No wonder PP is exhausted as she sits at the computer, 11:15 p.m.—after all it has been a two pool day. One for the Lovely I’s Water Therapy at the Big Blue Albany Pool; the other for PP’s own Water Therapy at the Oakland Y.
Therapy is hard work!
Yet, after hers, the Lovely I was still able to recite The Canterbury Tale’s Preamble in Middle English on the car ride home; and PP is still able to file her state income taxes on efile. What a nightmare. No pool at the IRS. Damn! A pool would really help. Then you could just put all those damn forms on their own little individual kickboards and float them out to their appropriately numbered section. The W-2 could head to the deep end. The 1099 for the little skimmer drain at the opposite end.
It’d be a very floaty way to do your taxes.
PP thinks she’ll suggest this to the IRS for next year.
In the meantime, remembering the day, PP’s swimming again at the Y in her own lane and thinking of how to tie together her two pool day. Glances over at the red faced rollypolly white gent with the bulbous nose clinging to a kickboard with a gigantic grin on his face and it hits her.
Pools are Bliss. She sees it with Bulbous Nose Man. She saw it with the Lovely I walking up and down the Albany Pool chatting happily to the Asian Stroke Guy who lost his fiancé over the Black Panthers. She sees it with the tiredly happy Mole Man making his way slowly slowly slowly up and down the ‘walk and stalk lane’ (no it’s not really called that) at the Y, his quiet smile belying the slowness of his water walk. She sees it with the Intense Bird Woman, entirely and completely in the Moment at the Lovely I’s water therapy, her determination to finish her workout with her overwhelmingly yellow equipment the only thing on her mind.
Yes. Pools are the answer to all for just a little while.
And so PP says goodnight to them all.
Good Night Mole Man.
Good Night Asian Stroke Guy.
Good Night Bulbous Nose Man.
Good Night Intense Bird Woman.
Good Night Lovely I.
But mostly, Good Night beautiful Pools from Albany to Oakland to Dalian to Amsterdam to Montreal to Arcata!
And may thee wander happly in the bluey aqua marine ferevereveer more!
Monday, April 16, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Pretty Good for a Man with One Leg!
PP loves Sundays at the Y!
Y?
CAUSE THE METERS ARE FREE!!!
No scrounging for quarters. No worry that she’s lounging about in the Hot Tub too long and gonna get a ticket. No wishing she lived in the Suburbs where they have that unheard of luxury—a parking lot!
Nope. On Sundays. It’s free for all. Plus no one seems to be around much on Sundays. The construction workers are taking the day off. The office workers are watchin football on their wide screen TV’s. Or is it baseball now? The obnoxious screaming kids are home torturing their siblings.
So, on Sundays, PP feels a certain lightness from worry about the whole cranky parking sitch at the Y. Today, she pulls into a nice sunny metered spot on 23rd and sighs happily, preparing to brave whatever chaos may await her in the pool. Spies a Disorganized Giant White Guy with his gym bag splayed haphazardly on the asphalt outside his beat up Volvo two cars behind her and then a Jockey Looking Blonde Woman across the street, neatly throwing her big bag over her shoulders.
They all converge up Broadway at the same time, hitting a mighty wind tunnel.
“What’s up with all the Wind?” DGWG jokes.
JLBW makes some rejoinder but PP can’t really make it out cuz of the wind.
“…..guess it isn’t really a good idea for a White Guy to say that round here.”
Damn, PP thinks. What the hell did she miss now? Sounded like something politically incorrect. A favorite of hers.
“You a Tango Dancer?” he asks JLBW, who smiles, unsure, shakes her head. “Uh…no.”
He chuckles, then turns to PP, “You a Tango Dancer?”
“Hell, no.” PP laughs.
“It must keep you in pretty good shape,” JLBW tries. PP glances across him at her. Maybe she likes him? Though he doesn’t seem like a match for her. DGWG is lumbering between them, his ungainly pasty legs slowing to match the two women’s gait.
“Yeah, maybe,” he answers her, “It’s just my Obsession right now.”
Both women laugh uneasily. “Plus it’s really a good way to find a relationship.” He guffaws heartily as he speeds up to bounce pass them, climbing the stairs to the gym. Not waiting for a response to this line.
PP and JLBW make their way up the stairs together. PP looks at her sideways. “Haven’t heard that line before.”
“No,” JLBW laughs.
“Maybe he thought since he was surrounded by blondes he had a better chance.”
She looks at PP in perplexity, then shrugs, holding open the door for them to present their ID’s to the overly friendly clerk, (Did he get some this morn, PP wonders), collect their towels and head down the stairs away from the Tango Studio (Does the Y have even have a Tango Studio?) and into the Women’s Locker room.
“You’re not finished already, are you?” PP asks as she dips her toes into the cool gray water after watchin Pudgy African American Rolling Swimmer make his way slowly down the lane toward her.
He turns round, his goggles perched on top his curly grey hair. “10 laps!” he announces, “Pretty good for a Man with One Leg.”
PP nods, astonished. So that’s why he was rolling so strangely in the water. Only one leg to kick with. Though PP doubts that he’d be much of a swimmer even with another leg.
“Wow!” she exclaims, beaming at him as he heads toward the stairs and his awaiting wheelchair. “10 laps! That’s fantastic!”
He nods, dignified and tired. “Yeah it is. You have a good day now.”
“Thanks, you too,” she returns before diving into the now empty lane and zipping to the other end, her two legs kicking mightily as she revels in their working.
“You are a very good swimmer!”
“Thanks,” PP smiles as she sinks thankfully into the hot tub’s warm embrace. She’d seen Swimming Compliment Woman in the lane next to her, arguing with a Gold Chain Guy about some feminist issue. PP couldn’t quite make it out between her earplugs and being underwater most of the time, but she’d hear SCW nod and point, then exclaim, “WOMEN HAVE A DIFFERENT BIOLOGICAL CLOCK THAN MEN! Then GCG would shake his head, laugh, point his finger at her, “Now you got me going. I’m gonna prove my point. I got two granddaughters. Both more aggressive at 14 and 16 than the guys.”
A couple more laps and PP would catch another snippet. “More men are joining the Nursing Profession every day,” SCW was asserting seriously.Was GCG a nurse?
PP didn’t think so, but hell appearances can be deceiving, esp. when you’re wet.
So, when SCW pronounced to the air in the locker room PP’s Beauty Swimming, PP wasn’t really surprised since she’d been in the lane next to her and had noticed her too, though admittedly not for her swimming. More for her animation, large blue flowered suit and fake red curls cut short round her pale face.
“I’m from Minnesota,” SCW continues. “Land of 10, 0000 lakes.”
PP nods as she tries to figure out a way to dunk under the hot water without appearing rude. “So, I learned how to swim when I was a girl. We had swimming in Jr. High and High School. Were you on a swim team?”
PP nods after quickly dunking under. “Yeah, I used to be on a swim team, but not anymore.”
“I was never on a swim team, but we all learned to swim. Minnesota! Land of 10,000 lakes. But the snow! It'd be snowing on Halloween. We’d go out trick or treating in our galoshes. That’s what we called them. And then come Easter, we’d be out hunting for eggs in our skis.”
PP nods. Sounded like hell to her.
“My friends, who still live there, they have snow sculpting in their garages and cross country skiing round the neighborhood. They Embrace the Snow.”
SCW shakes her head, “I never got that.”
“No, me neither,” PP agrees as she sinks down into the warm soft water, thankful that it never or rarely snows in Oakland, and NEVER snows in the pool at the YMCA!
Outside on the Broadway Wind Tunnel sidewalk, PP saunters back toward her no ticket guaranteed Geo. Passes a quiet round African American Man waiting patiently in a wheel chair. Notices he has only one leg. Smiling, she pauses, “See you in the Pool next time,” she calls out to him. He stares at her perplexed. Of course doesn’t recognize her dry and non-pink suited. Or maybe he doesn’t recognize her at all? PP falters a bit. Should she not have said anything? Shrugging, she tries again, “Maybe next time you can do more than 10 laps!”
Now a sudden glimmer of recognition passes over his fine features, and he smiles and nods, “You have a good day now,” he says softly as PP turns and heads up Broadway, the lazy afternoon sun and her two good legs suddenly lifting her mood out of the snow, and into the windy blue skies of Downtown Oakland.
Y?
CAUSE THE METERS ARE FREE!!!
No scrounging for quarters. No worry that she’s lounging about in the Hot Tub too long and gonna get a ticket. No wishing she lived in the Suburbs where they have that unheard of luxury—a parking lot!
Nope. On Sundays. It’s free for all. Plus no one seems to be around much on Sundays. The construction workers are taking the day off. The office workers are watchin football on their wide screen TV’s. Or is it baseball now? The obnoxious screaming kids are home torturing their siblings.
So, on Sundays, PP feels a certain lightness from worry about the whole cranky parking sitch at the Y. Today, she pulls into a nice sunny metered spot on 23rd and sighs happily, preparing to brave whatever chaos may await her in the pool. Spies a Disorganized Giant White Guy with his gym bag splayed haphazardly on the asphalt outside his beat up Volvo two cars behind her and then a Jockey Looking Blonde Woman across the street, neatly throwing her big bag over her shoulders.
They all converge up Broadway at the same time, hitting a mighty wind tunnel.
“What’s up with all the Wind?” DGWG jokes.
JLBW makes some rejoinder but PP can’t really make it out cuz of the wind.
“…..guess it isn’t really a good idea for a White Guy to say that round here.”
Damn, PP thinks. What the hell did she miss now? Sounded like something politically incorrect. A favorite of hers.
“You a Tango Dancer?” he asks JLBW, who smiles, unsure, shakes her head. “Uh…no.”
He chuckles, then turns to PP, “You a Tango Dancer?”
“Hell, no.” PP laughs.
“It must keep you in pretty good shape,” JLBW tries. PP glances across him at her. Maybe she likes him? Though he doesn’t seem like a match for her. DGWG is lumbering between them, his ungainly pasty legs slowing to match the two women’s gait.
“Yeah, maybe,” he answers her, “It’s just my Obsession right now.”
Both women laugh uneasily. “Plus it’s really a good way to find a relationship.” He guffaws heartily as he speeds up to bounce pass them, climbing the stairs to the gym. Not waiting for a response to this line.
PP and JLBW make their way up the stairs together. PP looks at her sideways. “Haven’t heard that line before.”
“No,” JLBW laughs.
“Maybe he thought since he was surrounded by blondes he had a better chance.”
She looks at PP in perplexity, then shrugs, holding open the door for them to present their ID’s to the overly friendly clerk, (Did he get some this morn, PP wonders), collect their towels and head down the stairs away from the Tango Studio (Does the Y have even have a Tango Studio?) and into the Women’s Locker room.
“You’re not finished already, are you?” PP asks as she dips her toes into the cool gray water after watchin Pudgy African American Rolling Swimmer make his way slowly down the lane toward her.
He turns round, his goggles perched on top his curly grey hair. “10 laps!” he announces, “Pretty good for a Man with One Leg.”
PP nods, astonished. So that’s why he was rolling so strangely in the water. Only one leg to kick with. Though PP doubts that he’d be much of a swimmer even with another leg.
“Wow!” she exclaims, beaming at him as he heads toward the stairs and his awaiting wheelchair. “10 laps! That’s fantastic!”
He nods, dignified and tired. “Yeah it is. You have a good day now.”
“Thanks, you too,” she returns before diving into the now empty lane and zipping to the other end, her two legs kicking mightily as she revels in their working.
“You are a very good swimmer!”
“Thanks,” PP smiles as she sinks thankfully into the hot tub’s warm embrace. She’d seen Swimming Compliment Woman in the lane next to her, arguing with a Gold Chain Guy about some feminist issue. PP couldn’t quite make it out between her earplugs and being underwater most of the time, but she’d hear SCW nod and point, then exclaim, “WOMEN HAVE A DIFFERENT BIOLOGICAL CLOCK THAN MEN! Then GCG would shake his head, laugh, point his finger at her, “Now you got me going. I’m gonna prove my point. I got two granddaughters. Both more aggressive at 14 and 16 than the guys.”
A couple more laps and PP would catch another snippet. “More men are joining the Nursing Profession every day,” SCW was asserting seriously.Was GCG a nurse?
PP didn’t think so, but hell appearances can be deceiving, esp. when you’re wet.
So, when SCW pronounced to the air in the locker room PP’s Beauty Swimming, PP wasn’t really surprised since she’d been in the lane next to her and had noticed her too, though admittedly not for her swimming. More for her animation, large blue flowered suit and fake red curls cut short round her pale face.
“I’m from Minnesota,” SCW continues. “Land of 10, 0000 lakes.”
PP nods as she tries to figure out a way to dunk under the hot water without appearing rude. “So, I learned how to swim when I was a girl. We had swimming in Jr. High and High School. Were you on a swim team?”
PP nods after quickly dunking under. “Yeah, I used to be on a swim team, but not anymore.”
“I was never on a swim team, but we all learned to swim. Minnesota! Land of 10,000 lakes. But the snow! It'd be snowing on Halloween. We’d go out trick or treating in our galoshes. That’s what we called them. And then come Easter, we’d be out hunting for eggs in our skis.”
PP nods. Sounded like hell to her.
“My friends, who still live there, they have snow sculpting in their garages and cross country skiing round the neighborhood. They Embrace the Snow.”
SCW shakes her head, “I never got that.”
“No, me neither,” PP agrees as she sinks down into the warm soft water, thankful that it never or rarely snows in Oakland, and NEVER snows in the pool at the YMCA!
Outside on the Broadway Wind Tunnel sidewalk, PP saunters back toward her no ticket guaranteed Geo. Passes a quiet round African American Man waiting patiently in a wheel chair. Notices he has only one leg. Smiling, she pauses, “See you in the Pool next time,” she calls out to him. He stares at her perplexed. Of course doesn’t recognize her dry and non-pink suited. Or maybe he doesn’t recognize her at all? PP falters a bit. Should she not have said anything? Shrugging, she tries again, “Maybe next time you can do more than 10 laps!”
