Meet and Greet Monday: Pool Time

I realize that at first glance, pool time doesn't seem like something that fits under the "meet and greet" category. But may I refer you to my first "meet and greet" post here, in which I mention that on the last Monday of the month I will introduce you to some of the most important people and things in my life. And pool time falls under that category.
Those of you who know me will probably wonder how pool time could have possibly become something so important to me that I would devote an entire blog post to it. After all, those who know me know that I have not worn a bathing suit in years and don't go near water unless it's to bathe. My fear of water is not completely unfounded, however. It all goes back to a near-drowning experience when I was probably about ten. I won't go into detail; I'll just say I thought I was a goner that fateful day. My brother Chance had to save me, and ever since then I've had a phobia of water. (In all reality, though, I probably was no closer to drowning than I am to winning the lottery.)
But back to the topic at hand. My love of pool time all started when my friends Shawna and Laura and I decided to try out aqua Zumba at the community center. We heard it was a lot of fun and a great workout, so of course, we had to try it out for ourselves. The only problem for me was that I didn't own a bathing suit. "Not to worry," the ever-positive Shawna reassured me. She then reminded me that we each had a Kohl's $10-off coupon and suggested we begin my swimsuit search there.
After trying on several different combinations and sizes of tops and bottoms, I finally found one I thought I could actually appear in public in. In addition, both the top and bottom piece were half off, plus I had the coupon, so I only ended up paying $30 for an $80-bathing suit. I was pretty proud of myself that day.
So I debuted my bathing suit at aqua Zumba...but I wasn't impressed with the workout. I wasn't as sweaty and exhausted as I am after regular Zumba classes, which in my mind meant that aqua Zumba didn't work as well as regular Zumba does. No pain, no gain, right? So I decided I was going to stick to regular Zumba from now on, leaving me with an only-worn-once bathing suit if I didn't get my butt in a pool.
Laura lives in an apartment complex with a pool and had been dying to spend some afternoons poolside, so I finally agreed to accompany her. After all, I did need to get at least get thirty bucks of wear out of the bathing suit. I did warn Laura, though, that I don't so much swim as wade around in the fairly shallow end. That was fine with her because she really just wanted to be in the water to get out of the 112-degree heat we've been experiencing for far too many days.
So in order to beat the heat and justify the purchase of a new bathing suit, I've spent several afternoons poolside with Laura and other friends. And I've been pleasantly surprised. I did not expect to enjoy it this much. I nearly hyperventilate when I approach the five-foot end, but I'm perfectly content to splash around in the three- to four-foot end, talking with friends about any and everything. Take, for instance, the conversation Laura and I had while standing on our knees in three-and-a-half-foot water. It went a little something like this:
Laura: "See, we're only in three-and-a-half-foot water. It's not so bad."
Me: "Wait. How is my head two feet tall?!"
Laura (with a decidedly confused look on her face): "Um...because of your legs. You're not standing all the way up. Right? That makes sense, right?"
Me: "Oh...duh. Wow! I'm an idiot!"
Then we both burst into uncontrollable laughter. Apparently there are always many laughs at the pool, and not just because of men who shouldn't be wearing Speedos.
But anyway, I vowed to spend more time outdoors this summer, and between hammock time and pool time, I've done just that.
And now for some poolside photos:

Photo courtesy of Laura Hawkins

Darker than I've ever been

Perfect book for a relaxing afternoon by the pool

Times, They Are A'Changin'

If you've ever visited my blog, you'll (hopefully) notice that my page has changed. I know what you're all thinking: Finally. And you have good reason to think that. I would like to point out, though, that my computer, for whatever reason, won't let me change the design of my blog, so I had to do it on a friend's computer. I think my page is a lot more Ashley and a lot less boring now. Maybe my new color scheme will make me want to blog more now...

Things are also changing elsewhere. There are so many changes going on at work that I don't even know where to start—people leaving, people moving to different departments, people getting promotions. Just thinking about how different work will be starting in August makes my head spin. But I know things can't stay the same forever, so I am going to try to embrace all these changes and meet new challenges head on.

My home life is changing soon as well. And I mean soon as in tomorrow. My brother Chance is moving in with me. I've gotten several different reactions from people when I tell them this. There are, of course, the people who incredulously ask, "You're going to live with your brother again?" And there are those (mostly ones who know my amazing little brother) who say, "That will be so fun!" And then there are those who ask why. There are several different reasons for this move, so I'll just say Chance needed a change of scenery and I think it will be fun to live with him again, because there are always many laughs when he's around. As I've mentioned before, my brothers and I are more like friends than siblings now, and I don't think living together will do anything but strengthen our already strong relationship. It will definitely be a new adventure for both of us, but this is a change I'm excited about.

