101 Things

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liveuponatime.com

I’m not one to do things small.  When 101 Things To Do Before You Die  said to “make at least one huge purchase you can’t afford”, I went all the way.  The stars must have aligned perfectly to make this happen.  For about two years my realtor sent me automatic notifications of condos for sale in our area.  Finally, the market took a nosedive and a listing for a waterfront condo for ONLY $120,000 caught my attention.  The very next day our realtor called us to see what we’ve been up to for the past two years.  I took this as a sign - a “SOLD” sign.

Before I knew it, we were putting in an offer.  The owner countered our offer of $95,000 and $2,000 closing costs with $102,000 and $2,000 closing costs.  There’s no doubt it’s a buyers market, so we countered again with $101,000 and $2,000 closing.  Done!  Now, we had to get the bank to buy off.

Our realtor recommended Countrywide Mortgage.  Wait - didn’t they almost go under before Bank of America swooped in to pick up the pieces?  Minor details.  Anyway, the bank required us to put down 10%.  No problem - I’d been saving for two years after all.  The problems started rolling in when we tried to find Private Mortgage Insurance.  FIVE companies said, “No!” - no second homes within 31 miles of the primary home, no condos in Florida, no condos at all, no, and no.  Hmm, what to do?

Countrywide said we would need to put down at least $10,000 more to bypass Private Mortgage Insurance requirements.  We had already maxed out a credit card buying furniture for the condo (not to mention a recent trip to the Bahamas) and emptied a CD to provide the initial $11,000.  They wouldn’t let us take out a personal loan, because it would effect our credit (haha - too late now).  They recommended I ask my parents to front the $10,000.  I couldn’t back down - we had already gone this far.  When the market picks back up we’ll have one heck of an investment, right?  So I made the call of shame.  My parents agreed as long as we could pay them back a few days after closing.  What’s one more loan?

All’s well that ends well!  We closed on the beautiful condo, got a loan at 0.99% interest to pay my parents back (way cheaper than Private Mortgage Insurance), and had our furniture delivered two days later.

For buyers without an obvious supply of endless funds, get ready to provide the bank with copies of recent pay stubs, past W-2 forms, proof of employment, proof of assets, print-outs of checking account activity, and your first born!  Hey, times are tough.

Total Damage:

1. 2nd Mortgage = ~$800 per month
2. Homeowners Association Dues = ~$600 per quarter
3. Additional Hazard Insurance = ~$300 per year
4. Credit Card = $2,000
5. Personal Loan to Repay Parents = $10,000

More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination. ~ Wilbur Wright

I joined the Aero Club on August 26th, started ground school on September 6th, and started flight training on September 27th.  I hope to have this Thing  completed by December this year.  Wish me luck!

Struggling with Russian Folk Song

I am finally moving up in the musical world! I’ve gone from a 5-key Guitar Hero to an 88-key Yamaha P85. Although I only know how to play a rockin’ Ode to Joy, I’m flying through my weekly lessons and hope to have Thing #9 checked off by this time next year - move over, piano legends.

My very first (real) piano lesson was on August 21, 2008.  I Googled piano lessons in my area and met my instructor less than a week later.  In 6th grade, my art teacher taught me how to play Home on the Range, and the following year I learned Für Elise from a Russian pianist.  Years of choir have enabled me to sight read…for the most part.  I prefer to play by ear.

I am so thankful that I get to chase one of my childhood dreams.  So far, it’s everything I thought it would be - relaxing, magical, and inspirational.  I already have two fans - my mother and my hubby.  Thanks for listening to my “music” and still referring to it as “music”!

I’m still trying to understand how scuba diving in the ocean can be a tranquil experience…well, without tranquilizers anyway.  I have an absurd, irrational fear of sharks.  So much so, that I can’t even swim in a pool by myself.  My fear was somewhat controllable until about two years ago when my husband and I went snorkeling in the Keys.  We were having such a wonderful time exploring the reef, listening to parrot fish crunch on the coral, and poking at lobster.  Then along came sunset (i.e. shark feeding frenzy time).  It had been about half an hour since I had done a shark check, and my husband and I were in pretty open water.  I began scanning the reef’s edge and, within a second, spotted a shark slithering its way over to inspect our presence.  The shark was so hidden in the backdrop of the reef and its movements were so stealthy.  Being the cool, level-headed chick that I am, I began to…okay, I won’t lie.  I glanced at my husband happily poking away at a lobster in a cave and quickly calculated the risk of swimming toward him (and the shark) to inform him of the shark’s presence.  I shamefully admit that I immediately began swimming back towards the boat, but a glance back at my gleefully unaware husband made me realize I couldn’t live without him anyway.  I extended my lobster stick as far as I possibly could and lovingly began whacking him on the back.  When he swam to the surface to kick my butt I screamed, “SHARK!” and began flailing wildly back to the boat (exactly what you’re not supposed to do around sharks).  I would challenge Michael Phelps to beat my swimming record that day.  Needless to say, after climbing the lighthouse that we had anchored the boat to, we spotted about 10 bull sharks circling the area - no doubt wondering what all the commotion was about.  I decided right then and there, there is nothing so incredible under water that makes getting eaten by a shark worthwhile.

