A Disparaging Assessment of Lackadaisical Numismatics

Or, Coin Collecting Sucks!

Sarah and I moved in to our new house on Saturday. We are renting a house in Kensington, which is a lovely neighborhood on Adams Avenue in San Diego. We have two bedrooms, a giant kitchen, a jacuzzi bathtub, and a backyard (where Gus will play in less than two weeks). It is definitely a step up from apartment living.

Sarah and I have moved every year for the last four years. Sometimes the moves were short (changing apartments within the same complex) and sometimes the moves were long (1,276 miles to be exact), but every time we made the mistake of thinking we could move everything over a weekend. True, it is possible to move a one bedroom apartment in two days, but those are miserable days. This time we were smart about the move and arranged it so that our leases overlapped for the entire month of August, so we could move things over at our leisure. This was a great idea except for the part where I got my appendix out at the end of July and was not allowed to lift more than 10 pounds, so Sarah had to move almost everything. Another thing that we did not consider in this plan is the fact that once you have moved all your stuff to the new house, living in a largely unfurnished, decoration-free apartment is not pleasant. As a result, I have realized that, whether you have an hour or a year, moving is still a chore.

Now that everything is moved into the house and mostly set up (due to the diligent and tireless work of my wonderful wife) we are settling in to our new role as home dwellers. There are a lot of differences between living in an apartment and living in a house. One that I am quickly learning is that there are a lot more windows in a house than there are in an apartment, so I have to make sure the shades are down before I walk from the bathroom to the bedroom in just a towel (or less). Sarah is learning a lot about taking care of rose bushes. We are both getting used to the quirks associated with living in a house from the 1920s. The only real problem we are experiencing is a shortage of book storage space and it doesn’t help that Borders is having a store closing sale.

I love going-out-of-business sales, but I hate the people who shop at going-out-of-business sales. These people do not understand how the store closing sale works and they ruin it for true bargain hunters. Before the sale begins, the store marks everything up to MSRP, which means that Mastering the Art of French Cooking which was $40.00 last week is now $60.00. This is a smart move by Borders, because when they announce that cookbooks are 10% off, stupid people swoop in and buy Mastering the Art of French Cooking for the excellent deal of $54.00 (as a side note, Mastering the Art of French Cooking is currently $22.00 on Amazon.com). Anything that would be worth buying is usually gone before the sale reaches 15% (when Circuit City went under I witnessed people buying LCD TVs for a shocking 5% off MSRP, while the Best Buy across the street was selling the same TVs at a lower price everyday).

It is rare that I buy anything at going-out-of-business sales because, as noted above, I am too picky about the deal. Sarah usually has good luck finding novels and one time we found a National Parks travel guide for cheap. In fact, the only thing that I bought exclusively for myself, in a moment of weakness, was a Whitman Coin folder to collect the new National Parks series quarters that are being issued by the US Mint. “The Statehood quarters are so common nowadays, surely the National parks quarters will be too soon!” It has been a test in patience like I have never experienced before.

One of the many down-sides to apartment living is that it is hard to find a unit with a washer and dryer included. In our old apartment, we had a coin-operated laundry facility on our floor. Once a month I would go to the bank to get $20.00 in quarters for laundry and by the time I got those quarters back to the apartment I was brimming with anticipation - What quarters would we find this month? Sarah and I would promptly tear into the rolls (one each) and sort through the coins for any National Parks quarters we could find. In one year, or roughly 960 quarters, we found exactly one National Parks quarter... Yellowstone. It is not for a lack of trying, I asked the bank teller if they had the new quarters, I went to different banks to get the quarters, I made transactions in cash, I even looked up strategies on the internet. Coin collecting is a cruel mistress; she lures you in with the notion that cramming minted legal tender into a sheet of cardboard will somehow result in a greater sense of accomplishment, but instead of accomplishment all you experience 960 small failures.

The thing I am most excited about in the new house is the fact that we now have our own, in house, free washer and dryer and I will never have to get quarters from the bank again. I am going to put that Whitman National Parks Quarters coin folder on a shelf and not think about coin collecting again until we move out... which hopefully will not be next year.

Another Snorkeling Adventure

Yesterday, I was adventurous.

Saturday morning Pascal, Samantha, and I went on another grand snorkeling adventure with the 3R's program (see a previous blog entry for full details).  This was my third time, Sam's second time, and Pascal's first time to participate.  I'm now getting to the point where I recognize many of the other participants, and the president of the San Diego Council of Divers asks me every time, "We haven't scared you off yet?"  to which I always reply, "Nope, not yet!"  

Looking scared?  Not us!

