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Showing posts from June, 2014

Grizzly Guy, Hunky Firemen, Pregnant Swimmer: Oh My!

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“What’s up with That Guy?” Penelope nods toward the wiry grimacing little man on the torture machine. He’s making strange grunting guy noises with a face that wrinkles up in agony. His intense powder blue eyes watering at the sides. His strange little body is clad in giant workman boots, blue jeans, big belt and black slinky top over a slight pot belly. For a moment, Penelope was worried that the black slinky top was a body suit for the pool.

Shit. What if Grunting Creepy Man was a swimmer? What if she had to share a lane with him?
She wouldn’t. She’d run back up to the treadmills and walk with DL and watch So You Think You Can Dance rather than share a lane with him.
DL gives him one of her Sicilian Glance Overs. “It’s a Guy Thing.”

He grunts on the machine right next to the one that Penelope wants to do next. But she can’t. His Creepiness exudes into the air with Stay Away from me Vibes.

DL starts on another machine and Penelope follows her, still eyeing him. DL glances over at h…

Daddy Magic

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“Hey, Carol, you wanna go for a ride?”

I was getting nowhere fast with Chopin’s Waltz in C# minor. A ride with my father sounded perfect. “Sure, where to?”
“Oh, I thought we could drive down the coast to Dana Point.”
“Bob, don’t forget that you were going to go to the store,” my mom called out.
“Sure, Ruthie, don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten.”

He stood in the doorway, grinning at me as I closed the sheet music and grabbed my sweater. “Can we get some little Hershey Bars and Dreyer’s Vanilla?” I whispered, conspiratorially.

“I heard that!” Ruthie called out.

Giggling, I followed him out to the drive, letting the door slam behind me.

He often took me to Dana Point in those days. Of course, now, I can’t remember exactly when those days were, but they must have been when we were living in Irvine and driving down to Dana Point was a fairly easy trip. We’d sit on the cliff overlooking the sea and he’d tell me all about the rocks. How there were certain layers of rock that he, as a geologist…

Trophy

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“This may be completely inappropriate, but why don’t they have some sort of signage requiring that the little ones wear diapers in the pool?”
DL and P chuckle. A pronouncement has been made by the Mayor of Oakland. Even though it sounds like a suggestion.

That’s a good question,” P grins, stretching out on the top shelf of Utopia, wriggling her toes.

“I mean, they don’t know any better.” Sandy sighs loudly as she douses herself with a hefty splash of water. “I take my niece and nephew to the pool. I ask, them, ‘Do you have to use the restroom?’ No, Auntie, we don’t have to go.’ And then sure enough, my nephew lays one on.” Sandy shakes her head, “It’s like he left a Trophy in there!”

They all crack up: P and DL and the random supine woman who’d been resting, quietly heaterized till this point.
“Well, you know what I mean,” Sandy glances around at them all.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” P answers. “It’s just that that was a really funny way to describe it.”
“And while we’re at it, when my…