:
1. My husband
2. My family
3. My friends
4. Laughter
5. That my health problems are manageable, not terminal
6. My life
7. My job
8. My new house
9. My faith

Oh, there's more, but my brain starts shutting down about 5:30 every day, so I can't currently think of any more.

So, in closing, thanks to the commenter who may have meant something 180 degrees different from how I took it, but regardless, it got me thinking and I'm glad for that.

Stay abnormal, everybody.

Why me?

I'm sure eventually the novelty of the blog will wear off and I won't update 3 times a day anymore, but for now, I've got things to get off my chest and this is the way to do it without irritating anyone...people are busy, can't be bothered hearing/reading about my issues--unless they choose to by coming to the blog and reading them. In which case it was your dang choice and I don't want to hear about it.

So I was having a pretty normal day...managed to make it through breakfast without spilling coffee on my white shirt or yogurt on my black skirt (I have discovered there is no "magic" color to wear--if it's light, I'll spill coffee, if it's dark I'll spill yogurt or makeup), no runs in my stockings, and apart from the pistachio incident (which, let's face it, is pretty normal--I mean those dang pistachios occasionally take some force to bust open, and me without my nutcracker) managed to escape cuts, bruises and falls. Then I go into the bathroom, press down on the liquid soap dispenser pump, and SPLOOSH, soap rockets out of the dispenser onto my purple sweater. Ok, so it's soap, no big deal, right? Except for I had to rinse the soap out with wet paper towels, so now I've got a huge wet spot on the front of my purple sweater, along with bits of white paper towel (which is SO attractive). And you know this wet spot ain't going to dry nicely--there will still be soap in there that I didn't manage to rinse out, so the spot will probably be visible through the rest of the day. Good thing I never meet with anyone who judges me on that sort of thing.

Stay abnormal, everybody.

Ow

I just took the skin off my thumb shelling (peeling?) pistachios.

Well, THAT was anticlimactic...

After just one post, most of you don't know me well, but those who DO know me well would've expected an exciting story of blood and gore (or at the very least, of losing something precious or vital) after my trip down the Farmington River in an inner tube yesterday afternoon.

Allow me to make a slight aside here, to explain the title of my blog...you'd expect that someone as klutzy as me would consistently hurt herself when attempting anything requiring the least bit of grace or coordination. That would be far too normal for me...just when you think you have my number, I go all abnormal on ya, taking things in a totally unexpected direction...

That being said, there were NO incidents to report after the 2.5 mile trip down the Farmington River. There were three sets of "rapids", which were fun but not all that awe-inspiring. I mean, if I came out without even a bruise, they can't have been real rapids. Just my speed. It was actually very relaxing--there was a lot of calm water where you could just float and stare up at the trees. Of course, the 1 1/2 hours spent in 68 degree water took its toll...by the end, I was shivering...my husband had to tow my tube the last 25 feet to the shore, since I was literally paralyzed with cold. Thank God we went in August and not June...I can't imagine doing that trip in any colder water than what we had.

Now, a quick note for females considering water sports...DO NOT wear a thin white bra and a thin white tank top, particularly when the water temperature is 68 degrees. Particularly if you're well-endowed. Just a tip. I, and the other three female-halves of couples on the bus back from the drop-off point, did NOT appreciate getting squished and shoved in the uncomfortable bus seats as the male-half of the couple craned and pushed to get a better view of the display--aforementioned thin white bra and thin white tank top plastered to a set saggy double-Ds--and let's not forget it was cold.

I think you get my drift.

Stay abnormal, everybody.