Fast forward to July 18, 2008.  I confidently show up to my first of five open water dives to earn my scuba certification.  Everyone else is in a full wetsuit, so I stand out in my shorty.  I’m confident that, out of 12 or so divers, my chances as shark bait were greatly reduced.  We began wading into the water and slowly descending into the 12-inch visibility, algae infested water.  The water was so bad that we couldn’t even see our partners, let alone our instructor.  I had no idea why they had chosen that location for our first dive.  Suddenly, it hit me - excruciating, paralyzing pain on my neck.  I couldn’t breathe…heck, I couldn’t even panic.  I grabbed onto my partner’s leg before the next attack on my left leg, right leg, and then my left wrist.  All around us swirled a blanket of Sea Nettle Jellyfish.  I summoned every last bit of energy I had to tap my instructor on the thigh, and she quickly gave the “thumbs up” for us to surface.  I barreled to the shore and was quickly met by my husband yanking my gear off, my step-daughter dousing me with vinegar, and curious onlookers gasping at the welts all over my body.  Within 30 minutes, the nausea, stomach cramps, and chest pain set in.  Those fortunate enough to be in full wetsuits only had stings to the face and neck.  I’m telling you, I still don’t understand the joy of scuba diving, but I do understand the benefit of a full wetsuit during jellyfish season.

We decided to move our certification dives to Vortex Springs, FL.  The water is 60 degrees year round, but the visibility is endless.  I donned a 7mm farmer-john, layered under a 7mm shorty.  Granted, they practically had to weigh me down with concrete blocks, but I was warm and toasty watching everyone else go into shivering convulsions.  We descended to 50 feet and watched freshwater eels poke their head out of their cave just enough to beg divers for Easy Cheese.  I could have a future in freshwater diving.  I became an officially NAUI certified diver on July 20, 2008!

It took a while, but I finally agreed to go diving with my husband yesterday (August 30th).  We originally planned on diving in 30 feet of water, but his friends kept pressuring us to dive the Miss Louise, a 95-foot tugboat in 60 feet of water.  Of course I’ll go - I’m not a chicken!  We arrived just in time to see a couple of divers surfacing.  They recommended that we go to the Air Force Barge in 70 feet of water.  I’m thinking, “By the time we dive, someone will have us talked into diving the Titanic in 13,000 feet of water!”  I was easily convinced to move locations when three barracuda the length of my leg began circling the boat.  The divers casually said, “Yeah, those guys will just follow you around waiting for free hand-outs”.  Free?  Hands?  What?  I looked at my sparkling wedding band and imagined a gruesome scenario.

Three miles later, we arrived at the Air Force Barge.  The water was full of moon jellies and those awful sea nettles, but luckily I came prepared with a full wetsuit.  By the time I had all my equipment on, I was pouring sweat and the heat was making my stomach churn.  As much as I’m afraid of sharks, I had to roll in the water before I died of heat exhaustion.  The second I landed in the water, sheer terror set in.  I began flailing and screaming like a loon for my husband to get in the water with me.  “Calling all sharks to aisle Gina - light meat special”.  His friends were yelling at me to swim over to the anchor line, which appealed to me greatly.  Finally, my husband made his way over to me and I attached myself to him like a sucker-fish.  He asked me if I was okay.  “Of course, couldn’t be better!”  So off we went, into the darkness of the underworld.  Slowly, my mask began sucking my entire face into it and my eyes felt like they were about to pop out of my head.  The pressure on my brain was killing me, once again leading to the conclusion of me being eaten by sharks.  I heard my husband’s muffled yells for me to breathe into my mask.  I was hoping he heard my yells that he was a stupid idiot and that breathing into my mask wasn’t working for me.  If all else failed, my craziness might make the sharks think I have Mad Cow Disease.  Just before I gave up and completely wrote off diving, I looked at my dive computer - 43 feet deep, less than 20 feet to go before being able to say, “I did it.”  Down below, I could barely make out the sun’s rays dancing on the sandy floor and a strange black object that looked foreign to the environment.  I panicked when my husband began shooting towards the surface and then grasping onto the rope to pull himself back down.  Apparently, that “black thing” on the ocean floor was his weight belt, and I had managed to kick it off of him in my frightful thrashing.  I was too scared not to follow him down.  As I turned around and the mystical barge came into view surrounded by a sparkling wall of school fish spiraling into the distance, peace completely settled over me.  Arm-in-arm we swam around the barge, explored the nooks and crannies, and spotted sea urchins, baby grouper, and too many other secrets of the sea to list.  I was devastated when my husband motioned for us to surface.  WOW!  Scuba diving is amazing.  It didn’t take long for fear to set back in, but it was a little bit less this time.  I don’t do well on ascents and descents in murky water.  Other than that, this is a pretty cool hobby.

