Showing posts from January, 2009

Capoeira & Heels

“I took a Capoeira class last night and today I can barely move,” Beauteous M grimaces a smile as she climbs out of the pool, and begins limping toward the locker room.

“Good for you,” PP nods, as she follows Beauteous M, noting how the muscle limp somehow makes her even sexier.

“Yeah, in theory, but tonight I’m not so sure.” Beauteous M laughs as she holds the door open for PP. “I just want to try everything while I can.”

And here it is again, PP thinks, Beauteous M’s zest for life. How is it that some people just have boundless energy and can explore everything and anything while PP has zero energy and it’s all she can do to get to the pool and swim her laps? Are such people born with this energy? Or is it something that they acquire through hard work and practice?

Or is it just all a ruse? Such people don’t really have anymore energy than PP; they just talk about what they do more than she does?

Now PP is trying to remember how the subject of High Heels came up while she was walkin…

Emily in Utopia?

“Excuse me, Ma’am? Are you Emily Dickinson?”

A tired smile escapes PP as she settles into the top heated corner of Utopia. Did she just hear that right? Did Diabetes Woman’s Sidekick (DW is nowhere in sight) just ask her if she were Emily Dickinson?

Were there little Flowers, Bees, and Butterflies escaping from around PP, surrounding her Aura? What was it about PP tonight that would make anyone, least of all DWS, think she was the most esteemed and beloved American Poet?

Grinning, PP just shakes her head, and then asks DWS to repeat her question. She just couldn’t have heard her right. Right? “I’m sorry,” PP smiles, “But what did you say?”

“Are you Emily Dickinson?” DWS is serious as she stares at PP. Why is PP giving her such a hard time? Here she is, trying to start a friendly conversation in Utopia by trying to find out her correct name, and all this woman can do is ask her to repeat herself?


But now, there was no mistaking it. PP had heard correctly. DWS had asked if she were Em…

A Kiss & A Coronation

“Excuse me?” Cute, Pert Lifeguard (not the usual scab pickers) stops PP at the end of the lane as she was turning around. “I just wanna let you know,” CPL smiles so sweetly, apologetic, “that I’m gonna have to close this lane in a few minutes. So I’m gonna have to ask you to move.”

PP glares up at her through the foggy mask, glancing around at the relatively quiet pool now that the goddamn swim lessons are over. Paddle Man is hogging the lane to her right; Slow Moving Asian Woman and Brisk Woman are sharing the lane to her left. She can’t see beyond these two lanes cuz of the fog mask factor, but thinks, whatever, as long as I don’t have to share a lane with Paddle Man.

She doesn’t say this of course to Apologetic Sweetness Lifeguard, but just shrugs and says, “When do you need the lane?”
“In about 5 or 10 minutes.”
“Okay, I’m only gonna swim for another 10 minutes anyway, so just let me know,” and she takes off down the lane thinking how this must be what DHBF was talking about yesterda…

I Have a Dream....for the Pool!

Martin Luther King day at the pool. But did freedom reign? Well, in a manner of speaking.

Did peace and goodwill and equality for all prevail?

Hell no.

There was a CRASH. And of course, there are two sides to every crash. Literally and figuratively. Literally, Flailing Chinese Woman climbed into Powerful Swimmer Woman’s lane without telling her. Figuratively, the Culture Crash was something that could have been avoided if only Someone had been paying attention.

So. FCW began her flailing spastic backstroke down the center of the lane as usual. But watch out! Here comes PSW, careening down the center of the lane (because naturally, since FCW didn’t inform her that she was joining the lane, she was swimming down the center). Her backstroke was strong. Her powerful arms churning through the water. Her eyes on the ceiling, not ahead of her where lo and behold, here comes FCW and KAAABOOM!!!!

Heads collide. The lifeguard gets up off his ass and starts blowing his whistle way too late. Much lang…

6 days.....

“6 days….” She sighs, smiling mysteriously, settling into the bubbly warmth of the hot tub. PP smiles back at her. 6 days? What the hell is she talking about? She’s been able to do her workout here at the Y 6 days in a row? Or it’s 6 days till her birthday? Or 6 days is the magical number for when the world changes?

And yes, this is precisely it when PP questions her, “6 days till what?” she asks.
“6 more days till the Inauguration.”