Now a sudden glimmer of recognition passes over his fine features, and he smiles and nods, “You have a good day now,” he says softly as PP turns and heads up Broadway, the lazy afternoon sun and her two good legs suddenly lifting her mood out of the snow, and into the windy blue skies of Downtown Oakland.
Monday, April 09, 2007
SO SEXY SAFE....
Post mammogram, PP heads out to the pool, relief following her clean bill of health spilling over into the chlorinated air of the YMCA. Surveys the scene.
Swimming chaos.
3–4 swimmers per lane. And at the Y, this means trouble. Harried Lifeguard catches her as she steps onto the deck, brow furrowed through her tired smile. “Hi, what speed are you?”
PP glances at the lanes. No one’s goin at too brisk a clip. So she shrugs; gives the standard swimmer noncommittal answer, “Medium, I guess.”
“Cool,” HL answers, nodding officially. “He,” she points to a Confused African American Gent, “is a medium too, so both of you can circle swim here,” she points to a lane with 3 zigzagging women in it. “That’ll be a nice medium lane for you.”
PP thinks NOT as she glances at CAAG, who shrugs and tries for a grin, but PP can tell hell, he just wants to swim, too. They both glance over at the ‘slow’ lane with one Meandering White Guy with lots of back moles. PP shakes her head, “I don’t understand,” she points to MWG, alone in his own lane, “Why do we hafta swim circles here? Why does he get his own lane?”
CAAG chuckles in a serious way, “Evidently, he has some sort of Blood Condition. If we touch him, he’ll bleed and then they’ll hafta close the pool.”
“Ah, well, guess we better not get in HIS lane,” PP giggles as she remembers the Swimming Hemophiliac.
Yet, doesn’t it seem a bit risky, not to mention unfair, that the SH gets his own lane while the rest of the swimmers are relegated to circle swimming? Not that he shouldn’t get to swim, but does he hafta swim at swimmers rush hour? In fact, maybe swimming isn’t really a good idea for him at all. If bumping him will cause the entire pool to be closed down. Hell, it’s nice the Y is so accommodating to its Various Swimming Wounded, but giving SH his own lane everyday seems a bit much.
Couldn’t he take up some other sport? Say, trampoline?
No, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. What if he jumped so high that he bumped into the ceiling or jumped so spastically that he fell off? All that blood would splatter all over the walls and they’d have to close the entire facility down.
PP giggles as she prepares to get ready for the dreaded circle swim. Slowly slowly picking out her kickboard, pull buoys. Maybe if she takes her time someone will get out. She’s noticed that no one swims for very long at the Y. Usually only 20 minutes or so…..and now!
Voila!
SH is getting out and motioning for CAAG to take over. PP follows him, “I’m pretty slow,” CAAG grins.
“Oh, that’s ok,” PP shrugs, “We can just split the lane.”
He looks at her dubiously. She’s not sure why till she watches him get in and plow down the center of the lane causing the most ferocious washing machine splashing she’s seen in a long time.
Oh, well, she thinks, at least I don’t have breast cancer, and dives in beside him, zipping by as he continues to thunk mightily through the turquoise water, lit by the afternoon light filtering through the high slanted windows.
It’s almost like Kailua Beach, PP thinks but then opens her eyes to the intense chlorine.
Well, there’s a lot more chlorine than Kailua Beach, she giggles as she turns around at the wall and heads off to continue her workout.
Afterwards, soaking in the Hot Tub, exhausted from her swim, which actually turned out fine since all the 20 minute swimmers got out, leaving PP with, miraculously, her own lane, she sinks tiredly into the soothing warmth as Topless Chinese Woman with her faded blue flower suit rolled over her bottom sits languidly on the side of the tub, staring into space. PP tries to make eye contact, but no go. Sometimes she feels like she’s back in China with all the beautiful, silent Chinese women spacing out in the locker room. Another one gets in, this one slimmer, her breasts like perfect white cupcakes perched on her chest. Sinks into the tub and closes her eyes. PP watches as TCW shifts around on the deck, her long, brown nipples pert and unashamed.
Breasts. So many of them. PP loves the women’s locker room at the Y. It’s so full of breasts. But then, she thinks about her own. And how worried she’d been an hour ago during the mammogram. How if she got breast cancer this would just be the worst. Much worse than if the melanoma had taken hold. It’s hard to explain since the melanoma is frankly much more likely to be deadly. Something about losing a breast or breasts. Well, it must be devastating. PP thinks of O’s friend, the Beautiful Redhead, who’s just had a mastectomy. How horrible this must be. She had such Beautiful Breasts.
But yet, O had said the prognosis was good. That they’d gotten all the Cancer. That the BR would probably be fine……
PP sighs as she glances down at her pink suit, her breasts still tightly bound within its confines. Why doesn’t she take off her top like all the Chinese women?
Was PP really that shy?
Especially since she should be celebrating her Breasts after her successful Mammogram?
Hell, why not?
PP hesitates as another stunning woman gets into the tub. Some Asian Mix with a large tattoo of a rooster on the small of her back. Wait. Could that be right? Could she really have a rooster tattooed on her back?
Hell, maybe. She could have been born in the year of the Rooster and so she wanted to what?
Remind her back of it? Let all the women at the Y know?
Somehow, this seemed too weird as PP watches her small soft breasts sink into the tub next to her.
It was all So Sexy Safe in the Y Hot Tub.
PP started to slip her top off but then…..
Got shy.
Why?
Shrugging, she climbed out of the tub. Maybe next time she’ll go topless.
It took awhile in Greece too!
Grinning, PP headed into the shower, nodding at a statuesque African American Princess with Enormous Gold hoop earrings and majestic breasts to match.
Yup, maybe next time she’ll bare her breasts, till then, PP sighed a happy smile as she headed into the shower to her favorite stall, #26, turned on the hot water, closed the dark green curtain, and took her top off.
Swimming chaos.
3–4 swimmers per lane. And at the Y, this means trouble. Harried Lifeguard catches her as she steps onto the deck, brow furrowed through her tired smile. “Hi, what speed are you?”
PP glances at the lanes. No one’s goin at too brisk a clip. So she shrugs; gives the standard swimmer noncommittal answer, “Medium, I guess.”
“Cool,” HL answers, nodding officially. “He,” she points to a Confused African American Gent, “is a medium too, so both of you can circle swim here,” she points to a lane with 3 zigzagging women in it. “That’ll be a nice medium lane for you.”
PP thinks NOT as she glances at CAAG, who shrugs and tries for a grin, but PP can tell hell, he just wants to swim, too. They both glance over at the ‘slow’ lane with one Meandering White Guy with lots of back moles. PP shakes her head, “I don’t understand,” she points to MWG, alone in his own lane, “Why do we hafta swim circles here? Why does he get his own lane?”
CAAG chuckles in a serious way, “Evidently, he has some sort of Blood Condition. If we touch him, he’ll bleed and then they’ll hafta close the pool.”
“Ah, well, guess we better not get in HIS lane,” PP giggles as she remembers the Swimming Hemophiliac.
Yet, doesn’t it seem a bit risky, not to mention unfair, that the SH gets his own lane while the rest of the swimmers are relegated to circle swimming? Not that he shouldn’t get to swim, but does he hafta swim at swimmers rush hour? In fact, maybe swimming isn’t really a good idea for him at all. If bumping him will cause the entire pool to be closed down. Hell, it’s nice the Y is so accommodating to its Various Swimming Wounded, but giving SH his own lane everyday seems a bit much.
Couldn’t he take up some other sport? Say, trampoline?
No, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. What if he jumped so high that he bumped into the ceiling or jumped so spastically that he fell off? All that blood would splatter all over the walls and they’d have to close the entire facility down.
PP giggles as she prepares to get ready for the dreaded circle swim. Slowly slowly picking out her kickboard, pull buoys. Maybe if she takes her time someone will get out. She’s noticed that no one swims for very long at the Y. Usually only 20 minutes or so…..and now!
Voila!
SH is getting out and motioning for CAAG to take over. PP follows him, “I’m pretty slow,” CAAG grins.
“Oh, that’s ok,” PP shrugs, “We can just split the lane.”
He looks at her dubiously. She’s not sure why till she watches him get in and plow down the center of the lane causing the most ferocious washing machine splashing she’s seen in a long time.
Oh, well, she thinks, at least I don’t have breast cancer, and dives in beside him, zipping by as he continues to thunk mightily through the turquoise water, lit by the afternoon light filtering through the high slanted windows.
It’s almost like Kailua Beach, PP thinks but then opens her eyes to the intense chlorine.
Well, there’s a lot more chlorine than Kailua Beach, she giggles as she turns around at the wall and heads off to continue her workout.
Afterwards, soaking in the Hot Tub, exhausted from her swim, which actually turned out fine since all the 20 minute swimmers got out, leaving PP with, miraculously, her own lane, she sinks tiredly into the soothing warmth as Topless Chinese Woman with her faded blue flower suit rolled over her bottom sits languidly on the side of the tub, staring into space. PP tries to make eye contact, but no go. Sometimes she feels like she’s back in China with all the beautiful, silent Chinese women spacing out in the locker room. Another one gets in, this one slimmer, her breasts like perfect white cupcakes perched on her chest. Sinks into the tub and closes her eyes. PP watches as TCW shifts around on the deck, her long, brown nipples pert and unashamed.
Breasts. So many of them. PP loves the women’s locker room at the Y. It’s so full of breasts. But then, she thinks about her own. And how worried she’d been an hour ago during the mammogram. How if she got breast cancer this would just be the worst. Much worse than if the melanoma had taken hold. It’s hard to explain since the melanoma is frankly much more likely to be deadly. Something about losing a breast or breasts. Well, it must be devastating. PP thinks of O’s friend, the Beautiful Redhead, who’s just had a mastectomy. How horrible this must be. She had such Beautiful Breasts.
But yet, O had said the prognosis was good. That they’d gotten all the Cancer. That the BR would probably be fine……
PP sighs as she glances down at her pink suit, her breasts still tightly bound within its confines. Why doesn’t she take off her top like all the Chinese women?
Was PP really that shy?
Especially since she should be celebrating her Breasts after her successful Mammogram?
Hell, why not?
PP hesitates as another stunning woman gets into the tub. Some Asian Mix with a large tattoo of a rooster on the small of her back. Wait. Could that be right? Could she really have a rooster tattooed on her back?
Hell, maybe. She could have been born in the year of the Rooster and so she wanted to what?
Remind her back of it? Let all the women at the Y know?
Somehow, this seemed too weird as PP watches her small soft breasts sink into the tub next to her.
It was all So Sexy Safe in the Y Hot Tub.
PP started to slip her top off but then…..
Got shy.
Why?
Shrugging, she climbed out of the tub. Maybe next time she’ll go topless.
It took awhile in Greece too!
Grinning, PP headed into the shower, nodding at a statuesque African American Princess with Enormous Gold hoop earrings and majestic breasts to match.
Yup, maybe next time she’ll bare her breasts, till then, PP sighed a happy smile as she headed into the shower to her favorite stall, #26, turned on the hot water, closed the dark green curtain, and took her top off.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
PP TAKES THE LOVELY I TO WATER THERAPY
“I was so nervous about today. When I woke up. I just had to cry.”
PP nods. She can see the Lovely I’s nervousness in her face, her posture, as she perches there on the lovely couch watching as her Fix-It GF fiddles with the wheelchair. This isn’t helping matters. PP was a little nervous too, but was trying not to let on. The wheelchair was daunting. Why is that? PP had a little experience with wheelchairs. Or she thought she did. Had some vague memory of her Aunt Nancy in a wheelchair. But then. Had PP ever really wheeled Nancy around?
PP thinks not. Doesn’t mention this to the Lovely I, but instead says how she knows about wheelchairs. Not to worry. All would be fine.
But yet…..
“Let me try something else…” Fix-it GF marches into the other room and returns with a hammer and a cloth, places the cloth over one of the wheelchair’s arms and starts bangin on it with the hammer.
“That doesn’t look like such a good idea,” the Lovely I interrupts, “we don’t want to destroy the Rental Wheelchair and then have them charge us a gazillion dollars for it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Here, lemme try this.”FIGF kneels and starts fiddling with the ‘pin’ in the arm thingee again. PP can’t tell what the hell she’s even tryin to fix. It looks fine to her. But then, she’s not really looking at it that closely, but instead is trying not to watch the worry grow on the Lovely I’s lovely face.
Damn! Had PP made a mistake offering to take I to her Water Therapy out at Albany Pool? After her conversation the night before with her mom about how much the Lovely I would need water therapy, PP had thought, of course, she’s swimming kitty! It’s her job to help with the water end of her recovery. Who else? And when the Lovely I had told her the day before how PP had been the only person she’d seen after she’d hurt her hand the year before cuz PP had taken her to the pool, PP had thought. Yes! Now that I had been thrown from her horse and broken her pelvis, can you even imagine? PP thinks: Yes. Water therapy. Swimming kitty.
It’s a match.
But now?
“There we go! That should do it!” FIGF announces, rising and glancing around the cluttered living room. “Where’s the legs?”
PP swallows hard. What the hell had she gotten herself into? Now she had to learn how to put on the legs of the wheelchair? Oh, but this she could do, as FIGF shows her and PP tries it. Gets it after only a couple tries.
Voila!
Now to get the wheelchair into the Geo. FIGF rolls the Lovely I down to the car and gets her in to the front seat, then lets PP fold up the wheelchair. (PP had learned this too) Then PP heaves it into the hatchback of the Geo with only a little awkwardness. There. That wasn’t so bad ! Finally! They were off!
Whew! In the car with the Lovely I on the way to a pool seemed so natural. PP was starting to relax as I started to narrate a story about a friend who was worse off than her, had broken her leg, gotten a surgery, they’d done the surgery wrong. Had the leg broken and resurged. Shit. It did sound worse than the Lovely I’s scenario. At least she hadn’t had any surgery or had to stay in the wretched Kaiser like PP had after her surgery….
