I took swim lessons as a kid. Eventually the instructors at our community pool threw me in the deep end and said, “Swim or drown.” Obviously, I didn’t drown. However, I don’t know how to breathe at all so I never put my face in the water and I have no idea how to properly do the strokes or kicks. I’m pretty much capable of an unattractive, inefficient dog paddle or some weird looking frog thing. This has served me well enough until now that I could play in a pool, stay afloat while water skiing during drop off and pick up…that kind of thing.

But I want to do a sprint triatholon in August — 1/3 mile swim, 13 mile bike, 5K run — and my dog paddle isn’t going to see me through this. :fryingpan:

So, last night I started swim lessons. Half an hour — which seemed ridiculously short when I signed up. Uh…no. I was glad I could heave myself out of the pool at the end of that half hour. The instructor was very complimentary of my freestyle stroke and my flutter kick…but that breathing business SUCKS. :cursing:

I’ve got to practice. Maybe I’ll run a bathtub full of water and practice. But I WILL DO IT. I will learn to blow out my nose. I can do it. (If I say it often enough and keep saying it…right?) And I’m going to buy a swim cap to keep my hair out of my face. Goggles and a swim cap…now that’s a pretty picture. And no, THAT picture will never show up on my website.:mrgreen:

I’m going to take a page from my pal Rhonda and deem this Whine about it Wednesday cause I might as well call it what it is. Saturday I’ll be in Huntsville for a Reader’s Luncheon. I like these events. Romance readers are, for the most part, very nice, very interesting people. It’s THE BASKET that’s problematic.

Every author is supposed to bring a basket filled with goodies, usually built around a theme. Participants can buy raffle tickets for a chance to win the baskets. Each author has to get up in front of the crowd and “showcase” her/his basket and tell what’s in it. You should see some of the baskets these authors put together with some clever, catchy theme, chock full of stuff that has the crowd oohing and ahhing, and it’s beautifully, artfully displayed. Then there are the kind of pitiful baskets where you see the audience exchanging furtive glances that silently shout, I hope I don’t get screwed and stuck with that one! It’s tremendous pressure — like a friggin’ float competition for a parade.

I’m going to give you two guesses, and the second one doesn’t count, which one of those categories by basket falls into.:wallbash: The smart thing to do would be to collect tidbits, things, here and there when you find them throughout the year — at least that’s what one veteran “uber” basket turner-outer told me once. That’d be grand but I don’t like to shop and even if I bought this stuff ahead of time, I wouldn’t be able to find it on the fateful day.

Since I’m whining, I might as well do it up right. I’m not artful. All of my imagination comes out in words. I’ve got a couple of buddies who could take horse manure and arrange it to be eyecatching and lovely. I, on the other hand, am not so gifted.

I need to work on this book. I’m driving soccer carpool tonight. I’m starting swimming lessons in between the carpool gig. I need to work on this book. My hair is being cut and colored. I need to work on this book. I have to pack for and be ready to leave for Huntsville Friday morning. And I need a damn basket to take.:cursing:

I’m seriously toying with the idea of an I Suck At Shopping basket. No candles, no chocolates, no picnic sets, no bubblebath…just a high-dollar gift-card to Barnes&Noble because the recipient is, after all and foremost, a reader…:bowdown:

Is it not almost elegant in its simplicity?

Brilliant or lazy?

Will I be lauded or have rotten fruit figuratively sent my way?

What say ye?

Pray for me. Today I’m chaperoning Girl’s field trip to a mineral museum.

“You’re only in charge of six kids, Mom.”

Uh…seems like a lot to me. :fryingpan: