SWEARING!!!

“FUCK! SHIT! BITCH!!!! FUCKING BITCH!!! SHIT!!!!”

PP sighs to herself. Sitting on the toilet, she can’t help but listen to Scraping Walker Woman’s Rant.

Though now since she’s in a wheelchair, PP guesses she’s Swearing Wheelchair Woman.

Damn. PP is in no mood to deal with her. She’s tired and hungry and wants to get home after a surprisingly nice swim. (“It was so nice today, wasn’t it?” a fellow swimmer had commented afterwards. “Yes, so peaceful. No screaming kids,” PP had answered.)

Now there was a Screaming Wheelchair Woman.
“SHIT! BITCH!”


Flushing the toilet, PP decides that she better go see what was the matter. She’d been hoping someone else would wander into the locker room, but nope. Where the hell was anyone when you needed her?

“FUCKING BITCH SHIT!”
PP follows the sound of the rant, around the corner to the wheelchair accessible stall.
There she is, wedged in between the toilet and the door. Was she stuck? Had she hurt herself?

“Are you okay?” PP asks.
SWW stares up at her, surprised. “Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Shit, PP swears to herself. Does swearing up a storm at the top of your lungs in a public place constitute okayness?

Evidently in SWW’s universe.

Sighing, PP tries to keep her tone calm and sympathetic. It’s hard.

“Well, I could hear you swearing from the other stalls. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, that!” SWW laughs softly, embarrassed? No, just amused. “I was just mad at her is all. I know she saw me and I said ‘Hello’ to her and she didn’t even answer me. I know she saw me. I know she did….”

Her voice trails off. She shakes her head, her naked back arched over in a permanent hunch.

“Oh,” PP smiles. Shit, is that all? She doesn’t say this. “Well, maybe she was having a bad day,” she offers.

“Oh, yeah, you’re probably right,” SWW laughs, wheeling her way out of the stall now. “She was having a bad day. But I know she saw me. I said ‘Hello’ and she just ignored me. Just walked right past me. Why did she do that?”

Her bright blue eyes pierce into PP’s demanding an explanation for another’s rudeness. It occurs to PP that this other woman may not have been in the mood to deal with SWW’s insanity today. Or maybe, as is often said and studies have been done, people with disabilities are seen as ‘invisible’—literally so. This could be it too.

But more likely, the woman was just busy, or preoccupied, or having a bad day and just didn’t respond.

And again, this is what PP proposes and then adds, “I know it’s hard when someone’s rude to you, but don’t let her spoil your day. You’re at the Y and going to the Pool and the pool is quite lovely today….”

“Oh, is it? It was nice yesterday!” SWW exclaims, distracted now.

Cuz this is what the pool can do as we all know. It can distract. It can soothe.
And today, PP is particularly glad for the Pool’s power. She understood why SWW was angry. It musta been a pretty rude encounter for her to get so upset. After all, she was so friendly and sweet to everyone, saying Hello and asking after them.

Unless she was yelling at them to stop asking her if she was okay. Which is exactly what PP had done today.

And she hadn’t been. Not really.
But now, now she was. Or seemed to be.

And this of course was all thanks to the Pool.

SWW wheels into the shower and grunts as she turns on the water, begins spraying her hunchback to ready for pool entry.

"Have a nice pool time," PP calls over to her as she heads back to her locker.
"Oh, I will. Thank you. You have a very nice figure, you know? I used to have a nice one but since the accident I....."

Lady Bits

“Is this Somebody’s?” PP points to a disgusting, flesh colored Brassiere (and yes it’s a brassiere and not a bra) lying cup up on the top bench of Utopia.

The sauna’s crowded tonight. Two women who were sitting next to the Brassiere have moved over to make room for PP, but then there’s the issue of what to do with the disgusting piece of lingerie.

They all laugh, shaking their heads.

“I mean,” PP joins in, “I know it’s Somebody’s, but is it anybody’s here?”
“Nope,” Turquoise Bead Necklace Woman shakes her head, pulling her Y issued too small white towel tighter round her own ample bosom.

And so, PP picks up The Ownerless Brassiere. Gingerly. It’s so disgusting. She doesn’t really want to touch it. Who the hell would just leave their bra lying around the sauna?

Tosses it on the next bench down below her and takes its place.

Turquoise Bead and Blond Accent Woman resume their conversation about how computers suck: “I’m just afraid if I move my laptop that I’ll lose all my information on in.” “Ummm….Yes, ma’am I hear you…..”

PP glances over at DL who’s on the opposite side of the tiny cramped heat room, trying to relax.
But there’s something amiss.

It’s the Brassiere. It’s coloring the atmosphere of Utopia in a strange unsanitary lingerie way.
The door to Utopia slams open.

Aquatopia Woman enters. PP and DL had just had a Bonding Moment over the travesty of a BART agent being fired for giving away unused tickets to a poor high school student (“He was 66? That effect his pension I would imagine? They say they doing the right thing by firing him, but then if the same thing happened to them, they’d be Crying to Mama all the way home….”)

She surveys the spot where PP is now ensconced. Stares into PP, sneers, and then looks down down at the brassier, lying ickily on the lower bench. Picks it up and glares at PP.

“I wish you hadn’t put that there. It’s all wet.”

For a split second, PP considers what to say:

“Well, I wish you hadn’t left it up here taking up the space that someone could sit in.”
Or
“I wish I hadn’t had to touch your goddamn disgusting bra.”
Or
“I wish you had a brain in your head that would tell you that it’s not appropriate to leave your goddamn bra alone in the sauna….”

But PP decides against all of the above; she's not gonna win this Bra War. Mutters a kinda surprised but also kinda surly, “Sorry.” And then shrugs.

Brassier Wish Bitch harrumphs.

“Is that your underwear on the railing there?” Turquoise Bead Woman pipes in. Thankfully.

“No. They are not!” BWB flares. It is all so offensive. Imagine! She left her Brassiere here to dry and someone had the Audacity to move it so that she could sit down!

She stomps out.

All the women in Utopia start to laugh, the group giggle growing, till they’re shaking. Turquoise Bead Woman glances over at PP, rolls her eyes.

“I don’ know ‘bout you ‘all but my mama tol me don’t go leavin your Lady Bits around. Keep your Lady Bits with you at all times. Don’t no one wanna see your Lady Bits lying around….Even if they is 46 Double D’s!!!!”

They all laugh harder.

“Thanks!” PP gasps. She’s so relieved that it wasn’t just her being a presumptive bitch moving the brassiere.

Turquoise Beads nods, “Pleaaase! She was so outta line! Guess her mama didn’ make her awares of keeping her Lady Bits to herself.”

She pulls out one of those pumice stones and starts in on her calves, rubbing rubbing rubbing in vigorous circles. PP is thankful that she’s supportive around the Bra Moving, but the Exfoliation of the Lady Cells (DL’s contribution to the story) is disgusting!

Why can’t she keep her teeny tiny Lady Bits to herself?

The bits are flying!

The little white flecks of flesh float into the cramped claustrophobic darkness. PP can’t really see them, but she can hear them.

Glances over at DL, who’s still grinning, but also eying the Exfoliation Procedure.
It is so gross.

PP is starting to feel nauseous. Needs to get outta there pronto. DL rises, weaves out the door, with PP close behind her.

They’re still laughing though. Can’t even speak as they head to the showers, "Lady Bits Lady Bits Lady Bits" still ringing in their ears.

REALLY?!

“Hi, can we circle swim please?”

He sighs audibly. They can hear it at the pools in China.

He rolls his eyes heavenwards. His eyeballs float to the ceiling, hang out for a moment, before drifting back down into their sockets.

Then he speaks, his beady beard moist and serious. “Really?” he asks.

“Really.” PP answers. “It’s not like I want to circle swim either,” she continues because, hell, no one does. Does he think she’d ask him to if it weren’t absolutely necessary? She waves at the crowded pool that is the Mayhem of the downtown Oakland Y. What the hell is going on? A Wednesday evening at 8:45. Usually she has to split a lane, but circle swim?

Rarely.

And tonight all the lanes but Really Man’s have 3 or 4 swimmers in them already.
“I can’t circle swim with him,” Really Man gestures toward Tortoise Orange Trunk Man. And yes, PP sees his point; if he’s swimming his ‘intervals’ super speedy, then TOR would be a hindrance. But that’s not her problem. Or is it?



“You need to get the lifeguard to manage the lanes. Get him out of here,” Really Man continues, boss of her.

She hates this. Who the hell is he to tell her what to do? Why the hell doesn’t he get the lifeguard over to manage the lanes himself?

But he doesn’t. Stands there staring at her. It’s up to her to action the situation.

“Excuse me, LIFEGUARD!!!??? “ she hollers. What else can she do? It’s 8:45; she only has 45 minutes before the pool closes. If she sits here arguing with Really Man any longer, she won’t get her swim in.

It’s a lifeguard she hasn’t seen before. Where’s Perky Russian Guard when you need her?

This lifeguard slowly slowly slowly climbs down from her Tower. She is so bothered.
And it’s PP’s fault that she must answer to her summons. Sauntering over, she stares at PP through her wire rimmed glasses, supremely bored.

“We need help with managing the lanes,” PP starts, pointing at Tortoise Orange Trunks. “He needs to be in a slower lane so that we can circle swim here at all the medium speed.”

Bored Guard nods and to her credit does shift swimmers around. A Super Swimmer Guy comes up behind her. She motions for him to join PP’s and Really Man’s lane.
PP climbs in, Really Man watches her. He is so ickee. But she has no choice but to swim in his lane.




Really Man starts and stops. He waits at the wall for her. Staring, motioning her to go ahead. Hell, why couldn’t he have just done this with Tortoise Man? What was such a big deal that he had to command PP to commandeer the lifeguard for lane management?

Obviously, it had been all about The Power. PP really hates this. She tells DL about it afterward, who shakes her head and confirms PP’s seething about being bossed around by some guy. “I hate that!” DL had announced to all the bubbles in the hot tub.

They both laugh. But PP thinks she shouldn’t have done Really Man’s bidding. Esp. when he wasn’t even swimming with the other swimmers—that starting and stopping annoying thing that interrupted everyone’s flow—but again, she thinks this was a Power Thing.

Why couldn’t he be more liked Super Speedy Man? Who was sweet and cute and very accommodating.

Such a contrast to Really Man.

PP hopes that she never sees or swims with Really Man ever again.
But if she does?

She’s gonna make sure she swims REALLY slow. And blocks his way. And waits at the wall and then right when he comes to make his turn, she’ll take off in front of him….
That would be so damn fun.




Really.

Only in Berkeley

“How ya gonna keep your book dry?” She chuckles good-naturedly, almost winks at PP.

They’d shared a lane together. Have already exchanged pleasantries about how pleasant the other one is in the water: “I like swimming with you,” Good Natured had said when she’d climbed into the tub, PP already basking in the heat needed waters.

“You don’t splash.” PP had made the same reciprocal compliment, with GN saying how she’d been in the pool the other day and this man was splashing so much that another woman had actually gotten out of the pool. “I try to be considerate. Not splash,” she laughs. “But like my mom used to say, if you don’t want to get splashed, stay away from the pool.”

So true, yet PP always selects the least splash-likely candidate to share a lane with. And today’s GN had been a winner.

So, now, in the tub, Book Boy barely deigns to answer the book stay dry query. He’s reading Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath after all (only in Berkeley), an endeavor that is way above chitchat in the Berkeley Y’s hot tub. (PP’s here cuz of Easter; both the Oakland and Hilltop Ys are closed.)


He peers at the two women above the quality paperback, “I can keep it dry.” PP thinks, Yeah, I bet you can. But doesn’t say this, just nods as GN starts listing Steinbeck’s entire canon. “I haven’t read that one,” she shakes her head, mystified at herself. “My favorite is In Dubious Battle. (PP loves this) But, of course, there’s, Of Mice and Men, The Winter of Our Discontent, and .....”
“I have to admit that East of Eden is my favorite,” PP interrupts. “I’m a sucker for the big soap.”



Book Boy is pointedly ignoring them at this point. As to be expected.
She laughs. “Oh, yeah, I love that one too. Have you been down to Salinas to his house? They’ve built a new museum there. It’s fabulous.”
“No, no, I haven’t.” PP shakes her head.
“You should go. It’s completely renovated. And then I remember we went up to their ranch in Fremont. Have you been there?”
“No, I didn’t know he had a ranch in Fremont.”
She nods, knowledgeably, as only Berkeleyites can do. “Yup, he and his sister used to play Lancelot and Gwenivere there.”
“Really?” PP is beyond delighted at this tidbit of Steinbecken Lore. She never knew this fact, though it made sense. Didn’t he write a book about the King Arthur? She seems to recall this, but then her brain is a bit water logged at this point so she doesn’t bring it up. GN doesn’t pause for a breath anyway.
“They took the dog there. Charlie.”
“Oh,” PP gushes. “That Travels with Charlie is really my favorite. I adore that book.”





She nods, “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s a good one. I haven’t read that one either. But he and his sister and the dog used to go up there to Fremont, play Lancelot and Gwenivere. It musta been beautiful then.”
She pauses, transported to Fremont in the days of Steinbeck’s Round Table games. PP nods. “Yes, I bet it was.”





“You Native Californian?”
PP smiles, “Kinda. I grew up here.”
“Yeah, me too, sorta. I actually was born in Brooklyn, then we moved to Penn, then to Calif, then back to NY, then to LA again. We hadda pool growing up. That was the life. Getting outta bed at 11 a.m., having your girlfriends come over, lounge around the pool all day. All the neighborhood kids would come over. Mom would bake cookies and make Kool-aid.” She sighs.




“Yup, those were the days.” she continues. “My mom was always a good sport about having all the kids over. But hey! Better to have your kids in your own back yard than running all over tarnation.”
She chuckles. PP tells her how her mom did the same. Tells of the kids that sat on the embankment above their pool, craning their necks over the fence, pining for an invite to join in the fun, till finally, PP’s mom told ‘em to come on over.
GN nods, “Well, you have a good rest of the day,” she float walks out of the tub. “Time for the Steam Room. I tell you, it’s like a Country Club here.”
PP laughs with her, watching her languid round middle-aged stroll weave around the pool to the locker room.


“We must be on the Same Path!” PP laughs as she spies GN getting dressed in the same aisle as her locker.
“I’m going to Grocery Outlet next. You headed there?” she chuckles.
“Nope, got my shopping done already.”
“Yeah, I decided to go after the Y. Otherwise, I got the cold stuff sitting in the car.”
“Yeah, my ice cream’s safe and sound in the freezer.”
“Exactly.”
PP decides this means that she likes ice cream. Even though the ensuing discussion of Edward Abbey and The Biochemical Blah Blah Blah of the Brain books belie a taste for sweets.
“So many books to read, so little time,” PP laughs through the cliché.
“But we still seem to find the time to watch TV.”
This also delights PP. So many Berkeleyites view TV as the next Anti Christ. “What do you watch on TV?” PP asks.