But that’s another story.
“And Delia didn’t have anyone when she went thro all that pain and surgeries. So when I called her this morning for my pep talk, she said, ‘You know, I, you’re gonna get better. It’s a temporary thing. You will heal.”
And this had helped. We both agreed that the Lovely I would be better soon.
Especially after her Water Therapy!
Safely inside the Albany Pool after negotiating the high schoolers’ basketball frenzy, PP sighs happily. The pool. She always feels safe around pools, no matter what the circumstances. And the fact that no basketballs brained the Lovely I on the way into the pool and PP had even gotten one of the bored teens to hold the door open for them while he was unwrapping his ham sandwich –those teens, they’re so good at multitasking—well, the BLUENESS of the Albany Pool was so welcoming.
And what a scene! Bobbing shower caps abounded. Yellow, green, blue ‘noodles’ surronding them. All kinds of ‘equipments’ for Therapy! And everyone was smiling!
Water Therapy was the ticket to Bliss. That was for sure.
So, when the Lovely I got strapped into the Water Insert Chair, PP was momentarily distracted by all the activity. Besides, I was safely in the hands of one of the Therapists, who was there working the water chair along with the handsome lifeguard.
And then!
Oh, no!
PP glances down and the Lovely I is crying!
DAMN!!!
What the hell happened?
The Therapist has her in the pool now and is gently talking to her, but PP can’t hear what she’s saying. Something happened with the goddamn chair that hurt the Lovely I’s pelvis!
BAD CHAIR!!!
PP sticks out her tongue at the Evil Chair. Makes a face. Hissssss!
The Lovely I sees this and starts laughing.
Thank heavens!
“Oh, she’s making me laugh,” the Lovely I exclaims thro her tears. “That’s good.”
And the Therapist glances up at PP and nods, smiling gently.
PP grins. Shouts out, “Bad Chair!”
And with the Lovely I’s giggles, the Therapist pulls her into the beautiful blue safety of the pool.
All would be fine now, PP thinks as she watches the Lovely I stand and make her way across the pool, between the chatting Floral Woman and handsome floating man and purple parachute guy who slinks by Chatty Chinese woman, “You catch anything yet with that Thing,” she calls out.
“I caught you!” he hollers back as he tosses the purple parachute onto the deck, Chatty Chinese Woman’s chuckles cascading around the chlorinated atmosphere.
Yup, PP thinks, it’s all gonna be just fine as she settles into the Lovely I’s wheelchair to watch the show.
PP nods. She can see the Lovely I’s nervousness in her face, her posture, as she perches there on the lovely couch watching as her Fix-It GF fiddles with the wheelchair. This isn’t helping matters. PP was a little nervous too, but was trying not to let on. The wheelchair was daunting. Why is that? PP had a little experience with wheelchairs. Or she thought she did. Had some vague memory of her Aunt Nancy in a wheelchair. But then. Had PP ever really wheeled Nancy around?
PP thinks not. Doesn’t mention this to the Lovely I, but instead says how she knows about wheelchairs. Not to worry. All would be fine.
But yet…..
“Let me try something else…” Fix-it GF marches into the other room and returns with a hammer and a cloth, places the cloth over one of the wheelchair’s arms and starts bangin on it with the hammer.
“That doesn’t look like such a good idea,” the Lovely I interrupts, “we don’t want to destroy the Rental Wheelchair and then have them charge us a gazillion dollars for it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Here, lemme try this.”FIGF kneels and starts fiddling with the ‘pin’ in the arm thingee again. PP can’t tell what the hell she’s even tryin to fix. It looks fine to her. But then, she’s not really looking at it that closely, but instead is trying not to watch the worry grow on the Lovely I’s lovely face.
Damn! Had PP made a mistake offering to take I to her Water Therapy out at Albany Pool? After her conversation the night before with her mom about how much the Lovely I would need water therapy, PP had thought, of course, she’s swimming kitty! It’s her job to help with the water end of her recovery. Who else? And when the Lovely I had told her the day before how PP had been the only person she’d seen after she’d hurt her hand the year before cuz PP had taken her to the pool, PP had thought. Yes! Now that I had been thrown from her horse and broken her pelvis, can you even imagine? PP thinks: Yes. Water therapy. Swimming kitty.
It’s a match.
But now?
“There we go! That should do it!” FIGF announces, rising and glancing around the cluttered living room. “Where’s the legs?”
PP swallows hard. What the hell had she gotten herself into? Now she had to learn how to put on the legs of the wheelchair? Oh, but this she could do, as FIGF shows her and PP tries it. Gets it after only a couple tries.
Voila!
Now to get the wheelchair into the Geo. FIGF rolls the Lovely I down to the car and gets her in to the front seat, then lets PP fold up the wheelchair. (PP had learned this too) Then PP heaves it into the hatchback of the Geo with only a little awkwardness. There. That wasn’t so bad ! Finally! They were off!
Whew! In the car with the Lovely I on the way to a pool seemed so natural. PP was starting to relax as I started to narrate a story about a friend who was worse off than her, had broken her leg, gotten a surgery, they’d done the surgery wrong. Had the leg broken and resurged. Shit. It did sound worse than the Lovely I’s scenario. At least she hadn’t had any surgery or had to stay in the wretched Kaiser like PP had after her surgery….
But that’s another story.
“And Delia didn’t have anyone when she went thro all that pain and surgeries. So when I called her this morning for my pep talk, she said, ‘You know, I, you’re gonna get better. It’s a temporary thing. You will heal.”
And this had helped. We both agreed that the Lovely I would be better soon.
Especially after her Water Therapy!
Safely inside the Albany Pool after negotiating the high schoolers’ basketball frenzy, PP sighs happily. The pool. She always feels safe around pools, no matter what the circumstances. And the fact that no basketballs brained the Lovely I on the way into the pool and PP had even gotten one of the bored teens to hold the door open for them while he was unwrapping his ham sandwich –those teens, they’re so good at multitasking—well, the BLUENESS of the Albany Pool was so welcoming.
And what a scene! Bobbing shower caps abounded. Yellow, green, blue ‘noodles’ surronding them. All kinds of ‘equipments’ for Therapy! And everyone was smiling!
Water Therapy was the ticket to Bliss. That was for sure.
So, when the Lovely I got strapped into the Water Insert Chair, PP was momentarily distracted by all the activity. Besides, I was safely in the hands of one of the Therapists, who was there working the water chair along with the handsome lifeguard.
And then!
Oh, no!
PP glances down and the Lovely I is crying!
DAMN!!!
What the hell happened?
The Therapist has her in the pool now and is gently talking to her, but PP can’t hear what she’s saying. Something happened with the goddamn chair that hurt the Lovely I’s pelvis!
BAD CHAIR!!!
PP sticks out her tongue at the Evil Chair. Makes a face. Hissssss!
The Lovely I sees this and starts laughing.
Thank heavens!
“Oh, she’s making me laugh,” the Lovely I exclaims thro her tears. “That’s good.”
And the Therapist glances up at PP and nods, smiling gently.
PP grins. Shouts out, “Bad Chair!”
And with the Lovely I’s giggles, the Therapist pulls her into the beautiful blue safety of the pool.
All would be fine now, PP thinks as she watches the Lovely I stand and make her way across the pool, between the chatting Floral Woman and handsome floating man and purple parachute guy who slinks by Chatty Chinese woman, “You catch anything yet with that Thing,” she calls out.
“I caught you!” he hollers back as he tosses the purple parachute onto the deck, Chatty Chinese Woman’s chuckles cascading around the chlorinated atmosphere.
Yup, PP thinks, it’s all gonna be just fine as she settles into the Lovely I’s wheelchair to watch the show.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Who Needs A Lock Cut?
It had seemed like a most uneventful day at the Y. No stories. Well, unless you count the move the passel of screeching ball throwing kids to the other side of the pool a story. PP had walked into the pool area and the kids’ play section was on the opposite side of its usual spot. The left instead of the right. Or was it the right instead of the left?
Whatever. It was a little discombobulating to PP having the kids shrieking on the wrong side of the pool, but there weren’t a lot of lap swimmers. Only one per lane.
But which lane to choose.
Hairy Back Man swimming in the most clomping fashion down the center of HIS Lane?
Or Mr. Speedy Man with the butterfly and flip turns and thus, lots of male water displacement energy?
Or Side-Stroking Asian Woman zigzagging along at a snail’s pace?
Ummm….
PP opted for SSAW. It was ok for a few laps, but then since SSAW was zigzagging up a storm, PP did get kicked. Not hard. After all SSAW was doing sidestroke. But getting kicked is always a bit disconcerting….so PP had moved to the next lane over that had just emptied out. HBM was pooped. Sitting slumped over on the side of the pool. Emaciated and panting.
PP was a little scared, wondering if his lane had any of that hair in it. Gross. Sorry, but it did occur to her.
But hell, an empty lane is an empty lane.
So PP nabbed it to escape any more sidekicks.
Of course, someone else got in with PP in 5 minutes. Floral Blonde Woman. She’s nice, but still. PP would always rather have her own lane. Selfish non-goggled swimmer that she is.
Yet the swim was lovely and restorative as usual. PP for a moment at the end of her swim, enjoyed some languid warmdown backstroke in the now deserted ‘water walking’ lane, staring up at the wall with the Giant Y surrounded by the Y’s Values?
RESPONSIBILITY
HONESTY
CARING
Shit, PP can’t remember the 4th one right now. Something that fit with those 3, like INTEGRITY?
No, that was way too intellectual for the Y. Not that there weren’t Intellectuals here, but still….
Besides it was kinda redundant with Honesty, wasn’t it?
Hell, PP has always been bad at Values anyway.
Without an ounce of Honest Responsible Caring, PP heaves herself outta the pool and heads into the Hot Tub arena. No one there except Humming Chinese Lady with a Headache. (PP assumes she has a Headache since she keeps touching her temples in that headache ouch way) And Side Stroke Kicker Woman, who won’t even make eye contact with PP, let alone return her smile.
Bitch, PP thinks.
Post Tub, PP meanders over to her locker, nodding at Floral Blonde Woman putting her make- up on, kinda spaced out and kinda disappointed that it’s been a storyless day though looking at the above, you’d think there was a story when much to her delight, she’s greeted with a dazzling smile from a Beautiful Slender Chinese Woman with Maggie Chang Hair (A former student of PP—she’d had that kind of glossy thick luxurious black hair down to her waist) getting undressed in front of the locker next to hers. BSCW’s hair was magnificent. Long, thick shinning, down to her ass. So the opposite of PP’s curly blonde mop.
So, when BSCW gave PP her dazzling smile, well.
PP got a little weak in the knees……
But somehow pulled it together enough to return the smile and murmur a ‘hello’—thinking to herself how Thank God! Someone is finally being nice to her! Esp after SSKW!
“Oh no!”
PP turned toward BSCW who stood disconsolately in front of her closed locker, pouting with one of the tiny white towels wrapped demurely round her waist and her hair covering the upper half of her slender frame.
“What’s wrong?”
”I lock my keys in my locker.”
”Oh no!”
“Oh, I do that all the time!” FBW came back from the make-up mirror to investigate.
“That’s such a drag,” PP offers sympathetically, “Why don’t you just go do your workout first and then get some help after?”
“But all my clothes! They are in locker! Oh….”
PP thinks she might start to cry, but it could just be projection. She’d sure as hell be crying by now.
“They can cut the locks for you,” FBW asserts authoritatively. “Isn’t there a phone in here so you can call someone?”
BSCW shakes her head sadly as FBW takes control and marches around behind the row of lockers looking for the phone. Slowly, BSCW follows, disappearing for a moment, before they both return with no phone in sight looks on their faces, “I thought there was a phone in here!” FBW snorts in disgust.
“Yeah, me too,” lies PP. She has no idea but wants to stay involved in the situation.
“There’s a couple of women over there that are almost dressed,” FBW continues. “I bet you could just ask one of them to help you out and tell someone up at the front desk that you need the lock cut.”
PP glances down at her so naked self. No way could she help unless she went out in her towel.
Seeing BSCW shake her head again sadly, her lovely long hair completely covering her upper half, PP almost jokes how she could just go upstairs like that. Her hair would cover her.
But then….BSCW looks genuinely distraught. Like she really is ready to cry, so PP refrains and goes back to lotioning up as BSCW disappears around he corner again, shyly looking for someone to help.
“Did you find someone to go tell them bout your lock?” PP asks when she returns.
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
”I am always so careful with my stuffs! I always put my key in my gym bag and then I always check around to make sure I have not left any stuffs. I….”
Nodding, PP jumps in at the pre-cry pause. “Oh, it’s so easy to do. I lock stuff in my locker all the time. (Actually, she never has, but the whole locker thing was so new she was sure she would soon enough.) And I lock myself out of my car at least once a year. And once, I was at this Thai restaurant in Mill Valley and left my purse under the table where’d we been eating….”
”I always check around wherever I am. I look for my keys. My purse. It is so easy to leave your sweater on the chair….” She makes a motion of looking behind her as her hair sweeps round her face dramatically. PP nods. The hair. What is it about Chinese Women and their hair? Remembers how the Lovely I’s girlfriend always complains about how long it takes I to do her hair. But hell, it’s worth it, right?
PP thinks so.
At least in the Lovely I’s case.
“HELLO!!!??? WHO NEEDS A LOCK CUT?” Tough sturdy African American Locksmith Woman marches in. All business , wielding a gigantic frightening looking tool.
“Over here!” BSCW calls out faintly, sighing.
PP wants to watch the show, but decides that it might be too obvious, so heads into the hair drying room, but not before spying a set of keys on the floor under one of the stools.
Oh no! More lost keys? How weird! PP scoops them up. They must belong to FBW, she thinks as she glances around wondering if she can just give them to Locksmith Woman to take up to Lost and Found, but then thankfully, FBW is still there! In the blow-drying room going crazy with the dryer. Her dyed blonde hair flying out in wonderful sticks all over her head.
“Did you leave your keys?” PP shouts, jangling the keys at her.
