Het zwembad

Ik heb eens zitten kijken op dat blog van mij, en ik ben dus al bijna twee jaar aan het bakkeleien over een zwembad. Jawel, mijn eerste post over het wel of niet nemen van een zwembad was uit 2009. Hier om precies te zijn. En ondertussen is er nog steeds geen "echt" zwembad, en begint het opblaasbare alternatief straks aan zijn derde zomer. Eigenlijk wil ik nog best wel een zwembad. Maar eerlijk gezegd denk ik niet meer dat het er van gaat komen. Of we moeten de loterij winnen. En hoe komt dit nou zo ineens? Nou, die cruise dus (ja, daar komt ze weer met haar cruise).

Aan het einde van de vorige zomer heb ik de stoute schoenen aangetrokken, en een meneer van een lokaal zwembad-aanleg-bedrijf gevraagd om langs te komen voor een "estimate" zoals dat hier zo mooi heet. Nou, begin maar met zegeltjes sparen, want sjonge, wat daar allemaal niet bij komt kijken. Je denkt, een zwembad aanleggen, dat is toch alleen een zwembad aanleggen? Ja. En nee. Dit bedrijft rekende een prijs voor het aanleggen van het zwembad en de zoutwater pomp. Dit in tegenstelling voor alle andere bedrijven, die een apart bedrag rekenen voor de "pool liner", de pomp, en het trapje het zwembad in (alsof je zonder al die dingen kan, maar goed). Het lijkt netjes, denk je zo, maar dat valt dus nog best wel tegen.

De prijs voor een standaard maat zwembad is ongeveer $25k. Jawel. $25k. Daarvan kan een van de kinderen twee jaar studeren (mits hij naar een state college gaat, en mits hij een beurs wint). Maar goed, daar had ik al een beetje op gerekend, dus dit bedrag leidde niet tot een totale hartaanval. Maar ja, dan wil je natuurlijk ook betegeling om je zwembad heen. Een "deck" heet dat. Het zwembad zelf komt met 1.5voet deck aangeleverd. Anderhalve voet, dames en heren, is ongeveer 45cm. Daar kun je dus niks mee. Wil je er drie voet omheen hebben liggen, dan wordt dan $2k extra. Als je dan ook een terras (oftewel een patio) wil van datzelfde soort "cool touch" steen (en ja, dat wil je, want als je gewone steen neerlegt kun je in de zomer niet op je bloten voeten naar het zwembad lopen zonder tweedegraads verbrandingen, en laat je gras liggen, dan mag je de hele dag al het gras uit je zembad vissen) dan ben je weer een duizendje of anderhalf verder. Dan zit je dus op, laten we zeggen $28k.

Maar dan ben je er nog niet. Want om het zwembad aan te leggen wordt heel je tuin omgespit. Logisch. Maar ja, die graszoden moeten ook opnieuw gelegd worden. Laten we aardig zijn, en vijfhonderd dollar rekenen. En onze tuin komt, heel handig met een automatisch bewateringsysteem (de "sprinklers"), en ja, al die leidingen moeten natuurlijk ook omgelegd worden. En zo ben je weer duizend dollar verder. Het eind bedrag? Zo'n slordige dertigduizend dollar.

Dertigduizend dollar.

Als rasechte Hollander hoefde ik daar natuurlijk niet lang over na te denken. Dertigduizend dollar zeg. Daar kan ik mijn auto twee keer voor kopen (nou ja, bijna dan). Tel daar bij op dat we hier hoogstens (nou ja, hopelijk dan) nog vier jaar zitten, en dan is het wel een heel duur zwembadje.

Maar ja, dan ga je toch denken, en rekenen, en dingen zeggen als, "Wat als we nou heel hard gaan sparen?", en "Wat als we een nieuwe auto iets langer uitstellen", en "Het is toch wel lekker in de zomer", maar ook "Nee, dat is veel te duur."

En dan ga je op een cruise. Een geweldige, fantastische cruise. En zodra je van de boot afstapt weet je zeker dan nog een keer met een cruise wil. Misschien nog wel twee keer. Of drie keer. En dan bedenk je dat dat stomme zwembad helemaal niet nodig is. Je hebt je redneck-opblaas-placebo-bad, en ach, over vier jaar gaan we toch weg.

Dat weet je zeker.

