Showing posts from January, 2008

Some Things Just Can't Be Explained

12 days without swimming? No. It’s just not possible. PP knew this as soon as the Kaiser dermatologist uttered this ghastly prohibition for any seriously addicted swimmer.

(Coincidentally, PP had had a dialogue about Addiction, specifically smoking, with a very distressed post swimmer in the Sauna Utopia on Saturday. Not ever having smoked, PP couldn't really empathize till she came up with the idea of swimming! 'Yeah, it must be hard to give up cigarettes,' PP had sympathised. 'I get it. It would be like if I had to give up Swimming!' Addict Swimmer had laughed at this. Somehow, once again, swimming had brought two unlikely people to a shared understanding.)

So, when the doc mentioned giving up swimming for 12 days; well! PP nearly stopped breathing.

Shaking her head sympathetically, the doctor began to explain the 'procedure'. If she did a biopsy on one of the goddamn bumps on her butt, then she’d hafta stitch it up, it’d hafta be kept clean (not a nice tho…

Beautiful Stroke

“That stroke of yours has it all!” Hemophiliac Swimmer stops PP at the lane line, leaning over with a toothy grin. She tries not to stare or think about the small round band-aid in the middle of his forehead. “….it’s got a Rhythm…..” He pauses, pondering….. “….and a nice strong kick to it too…..” HS shakes his head in unabashed admiration. “Beautiful!” he exclaims as PP reaches for her fins, thinking how at least something in her life is ‘beautiful’ cause it sure as hell hasn’t been too beautiful lately. What with the goddamn staph infection (Yes, hot tubs may cure constipations but they also may be the bubbly culprit of swimming germs that invade your skin and start to grow ….okay, PP will stop there. The details are just too ugly. Both figuratively and literally.)

So, after avoiding the pool and hot tub for two days on Dr. Do Do’s orders (Kaiser’s version of hell. Give the patient lots of antibiotics. Make the patient super sick. Tell the patient that more antibiotics are the only cu…

The ONE Line! (Question for PP in YMCA Hot Tub)

"Do you think these hot tubs are good for Constipations?"

Serial Pooling

“Oh! I am sooo sorry!” the Lovely I laments as she dunks her head under the hot shower. “I totally got the time wrong!” Her voice plaintive, face genuinely woeful.

PP laughs as she messes around with the shower temp. Really it’s ok, she tells the Lovely I. She messed up with the time, too, here the first Sunday back at Mills. Schedule still on the stupid break--closing at 2:45 instead of the usual 3:45. What? Like they think this is a college or something? No students so no pool?

How stupid is that?

But really, PP did get a workout in, she tells the Lovely I—probably about a mile.
600 yards: warm up
700 yards: kick (cheating long fins cuz PP was feeling super lazy and pressed for time)
400 yards: pull
250 yards: regular swimming (though the last planned 50 yards interrupted by lifeguard)

So, this still makes for what? 1750 yards—why, a mile exactly! This is plenty of exercise even though it’s not PP’s usual 2200 yards.

But yet.... she could still go to the Y now after Mills.

She joking…

A Failure at One Line, but.....

Tonight, what with a nasty itch left over from the antibiotics and the humping homos upstairs, PP finds herself in a profoundly cranky mood, making it difficult to summon up the delight she had at the Y last night in the pool by herself, and in the Hot Tub/Sauna (aka Utopia) with DL. Maybe if she keeps writing it’ll come back to her?

OK, PP keep writing. Actually she even made some notes this morning after her shower (cause everyone knows this is where the best creative thinking happens—other than the pool, of course), so, start with these. She was gonna try to do the ‘one line’ blog like Joe from Canada, but she’s way too meandering, tired and sour. But Hell, one never knows where the writing will lead.

The notes, PP, the notes:

“My Tile Guy could fix it like That.” –Confident Hot Tub Woman snaps her fingers after she and DL watch Spastic Chinese Girl slip on broken, decrepit tiles surrounding the tub and fall splashing into the bubbly water behind a completely oblivious PP jabbering …

Hot Tub Mama Rules?

For the New Year….

What about this idea? We’ll see how long it lasts, but….what if PP tried to write a blog about swimming (or some peripheral connection to swimming) whenever she swims? Is that realistic she wonders? It could often just be a little blog, like Joe’s from Canada. His yesterday was just a line about how he was havin' a hard time getting back into swimming after the holidays. And he got LOTS of sympathetic and hearty comments about how tough this is.

Those swimmers! They’re a supportive bunch!

So, PP doesn’t think she can write just one line. Though this is an interesting and challenging idea, but she does think she could try to write a paragraph or two.

Like, why does Hot Tub Mama think she owns the locker room? I mean! PP soaks her suit in one of the sinks (there’s two in the hot tub room and then another 3 or 4 in the room next door) for like 2 minutes while she goes to the bathroom and when she comes out, HTM has taken PP’s suit out and tossed it in a wet ball on t…

DHBF Tests the Y Waters

What the hell is up with all the goddamn rain? PP knows that it’s January. It’s the rainy season. That we ‘need’ the rain.(Yes, even she must admit that without rain, there'd be no swimming pools!) But hell. It means that she’s gotta either hang her wet laundry all over the apt. and wait days for it to dry. Or take it to the scary laundry mat on Claremont and Colby.

Where the hell did that laundry mat come from? It’s outta a 3rd world country. PP had no idea that such a place existed in Tony Rockridge. Several dryers marked 'OUT OF ORDER' in bright pink felt pen. Football game blaring on the highest volume possible as a bored African American Gent stares at it completely unengaged. Two moms, also African American, are sorting through 3 tons of laundry. Several carts are loaded with baby clothes, sheets, towels, pants, shirts, and sweats—-PP wonders why only African Americans are in the laundry mat.

Whatever the reason, they all seem really Cranky too!

And she is Cranky Cran…