“OHMYGOD! I did! Thanks so much! And after we were just talking about it!”
“Yeah, must be something in the air.”
”Well, I have been pretty stressed out lately. Starting a new job next week. My mind isn’t all here. I….”
PP doesn’t comment on this as she starts to dry her hair, grinning to herself as FBW continues to chat with her. Why the hell do people try to chat with you while they’re blow drying their hair? And you’re blow-drying your hair? All you can hear is blow dryers. Then you’re in this situation where you have to smile and nod and pretend like you understand what the other person is saying when you have no fuckin clue.
PP returns back to her locker to pack up the last of her stuff. Sadly, BSCW is gone.
PP feels a little abandoned. Not sure why. It wasn’t like BSCW should have come and told her that all was ok. Locksmith Woman had worked her magic. She had her keys and her clothes.
But now they were gone. Poof!
The space where BSCW had been with all her emotion and hair and drama seemed so empty now. Like it hadn’t even happened. Like PP had just imagined the whole ordeal.
“They get the locker cut?” FBW blusters back to double-check her spot again.
“Guess so,” PP grins, relieved that validation has appeared.
Actually, PP just made that last part up.
But isn’t that why she writes?
For Validation.
For Illumination.
But mostly, for Hilariation?
Is that even a word?
Hell, it is now.
“See you next time,” PP calls out to FBW, back now in the side room, further blow-drying her hair.
But FBW just keeps on drying, her head bent over between her legs to dangle her bright blond tresses for optimum under the hair drying. For a moment, PP feels injured. Why is FBW ignoring her now? Especially after they'd bonded over the Lost Keys' Snafus? Why was she being so mean to PP?
But then PP has to laugh to herself. Nah. She's not being mean.
She just can't hear PP through all the Blow Drying Noise.
Or, she finally got a clue and knows no one can have a civilized conversation while blow drying!
Smiling to herself, PP shakes her head as she opens the door and heads up the stairs, out of the Y and back into her life.
Whatever. It was a little discombobulating to PP having the kids shrieking on the wrong side of the pool, but there weren’t a lot of lap swimmers. Only one per lane.
But which lane to choose.
Hairy Back Man swimming in the most clomping fashion down the center of HIS Lane?
Or Mr. Speedy Man with the butterfly and flip turns and thus, lots of male water displacement energy?
Or Side-Stroking Asian Woman zigzagging along at a snail’s pace?
Ummm….
PP opted for SSAW. It was ok for a few laps, but then since SSAW was zigzagging up a storm, PP did get kicked. Not hard. After all SSAW was doing sidestroke. But getting kicked is always a bit disconcerting….so PP had moved to the next lane over that had just emptied out. HBM was pooped. Sitting slumped over on the side of the pool. Emaciated and panting.
PP was a little scared, wondering if his lane had any of that hair in it. Gross. Sorry, but it did occur to her.
But hell, an empty lane is an empty lane.
So PP nabbed it to escape any more sidekicks.
Of course, someone else got in with PP in 5 minutes. Floral Blonde Woman. She’s nice, but still. PP would always rather have her own lane. Selfish non-goggled swimmer that she is.
Yet the swim was lovely and restorative as usual. PP for a moment at the end of her swim, enjoyed some languid warmdown backstroke in the now deserted ‘water walking’ lane, staring up at the wall with the Giant Y surrounded by the Y’s Values?
RESPONSIBILITY
HONESTY
CARING
Shit, PP can’t remember the 4th one right now. Something that fit with those 3, like INTEGRITY?
No, that was way too intellectual for the Y. Not that there weren’t Intellectuals here, but still….
Besides it was kinda redundant with Honesty, wasn’t it?
Hell, PP has always been bad at Values anyway.
Without an ounce of Honest Responsible Caring, PP heaves herself outta the pool and heads into the Hot Tub arena. No one there except Humming Chinese Lady with a Headache. (PP assumes she has a Headache since she keeps touching her temples in that headache ouch way) And Side Stroke Kicker Woman, who won’t even make eye contact with PP, let alone return her smile.
Bitch, PP thinks.
Post Tub, PP meanders over to her locker, nodding at Floral Blonde Woman putting her make- up on, kinda spaced out and kinda disappointed that it’s been a storyless day though looking at the above, you’d think there was a story when much to her delight, she’s greeted with a dazzling smile from a Beautiful Slender Chinese Woman with Maggie Chang Hair (A former student of PP—she’d had that kind of glossy thick luxurious black hair down to her waist) getting undressed in front of the locker next to hers. BSCW’s hair was magnificent. Long, thick shinning, down to her ass. So the opposite of PP’s curly blonde mop.
So, when BSCW gave PP her dazzling smile, well.
PP got a little weak in the knees……
But somehow pulled it together enough to return the smile and murmur a ‘hello’—thinking to herself how Thank God! Someone is finally being nice to her! Esp after SSKW!
“Oh no!”
PP turned toward BSCW who stood disconsolately in front of her closed locker, pouting with one of the tiny white towels wrapped demurely round her waist and her hair covering the upper half of her slender frame.
“What’s wrong?”
”I lock my keys in my locker.”
”Oh no!”
“Oh, I do that all the time!” FBW came back from the make-up mirror to investigate.
“That’s such a drag,” PP offers sympathetically, “Why don’t you just go do your workout first and then get some help after?”
“But all my clothes! They are in locker! Oh….”
PP thinks she might start to cry, but it could just be projection. She’d sure as hell be crying by now.
“They can cut the locks for you,” FBW asserts authoritatively. “Isn’t there a phone in here so you can call someone?”
BSCW shakes her head sadly as FBW takes control and marches around behind the row of lockers looking for the phone. Slowly, BSCW follows, disappearing for a moment, before they both return with no phone in sight looks on their faces, “I thought there was a phone in here!” FBW snorts in disgust.
“Yeah, me too,” lies PP. She has no idea but wants to stay involved in the situation.
“There’s a couple of women over there that are almost dressed,” FBW continues. “I bet you could just ask one of them to help you out and tell someone up at the front desk that you need the lock cut.”
PP glances down at her so naked self. No way could she help unless she went out in her towel.
Seeing BSCW shake her head again sadly, her lovely long hair completely covering her upper half, PP almost jokes how she could just go upstairs like that. Her hair would cover her.
But then….BSCW looks genuinely distraught. Like she really is ready to cry, so PP refrains and goes back to lotioning up as BSCW disappears around he corner again, shyly looking for someone to help.
“Did you find someone to go tell them bout your lock?” PP asks when she returns.
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
”I am always so careful with my stuffs! I always put my key in my gym bag and then I always check around to make sure I have not left any stuffs. I….”
Nodding, PP jumps in at the pre-cry pause. “Oh, it’s so easy to do. I lock stuff in my locker all the time. (Actually, she never has, but the whole locker thing was so new she was sure she would soon enough.) And I lock myself out of my car at least once a year. And once, I was at this Thai restaurant in Mill Valley and left my purse under the table where’d we been eating….”
”I always check around wherever I am. I look for my keys. My purse. It is so easy to leave your sweater on the chair….” She makes a motion of looking behind her as her hair sweeps round her face dramatically. PP nods. The hair. What is it about Chinese Women and their hair? Remembers how the Lovely I’s girlfriend always complains about how long it takes I to do her hair. But hell, it’s worth it, right?
PP thinks so.
At least in the Lovely I’s case.
“HELLO!!!??? WHO NEEDS A LOCK CUT?” Tough sturdy African American Locksmith Woman marches in. All business , wielding a gigantic frightening looking tool.
“Over here!” BSCW calls out faintly, sighing.
PP wants to watch the show, but decides that it might be too obvious, so heads into the hair drying room, but not before spying a set of keys on the floor under one of the stools.
Oh no! More lost keys? How weird! PP scoops them up. They must belong to FBW, she thinks as she glances around wondering if she can just give them to Locksmith Woman to take up to Lost and Found, but then thankfully, FBW is still there! In the blow-drying room going crazy with the dryer. Her dyed blonde hair flying out in wonderful sticks all over her head.
“Did you leave your keys?” PP shouts, jangling the keys at her.
“OHMYGOD! I did! Thanks so much! And after we were just talking about it!”
“Yeah, must be something in the air.”
”Well, I have been pretty stressed out lately. Starting a new job next week. My mind isn’t all here. I….”
PP doesn’t comment on this as she starts to dry her hair, grinning to herself as FBW continues to chat with her. Why the hell do people try to chat with you while they’re blow drying their hair? And you’re blow-drying your hair? All you can hear is blow dryers. Then you’re in this situation where you have to smile and nod and pretend like you understand what the other person is saying when you have no fuckin clue.
PP returns back to her locker to pack up the last of her stuff. Sadly, BSCW is gone.
PP feels a little abandoned. Not sure why. It wasn’t like BSCW should have come and told her that all was ok. Locksmith Woman had worked her magic. She had her keys and her clothes.
But now they were gone. Poof!
The space where BSCW had been with all her emotion and hair and drama seemed so empty now. Like it hadn’t even happened. Like PP had just imagined the whole ordeal.
“They get the locker cut?” FBW blusters back to double-check her spot again.
“Guess so,” PP grins, relieved that validation has appeared.
Actually, PP just made that last part up.
But isn’t that why she writes?
For Validation.
For Illumination.
But mostly, for Hilariation?
Is that even a word?
Hell, it is now.
“See you next time,” PP calls out to FBW, back now in the side room, further blow-drying her hair.
But FBW just keeps on drying, her head bent over between her legs to dangle her bright blond tresses for optimum under the hair drying. For a moment, PP feels injured. Why is FBW ignoring her now? Especially after they'd bonded over the Lost Keys' Snafus? Why was she being so mean to PP?
But then PP has to laugh to herself. Nah. She's not being mean.
She just can't hear PP through all the Blow Drying Noise.
Or, she finally got a clue and knows no one can have a civilized conversation while blow drying!
Smiling to herself, PP shakes her head as she opens the door and heads up the stairs, out of the Y and back into her life.
Monday, February 26, 2007
A BLOOD CONDITION?
Pool Puss is trying. She really is, but when she hops out of the Geo in the pouring rain to put money in the meter and spies the rowdy ruckus of dozens of school age children heading toward the Y, she thinks:
Damn. I bet they’re all going to the pool.
Yup. They were.
15 minutes later, PP stands on the deck surveying the dismal pool options on this dreary rainy Monday. (She’d mistakenly thought that with all the rain in the early afternoon post lunch hour that the pool would be calm.)
No such luck.
Screaming kids splashing riotously in one third of the pool.
Spaced Out ‘ Water Walkers’ taking over the other third of the pool.
Leaving only 2 lap lanes available. One with an Arm Beater Splash Action. The other a Weaving Elderly Guy barely keeping afloat.
Overwhelmed Lifeguard spies PP standing miserably confused and hurries over, flaggin PP to wait a minute. Out of breath and apologetic, she rushes up to PP, “I’m so sorry. The pool is absolutely crazy right now.”
“Yeah, with all those kids. I saw them on my way in and thought, I bet they’re all headed for the pool.”
Sighing, Apologetic Lifeguard shakes her blond head, pushing aside a stray hair caught in the side of her mouth. “Yeah, I’m afraid you were right. It’s absolutely Crazy” she repeats, trying to undo a lane line.
“So, where should I swim?” PP asks, trying to smile in spite of the echoing screams.
“Well, you can split with him,” she nods toward Beater Swimmer. “But, I’m sorry you can’t swim with him,” she nods toward Weaving Elder Swimmer. “He has a Blood Condition.”
PP smiles unsure. A Blood Condition? What the hell did that mean? Especially since she’s been instructed not to share his lane. Did he leak? And if so, wouldn’t that be a reason to keep him out of the pool altogether? Or maybe his Blood got out easily. If PP happened to kick him, which was highly doubtful, usually someone kicked her, but saying it happened, that PP got in Blood Condition Swimmer’s lane and accidentally kicked him, would he start bleeding uncontrollably?
Was he a Swimming Hemophiliac?
This didn’t seem like such a good idea. Allowing a Swimming Hemophiliac in the Oakland Y’s public pool.
PP shivers (or is it shudders?) as she watches the Lifeguard bend down and start to unhook one of the lane lines, sliding it over to make a new lane where the Spaced Out Water Walkers are now getting out.
“Here, just one minute, and I’ll have this lane for you,” she huffs, as she pulls the heavy line (Why are they so heavy? PP has wondered this for years. They’re just plastic) over and hooks it onto the wall.
PP grins, happy now that she’s got her own lane, 2 over from the Hemophiliac.
Sliding on her fins, she hops into the water, warm and welcoming in its gray blueness. Zooming down the lane, she glances over as Swimming Hemophiliac taps another swimmer in the next lane on the shoulder to let him know he’s done-- he can have his lane. Then Swimming Hemophiliac climbs under the lane line into the kid mayhem. Stands at the side of the pool watching them in unabashed delight.
Well, PP thinks, at least someone likes the kids! All the same, she did hope he didn’t get brained by some rambunctious mite. Cuz if he did?
PP turns at the wall and starts to giggle to herself.
Hell, she’s not going there.
At least not now that she’s got her own lane!
Kid free. Kick free. But most of all
Hemophiliac Free!
Damn. I bet they’re all going to the pool.
Yup. They were.
15 minutes later, PP stands on the deck surveying the dismal pool options on this dreary rainy Monday. (She’d mistakenly thought that with all the rain in the early afternoon post lunch hour that the pool would be calm.)
No such luck.
Screaming kids splashing riotously in one third of the pool.
Spaced Out ‘ Water Walkers’ taking over the other third of the pool.
Leaving only 2 lap lanes available. One with an Arm Beater Splash Action. The other a Weaving Elderly Guy barely keeping afloat.
Overwhelmed Lifeguard spies PP standing miserably confused and hurries over, flaggin PP to wait a minute. Out of breath and apologetic, she rushes up to PP, “I’m so sorry. The pool is absolutely crazy right now.”
“Yeah, with all those kids. I saw them on my way in and thought, I bet they’re all headed for the pool.”