”Ah….” Of course. Duh. PP shoulda known this, esp. as she sees now that it’s Pantie Pundit she’s talking to, with her gaped teeth and bright eyes. Readers may remember how Pantie Pundit had held court a few months back about Obama and his father. How they’d only met once when Barack was 10 and how this had been such a pivotal influence upon him.

So tonight, with the 6 days pronouncement echoing in the air, PP nods in agreement. The Inauguration. Yes, everything will change, right? Right? Right?

PP is dubious. But this is her innate pessimism shinning through.…

Damn that Oprah!

Thanks to her genius colleague, Agent J, PP has finally figured out why the YMCA is so goddamned crowded.


She had her stupid 'Bestlife' series last week, and encouraged everyone who's fallen offa the Diet Wagon to get back on--of course this entails getting back into the Gym Wagon too.

Which has obviously spilled over into the pool!

Damn that Oprah!

Just eat another chicken and shut up already!

So, PP can get back to swimming in peace!

Without any Oprah Bestlifers to contend with.



“Hey!” Paddle Man spits, “He’s got a Band-aid on!” He points at Hemophiliac Swimmer’s big toe, wrapped tightly in a gross skin colored Band-aid. “He’s not supposed to be wearing a Band-Aid in the pool!” PM hisses and postures, his sad wide pink torso heaving in indignation.

PP starts to giggle as she watches HS completely ignore PM and jump belly flop into the pool and start swimming. PM’s indignation rises. The nerve! Doesn’t he know that Band-Aids aren’t allowed in the pool? Who the hell does he think he is?

PM tries again, wailing at the group of 3 lifeguards who’ve all been standing around at the side of the pool, chatting amiably with HS as he waits for a lane, “Did you see that?” PM’s ire rises as he waves at the disappearing band-aided swimmer, “HE jumped in the pool with a Band-Aid on! Aren’t you gonna do anything?”

One of the lifeguards starts to laugh and then waves at PM dismissively. “Oh, that’s Boyd, he’s okay. He can do what he wants.”

“But...but....he has a Band-Aid on..…

La La Laaa, Sanctuary!

“La, La, Laaa!” the handsome middle-aged Asian clerk sings at me as I walk into the lobby of the Oakland YMCA. I’m cranky, but can’t help but let a grin slip out. “Sanctuary!” he calls out as he swipes my card and motions for me to head on into the Y. “Enjoy your swim!”

As I grab a couple of towels and head down the stairs, I shake my head. Sanctuary? Okay, yes, sometimes I do believe this. That the YMCA is the only sanctuary I can find in my hectic and frustrating existence here in the Bay Area, esp. when I partake of Utopia with DL. This can be paradise. But today?

No way is the Y anywhere near a sanctuary. It’s all those New Years Resolvers. Crowding into the locker room. Into the pool. Into my psyche.
And frankly, this is no sanctuary.

Unlike the sanctuary-blessed Magdalena Ecke YMCA in Encinitas. Now here is Sanctuary. A Free Parking Lot! A locker room that’s uncrowded and clean. A big beautiful new pool that is sunlit and turquoisy even though it’s indoors. (The sunlight shines thr…

Odiously Ill

A most foggy brain & obnoxious cough, alas, will delay PP's next So Cal stories about the World's Weirdest Motel:

and the Magdelena Ecke Fab YMCA Pool in beauteous Encinitas.....

Hopefully, she'll be well enough to complain and rave about both by tomorrow!

Till then, drink some echenacia tea and down some sudafed for her!

The World's Safest Beach

“Look!” DHBF points and exclaims. “A shark!”

PP cracks up. Of course it can’t possibly be a shark. After all, they’re on the World’s Safest Beach: Carpenteria. And as she gazes out toward where he’s pointing, the water safely smooth and pinkie purple in the setting sun dusk, she does spy the fin too.

“Do you see it?” he asks, anxiously.
“That’s not a shark!” PP giggles. “It’s a Dolphin!” Delighted she treads closer to the water’s edge to get a closer view of the dark fin atop the sleek gray body that dives and surfaces, like a rainbow, up and down. No one swims like a dolphin!

“Look! There’s another!” DHBF hurries down the sand, pointing excitedly. And sure enough, there is. One. Two. Three. All headed toward Santa Barbara for an evening’s swim in the quickly darkening sea. It’s Dolphin cocktail hour up at the Blue Fin Inn.

Sighing, PP grins. Dolphins. She can’t remember the last time she saw these best of swimmers! Maybe that time in Encinitas when she and her sister were sitting up on t…