“Oh, I watch a lot of stuff. Lately it’s Dancing with the Stars.”
PP is beyond delight now. She loves DWTS? In Berkeley? But yet, this is what happens. These intellectuals, downing their carrot juice in mini Perrier bottles (GN had already shown PP this innovation), reading heady sciency non-fiction about the Brain, listing Steinbeck’s entire oeuvre, but yet, they still like DWTS!!!!
Only in Berkeley.
“My name’s Denise, by the way.”
PP almost keels over. Her name is Denise! How perfect is that! She’ll have to tell DL about this Berkeley Denise who adores Steinbeck, Ice Cream and DWTS.
Only in Berkeley!

The A-Word

“I hafta admit that I played the Lotto yesterday.” Friendly Asian Water Walker leans over the lane line, confidential. PP grins, considers taking out her earplugs, but still had 200 yards of warm down to complete. If she takes them out now, and tries to reinsert them later, they’ll leak. So she opts for fuzzy hearing instead.

“My mother wasn’t very happy about it.” FAWW rolls her eyes. “I’m like, MOM! It was only a dollar! But my brother…..” She leans in closer to whisper to PP, “He well…. He has a gambling problem. It’s an issue. In Taiwan.”

She pauses, thinking.

PP wonders if she’s thinking whether she should be telling family secrets in the pool. Or maybe she’s just trying to figure out how to explain her brother’s issue with gambling?
So PP nods, “It’s part of the culture, isn’t it?” she offers.
FAWW nods slowly, considering. “Yeah, you know, you’re right. It is part of the culture. But my brother. Well, it’s just that he had money and friends they take advantage, you know?”



PP isn’t sure how this connects to the gambling issue, but she’s learned to be patient when collecting stories at the pool.

“He had friends that he leant money to, and then they said they were gonna pay him back but of course they never did. You have to watch out for that. For people that take advantage of you. Like I have this friend. Well, she was a friend,” FAWW chuckles softly, shaking her head, “and she doesn’t drive and so she wanted me to take her mother shopping and when I told her, ‘No, I can’t do that,’ well, she got really mad at me and called me the A Word.”

FAWW sighs.

PP wonders what the A Word is. Asshole? Is FAWW so polite that she can’t say this word? Or again, is her refusal to ‘swear’ part of the culture? PP remembers this from all the teaching she’s done with students from Asia, Taiwan in particular, that this sort of formal politeness, this hesitancy around speaking ‘profanity’ was part of their culture.

Today, in the pool, there’s something kinda sweet and refreshing about FAWW’s refusal to say the A-Word that PP can’t help but like.

But maybe she is simply upset that her former friend called her The A-Word cuz she refused to be taken advantage of, and so she couldn’t say it?





PP decides this last possibility might be the case since FAWW seems like she’s processing the whole loss of friendship situation. So, she suggests, “Yeah, well, that’s a lot to ask someone to do, take their mom to the store. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time. But mostly you don’t need ‘so called’ friends calling you The A-Word.” PP uses her nomenclature to build rapport in the pool.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t need that.” She frowns, then shakes her head. Then a relieved smile breaks out. “You’re right. I do have better things to do. Though I’m retired now. Are you retired?”

PP laughs. “I wish! I’ll never retire!”

FAWW joins in the giggle. “Really? I thought maybe you were retired.”

“Nah, I’m just on a break this week, so I’ve been able to swim in the middle of the day like this.’

She nods, “It’s nice, huh? To swim at this time.”
“Yeah, it sure is.” PP glances up the empty lane, the sun shimmering through the windows, sparkling tiny diamonds on the water, puffy white clouds glancing across the blue blue sky.
“But just cuz you’re retired, doesn’t mean that you should be carting around people’s mothers. I guess people just think you have all this time to run their errands for them, right?
“You’re single right?” FAWW asks.
“Yup. So, yeah, single people get taken advantage of too.”
She nods, taking this in. “No kids?”
“No, well, I have the 3 cats.”
She chuckles. “Oh, I love cats.”
“They’re my substitute family.”
“I can’t have them though. Allergic.” FAWW sniffles, then breaks into a grin. “Well, I better let you get back to your swimming. I talk a lot! You need to finish, right? You glide so effortlessly. I am always so jealous!” She laughs, shy now.