Sighing, Apologetic Lifeguard shakes her blond head, pushing aside a stray hair caught in the side of her mouth. “Yeah, I’m afraid you were right. It’s absolutely Crazy” she repeats, trying to undo a lane line.
“So, where should I swim?” PP asks, trying to smile in spite of the echoing screams.
“Well, you can split with him,” she nods toward Beater Swimmer. “But, I’m sorry you can’t swim with him,” she nods toward Weaving Elder Swimmer. “He has a Blood Condition.”
PP smiles unsure. A Blood Condition? What the hell did that mean? Especially since she’s been instructed not to share his lane. Did he leak? And if so, wouldn’t that be a reason to keep him out of the pool altogether? Or maybe his Blood got out easily. If PP happened to kick him, which was highly doubtful, usually someone kicked her, but saying it happened, that PP got in Blood Condition Swimmer’s lane and accidentally kicked him, would he start bleeding uncontrollably?
Was he a Swimming Hemophiliac?
This didn’t seem like such a good idea. Allowing a Swimming Hemophiliac in the Oakland Y’s public pool.
PP shivers (or is it shudders?) as she watches the Lifeguard bend down and start to unhook one of the lane lines, sliding it over to make a new lane where the Spaced Out Water Walkers are now getting out.
“Here, just one minute, and I’ll have this lane for you,” she huffs, as she pulls the heavy line (Why are they so heavy? PP has wondered this for years. They’re just plastic) over and hooks it onto the wall.
PP grins, happy now that she’s got her own lane, 2 over from the Hemophiliac.
Sliding on her fins, she hops into the water, warm and welcoming in its gray blueness. Zooming down the lane, she glances over as Swimming Hemophiliac taps another swimmer in the next lane on the shoulder to let him know he’s done-- he can have his lane. Then Swimming Hemophiliac climbs under the lane line into the kid mayhem. Stands at the side of the pool watching them in unabashed delight.
Well, PP thinks, at least someone likes the kids! All the same, she did hope he didn’t get brained by some rambunctious mite. Cuz if he did?
PP turns at the wall and starts to giggle to herself.
Hell, she’s not going there.
At least not now that she’s got her own lane!
Kid free. Kick free. But most of all
Hemophiliac Free!
Monday, February 19, 2007
What a Welcome at the Oakland Y
“You have such a Beautiful Stroke.”
“Thanks, it’s such a Beautiful Pool.”
“That it is. That it is….”
PP dives back under the water as Compliment Woman goes back to her water jogging, rocking gently to the vibes in her oversized headphones wrapped around her dyed Blonde African American Braids.
Finally, PP has taken the plunge and joined the Y. It feels good, even with the over-chlorination and lane-sharing confusion. Cute young Dyke in the Hot tub greets PP with a lovely smile and a “Nice Suit!” PP has her ear plugs in so can’t hear the rest of what she says, but with that smile it musta been nice.
And then Compliment Woman.
Everyone must know that PP is not longer just checkin out the joint, but is really a Member now. There’s a different, friendlier welcome in the air today. And all those compliments.
Well, any Swimming Kitty would be thrilled, especially when even the cute Vietnamese woman who signed PP up complimented her on her smile after takin her membership picture.
What a welcome!
But then.
Oh dear. PP is happily swimming her Beautiful Stroke down the middle lane when she spies wiry old guy with lots of hairy limbs and a crazed look in his eye wandering up and down the deck scoping out the lanes. Don’t ask how PP knows he's crazed since the chlorine makes it difficult to see, but she does. He’s got that crazy lumber. You know the one?
Swimming praying swimming praying. PP hopes hopes hopes that he doesn’t choose her lane.
Of course he does.
Damn!
Why do the crazy ones always choose her?
Must be that beautiful stroke. It’s so enticing.
PP better work on a less inviting splash for next time.
So.
Crazy Lumberer is also a Crazy Crooked Take Over the Entire Lane Oblivious Swimmer. Yup. The kind that starts out on his back and flaps around with both arms flailing over his head in the most crooked chaotic fashion imaginable.
PP tries, at first, to swim around him. It’s a close call the first time she passes. The next time, he does knock into her but he’s so spastic she can barely feel it.
Still. PP doesn’t want him braining her while she’s coming up for air.
Should she move?
PP doesn’t want to appear too rude on her first day. After all, maybe he’s a regular and she’ll run into him again (figuratively speaking, she hopes!). Well, hell, everyone in the pool is a member so she’ll definitely run into him again.
Damn.
Did she make a mistake? Is she gonna be plagued with Chaotic Spastic Lumberers during her YMCA tenor?
PP stops and watches him floating kinda in the middle of the lane. Once in awhile, he brings both arms over his head and splashes down, taking up the entire lane.
There’s no fucking way PP can get around him.
Glancing at Real Swimmer Woman in the lane next to her, savvy in her navy blue Speedo two-piece, red Zoomer fins, PP thinks, she’d be so much better.
“Mind if I share your lane?”RSW barely gives PP a glance as she studies the clock.
“I can’t really get around him,” PP nods toward CSL.
RSW nods in easy recognition, smiling sympathetically now. “Yeah. Sure. I’m almost finished.”
“Thanks”
And off PP goes, happily zooming past CSL who continues to spaz down the middle of the lane now next to her, oblivious to her abandonment of his lane. Hell, it was HIS lane from the get go!
And so it goes-- PP’s first day at the Y as a member.
Mixed reviews except for all the compliments.
Those are never mixed.
Grinning, PP finishes her last lap just as Enormous White Water Buffalo Guy on Crutches limps toward her lane. Grins down at her. “Mind if I share your lane?”
Relieved, PP tosses her kickboard on the deck. “I’m getttin out. It’s all yours.”
”Good Timing,” WBGonC nods.
Yup, you can say that again, PP thinks as she hops out of the pool and heads for the Hot Tub where she thankfully sinks into smack in the middle of Vibrant African American Community Talk. "YOU Gotta let those youngsters know. The doors were opened for them. But now they're closing. Those doors they will be closing if you don't up and take advantage of them. I hear you girlfriend. I hear you......"
And with a tired blissful grin, PP settles down to "hear" all about it.
“Thanks, it’s such a Beautiful Pool.”
“That it is. That it is….”
PP dives back under the water as Compliment Woman goes back to her water jogging, rocking gently to the vibes in her oversized headphones wrapped around her dyed Blonde African American Braids.
Finally, PP has taken the plunge and joined the Y. It feels good, even with the over-chlorination and lane-sharing confusion. Cute young Dyke in the Hot tub greets PP with a lovely smile and a “Nice Suit!” PP has her ear plugs in so can’t hear the rest of what she says, but with that smile it musta been nice.
And then Compliment Woman.
Everyone must know that PP is not longer just checkin out the joint, but is really a Member now. There’s a different, friendlier welcome in the air today. And all those compliments.
Well, any Swimming Kitty would be thrilled, especially when even the cute Vietnamese woman who signed PP up complimented her on her smile after takin her membership picture.
What a welcome!
But then.
Oh dear. PP is happily swimming her Beautiful Stroke down the middle lane when she spies wiry old guy with lots of hairy limbs and a crazed look in his eye wandering up and down the deck scoping out the lanes. Don’t ask how PP knows he's crazed since the chlorine makes it difficult to see, but she does. He’s got that crazy lumber. You know the one?
Swimming praying swimming praying. PP hopes hopes hopes that he doesn’t choose her lane.
Of course he does.
Damn!
Why do the crazy ones always choose her?
Must be that beautiful stroke. It’s so enticing.
PP better work on a less inviting splash for next time.
So.
Crazy Lumberer is also a Crazy Crooked Take Over the Entire Lane Oblivious Swimmer. Yup. The kind that starts out on his back and flaps around with both arms flailing over his head in the most crooked chaotic fashion imaginable.
PP tries, at first, to swim around him. It’s a close call the first time she passes. The next time, he does knock into her but he’s so spastic she can barely feel it.
Still. PP doesn’t want him braining her while she’s coming up for air.
Should she move?
PP doesn’t want to appear too rude on her first day. After all, maybe he’s a regular and she’ll run into him again (figuratively speaking, she hopes!). Well, hell, everyone in the pool is a member so she’ll definitely run into him again.
Damn.
Did she make a mistake? Is she gonna be plagued with Chaotic Spastic Lumberers during her YMCA tenor?
PP stops and watches him floating kinda in the middle of the lane. Once in awhile, he brings both arms over his head and splashes down, taking up the entire lane.
There’s no fucking way PP can get around him.
Glancing at Real Swimmer Woman in the lane next to her, savvy in her navy blue Speedo two-piece, red Zoomer fins, PP thinks, she’d be so much better.
“Mind if I share your lane?”RSW barely gives PP a glance as she studies the clock.
“I can’t really get around him,” PP nods toward CSL.
RSW nods in easy recognition, smiling sympathetically now. “Yeah. Sure. I’m almost finished.”
“Thanks”
And off PP goes, happily zooming past CSL who continues to spaz down the middle of the lane now next to her, oblivious to her abandonment of his lane. Hell, it was HIS lane from the get go!
And so it goes-- PP’s first day at the Y as a member.
Mixed reviews except for all the compliments.
Those are never mixed.
Grinning, PP finishes her last lap just as Enormous White Water Buffalo Guy on Crutches limps toward her lane. Grins down at her. “Mind if I share your lane?”
Relieved, PP tosses her kickboard on the deck. “I’m getttin out. It’s all yours.”
”Good Timing,” WBGonC nods.
Yup, you can say that again, PP thinks as she hops out of the pool and heads for the Hot Tub where she thankfully sinks into smack in the middle of Vibrant African American Community Talk. "YOU Gotta let those youngsters know. The doors were opened for them. But now they're closing. Those doors they will be closing if you don't up and take advantage of them. I hear you girlfriend. I hear you......"
And with a tired blissful grin, PP settles down to "hear" all about it.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Swimming Kitty Works? DAMN!
Why oh why must a kitty work? It makes everything so tiresome. And tiring!
PP had the (or so she thought) practical thought to join the YMCA so she could swim after work with her new job. They want her to work at 9 in the morning? Imagine that! So no morning swim on Wednesdays and Saturdays. (They want her to work Saturdays? How is that possible?)
They want her to work all day. Even lunchtime?
Damn!
No noontime swim?
PP hates this!
Club Mills is only open for a few hours a day. Early morning and evening. Noontime. It just wasn't gonna work!
What's a swimming kitty to do?
So, PP knows that the Y is open all the time. Something crazy like 5 am to 10 pm everyday! Yahooo! So, she thinks, hell, why not join the Y and swim after work at say, 7:30 or 8?
Seemed like a good idea……
Till PP tried it.
She was just too damn tired! The thought of driving thro the stupid tunnel and then down the dark freeway to the scary Broadway Y just was not as appealing as heading home to snuggle with the kitties and watch her tape of AMC!
So, no Y on Tuesday night.
No Y on Wednesday Night.
Maybe Sat?
Yes, this could work. At least it did for one week when she got a free pass. Made herself drive to the Y in the rain on a late grey Saturday afternoon. Completely exhausted after brainstorming with wacky psych students on their dubiously broad Masters Theses….
Jeez….
So, PP knew a swim would be divine if she could only get herself to do it.
And she did.
And it was lovely.
The cute Asian guy that she shared a lane with gave her a very welcoming smile.
And the lady wearing the shower cap while jogging didn’t seem too weird. (Maybe compared to the Psych students?)
And the immensely breasted Anne Rice Reading Dyke in the locker-room just seemed homey.
And the pretty girl with the alabaster skin and pert young breasts spacing out after her hot tub?
Yeah, PP kinda liked the Y. She could get to be a member. Maybe not read Anne Rice or wear a shower cap in the lap lanes, but the other perks?
These could very well be an excellent way to ‘chill out’ after ‘stressing out’ on those cold rainy windy Saturdays.
PP had the (or so she thought) practical thought to join the YMCA so she could swim after work with her new job. They want her to work at 9 in the morning? Imagine that! So no morning swim on Wednesdays and Saturdays. (They want her to work Saturdays? How is that possible?)
They want her to work all day. Even lunchtime?
Damn!
No noontime swim?
PP hates this!
Club Mills is only open for a few hours a day. Early morning and evening. Noontime. It just wasn't gonna work!
What's a swimming kitty to do?
So, PP knows that the Y is open all the time. Something crazy like 5 am to 10 pm everyday! Yahooo! So, she thinks, hell, why not join the Y and swim after work at say, 7:30 or 8?
Seemed like a good idea……
Till PP tried it.
She was just too damn tired! The thought of driving thro the stupid tunnel and then down the dark freeway to the scary Broadway Y just was not as appealing as heading home to snuggle with the kitties and watch her tape of AMC!
So, no Y on Tuesday night.
No Y on Wednesday Night.
Maybe Sat?
Yes, this could work. At least it did for one week when she got a free pass. Made herself drive to the Y in the rain on a late grey Saturday afternoon. Completely exhausted after brainstorming with wacky psych students on their dubiously broad Masters Theses….
Jeez….
So, PP knew a swim would be divine if she could only get herself to do it.
And she did.
And it was lovely.
The cute Asian guy that she shared a lane with gave her a very welcoming smile.
And the lady wearing the shower cap while jogging didn’t seem too weird. (Maybe compared to the Psych students?)
And the immensely breasted Anne Rice Reading Dyke in the locker-room just seemed homey.
And the pretty girl with the alabaster skin and pert young breasts spacing out after her hot tub?
Yeah, PP kinda liked the Y. She could get to be a member. Maybe not read Anne Rice or wear a shower cap in the lap lanes, but the other perks?
These could very well be an excellent way to ‘chill out’ after ‘stressing out’ on those cold rainy windy Saturdays.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Homage to Mina Loy, the Queen of Tortoiseshells
I don’t know if there are pools in kitty heaven, cuz we all know that most cats don’t like to swim, but if there are, Ms. Mina is up there lounging around on her kitty fish shaped air mattress floating over a blue blue pool full of lots of tasty fishies of all varieties and colors: big yellow fish, small green fish, round red fish, and of course, lots of shrimp! All of these fish are so easy for her to eat since she’s in kitty swimming pool fish heaven. They all just leap out of the pool and land smartly on her kitty plate balanced on her kitty air mattress where she can chomp them down at her will.