En dan wordt het weer warm. En schijnt de zon de hele dag. En wanneer manlief de tuinplannen voor dit seizoen met je bespreekt en vraagt, "So, a pool is out of the question then?", dan weet je het in een keer toch niet meer.

Maar toch, het is gewoon te duur. Het kan dus niet. Echt niet. Dat weet ik zeker. Denk ik.

Today spring break is truly over. Classes have started up again, and it's becoming harder and harder to imagine that last week around this time, I had swam with dolphins, eaten lunch on the patio of a small Mexican restaurant, walked along the Gulf coast, and was somewhere close to finishing another scrumptious dinner. Most importantly, I was completely relaxed. And for those of you who know me, that is a miracle in and of itself. Because there's always something to do.

Obviously, once I came home, the reality of articles that needed finished, papers that needed grading, and classes that needed prepped was waiting to smack me upside the head, and the whole feeling of relaxation went right out of the window. But before I get completely sucked into the insanity of the last half of the spring term, I'm going to wax lyrical about our cruise one last time. Just this once. I promise.

You see, I've evaluated every single vacation I've ever taken, and have had to come to the conclusion that this cruise is definitely in my top three, if not the top two. The other two steps are taken up by a week-long stay at a dude ranch and my two trips to Disney. And just in case you're wondering if I've never done anything more adventurous than that; I have. I did my fair share of backpacking, jungletrekking, trainriding and overnight busrides. And although all of these trips were absolutely amazing (including the gigantic Thai cockroaches and creepy Polish hotels), I don't think I've ever needed a break as much as I have now. And so the cruise probably just came at the right time. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter, my trip was so absolutely, positively, awesome, I thought I would inundate you with a few pictures too. And then I'll shut up about it and go back to griping as usual. Honestly.

 

 

Our home for the week - the Radiance of the Seas

 One of the two pools on board the ship - and there was nothing better than lounging by the pool with a book, a drink, and the sun

The "centrum"; the middle part of the ship, all the ship's restaurants, shops, bars, theaters were off this area, and it was great to wander around and look at people

The formal dinner made me feel all pretty :)

And then there was always your cozy and comfortable stateroom to return to

Which got even cozier at night

And DC did lots and lots of reading, just because she doesn't do enough of that at work

And who wouldn't want to wake up to a sunrise like this one?

Packing adventures

Growing up, the Love Boat was probably one of my favorite shows. I thought Julie the cruise director had the coolest job in the universe, and never understood why all the ladies seemed to find the doctor so attractive, while Gopher was obviously the most handsome crew member on board. And then of course, there were the love stories, the (poor) attempts at humor, and the awesome outfits everyone always seemed to wear to dinner.

Obviously, none of the above really applies to a real cruise. There are no perky ship doctors (at least not that I know of), and no unrequited love between the cruise director and other shipmates (I saw the cruise director, you can trust me on this one). Nothing except for the awesome outfits people wear to dinner. Dinnertime on the cruise was when, as husband-dear put it, the ship was filled with nothing but gorgeous people.

Looking gorgeous at dinnertime obviously requires some work, which is not in the least reflected by the amount of clothes one has to pack when going on a cruise. Let me tell you, packing for a cruise is business. Serious business. You can't just throw some random outfits into a carry on and go, no, you need to think about it. Really think about it. Like, make a list and lay your stuff out, and color coordinate outfits think about it.

First, there are dress codes on board the ship. Although you are more than welcome to wander through the pool area in the tiniest bikini you could find at Victoria Secret, the minute you set foot inside the ship, you are expected to cover it up (can we have a Hallelujah?). And if you want to grab a bite to eat, you'll have to put on shorts, a shirt, and some sort of shoewear. And it doesn't matter if you're just wanting a quick burger from the buffet, no shirt/shorts/shoes, no service. And no, cute little Mexican sun dresses that barely reach the top of your teeny-tiny-polka-dot-bikini don't count.

Second, if you want to eat dinner in the main dining room, you're expected to look nice. And just to help out some of our less-aware dressers, the cruise line provides you with a list of "acceptable clothes". So if the dress code is "casual", ladies can wear slacks (no jeans!), or a nice skirt, a shirt (no t shirts!), and closed shoes. If the dress code is "smart casual", ladies are expected to wear skirts and heels. And then there is the formal night, the one night where everyone is expected to dress to the nines (ladies: long gowns, men: dark suits or tuxedos).