Our friends met us at the surface, asking us what took us so long.  My husband sweetly opted out of telling them how much of a pain I was to drag under water.  We all had just enough air left for a 20 minute dive at the place I originally agreed to go - the 30 feet jetties.  I was totally up for it.  The water was clearer, and I got to take my underwater camera this time.  We were greeted by this crazy, cool crab:

 All in all, it was a pretty unforgettable day.  I may not be the most fun person to dive with (unless spastic chicks are your thing), but I’m getting the hang of it and looking forward to our dive trip to Bimini in October.

Thanks, Richard Horne, for recommending yet another awesome life experience.

Rejection is hard enough, but public rejection is the worst!  Regardless, I want you all to see the effort that goes in to planning and accomplishing these Things.  I finally got up the nerve to flat out ask the professionals (i.e. The Storm Chasers) if I could accompany them on a storm chase.  Hopefully, I can inspire someone else that some risks are worth it to truly live.  If they say no, Richard Horne says that I can accomplish this on my own with a “car, camcorder, camera, maps, mobile phone and a passenger”.  Que sera, baby!

 Here is my request:

I would love to go on a storm chase with you.  My first experience with a tornado was in 1986.  My dad dragged me away from our front door as a massive black swirl of howling winds and debris barreled down the street in front of us.  He was trying to round up the kids and get us to safety in the storm cellar, but I was so drawn to this amazing display and too young to understand the harm of being so close.  Strangely enough, my favorite memories as a child were being huddled with my family in our storm cellar, telling storm stories, and listening to crackling radio broadcasts for the “all clear”.  I still have dreams about opening the cellar door just as a supernatural tornado rolls by and finally getting to see the forbidden.

My interest in weather was rekindled as an adult during a Master’s degree project on controlling the weather.  Now I’m challenged to accomplish my childhood dream and go on a storm chase as part of my new project - “101 Things To Do Before You Die”.  I could accomplish this on my own, but why not do it big?  Will you help me accomplish this dream?  I don’t want fame or tv time; I just want to go on one storm chase.  Maybe I can contribute my computer science and aeronautical background to storm research, too.

You can read about my project here: http://liveuponatime.com/101things

Many thanks,

Gina

Follow my progress on #11 - Storm Chase a Tornado.

Picture from www.arenal.net

We just got back from the best vacation ever!  I chose Costa Rica for our annual family vacation specifically to check off #27, but I was blown away by all the amazing Thingsto do there.  You can view slide-shows of our fun-packed vacation at http://liveuponatime.com/photos.htm.

Day 1: Our driver, Leo, met us at the San Jose Airport.  If you’ve never had someone meet you at the airport with your name on a sign, you should try it - it’s great fun!  This was one of the Thingson my personal list that I wanted to check off in life.  I thought I would have to pay one of my friends to dress in a suit and humor me, but luckily the opportunity presented itself in a more dignified manner.  Leo knew everything about Costa Rica - the wildlife, history, culture, politics, and tourism industry.  About an hour into our three hour drive from San Jose to Los Suenos, he took us to a great restaurant on a cliff overlooking coffee beans growing on the hillsides.  We oohed and awed over the flavorful food while enjoying the panoramic view of fog settling into the valley.  Thirty minutes from Los Suenos, we stopped at the Tarcoles River to watch the crocodiles lumber in the muddy water.  We arrived at the Los Suenos Resort with just enough time for exploring the hotel.  I watched as my husband and step-daughter stepped into the beautiful Pacific Ocean for the first time.  We breathed in the ocean air, dragged our feet across the flour-soft lava sand, and listened to the long roar of the incoming waves before heading back to the pool.  The pool is simply amazing.  There are so many twists and turns to explore, waterfalls to splash in, and the water temperature is just right.  We frolicked around there for the remainder of the evening like dolphins just released into the wild.