Then, of course, there are lots of other swimming and floating kitties in and around the pool for her to lord over. She is after all, the Queen Cat! These kitties all adore her and submit to her every whim, especially if she feels like batting them around or ordering up some cream! They hop to it pronto for her, bringing her bowls of rich cream or nudging her with their kitty heads so she can conveniently bop them, much to her kitty delight!
O Mina! We will all miss you so much, especially Owen, Liz, H.D. and Zelda. But we know that if there is a Kitty Swimming Heaven, you are the Queen of the Pool and will rule over your subjects for ever and ever and ever and ever!
With all our kitty love,
Pool Puss, Pablo, Sylvia and Miss Parker
Then, of course, there are lots of other swimming and floating kitties in and around the pool for her to lord over. She is after all, the Queen Cat! These kitties all adore her and submit to her every whim, especially if she feels like batting them around or ordering up some cream! They hop to it pronto for her, bringing her bowls of rich cream or nudging her with their kitty heads so she can conveniently bop them, much to her kitty delight!
O Mina! We will all miss you so much, especially Owen, Liz, H.D. and Zelda. But we know that if there is a Kitty Swimming Heaven, you are the Queen of the Pool and will rule over your subjects for ever and ever and ever and ever!
With all our kitty love,
Pool Puss, Pablo, Sylvia and Miss Parker
Sunday, January 21, 2007
THE SECRETS OF HAPPY SWIMMERS
“Hey, did you guys hear the news about Chlorine and Water?” The Lovely I’s girlfriend settles into the Hot Tub between PP and Lovely I.
The tub’s full of regulars—Muscular Real Estate Guy, Intellectual Russian Scholar Turned Tech Writer, the Lovely I and her GF, and Pool Puss.
We all shake our heads at LIGF’s question. But PP ventures a guess in a generalized depressing way. ‘It’s something bad, isn’t it?”
LIGF shakes her head. Sighs. “Yeah, I saw on CNN that chlorinated water causes a 50% increase in Bladder Cancer.”
Great. Why is everything cancer cancer cancer???!!! PP is so godamn sick of cancer. She’s already taking a risk swimming here in the late afternoon before 4 p.m. cuz Mills closes at 3:45and her dermatologist had said to avoid the sun between 10 & 4. So,her swim is fraught with worry about the sun and cancer. Now she has to worry about the goddamn water and cancer, too?
Shit!
Intellectual Russian Scholar shakes her head and pronounces, “It’s a very rare cancer.”
Everyone nods. Hell she sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. But then she always does, whether it’s cancer or sewing or politics or ballet. She knows the answer. “Besides,” she continues, “I always figure, like with the sun, that the benefits of swimming outweigh the risks. We need the vitamin D too.”
MREG agrees, lifting his leg outta the tub to stretch by holding his hand under the bottom of his foot. “Yeah. And the cardiovascular workout is good for our hearts. Why if we didn’t swim, we’d die of a heart attack.”
IRS nods, “Something’s gonna get you. You may as well swim.”
Everyone laughs uneasily as we try not to ponder our demise to closely.
“What did the study say? Was it about competitive swimmers, like water polo players and Olympic swimmers?” MREG asks, grabbing the bottom of his other leg. “Cuz if it’s about professional swimmers, you know they stay in the water a lot longer than the general population or even us regular swimmers!”
All chuckle as LIGF thinks a moment. “Well, I’m not sure who the study studied exactly. But that’s a very good question. I think, though, they were talking more about our drinking water than the pool water. Though the chlorine can be absorbed through our skin and cause this cancer.”
“Charming.” PP shakes her head. “Now we hafta worry about getting cancer from both the pool and our water supply.”
The Lovely I shakes her head. “No wonder we need to read those stupid books about the 9 Secrets of Happy People. Without it, we’d really be depressed.”
“Like what are the secrets?” PP asks.
“Oh….I don’t know. I was just flipping through the book and glancing at the ‘rules’ and saying to myself. Nope, I don’t do that. No, never even thought of that one. Hell, I did that once like 30 years ago. I’m DOOMED!!!”
Everyone laughs.
PP persists. She really wants to be happy.
Well, in theory at least.
In reality she knows it’s impossible. Especially with so much cancer in the air and the water and what else? Oh yeah, Diet Coke.
The Lovely I pauses to think a moment. “Well, like one thing the book said is that Happy People always make sure that they do ONE thing EVERY day that will make them Happy.”
“That seems simple enough,” MREG asserts, shaking his brawny shoulders.
“Yeah, it SEEMS simple enough, “ LI agrees, “ but just try doing it.”
PP grins. “I’m gonna make sure that I swim everyday. That makes me happy!”
Everyone nods in agreement. “But what about the Cancer?” LI exclaims. “Cancer doesn’t make us happy!”
Shaking our collective heads, everyone is silent for a moment.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” IRS announces while she slowly makes her way out of the tub, “But I’m gonna go lie in the sun and drink a Diet Coke and….”
”Eat some Oreos with lots of Trans Fats!” PP interrupts.
IRS glances at her, perplexed. “Do Trans Fats cause Cancer?”
LIGF grins, exclaims happily to PP, “Oreos! Right on!”
Shaking her head in a motherly oh what will I do with these naughty children fashion, IRS steps out of the tub and meanders over to a lounge chair, taking advantage of the late January California sunshine and its life giving vitamin D and life taking UVB rays.
PP watches in envious admiration. There is something to be said for throwing caution to the wind. Living in the moment with no cares about the future.
But it’s hard to do once you’ve had cancer. Especially when the one thing you resolve to do to make you happy is to swim everyday outdoors in the killer sun.
Sighing, PP waves bye to the Lovely I and her GF as they get outta the tub, sauntering slowly toward the locker room.
Donning her cap, grabbing her fins, kickboard and pull buoy, PP follows and heads for an open lane in the pool.
O Fuck the goddamn Cancer! At least for today.
And chuckling to herself, she tests the water before plunging happily into the cool, blue lane.
The tub’s full of regulars—Muscular Real Estate Guy, Intellectual Russian Scholar Turned Tech Writer, the Lovely I and her GF, and Pool Puss.
We all shake our heads at LIGF’s question. But PP ventures a guess in a generalized depressing way. ‘It’s something bad, isn’t it?”
LIGF shakes her head. Sighs. “Yeah, I saw on CNN that chlorinated water causes a 50% increase in Bladder Cancer.”
Great. Why is everything cancer cancer cancer???!!! PP is so godamn sick of cancer. She’s already taking a risk swimming here in the late afternoon before 4 p.m. cuz Mills closes at 3:45and her dermatologist had said to avoid the sun between 10 & 4. So,her swim is fraught with worry about the sun and cancer. Now she has to worry about the goddamn water and cancer, too?
Shit!
Intellectual Russian Scholar shakes her head and pronounces, “It’s a very rare cancer.”
Everyone nods. Hell she sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. But then she always does, whether it’s cancer or sewing or politics or ballet. She knows the answer. “Besides,” she continues, “I always figure, like with the sun, that the benefits of swimming outweigh the risks. We need the vitamin D too.”
MREG agrees, lifting his leg outta the tub to stretch by holding his hand under the bottom of his foot. “Yeah. And the cardiovascular workout is good for our hearts. Why if we didn’t swim, we’d die of a heart attack.”
IRS nods, “Something’s gonna get you. You may as well swim.”
Everyone laughs uneasily as we try not to ponder our demise to closely.
“What did the study say? Was it about competitive swimmers, like water polo players and Olympic swimmers?” MREG asks, grabbing the bottom of his other leg. “Cuz if it’s about professional swimmers, you know they stay in the water a lot longer than the general population or even us regular swimmers!”
All chuckle as LIGF thinks a moment. “Well, I’m not sure who the study studied exactly. But that’s a very good question. I think, though, they were talking more about our drinking water than the pool water. Though the chlorine can be absorbed through our skin and cause this cancer.”
“Charming.” PP shakes her head. “Now we hafta worry about getting cancer from both the pool and our water supply.”
The Lovely I shakes her head. “No wonder we need to read those stupid books about the 9 Secrets of Happy People. Without it, we’d really be depressed.”
“Like what are the secrets?” PP asks.
“Oh….I don’t know. I was just flipping through the book and glancing at the ‘rules’ and saying to myself. Nope, I don’t do that. No, never even thought of that one. Hell, I did that once like 30 years ago. I’m DOOMED!!!”
Everyone laughs.
PP persists. She really wants to be happy.
Well, in theory at least.
In reality she knows it’s impossible. Especially with so much cancer in the air and the water and what else? Oh yeah, Diet Coke.
The Lovely I pauses to think a moment. “Well, like one thing the book said is that Happy People always make sure that they do ONE thing EVERY day that will make them Happy.”
“That seems simple enough,” MREG asserts, shaking his brawny shoulders.
“Yeah, it SEEMS simple enough, “ LI agrees, “ but just try doing it.”
PP grins. “I’m gonna make sure that I swim everyday. That makes me happy!”
Everyone nods in agreement. “But what about the Cancer?” LI exclaims. “Cancer doesn’t make us happy!”
Shaking our collective heads, everyone is silent for a moment.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” IRS announces while she slowly makes her way out of the tub, “But I’m gonna go lie in the sun and drink a Diet Coke and….”
”Eat some Oreos with lots of Trans Fats!” PP interrupts.
IRS glances at her, perplexed. “Do Trans Fats cause Cancer?”
LIGF grins, exclaims happily to PP, “Oreos! Right on!”
Shaking her head in a motherly oh what will I do with these naughty children fashion, IRS steps out of the tub and meanders over to a lounge chair, taking advantage of the late January California sunshine and its life giving vitamin D and life taking UVB rays.
PP watches in envious admiration. There is something to be said for throwing caution to the wind. Living in the moment with no cares about the future.
But it’s hard to do once you’ve had cancer. Especially when the one thing you resolve to do to make you happy is to swim everyday outdoors in the killer sun.
Sighing, PP waves bye to the Lovely I and her GF as they get outta the tub, sauntering slowly toward the locker room.
Donning her cap, grabbing her fins, kickboard and pull buoy, PP follows and heads for an open lane in the pool.
O Fuck the goddamn Cancer! At least for today.
And chuckling to herself, she tests the water before plunging happily into the cool, blue lane.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
THE SWIMMING CURE
“Wow! It’s great to see you! Haven’t seen you in ages!” Mighty Small Strong Woman grins and stretches, catlike, as Pretty French Teacher plops happily into the hot tub.
“Yeah. I haven’t been in like a year.”
“You mean this year? 2007?”
“No…no….”PFT shrugs shyly. “All year….last year….I was hoping that I’d still see some regulars around.”
“Yeah, we’re still here. But what’s up? Is everything ok?”
PFT puts on a happy smile, but MSSW knows it’s a cover. Stares at her seriously.
“Well….it’s been kinda a tough year…..”
“Really? You ok?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine…..but my boyfriend… he’s been pretty sick.”
“He’s gonna be ok, isn’t he?”
“We hope so. He’s on the upswing…. I mean…..he does have Lung Cancer….” PFT shakes her dark wet hair sadly.
“Damn! How old is he?”
“35.”
“Shit….was he a smoker?”
“When he was younger.”
“Weren’t we all!” MSSW chuckles in morbid sympathy.
“Exactly….but the doctors were flabbergasted when the cancer was finally diagnosed. At first they thought he just had bronchitis so they gave him some antibiotics and sent him home…”
”How did he discover the cancer?”
“He had this cough….. and it just wouldn’t go away. Of course, we’re all sick in the winter. I know I am. And so he didn’t go to the doctor’s.”
“Yeah…I wouldn’t either.”
“Exactly….so when he finally went they said bronchitis. And then when it still wouldn’t go away and he went back they said pneumonia and so I thought ok, pneumonia is bad, but he’ll get better so I took off for France but then I get this call like a month later that it’s not bronchitis-- it’s Lung Cancer!”
“Shit.”
“So, of course I came right home and he had already started the chemo and the radiation….’
”How’d that go?”
“Well, he did okay with the radiation…. (Or was it the chemo? PP can’t recall now. Cancer talk in the hot tub is so overwhelming that her hearing ear forgets the vital medical details. So let’s just say radiation for now. But the following description may be vice versa.)
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
”Sure…. they can control the side effects pretty well now with medication. As long as you take the medication before the symptoms get too bad.” PFW reaches up behind her head and squeezes a long ponytail of water out. “But the chemo. Now that was killer. No pun intended.”
“None taken.”
“I mean, he was in so much pain! He couldn’t even take one sip of water without excruciating pain swallowing it. And no complaints. He would just grin and bear it. But he’s better now. He’s back at work and on the upswing.”
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Well, it is an aggressive cancer, but he’s so young, and they’re treating it aggressively. So the hope is for a complete cure….but….” PFW wipes her eyes. PP can’t see the tears from her dark eavesdropping corner, but she knows they’re there. She can hear them.
MSSW nods sympathetically. “He’s young. I’m sure that …..’
Her voice trails off. PP swallows hard. Damn. What’s her problem anyway? At least she doesn’t have lung cancer. Though she still, in the back of her mind, can’t get the melanoma scare out of her frame of reference. Which doesn’t really make sense. But cancer doesn’t no matter what kind or what outcome or who gets it. PP sighs. She’d been away from Mills for 3 weeks and had so looked forward to coming back but it’d been a harrowing drive up highway 13 with the Geo mysteriously overheating. Fortunately, she’d made it to the 76 station across the street from Mills where the very kind Hong Kong Buffet Server (they’ve replaced the garage with Chinese food) helped her. Checking the oil. Discovering the overflow water container was empty. Running back into the buffet and getting a big plastic pitcher of water to pour into the geo. Thankfully, it had worked. At least temporarily so PP could still go to the pool. She had felt so relieved and lucky. But now…..cancer talk? All PP wanted to do was get away from cancer and it was surrounding her. She’d just found out that the favorite number one cat, Owen Hill’s, Mina Loy, had inoperable kitty breast cancer. This was too sad to comprehend so PP had made herself go to the pool.