Now don't get me wrong, there are no dress code nazis lurking in every corner of the ship, but the glares and stares of people if you do stray from the dress code are enough to make the most dense rebel blush.

So let's do the math together. Let's say it's a sea day (a day spent at sea, surprise, surprise). Let's say you're lazy, and you order in room service for breakfast, followed by a spa appointment. That's one outfit right there. Lunch can be done in the same outfit, but then when you want to go hang out by the pool, that's outfit number two. An hour before dinner means it's time to change, and if you want to walk around the deck, or go see a show after dinner, you'll probably change back to something a little more casual. That's three outfits in one day, not counting any trips to the fitness center or the rock climbing wall. A day at a port is not a whole lot better, as most people do want to splash in the pool after returning from shore, right before they have to get ready for dinner again. Six days at sea, three outfits a day, that's eighteen outfits for those of you who have been counting. And the ship does not offer free laundry.

Let's just say we brought a lot of stuff with us, and it's a good thing we could drive to Tampa as opposed to fly.

The good news? There's two pieces of good news. One, staterooms have more storage space than you will ever need in your entire life. A walk in closet, cabinets in the bathroom, six drawers in your room, and several sets of shelves craftily hidden away behind mirrors and hidden doors. And two? Cruise ships don't care how much luggage you take on board. When I called to ask for a weight limit, the agent actually had no idea, and after some cajoling came up with, "Well, maybe 200 pounds? I mean, it has to be reasonable, you know."

So yes, packing for a cruise is quite the adventure on its own. And it's a nice one!

Return from the nation of why not

For those of you who were really proud of me for turning off my computer for a whole week, and who are now disappointed because I posted before the week was over...I have a confession to make. The reason I was offline for the past six days was not because of some high-minded purpose, or because my eyes needed a break. No, I have to admit, I kind of made that up. The reason I haven't been online is because husband-dear and I went on a cruise.

Yes, a cruise. And by ourselves too. Just the two of us. Let the record state that we haven't done that since we got married. Or so we think. We're not entirely sure, actually. It's been so long since we went on a trip by ourselves that we really can't remember our last trip together. We actually called it our second honeymoon, and a second honeymoon, of course, does not involve internet (although the fact that it was ridiculously expensive to use played a considerable part as well).

For someone who prides herself on being the eternal critic, I have to admit that for the past six days, I walked around in what could be best described as a daze. A very happy, pink, sun-filled, cloud-free, slightly rocky, daze. And I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but everything about the cruise was absolutely perfect. We had a beautiful suite, two wonderful ports of call, awesome excursions, excellent pool time, great dinners, several sunny and glorious sea days, and spent the entire six days walking around the ship, wondering how on earth they managed to keep it looking this good (and in case you wondered, yes, they do actually have people who do nothing but windex all the glass on board, and other people still who do nothing else but polish all the silver signs and numbers throughout the ship).

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that in case you're expecting a sarcastic post about how cruises are overrated, a definite waste of money, and a really terrible way to spend your time, I'm going to have to disappoint you. In fact, I should probably warn you that I was planning on spending the next dew days rehashing the entire cruise for your reading pleasure.

But since I know you're probably convinced I can come up with something, I'll end with the one thing that was less than ideal: sea-legs. You know, sea-legs, also known as the ability to walk on a moving vessel without the movement bothering your gait, or shampoo your hair in a windowless bathtub without falling over when the ship decides to pitch from one side to the other.

Anyway, the problem with sea-legs as far as I'm concerned is that, once you've left the ship, it takes your body a day or so to lose them. On board, the slight rocking and jarring didn't bother me at all. We were rocked to sleep every night, and learned to run along the outdoor track as though we were running on trails. Easy as pie. Even when the captain told us they were expecting some rougher waters due to an unfortunate combination of the current wanting to push the ship one way, and the wind wanting to push it the other, I barely noticed anything. The only times we noticed that the ship was rocking a little more than usual was when open cabinet doors started closing on their own, and when we joined a spinning class, and cycling uphill was a lot harder when the bow came down. But ever since I got off board this morning, my body has just been, well, confused. I have a wave in my step that just doesn't seem to agree with the solidity of the earth, and my body keeps correcting for nonexistent rolling.