I've already told Chance, who is so ridiculously in shape it's both awe inspiring and sickening (for jealous people like me), that he's going to be my personal trainer when he gets here. That's what he eventually wants to do with his life (turn couch potatoes into gym rats), so I figure I'll be the perfect guinea pig, seeing as how an embarrassingly large amount of my time is spent on my couch. It's definitely time for a change.
Some changes I have no control over, and others I eagerly anticipate. But change is happening, and I'm determined to be ready for it, no matter what area of my life it affects.

Tires and Fuses and Horns, Oh My!

It all started with an innocent, relaxing swim. Perhaps I should clarify that by "swim" I mean standing in four-feet-deep water and chatting with my friend Laura. Or perhaps that clarification wasn't necessary because the swimming isn't at all the focus of this story, but oh well.
So after this leisurely swim, I headed home for what I thought would be an equally relaxing shower and evening spent watching my guilty pleasure MTV show "Teen Mom." Don't judge me. MTV shows are train wrecks for me. But I'm getting off track again.
So there I was at the stoplight at 15th and Sara, and when the light turned green, I took off, as people generally do when the light finally changes from red to green. All of a sudden, I heard a noise that immediately told me something was wrong with my car, more specifically, my tire. The only way I can describe the noise is that it sounded like when you put baseball cards in bicycle spokes. My heart sank. I just knew I had a flat tire. I also knew there was no room in my budget for a new tire. Luckily, I was less than a mile from home, so I drove 20 mph, wondering if the people passing me could see my tire shredding with each passing foot of ground I covered.
When I pulled into my garage what seemed like ten tense minutes later (but was actually more like two), I dreaded getting out to assess the damage. A first inspection, however, proved that I did not have a flat tire, as I had first suspected. When I knelt on the ground to find out what had caused the ungodly noise, this is what I found:

I still don't really know what it is, but it was described to me as a screw (nail, maybe?) that is used in construction.

I immediately sent Randel the picture and asked if this large screw-like object stuck in my tire would require me to get a new tire. He said no, that I should just be able to get it patched. I heaved a sigh of relief and did a happy dance.
After work the next day, my friend Shawna went with me to Walmart to get this bad boy patched up and not sounding like a bike with cards in its spokes anymore. The helpful attendant said they could get that done right away, and because he was so helpful, I asked if they could also replace the bulb for my left blinker, which was on its way out. After saying they could, Shawna and I went inside to browse while we waited. About five minutes into our browsing, we heard over the loud speaker: "Ashley Luckett, please come to the tire center to speak with your tire consultant."
"Uh-oh," I told Shawna. "That doesn't sound good."
We made our way back and, to make a long story short, were told that the tire couldn't actually be patched because the large screw-like object had started separating or shredding my tire. Lovely, I thought. I'll need a new tire after all.
The attendant was very nice and looked up the price of the tire at other places, and we found that Discount Tire in Yukon was the cheapest. So they put the spare on, threw the now-useless tire in the trunk, and Shawna and I headed to Yukon. While we waited at Discount Tire, Shawna and I got to talking about how my horn and cigarette lighter didn't work. (I only want the lighter so I can charge my phone on long trips; not because I've recently taken up smoking.) Shawna called her dad to see if he knew what kind of fuses we would need for that. He said to bring the car over and he would take a look at it.
Fifteen minutes and $140 later, we headed to Shawna's house. Her dad found the fuse we needed for the horn located under the hood and the one for the lighter in the trunk (odd). So off we went to O'Reilly. We went in like pros and found the fuses with no problem. After paying, we went outside to pop the trunk and hood. We were going to replace the fuses right then and there. When both were installed (not sure if that's the correct verb, but we'll go with it), I nervously got in the car to see if we had been successful. I plugged in my car charger, and the red light came on! One down. Then I blew the horn.
My first thought was that it had passed gas. Then I decided it sounded sick. I honestly cannot describe the hilarious sound it made. I was embarrassed by my car's bodily noises, so we just took off. Thinking that perhaps my horn just sounded so awful because of months of disuse, I blew the horn again on the way to pick up Shawna's car, and the sound threw us into fits of laughter.
I still haven't figured out what's wrong with it, but I won't be using it anytime soon. Rather than scaring away the driver who creeps into my lane or cuts me off, it will cause him to laugh at my attempts at threatening him.

Fuses: $6
Replacement bulb: $10
New tire: $140
Flatulent horn: priceless