The first and second timer

Ready to take on the ocean!

Samantha and I were partners; Pascal was paired with a random guy, who ended up being a rather useless partner.  

We entered the water at Hospital Point, which is a rocky reef bed, so entering the water involved a very graceful period of dragging ourselves along the rock covered ground being hit by tiny waves in the face.  After that oh-so-dignified entry, we swam into the rip current (which felt a lot like just swimming really hard through the surf) to get past the breaking waves.  After a quick check (and by quick I mean much too fast to get a chance to catch our breath) to make sure we were "all clear", we then swam north past the rip current and swam between the breaking waves and the rip current to get back to shore.  It was harder than it sounded!  For most of the time it felt like I was making no progress except for making my legs and lungs really tired, and then all of a sudden a wave would come and I would jump forward about 10 feet.  The whole crew finally made it to shore through an equally dignified combination of rolling, tumbling, and dragging ourselves across the rocks.  No wonder my wetsuit is starting to develop some wear and tear!  That was the first bout of snorkeling. 

The second round began, again in a rip tide.  This time, on the way out, while diving underneath a wave to avoid being tossed around, I came up expecting to take a gulp of air and instead took a nice big gulp of sea water.  It was not as delightful as it sounds.  Pascal told me, "Well at least ocean water is nice and clean!"  Ha!  Once we swam past the breaking waves, we had to continue swimming until we reached the kelp beds (which seemed much closer when we were on shore than when we were actually in the water).  Sam and I have figured out that following close by the lifeguard is the best tactic because 1) if we get in trouble, we'll be saved first, and 2) we can take breaks while waiting for the others to catch up.  So, after a brief break, we swam back to the edge of the rip current and the breaking waves and, after the usual wave pounding, made it back to the shore.  At this point we were all a bit beaten and out of breath.  


Then, instead of being done, there was a third optional section where we would take a "leisurely" snorkeling swim to "Wipe-Out Beach".  


Sam looked at me and said, "I can take it or leave it."  
I said, "Let's go!"
Sam said, "Okay!"


And we did.  (Pascal, see how I didn't mention how even though you can run marathons, you didn't do the third part because of a leg cramp?  Wasn't that nice of me?)  


Samantha and I quickly realized that though we were promised a leisurely snorkel, we had been lied to.  I don't know why we believed them.  Our entrance into the water demonstrated that.  Instead of having sand to walk on part way into the water, we entered the water directly on the reef.  This meant that the waves were already breaking on rocks (not sand) and that it was a true human vs. ocean experience to get past them to reach the "leisurely" snorkeling.  At one point, Sam was a ways ahead, I was moving through the water and realized that the wave in front of me was quickly turning into a giant wave, and there was no where for me to dive under it (like we had been taught to do).  That was the first time I felt like a wave really would pick me up and send me flying in whatever direction in wanted.  Luckily, I just swallowed a mouthful of water and was still pointing in the correct direction when I came up for air.  Then, the second wave hit, and the same thing happened.  After what seemed like an eternity of kicking and not moving much, I finally made it past the breaking waves into the calmer water.  Another realization of this experience was that I discovered why they have you pick a partner/ buddy and only ONE partner/ buddy since it is difficult to keep track of yourself in the water, let alone one other person.  


The swim toward "Wipe-Out Beach" in reality was not bad.  I was actually able to put on my mask and snorkel and look under water for the first time!  I saw a lot of eel grass, a few Garibaldi, and some other small fish.  Sam paid attention to instructions above water and so I just followed where she went. 


As we moved toward the beach, I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of breaking waves.  And then.... 

We found out that "Wipe-Out Beach" is not an over exaggeration.  While the beach is sandy and looks like a nice place to exit the water, it is impossible to see that the shore drops off at a steep slope creating ideal conditions for really powerful and really large waves.  This meant that even though we were trying to ride waves in, the receding water kept us trapped in the break-zone.  One of the lifeguards stood there yelling, "Move, move, move!  Get out, get out, get out!" while I lay in the water at his feet trying to both move and get out, rather unsuccessfully.  It was at this point that I looked at him and said, "I don't think you know the meaning of the word 'leisurely'.  To which he just laughed!  (If I were in his position, I would have too!)


I finally managed to get close enough to the shore to push myself backwards with my hands and butt, and crab-walked myself up the shore with flippers on. I didn't feel quite so ungraceful as I watched the water picking up and spitting out several of our fellow snorkelers.  


And then, covered in salty water, sand, and with liberal amounts of snot running down our noses, we were done.  


Another 3R's conquered, or (at the very least) survived.  

Survivors!