Now, PP watches as the two women climb out of the tub. Steam rising deliciously offa PFW’s smooth olive skin and navy suit. She doesn’t seem unhappy. Glad to be at the pool. She’d said this. How she hadn’t been in a year and now here she was and it was so great to be back.
PP understands this. How swimming can make everything better. Even the most daunting and uncontrollable things can melt away for a little while gliding through the turquoise lit lanes, the sky a dark warm dome over the pool with a few dim stars and a single small plane droning overhead.
Climbing out of the tub herself, PP shivers a little as she follows the two women still chatting, heads together, the PFW laughing softly.
Yes. Swimming is the answer. At least for a little while.
“Yeah. I haven’t been in like a year.”
“You mean this year? 2007?”
“No…no….”PFT shrugs shyly. “All year….last year….I was hoping that I’d still see some regulars around.”
“Yeah, we’re still here. But what’s up? Is everything ok?”
PFT puts on a happy smile, but MSSW knows it’s a cover. Stares at her seriously.
“Well….it’s been kinda a tough year…..”
“Really? You ok?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine…..but my boyfriend… he’s been pretty sick.”
“He’s gonna be ok, isn’t he?”
“We hope so. He’s on the upswing…. I mean…..he does have Lung Cancer….” PFT shakes her dark wet hair sadly.
“Damn! How old is he?”
“35.”
“Shit….was he a smoker?”
“When he was younger.”
“Weren’t we all!” MSSW chuckles in morbid sympathy.
“Exactly….but the doctors were flabbergasted when the cancer was finally diagnosed. At first they thought he just had bronchitis so they gave him some antibiotics and sent him home…”
”How did he discover the cancer?”
“He had this cough….. and it just wouldn’t go away. Of course, we’re all sick in the winter. I know I am. And so he didn’t go to the doctor’s.”
“Yeah…I wouldn’t either.”
“Exactly….so when he finally went they said bronchitis. And then when it still wouldn’t go away and he went back they said pneumonia and so I thought ok, pneumonia is bad, but he’ll get better so I took off for France but then I get this call like a month later that it’s not bronchitis-- it’s Lung Cancer!”
“Shit.”
“So, of course I came right home and he had already started the chemo and the radiation….’
”How’d that go?”
“Well, he did okay with the radiation…. (Or was it the chemo? PP can’t recall now. Cancer talk in the hot tub is so overwhelming that her hearing ear forgets the vital medical details. So let’s just say radiation for now. But the following description may be vice versa.)
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
”Sure…. they can control the side effects pretty well now with medication. As long as you take the medication before the symptoms get too bad.” PFW reaches up behind her head and squeezes a long ponytail of water out. “But the chemo. Now that was killer. No pun intended.”
“None taken.”
“I mean, he was in so much pain! He couldn’t even take one sip of water without excruciating pain swallowing it. And no complaints. He would just grin and bear it. But he’s better now. He’s back at work and on the upswing.”
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Well, it is an aggressive cancer, but he’s so young, and they’re treating it aggressively. So the hope is for a complete cure….but….” PFW wipes her eyes. PP can’t see the tears from her dark eavesdropping corner, but she knows they’re there. She can hear them.
MSSW nods sympathetically. “He’s young. I’m sure that …..’
Her voice trails off. PP swallows hard. Damn. What’s her problem anyway? At least she doesn’t have lung cancer. Though she still, in the back of her mind, can’t get the melanoma scare out of her frame of reference. Which doesn’t really make sense. But cancer doesn’t no matter what kind or what outcome or who gets it. PP sighs. She’d been away from Mills for 3 weeks and had so looked forward to coming back but it’d been a harrowing drive up highway 13 with the Geo mysteriously overheating. Fortunately, she’d made it to the 76 station across the street from Mills where the very kind Hong Kong Buffet Server (they’ve replaced the garage with Chinese food) helped her. Checking the oil. Discovering the overflow water container was empty. Running back into the buffet and getting a big plastic pitcher of water to pour into the geo. Thankfully, it had worked. At least temporarily so PP could still go to the pool. She had felt so relieved and lucky. But now…..cancer talk? All PP wanted to do was get away from cancer and it was surrounding her. She’d just found out that the favorite number one cat, Owen Hill’s, Mina Loy, had inoperable kitty breast cancer. This was too sad to comprehend so PP had made herself go to the pool.
Now, PP watches as the two women climb out of the tub. Steam rising deliciously offa PFW’s smooth olive skin and navy suit. She doesn’t seem unhappy. Glad to be at the pool. She’d said this. How she hadn’t been in a year and now here she was and it was so great to be back.
PP understands this. How swimming can make everything better. Even the most daunting and uncontrollable things can melt away for a little while gliding through the turquoise lit lanes, the sky a dark warm dome over the pool with a few dim stars and a single small plane droning overhead.
Climbing out of the tub herself, PP shivers a little as she follows the two women still chatting, heads together, the PFW laughing softly.
Yes. Swimming is the answer. At least for a little while.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Goddamn Lions Pool!
Is Lions the most goddamn insane pool in the world for crowds? Okay, maybe not in the world. Lord knows that pool in Paris was like a French Waterway Freeway, complete with rules and regulations galore. And what about the pool in China? Hell, that was an adventure in maneuvering the Children Rule Obstacle Course.
But Lions? What the hell is up with that place? I mean! Granted it is a holiday of sorts. Though why everyone and their grandmother is swimming on goddamn New Year’s eve is a complete mystery to Pool Puss. Don’t they hafta go out and buy their 16 cases of champagne to party till the midnight hour? Evidently not. They’re all swimming at Lions complete with every conceivable type of accoutrement!
Hell, there was a lady in the slow lane (or is it really the Chatting Lane?) with a goddamn wool ski hat on. PP kids you not! Dirty brown with little white snowflake designs. PP kept wondering what happened to all that wool when she went underwater. Thankfully, she didn’t.
And the Mammoth Whale Man? Lord help us! PP is resting for a moment at the side of the pool, awestruck at the sheer volume of swimmers. 6? 7? No, maybe 8 swimmers in the center ‘fast lane’—of course with so many swimmers it’s a little difficult to go fast. In addition to Wool Ski Hat Lady in the Chatting Lane there musta been at least 10? No couldn’t be that many? Yeah it could. So PP tries the medium lane, with only 7 or 10 swimmers, and much to her astonishment watches in rapt amazement as Mammoth Whale Man takes a running leap from the deck and plunges into the middle of the fray. And what a fray he creates! Plowing up the center of the lane. Completely oblivious to everyone else. Watch out! He’s coming thro!
And the poor Super Fast Swimmer from mills in the center lane! PP stops for a moment (she’s been hopping from lane to lane hoping to get in some sort of swim between the crowds—an Equal Opportunity Swimmer as a very witty woman said the other day in the shower) again, to survey the scene and SPS sighs heavily, completely exasperated with the plodding pace. PP nods, tries for a joke. “No one’s as fast as you are!” SFS just nods and takes off, her effortless power jetting thro the washing machine waves.
And the showers! PP tries not to think about it, but the claustrophobia is hard to keep at bay. She does get a shower. In the middle. Observes Ski Cap Lady come in and take off her cap before shampooing up her long gray hair. JL giggles and exclaims, much to PP’s delight, “IS THAT A WOOL CAP YOU HAVE ON?” shouting to make herself heard over the 6 women all soaping up and sharing showers. SCL nods. “Yup.” “WOW! What a good idea!” JL grins. It is pretty funny. PP hasta admit that.
But as Janice, the Pool Maven is hollering how everyone can share her shower and the two women getting dressed next to PP (now outta the shower) marvel at Mammoth Whale Man’s Stroke. “How does he do it? He just glides through the water. He must be so strong!” PP grimaces. That’s one way to put it. She’d call it Obnoxious, but what does she know?
Safely outta the locker room (somehow PP’s survived), JF sighs, “Well, that was quite an Experience. Ready for Cat World?”
Sighing, PP nods, “Sure, what the Hell. There’s no way that it could be as bad as the pool.”
Happy Fucking New Year to all! And may next year be filled with empty pools, languid mermaids, and lots of warm warm water!
But Lions? What the hell is up with that place? I mean! Granted it is a holiday of sorts. Though why everyone and their grandmother is swimming on goddamn New Year’s eve is a complete mystery to Pool Puss. Don’t they hafta go out and buy their 16 cases of champagne to party till the midnight hour? Evidently not. They’re all swimming at Lions complete with every conceivable type of accoutrement!
Hell, there was a lady in the slow lane (or is it really the Chatting Lane?) with a goddamn wool ski hat on. PP kids you not! Dirty brown with little white snowflake designs. PP kept wondering what happened to all that wool when she went underwater. Thankfully, she didn’t.
And the Mammoth Whale Man? Lord help us! PP is resting for a moment at the side of the pool, awestruck at the sheer volume of swimmers. 6? 7? No, maybe 8 swimmers in the center ‘fast lane’—of course with so many swimmers it’s a little difficult to go fast. In addition to Wool Ski Hat Lady in the Chatting Lane there musta been at least 10? No couldn’t be that many? Yeah it could. So PP tries the medium lane, with only 7 or 10 swimmers, and much to her astonishment watches in rapt amazement as Mammoth Whale Man takes a running leap from the deck and plunges into the middle of the fray. And what a fray he creates! Plowing up the center of the lane. Completely oblivious to everyone else. Watch out! He’s coming thro!
And the poor Super Fast Swimmer from mills in the center lane! PP stops for a moment (she’s been hopping from lane to lane hoping to get in some sort of swim between the crowds—an Equal Opportunity Swimmer as a very witty woman said the other day in the shower) again, to survey the scene and SPS sighs heavily, completely exasperated with the plodding pace. PP nods, tries for a joke. “No one’s as fast as you are!” SFS just nods and takes off, her effortless power jetting thro the washing machine waves.
And the showers! PP tries not to think about it, but the claustrophobia is hard to keep at bay. She does get a shower. In the middle. Observes Ski Cap Lady come in and take off her cap before shampooing up her long gray hair. JL giggles and exclaims, much to PP’s delight, “IS THAT A WOOL CAP YOU HAVE ON?” shouting to make herself heard over the 6 women all soaping up and sharing showers. SCL nods. “Yup.” “WOW! What a good idea!” JL grins. It is pretty funny. PP hasta admit that.
But as Janice, the Pool Maven is hollering how everyone can share her shower and the two women getting dressed next to PP (now outta the shower) marvel at Mammoth Whale Man’s Stroke. “How does he do it? He just glides through the water. He must be so strong!” PP grimaces. That’s one way to put it. She’d call it Obnoxious, but what does she know?
Safely outta the locker room (somehow PP’s survived), JF sighs, “Well, that was quite an Experience. Ready for Cat World?”
Sighing, PP nods, “Sure, what the Hell. There’s no way that it could be as bad as the pool.”
Happy Fucking New Year to all! And may next year be filled with empty pools, languid mermaids, and lots of warm warm water!
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Julianne’s Triathlon
PP is so thrilled to be swimming again in the daytime thanks to her new swim tights! Shielding her from 98% of those deadly UVB Rays! (Not that it seems like any rays get through the cloud cover 5 days before the shortest, darkest day of the year!)
Now it’s back to afternoon Hot Tub Talk, complete with JL, the Lovely I, and Serious Swimmer Cat Woman, who’s talking about training for triathlons. An activity that completely eludes PP.
“Yeah, so a lot of it was these Transitions,” SSCW laughs, stretching her long, bare freckled leg on the edge of the tub. (PP is gonna be so hyper aware now of everyone’s exposed skin at the pool since she can’t expose any!) “And I don’t know. It was a cross between Utter Boredom and a Complete Waste of Time. A lot of time was going from one activity to the other with these Transitions. Like we’d get outta the water and then walk to the car to get changed for the Bike part and eat a Snickers bar and hang out for 45 minutes and…..”
“I like the Snickers Bar part!” PP interrupts, giggling.
“Yeah, that was the best part,” SSCW agrees.
“I guess I just don’t understand why anyone would wanna do a triathlon,” PP muses aloud.
“No, me neither,” SSCW agrees again. PP has never seen her so agreeable. Maybe it was all those Snickers Bars making her sweeter? “You know,” SSCW continues, “I get done with my swim and then what? Now we have to run? Or bike? Hell, the swim was enough for me.”
“Yeah I’d think so,” PP nods.
“We could construct our own kind of Triathlon,” JL giggles in delight. “Pool. Hot Tub. Shower.”
We all crack up.
“Or how about Pool. Hot Tub. Lunch?” The Lovely I grins.
“Even better!” PP laughs along with the group, even the middle-aged White Guy from Montclair smiles. Not sure if he’s supposed to participate in the dialogue?
Well, he’s not really since he’s obviously not part of the Pool Princess Club, but we’d probably make an exception as everyone’s in such a jolly mood.
Must be the Holiday Spirit at the Hot Tub?
Hey, now that PP thinks of it, The Middle-Aged White Guy did have a bit of a white beard and a round belly and….
Santa Claus in the Hot Tub?
Sure, why not. Anything is possible now that PP can swim again in the middle of the day!
Now it’s back to afternoon Hot Tub Talk, complete with JL, the Lovely I, and Serious Swimmer Cat Woman, who’s talking about training for triathlons. An activity that completely eludes PP.
“Yeah, so a lot of it was these Transitions,” SSCW laughs, stretching her long, bare freckled leg on the edge of the tub. (PP is gonna be so hyper aware now of everyone’s exposed skin at the pool since she can’t expose any!) “And I don’t know. It was a cross between Utter Boredom and a Complete Waste of Time. A lot of time was going from one activity to the other with these Transitions. Like we’d get outta the water and then walk to the car to get changed for the Bike part and eat a Snickers bar and hang out for 45 minutes and…..”