Day 2:  I’m not sure what convinced us to set about exploring the mountainside without a guide.  Regardless, we headed down the beach with my husband piggybacking my step-daughter and myself across the mouth of a river so we wouldn’t get wet.  That is until one of those sneaky Pacific waves caught all of us on the shore before we could run to safety.  Soaking wet, we continued our journey along the beach, strolling underneath huge tropical trees, waving at the friendly locals, chasing land crabs, and only stopping to collect pretty stones washed ashore.  There it was!  A path up the side of the mountain seemed to beg us to try climbing.  I’m confident we passed a point where we should have known to turn back; however, we continued hoisting each other up the muddy terrain whether out of ignorance or stubbornness.  When we were too exhausted to move either up or down we stared at the passing ants and hermit crabs and discussed our potentially doomed fate.  Delusion finally empowered us to slide all the way down.  Back on the beach we shed our clothes, washed our tender battlescars in the ocean, and laughed about our ill-fated adventure.  We trudged back to the hotel with our tails tucked between our legs and recovered at the swim up bar.

Day 3: We all woke up earlier than any person on vacation ever should; my husband to go on a fishing trip he bartered with a local and my step-daughter and I to visit the Manuel Antonio National Park.  Within a few minutes of entering the park a deer strolled right passed us as if this was the daily routine.  We saw three-toed sloths lazily snacking on leaves high in the trees and even spotted the rarely seen two-toed sloth.  Iguanas, green vine snakes, and Jesus Christ lizards were abundant.  We stopped half-way through the tour to play in the powerful surf.  My step-daughter and I giggled as the shallow waves pushed and pulled at our legs.  We spotted a raccoon digging through the backpacks of unsuspecting sun-bathers until he hit a jackpot of hotdog buns.  On our trek back to the nature trail we were greeted by darling white-faced monkeys snagging free hand-outs from the tourists.  The tour guides treated us to a wonderful lunch on an open porch at a nearby hotel.  That is where my step-daughter and I discovered our love for strawberry juice!  Despite all of the fun, we were so excited to meet back up with my husband at the hotel and snuggle for a much needed nap.  We awoke just in time for a romantic, candle-lit dinner at El Galeon.  A stroll through the moon-lit marina and a swim in the relaxing pool were the perfect ways to spend our last night in Los Suenos.

Day 4: Leo picked us up at 9am to begin our four hour drive to the Arenal Volcano area.  He stopped at a local shop so we could try some authentic Costa Rican cheese rolled in homemade tortillas.  Yum!  Then he took us to the San Lorenzo Canopy Tour so we could experience the rush of flying above the treetops on a zip-line.  The guides were very friendly and even taught us some Spanish - “Eyee-yi-yi!”  We arrived at the Linda Vista Mountain Lodge, only 4km from the volcano, with just enough time to admire the towels folded into kissing swans and our view of Arenal Lake before enjoying dinner at the hotel restaurant.  Don’t forget the strawberry juice!  While we waited for the clouds to clear from the top of the Arenal Volcano we splashed around in the pool.  Finally, the big moment we all had been waiting for- bold, brilliant, fiery red lava glowed eerily down the side of Arenal.  We stayed up for a couple of hours just staring in awe.

Day 5: We met in the hotel lobby for a waterfall horseback riding tour.  A local man piled us and another couple into his vehicle and drove us down the road to his father’s house.  His father was our tour guide and had the horses saddled and ready to go.  My husband’s horse’s name was Muro, my step-daughter rode Chocolate Chip (although, we can’t remember his Spanish name), and I rode Alberoto.  We weaved our way through the breathtaking hillside and enjoyed listening to our guide encourage our horses in Spanish.  When we got to the top of the mountain we dismounted our horses and followed our guide down a winding path to a waterfall.  He surprised us with fresh cut watermelon, which we enjoyed while being misted from the waterfall.  We made our way back to the horses and finished our journey on horseback to the bottom of the mountain.  It was tough to say goodbye to such sweet horses, but we were really looking forward to soaking our aching muscles in the Baldi Hot Springs.  This is a treat for anyone.  Natural hot springs that have been heated by the volcano are funneled down into man-made pools.  They had shallow pools with built-in tile recliners for relaxing, deep pools with heart-pumping water slides for playing, and pools with swim-up bars for - well, you know.