Later, in the parking lot, FAWW comments on PP’s fluffy pink sweater, “That’s cozy.” Touches it, leaving her hand a little too long on PP’s forearm?

Or is this PP’s imagination? That the question about her being ‘single’ in the pool before was nothing, not a come on or a checking her status sort of situation at all. But just part of the general dialogue around single retired women being taken advantage of?

Yet, PP had to admit that she would be flattered. If FAWW had a bit of a crush on her. Not that she’d do anything about it. FAWW was attractive and smart, but not really PP’s type.




PP unlocks the Geo as FAWW heads over to her plush grey Toyota, pops open the trunk and starts rummaging through its contents. Climbing into the Geo, PP plops down, sighing, unwrapping a granola bar, and watches in tired happiness as three puffy white clouds drift across the blue blue sky.

It's NOT okay!

“Is there a cell phone in here?”

Her indignant stridency rang out into the sauna at Hilltopia after hearing the tell-tale sing song tone.

Of course there was a cell phone in the sauna. Isn’t there always? Amazon African American Woman had sauntered in moments before, plugged in, and settled down to some serious cell phone rap. PP hadn’t said anything. Why bother?

Plus she was blissfully tired from her long Saturday swim. She just wanted to rest and let the heat do its magic. Now there was gonna be a cell phone confrontation.
Oh, goody!

Cell Phone Police Woman was sitting up now, her pale white breasts sagging, her wrinkled belly slack. But her voice.

Nothing slack about that.

“Ummm....” Amazon murmured, gently rocking to her Cell Tunes.
“Cell phones are NOT allowed in here.”
Amazon unplugs one ear, eyes her interrogator lazily. “I been comin' here 9 years and ain’t nobody ever tol' me I can’t.”
“Well, it’s not okay. There are naked women here.”
PP’s making herself as small as possible in the dark corner next to Amazon Woman. Police Woman is on the bottom deck, facing Amazon Woman now, indignation filling the air.



Amazon doesn’t answer, but starts to put the ear plug back in.
“I’m going to call upstairs if you don’t get rid of the cell phone.”
“You go right ahead.”

PP can’t believe it. Why not just put the cell phone away? Police Woman is right. No cell phones are allowed in the sauna.
But that is exactly why she probably didn’t. Amazon Woman is a Rule Breaker. You could tell.
PP kinda likes this, but then again, kinda doesn't, hater of cell phones that she is. But the naked women part intrigues her as Police Woman rises and stalks out of the sauna to make the call.
Amazon Woman turns to PP, genuinely mystified? “You hear my music?” she asks.
PP nods. “Yeah, a little,” she answers.
“Yeah, okay, I can understand how that might be a annoying.”




“But she seemed more concerned about our being naked. Like you were gonna take pictures or something?”
Amazon doesn’t respond. Frankly PP doesn’t think she looks like the Naked Woman Camera Predator type, but guess you never know.

PP starts to gather up her stuff. Part of her wants to stay and see what happens next, but another part of her is just too tired and hungry to care.
“They’ll be right down,” Police Woman announces as she re-enters the sauna.
“You can hear my music, is that the problem?” Amazon asks politely.
“It is NOT okay to have cell phones where naked women are!” Police Woman is seething at the imbecility of it all. “You could take pictures. And then upload them on to the Internet for everyone to see!”
Amazon woman nods slowly. “Okay, yeah, I can see your concern.”
Then she plugs back in the earplug and starts to sway to her music.




PP decides that maybe she better get out before a Real Fight ensues. Not that she thinks this will happen, really.
Or could it?

Neither woman appears to want to back down. Confrontation was buzzing in the heated darkness.

PP leaves. The Internet Naked Woman Sauna Camera Possibility intrigues her. She's never heard of this. Not that it isn't possible, but it did seem just a bit far-fetched that Amazon Woman would be out to take Police Woman's naked picture and post it all of the the Internet.

