It's the Thought That Counts

“It’s the thought that counts,” Floating Botticelli Tub woman pronounces.
She wasn’t really even on my radar. I’d been whining to DL about how I can’t seem to keep my hair dry no matter what I do. It’s wet from the pool. I wrap it in a towel in the hot tub to keep it from getting even more wet. But it’s a losing battle. So why do I even bother? And this is when Botticelli Woman made her pronouncement.

It was kinda a weird thing to say. I mean, don’t you usually use this cliché when you forget to buy someone a birthday present? Or give someone a crummy Christmas gift? What did it have to do with keeping my hair dry?

Like if I thought about keeping it dry that would count for something? How so?
But we all laughed anyway. I and DL and BW and beatific smiling head out of water woman. She smiled at this comment and then she just kept smiling. I guess she was just really happy to be in the hot tub. And who wouldn’t?

I know I was. After the pool, which for the second week in a row was empty! I only shared my lane for two laps with pepto bismal pink capped woman. Then a lane opened up for her and she zoomed over there.
What was up with the Calm Pool? I dunno, but as Handsome Walking Man said to me last week, “Enjoy it while you can!”

And I do!

“I hear they’re gonna close the Y in Berkeley and Oakland on Sunday cuz of the protests,” Botticelli Woman continues. She’s got a lot to say. And for a moment, I think what protests is she talking about? I mean, I just got out of the pool, I’m floating in warm embracing water, do I really want to hear about some goddamn protests that are gonna be so fraught that they’ll have to close the Y?

And then I remember that there’s some sort of Neo-Nazi demonstrations going on in Berkeley. And so these protests will be the Bay Areaites protesting these despicables. Sorry, but that’s just my opinion. I mean, what the hell? Are we back in pre-Nazi Germany, circa 1939? I guess so. This was my fear when Trump was elected and now lookit.....I was, unfortunately, right.
Damn!

All I can say is that I hope no one gets hurt. I mean, I think the Neo-Nazi’s are despicable but I still don’t think violence is the answer.
I don’t know what the answer is, except to keep swimming. But that only works for me, I know. Though I wonder, if we got all of those NNs into the pool, or no, how about a very cold ocean? and let them swim around with the fishes, maybe they’d calm down?
Or the fishes would eat them.

Whoops. I said no violence.

Oh, it’s the thought that counts. And in this case, maybe mass thought against these horrid NNs will count for something. You know crowd psychology and all?

We shall see this weekend what transpires. In the meantime, I’ll swim in the calm pool, and enjoy it while I can.

The Things People Tell Me in the Pool....

"You move through the water like a hot knife through butter!"

"Wow! Thanks," I beam, resting at the wall for a moment, thinking how I have a poetess in my fan club.

"You’re real in tune with the water," she continues, nodding emphatically as she grips her blue and green striped noodle.

"Yes, well, it is the place where I feel the best."
"It shows," she nods, floating off.

As I turn to start another lap, I think about appearances. I mean, I felt horrible today before I got in the pool. I hadn't had any sleep. I'd had to resort to a Unisom at 4:30 am to help. Consequently, I was swimming with both sleep deprivation and drug hangover.

I didn't feel like I was moving through the water like a hot knife through butter. No, more like a spiky porcupine moving through molasses.

Yet, others can't tell. And this Poetess, cuz I'm convinced she is, couldn't tell that I was actually feeling quite sluggish and prickly.

How could this be? How could someone think that I was moving through the pool so effortlessly?
Appearances. No one can know how you're feeling inside. All they can know is what they see. If I'd actually talked to her longer, I may have told her how awful I really felt. But now, after her comment, did I feel so awful anymore?
Hell no!
And as I took off down the lane, I felt myself buoyed up by the water's warm embrace. Slipping through the water in poetic floating.

I really am a hot knife through butter.

***
“I just love watching you swim,” Blue Suited Square Woman shakes her head, little drops falling from her short grey locks. “You’re just beautiful. It looks so effortless.”

“Yes, well... thanks,” I nod, thinking about the hot knife through butter comment of a few days before. Is there something up with my swimming lately that I’m not feeling? But I don't tell her this.

“I often don’t feel like it’s effortless, you know? But I musta had some good instruction when I was little. I’ve been swimming all my life.”

She grins, “Yeah, well it shows. The rest of us are all just flailing spastically about.”

I chuckle, “Oh, it doesn’t matter! As long as you’re in the water. That’s what counts!”
“You’re right about that!” she agrees, heaving herself out of the pool and lumbering over to retrieve her towel and roller case.

***
“You can have this lane,” I offer the round polar bear furred little man as I stretch at the side. “I’m getttin out.”

“Oh, well….” he smiles, nervous and appreciative, “thank you kindly.”

He plops into my lane, the fine white fuzz on his back speckling drops of water. I have a feeling of slight ickiness in the pit of my stomach, but why? I mean, people have fur on their backs, esp. men, yet there’s something strange about him since his ‘fur’ is so white.

Maybe he was a polar bear come to Hilltopia disguised as a swimmer?

“The last time I was here,” he leans toward me, conspiratorially, “I jumped into the pool and swam half a lap and then stopped because the swimmer I was sharing a lane with was waving me down, his face was all contorted and I wondered, what was wrong with him? And then I looked down and I had forgotten to put my swim trunks on!”

He chuckles heartily. I stare at him, speechless, so glad that this didn’t happen to me. I wondered if he had jumped in the pool in his underwear or was he completely naked or….

Damn, I don’t want to think about this image, you know?

The things people say to me in the pool!

I’d much rather imagine a hot knife through butter than a former polar bear man naked.

I watch him as he begins his flail down the lane. Square Woman is right. Everyone does flail in the pool.
But like I said, that doesn’t matter. As long as I am not sharing a lane with them that is!