Day 6: For the past three days I kept thinking what I was hearing was thunder; however, the locals informed us that those deep rumbles were actually coming from the volcano.  As we were leaving, the volcano let out a growl loud enough to make the earth jump a little…and me jump a lottle!  Our driver took us the the Arenal Hanging Bridges, a 2.5 mile self-guided tour through the rainforest.  We ate lunch at the on-site restaraunt and laughed as a miniature chihuahua in a green polo (yes, that’s right) begged to clean our table for us.  He must have been the local mascot.  After we crossed the entrance to the park, there was no doubt we were truly in the rainforest.  Thick, lush, towering trees with bromeliads growing out of the limbs surrounded us.  Macaws, toucans, quetzals, and other brilliant birds sang in chorus.  Howler monkeys swung overhead from branch to branch, flaunting their deep, lion-like howl.  The low roar of rushing waterfalls could be heard in the distance.  Heaven!  We explored high and low until, alas, it was time for us to head back to the San Jose Airport.  We will miss you, Costa Rica.

Pura Vida!

I really should’ve listened to my mother.  Adults should do everything possible to prevent teenage phases from marring you for life.  Take for example, raising the age of consent for getting a tattoo to 75.  By that time, if you’ve made it, you’ve gathered enough data to determine which tattoo you’re really going to be happy with for the rest of your life.  These decisions can’t be made on a whim.  Of course, if you made the wrong decision at that age, you won’t have to live with it for long and blissful senility might be just around the corner anyway.

I, on the other hand, have had to live with my split second decision since August 1998.  A group of my friends decided to all get tattoos.  One of my friends wanted the same design I chose, so now I have a tattoo twin roaming about the earth.  I wonder where he is now, but more importantly what ever became of his tattoo.  The other friend got a mean-looking panther ripping through his shoulder, and then told me he needed to borrow $120 to pay for it.  You also shouldn’t be able to choose your friends at that age.

So there I was with a $90 permanent converstation piece on my right ankle that would, without fail, prompt people to ask if I had been beaten as a child or if someone had broken my heart.  Really, the story isn’t that dramatic.  My brother taught me how to draw hearts with daggers through them, so I just thought they were cool.  Now I’m starting to think they’re only cool to people who have been beaten or broken hearted.

Tattoo = $90

Tattoo Removal = ~$2400

Hearing my *step-daughter say she wants a tattoo just like mine = priceless

*She can get one if she still wants it at 75

Although this wasn’t my favorite Thing to do, I qualified “Expert” during MQ-9 Qualification Training in February 2008.  We shot 90 rounds in various positions.

Score: 45/26 chest/7 head

I had a better score during the practice round, but I was shaking so much by the second round that I’m lucky I didn’t hurt anyone.  This could qualify as my “conquer your fear” Thing, but I’ll save swimming with sharks for that one.

I have completed all 26.2 miles of the 12th, 13th, and 14th Annual Bataan Memorial Death Marches.  The first year (2000) I didn’t train more than a couple hours a week and I wore a 35 pound ruck-sack, combat boots, and battle dress uniform.  Dumb idea!  I ended up walking with a girl that was in my same predicament (she even shared my first name - Gina).  We were hurting so badly by mile 21 that we made a pact to just pee ourselves if we had to go and keep walking.  Many people were stopping at the porta-potties, but their legs would cramp up and they would have to be carried to the finish line.  Fortunately or unfortunately, both of us were so dehydrated that we couldn’t pee until that night.  This was no ordinary marathon, mind you.  This was in a desert, through the mountains, in 100° temps, and the last three miles are what the regulars call “moon dust”.  My hip flexors have never been the same.

I learned my lesson for the next two marathons.  I joined the San Antonio Road Runners, trained regularly by participating in a lot of 5K’s, and completed long runs on the weekend.  The remaining survivors of the original Bataan Death March speak at every marathon.  Their stories make whatever pain you’re in sound like a day at the spa.  God bless you all!

Did you get onto TV/interviewed: No

Did you get a cramp: Many!

How many blisters did you get: At least 3…and I lost a toe nail…don’t worry, it came back

Did you get a medal: Medal, shirt, and key chain

Would you run a marathon again:  I hope so

I’m not quite sure what we were thinking on our girl’s weekend in South Padre.  All I remember is that there is a bungee jump that stays open until 2am right outside of a bar called Louie’s Backyard, and they make you sign a letter stating you are not intoxicated.  Riiight!  They also offer a package for $40, which includes a video and a second jump if you survive the first.  Sold!

The jump is 150 feet - the 2nd tallest in North America at the time.  Jump Master Luke went with me to the top of the crane.  I jumped forward the first time and backward the second time.

Were you nervous: YES…the ride up gives you lots of time to think

Did you take a lot of persuading: No…I wanted down

Did you try to back out: No, but my girlfriend bailed on her jump.  They had to bring her back down on the crane.  I knew there was a reason she wanted to go after me.

Did you break anything: No, but my back hurt for a month.

Would you do it again: Twice is enough.

Check!  Next?