On her way out, PP almost runs head into the Shy Latina who runs the front desk.
“You lookin' for the Cell Phone Culprit?”
Shy Latina stares at PP like she’s never heard anything about it, even though it seems obvious that this was her task at hand.
PP points toward the sauna. “In there. Have fun.”
Shy Latina doesn’t smile, and why should she? She’s on her way into a nasty situation.

PP heads for the toilet, but inside the stall, stands for a moment waiting to hear if anyone starts yelling.
Shy Latina comes back out after only about 10 seconds.
PP thinks it’s over and takes a seat.

“Hello! Yes! The woman on the Cell Phone is still in the sauna!” PP hears the anger and frustration ooze from the phone and under the stall. “It is NOT okay!” she repeats.

And PP agrees. It’s not okay to have a cell phone in the sauna. And it’s not okay to ignore the Shy Latina’s admonishment if in fact that is what happened.

Obviously, Shy Latina wasn’t authoritative enough to get the job done.
What would happen next?

PP wasn’t waiting around to find out as she headed to the shower to escape the ensuing battle.

One thing she could be sure of. There probably won't be any Cell Phones in the shower!

Leave Those Oranges Alone!

“I never want to see another crate of oranges as long as I live!” Hurt Back Woman sighs longly, shifting her heft in the dark corner of Hilltopia’s sauna.

Laughing, PP watches in concern. Back pain is nothing to mess around with. She knows this from Owen Hill’s odious back ailment. She’ll never forget the time they brought the cat to the vet and Owen was in so much back pain that he just had to lie down on the cold linoleum of the waiting room floor and writhe and cry.



That was a bad day.

This day, though No More Orange Crate Woman seems to be in pain, she was in the pool earlier with the Rusty Hinges, so she could move. The water’s restorative powers doing their magic.

“I was visiting my sister in law, she lives in Merced and she was loading crates of oranges into the truck and I just lifted one and handed it to her, and yup, there goes my back.” She sighs. “This happens every 3 years or so. I just have to be careful.”


Nodding, PP offers, “Yeah, I know what you mean. We reach a certain age and then we really have to watch what we do. Things that we used to do even a few years ago……well…we just can’t anymore."

Somehow this discussion is appropriate today since it’s her birthday. The general decrepitude of middle age, while on the one hand is slow, is, on the other hand, lightning fast. It seems like only a few years ago that she could swim 50 yards in less than a minute. Now, even with her fins, if she makes it with 5 seconds to spare, she’s doing good.

She doesn’t tell Orange Crate Woman all of this though. Just nods and offers a sympathetic response: “Like with my swimming, I have to use the fins a lot cuz of my neck pain.”

OCW grunts as she shifts her heft. “I did this once.... let’s see....it was when I was 40 that was 25 years ago? (PP marvels at this tidbit—she’s 65?! Wow! She doesn’t look that old. How old does she look? Like 45? It’s so weird. Age. Appearance. Body Aches and pains and limitations.)

“So, I was due for another bout of it.” She laughs, ruefully. “It’s been 3 weeks. I just have to take it easy. It’ll heal. I haven’t been to my chiropractor. Though he would say to just lay down on the floor with a towel rolled up under your head.” She rolls her towel to show PP. Then chuckles. “He said if he told all his patients this trick he’d be outta business.”




“But he told you,” PP smiles.
“Yeah, he did. So I just gotta remember to follow-up and do it. But I tell you, I’m never gonna look at oranges the same way again.
“That makes perfect sense,” PP agrees, thinking how at least she has a reason for her back pain. An Orange Reason no less.

Getting up, PP feels a bit woozy as she always does when she sits too long in the sauna (something she tends to do when chatting with someone to gather a story).

“May you heal quickly,” she calls out to Anti Orange Woman before shutting the door.
“Oh, my!” the tone of her voice is genuinely touched. “Thank you!”