I actually think it might be possible that I'm suffering from land-sickness. Do you think ginger ale would help cure that?

Wireless

To say I have been spending a lot of time in front of the computer would be an understatement. I think that I've spent every waking moment in the past two that was not spend in front of a classroom, exercising, or eating dinner, staring at this little screen. I have to admit that spending a lot time in front of the computer is not new for me, but the past two weeks really took the cake.

It's really my own fault. A colleague and I have been working on an article on Facebook, and I took on the responsibility of coding, and then analyzing, all the Facebook profiles and walls we had collected. Before those of you with Facebook accounts freak out, no, I did not analyze any of yours. Naturally (since I'm actually on the university's IRB, yes, this is a "naturally"), we followed proper protocol, asked for volunteers, set up appointment times so they could show up one at a time, and no one would know who had participated, and had them print out their profiles and wall content. We then gave them a black marker and told them to remove all identifying information of themselves and their friends from their printouts, and once that was done, we scanned their, now severely abused, pages. So I haven't been analyzing any of your pages. Although whenever a new update would pop up in my newsfeed, I couldn't help but ask myself what code that would fall under. Let's just say there were lots of LP1s and N1s flying by!

So that's what I've been doing. Staring at electronic profiles, and assigning codes to every single thing these lovely participants and their friends write. Lots of coffee and 1400 items later, it was time to actually write up the results. And then the literature review. And then the discussion. And then the methods section. And it just went on and on and on. But I think our first draft is done. I think. Hallelujah.

The timing could not have been better either. You see, this coming week is Spring Break, and for the first time in my life, I have decided to go wireless. Or better yet, wirefree. I have promised myself I will not touch any one of our computers for an entire week. Or at least five days (I mean, let's not get too crazy here). My eyes need a break from staring at the screen, and body needs to feel what it's like to be away from artificial lighting. So if I'm conspicuously absent from here for the next few days, it's because I'm actually successful at my endeavors. And I'm sitting in our porch swing, watching the blossoms grow, drinking sweet tea, and debating whether to take banana bread or lemon meringue pie to my next girls night.

Something old, something new

I've come to the realization that Americans SouthernersGeorgians people in the specific area I live in, don't like old stuff. Now don't get me wrong, they love old cars and pick up trucks, especially when they can let them sit in their driveway, just in case they need them "for parts", but they don't really seem to care for anything else that's less than, say twenty years old.

Take furniture for instance. In our area, there are no real antiques stores. That's not to say the people who live here don't like antique dressers and cabinets and whatever else they can get their hands on, but you just can't buy it around here. Of course there are stores that like to call themselves something like "sellers of fine antique furniture", but the furniture they sell is far from antique, at least by my, possibly snooty European standards, which hold that something can only be called antique if it's at least seventy, but preferably hundred years old. Anyway. Whenever you drive through our town, and you see a sign that advertises antique furniture, you're going to find one of two things.

Your first option is that you'll drive through a neighborhood filled with old gas stations, shady looking hole in the wall eateries, and boarded up stores, to find a run-down little building, with shutters hanging off their hinges, bulging at the seams with piles and piles of old rusty garden furniture, beat up side tables from the seventies, and any other knick-knacks you might find in your grandmother's garage. It might be quaint, and cute, but it's not antique.

The other option is that you're going to find yourself in a part of town filled with stores selling beds, appliances, floors, and walk into a store that sells furniture that has been "distressed". In other words, brand-spanking-new tables, chairs, cabinets, and dressers to which a frustrated employee took a hammer and banged in a couple of dents and dings to make the pieces "look" old. Again, call me a snob, but that's not antique. That's just banged up.
What's so interesting to me, is that many, many, many people around here will hand over hundreds, if not thousands of dollars for this "distressed" furniture. Maybe it's me, but if you want furniture to look old, you could just buy it new, and use it for a couple of years. It will look old, and it will be a lot cheaper.Or better yet, give it to me, hand me, oh five bucks, and I'll "distress" it for you.

But I digress.

Just last week, husband-dear and I went to a local film festival. We decided, in the spirit of appreciating our community more, we would get in our car, drive a good ways, pay ten bucks each, and watch very confusing, and at times disturbing, movies. We had a blast, and not in the least because the film festival was actually held in the downtown area of a nearby city, which happens to be absolutely gorgeous. Well, it was absolutely gorgeous. Like many other southern cities, this one is an old, antebellum town with a decent-sized downtown made up of buildings stemming from the 1880s through the 1910s. There are wide sidewalks, beautiful and unique architecture in every single building, and a sense that you've just stepped back in time. There are little walkways arched by cherry trees, fountains, and narrow alleys. The detail on the buildings is absolutely awe-inspiring, as is the fact that every one in four buildings is either boarded up, or starting to crumble to pieces, or both. Local merchants told us that they've been trying to revitalize the downtown area for years now, but to no avail. The locals just don't care to come downtown, even though it does have a fair smattering of stores and theaters.

What makes this situation even worse, is that north of the city, the chamber of commerce has erected an outdoor mall called "Riverside crossing". We've been there too, and guess what? It looks just like the downtown area. The stores are set into fake building fronts with tons of details, pretty rooflines, while the incredibly wide sidewalks are interspersed with little bronze statuettes of children playing, old-fashioned streetlights, and a fountain. There is no dirt, no grime, and everything just breathes newness. Riverside crossing, of course, is the place to be right now.

And here's my question: why? Why would people prefer the fake over the real deal? Why would some developer come up with this idea in the first place, "Oh, I love the downtown area! Let's recreate it and draw in shoppers", and then be right too? I can understand why people might prefer an indoor mall over outdoor shopping, as shopping outdoors in the summer is nothing more than cruel and unusual punishment. But both the downtown shops and Riverside Crossing are outside. Yet the Crossing is hopping when it's 100F outside, while the downtown area is deserted.And if it keeps being this deserted, eventually all those old buildings are going to fall apart. Or be torn down. I guess that leaves more room for yet another Walmart. Who knows.

I'm probably just getting old. But I don't get it.

The missing blossoms

The southern belles in my neck of the woods here in Georgia have really gotten their cotillion in a twist this time. And it's no joking matter. No ma'am. Because the way things are looking now, the Cherry Blossom Festival, the pearl of the spring, the start of all things fun and sunny, the apple of the eye of the chamber of commerce, that very festival might just be ruined this year. Totally ruined. And why? All because spring decided to come early. You would think that after a winter filled with snow and ice, spring would wait a while. But no, and that's just not right. As we all know, when spring comes early, that means that the trees blossom early too. And this is all fine and good, but what's the point of having all the trees in region in full bloom now, when the festival that's named for this sprintime splendor isn't for another three weeks? It's a total disgrace.

Unless you're in our area right now, I think it's pretty much impossible to grasp the enormity of this disaster. The local news has dedicated polls to this topic ("Do you think the Cherry Blossom festival will be the same without the blossom? Yes: 21%, No: 72%, Don't know: 7%"), the mayors of the various town have spoken their mind on the local media, and every night, the local weatherman keeps telling us that colder weather might be on its way, which might delay the blooming of the trees. And when the first pear trees in our town started to show little tiny signs of blooming, you would have thought the world had come to an end. Because a Cherry Blossom Festival without Cherry Blossom would make it just a Festival, and that doesn't sound right, does it?

To be honest with you, I do feel their pain. I really do. And I too am crossing my fingers that the trees will hold off on their blooming for another 17 days or so. Granted, my reasons for this are slightly different that one might hope.

You see, we went to the Cherry Blossom Festival once, namely the first year we lived here. The reason we never went back is because, besides looking at the gorgeous blooming trees downtown, there's not a whole lot to do at this festival. There's a few stands, maybe some music, a 15K, and, well, lots of trees that look really really pretty.

This year, we've been talking about becoming more involved with our community, as sitting around complaining about everything isn't exactly improving our moods any. Well, my mood. Husband-dear doesn't complain a whole lot. Or at all, actually. But I do. To you guys mainly. But anyway, I digress. In short, we've decided to find reasons to like the town we live in. So in that light, we've been attending the theater, we went to a film festival, and hence, the famous cherry blossom festival was placed back on our planner too. All under the guise of, we live here, let's try to make the most of it. But honestly, without pretty blooms to look at, I'm not sure if I'll make it.

So let's all pray/meditate/ask one's respective deities/shake your head and just tell me to look at the weatherforecast/light a candle for a cold spell. Otherwise I fear for a serious backslide in our our plans to become involved in our community. And we really can't have that.