“I like the Snickers Bar part!” PP interrupts, giggling.
“Yeah, that was the best part,” SSCW agrees.
“I guess I just don’t understand why anyone would wanna do a triathlon,” PP muses aloud.
“No, me neither,” SSCW agrees again. PP has never seen her so agreeable. Maybe it was all those Snickers Bars making her sweeter? “You know,” SSCW continues, “I get done with my swim and then what? Now we have to run? Or bike? Hell, the swim was enough for me.”
“Yeah I’d think so,” PP nods.
“We could construct our own kind of Triathlon,” JL giggles in delight. “Pool. Hot Tub. Shower.”
We all crack up.
“Or how about Pool. Hot Tub. Lunch?” The Lovely I grins.
“Even better!” PP laughs along with the group, even the middle-aged White Guy from Montclair smiles. Not sure if he’s supposed to participate in the dialogue?
Well, he’s not really since he’s obviously not part of the Pool Princess Club, but we’d probably make an exception as everyone’s in such a jolly mood.
Must be the Holiday Spirit at the Hot Tub?
Hey, now that PP thinks of it, The Middle-Aged White Guy did have a bit of a white beard and a round belly and….
Santa Claus in the Hot Tub?
Sure, why not. Anything is possible now that PP can swim again in the middle of the day!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
The Spirit of Bianca
“I can’t believe I’m up before 10:30. I never get up before 10:30. Sometimes I get up by 9, but that’s unusual.”
“And it’s so cool swimming in the morning!”
“Yeah, I never get up before 10:30.”
PP yawns in a grin, “What time do you get up?”
10:30 Girl stares right at her. “2 or 3 a.m.”
“Ahh, well, that explains it.”
PP sinks deeper into the steamy tub. 10:30! Hell, she’d love to sleep till 10:30! Students! They are so goddamn lazy and spoiled. Why look at them, lounging about on the hot tub ledge. Bet they didn’t even swim! Lazy good for nothing students.
“And then it was after 3 a.m. and I heard Trudy close her lap top and then start sobbing hysterically.” 10:30 Girl comments matter-of-factly.
“What was wrong?” Non-10:30 Friend asks.
“I dunno. It was after she’d been trying to write this paper for her IR class, and then I think she had just emailed the professor. And then I heard her crying. Maybe she’s having a torrid affair with her and …..”
Did PP hear that right? Or is the spirit of Bianca, the Luscious AMC Lesbian Daughter of the famed Erica Kane, so far in her brain that she hears such things?
“What did you do?” Non-10:30 Friend asks, all concern about Trudy.
10:30 Girl shrugs, “Nothing. I mean what could I do? It was 3:30 in the morning and she was crying and I told her it was after 3 in the morning. She should just go to sleep. But she just kept crying.”
Non-10:30 Friend nods. Of course, what could she do? It wasn’t like 10:30 Girl could go and call up the Lesbian Torrid Affair Professor and invite her over to soothe her Student Girlfriend at 3 in the morning.
PP turns and starts to stuff her too long hair in her cap. The morning sun freaking her out in its brightness. Was she ever gonna be normal again after the melanoma? If only she could go swimming at 3 in the morning with the Lesbian Professor and Trudy. No sun and lots of sin.
Now there’s a plan!
Heaving herself outta the tub, PP gathers up her kickboard, fins and pull buoy and starts over to the pool, the cold concrete making her shiver.
“Bye bye! Have a Nice Day!”
PP turns and smiles at Non 10:30 Friend who’s called out this friendly and seemingly genuine greeting. It’s not often that ‘Have a Nice Day’ sounds sincere.
“Thanks, you too!” she hollers back.
Maybe students aren’t so bad after all, PP thinks, as she picks an open lane in the middle of the pool’s steaming morning water. A fine silver mist covering the surface. Maybe there was something sorta enchanting about swimming in the morning. Especially if the spirit of Bianca was with you!
“And it’s so cool swimming in the morning!”
“Yeah, I never get up before 10:30.”
PP yawns in a grin, “What time do you get up?”
10:30 Girl stares right at her. “2 or 3 a.m.”
“Ahh, well, that explains it.”
PP sinks deeper into the steamy tub. 10:30! Hell, she’d love to sleep till 10:30! Students! They are so goddamn lazy and spoiled. Why look at them, lounging about on the hot tub ledge. Bet they didn’t even swim! Lazy good for nothing students.
“And then it was after 3 a.m. and I heard Trudy close her lap top and then start sobbing hysterically.” 10:30 Girl comments matter-of-factly.
“What was wrong?” Non-10:30 Friend asks.
“I dunno. It was after she’d been trying to write this paper for her IR class, and then I think she had just emailed the professor. And then I heard her crying. Maybe she’s having a torrid affair with her and …..”
Did PP hear that right? Or is the spirit of Bianca, the Luscious AMC Lesbian Daughter of the famed Erica Kane, so far in her brain that she hears such things?
“What did you do?” Non-10:30 Friend asks, all concern about Trudy.
10:30 Girl shrugs, “Nothing. I mean what could I do? It was 3:30 in the morning and she was crying and I told her it was after 3 in the morning. She should just go to sleep. But she just kept crying.”
Non-10:30 Friend nods. Of course, what could she do? It wasn’t like 10:30 Girl could go and call up the Lesbian Torrid Affair Professor and invite her over to soothe her Student Girlfriend at 3 in the morning.
PP turns and starts to stuff her too long hair in her cap. The morning sun freaking her out in its brightness. Was she ever gonna be normal again after the melanoma? If only she could go swimming at 3 in the morning with the Lesbian Professor and Trudy. No sun and lots of sin.
Now there’s a plan!
Heaving herself outta the tub, PP gathers up her kickboard, fins and pull buoy and starts over to the pool, the cold concrete making her shiver.
“Bye bye! Have a Nice Day!”
PP turns and smiles at Non 10:30 Friend who’s called out this friendly and seemingly genuine greeting. It’s not often that ‘Have a Nice Day’ sounds sincere.
“Thanks, you too!” she hollers back.
Maybe students aren’t so bad after all, PP thinks, as she picks an open lane in the middle of the pool’s steaming morning water. A fine silver mist covering the surface. Maybe there was something sorta enchanting about swimming in the morning. Especially if the spirit of Bianca was with you!
Saturday, December 02, 2006
The Hotel Lafayette
“I visited San Diego over Thanksgiving. I like it.”
PP nods as she watches Dancer Woman tuck her hair into her navy cap.
”Yeah, me too. My sister lives down there.”
“I found a great hotel if you ever want one. With an Olympic Sized Pool!”
Of course, PP cries out in delight, even though it is only 8:30 in the morning and it’s so damn cold that her kitty fur is standing on end. “WOW! How cool! What’s the name of it?”
“It’s called the Hotel Lafayette.”
PP nods. “I can remember that.” She doesn’t tell Dancer Swimmer the reason why she can remember is because Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend plays Mr. Lafayette, the Hit Man, in a horror film in progress.
“And all the rooms are named after Hollywood Stars. I got to stay in Cary Grant’s room.”
”How classy!” PP exclaims, wondering what other film stars have rooms named after them. Betty Grable? Marilyn Monroe? Jimmy Stewart? Mae West? Humphrey Bogart? Jean Harlow?
PP likes the idea of staying in Jean Harlow’s room. Tough, no nonsense and Blonde.
Grinning, PP watches as DS sighs wistfully, perhaps remembering the Olympic sized pool and the balmy San Diego breezes?
Or maybe she was thinking about Cary Grant?
Chuckling, PP watches as DS heads out into the coldness, wondering how far and how long Cary Grant swam in his day?
Somehow, PP thinks that he probably spent more time poolside, sipping martinis and smoking fine cigars as she follows DS out into the cold crisp morning.
PP nods as she watches Dancer Woman tuck her hair into her navy cap.
”Yeah, me too. My sister lives down there.”
“I found a great hotel if you ever want one. With an Olympic Sized Pool!”
Of course, PP cries out in delight, even though it is only 8:30 in the morning and it’s so damn cold that her kitty fur is standing on end. “WOW! How cool! What’s the name of it?”
“It’s called the Hotel Lafayette.”
PP nods. “I can remember that.” She doesn’t tell Dancer Swimmer the reason why she can remember is because Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend plays Mr. Lafayette, the Hit Man, in a horror film in progress.
“And all the rooms are named after Hollywood Stars. I got to stay in Cary Grant’s room.”
”How classy!” PP exclaims, wondering what other film stars have rooms named after them. Betty Grable? Marilyn Monroe? Jimmy Stewart? Mae West? Humphrey Bogart? Jean Harlow?
PP likes the idea of staying in Jean Harlow’s room. Tough, no nonsense and Blonde.
Grinning, PP watches as DS sighs wistfully, perhaps remembering the Olympic sized pool and the balmy San Diego breezes?
Or maybe she was thinking about Cary Grant?
Chuckling, PP watches as DS heads out into the coldness, wondering how far and how long Cary Grant swam in his day?
Somehow, PP thinks that he probably spent more time poolside, sipping martinis and smoking fine cigars as she follows DS out into the cold crisp morning.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Swimming again with the Lovely I. Oh my!
“Hello? Swimming Kitty? Are you allowed to swim on the darkest rainiest day of the year so far? I don’t think any UV rays could possibly come through…..”
PP stops her plodding through Beethoven’s Sonata in F minor to interrupt the Lovely I’s phone message. “HEY! Hello!”
“Hey? Can you swim today?”
PP thinks she can. Hell, if she can’t swim in a driving downpour when the heavens look like a dark wet gray blanket, when can she swim? (Of course she knows the answer to this, but c’mon!)
And so the Lovely I takes PP to the Pool.
And tells her many stories.
Of which, PP will now narrate the best.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” PP asks as they traipse through the rain up the steps to Club Mills.
“OHMYGOD!” The Lovely I exclaims. “You would not believe it! D’s sister had this total meltdown over the George Bush Toilet Paper.”
PP grins. This was gonna be good. “Why?”
“Oh my god. She just went off on D about how it was so inappropriate to give as a gift in front of the children.”
“Why? Don’t kids need to know who to wipe their ass with?”
(PP didn’t really think to say this, but it sounds good now.)
The Lovely I giggles, “Precisely.” (Again, this is made-up, but PP hasta keep the dialogue line going.) “You see,” LI continues, “D had brought the toilet paper as a gag gift. Duh. And while we thought it was hilarious at best and a nice gesture at the least, the sister did not!”
“What did she say?”
“She just went on and on about how it was a Bad Influence on the kids. How they hafta learn to respect those in power, especially the President. Never mind the fact that this President deserves no one’s respect. But hell, what do you expect from a die hard Republican!”
“Ahhh, one of those Sanctimonious Mothers!”
“Exactly! I mean! Even if you could protect your kids from all the Bad Influences out there, everyone knows this is impossible, cuz how the hell are you gonna do that?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re still gonna grow up and hopefully think for themselves and realize that George Bush isn’t even good enough for Toilet Paper!”
“Let’s hope so!”
In the hot tub, the cold rain barreling down, the Lovely I grins as she stands waist deep in the water. “You stayed in a long time!”
“45 minutes.”
“Wow! I hadda get out. I was just too cold.”
“Me too,” PP agrees. “But I figured I hadda take advantage of swimming after 10 a.m. and before 4 p.m. when the clouds provide an opportunity.”
“Heee heee heee!”
“What have you been doing with yourself?” PP asks as she melts down into the warm steamy sanctuary.
“Did I tell you I’m taking Horse Back Riding lessons?”
“No, cool.”
“It is so cool. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time but just couldn’t find anywhere to do it. All the places were either too far away or booked up. But then, lucky for me, the place up at Chabot gave my number to this new instructor and she called me and I said sure, why not? And I’ve had 5 lessons. And can you believe it? It’s really a workout! I’ve never been so sore in my life. I don’t remember this from when I was 12.”
“Yeah, well we’re a little different than when we were 12.”
“Hee hee! Yeah, so I was really happy with this cuz I’ve been trying to think of a way of improving my Core Strength. Swimming doesn’t do it. And I can’t do anything else like, run! So now, with the horseback riding, my Core is gonna improve. I can feel it.”
PP nods in agreement. Having no idea what to say to either horseback riding or Core Strength Improvement.”
“How’s your hand doing?” PP asks.
(The Lovely I has had a severely injured paw for many many months, but she’s driving now and swimming and horseback riding, so, it must be getting better! And it is!”
“I can Iron!” LI exclaims.
PP grins. “That’s wonderful. I guess. I mean, I haven’t ironed anything in 25 years, but hell, I could see how you’d need to use your hands to do it.”
“That’s so interesting.” LI muses. “I’ve come to the conclusion that people are divided into two groups. Those that Iron and those that Don’t.”
“Did you take any pictures with your underwater camera?” PP asks as they head outta the locker room.
“No, I was too cold. Ohmygod! Look at this!” LI cries as she grabs her camera. “I coulda been taking pictures while you were drying your hair.”
PP giggles as she watches LI begin to click away. The big blue pool being pounded into thousands of tiny little bullet indentations as the sheets of grey white rain come tumbling down. The steam rising in big billowing gusts as the swimmers plow methodically through their workouts.
It is beautiful.
And the Lovely I is too!
And swimming in the rain is too!
Happy Winter! PP thinks as she ducks under the LI’s big red and white umbrella to meander spacily back to the car.
PP stops her plodding through Beethoven’s Sonata in F minor to interrupt the Lovely I’s phone message. “HEY! Hello!”
“Hey? Can you swim today?”
PP thinks she can. Hell, if she can’t swim in a driving downpour when the heavens look like a dark wet gray blanket, when can she swim? (Of course she knows the answer to this, but c’mon!)
And so the Lovely I takes PP to the Pool.
And tells her many stories.
Of which, PP will now narrate the best.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” PP asks as they traipse through the rain up the steps to Club Mills.
“OHMYGOD!” The Lovely I exclaims. “You would not believe it! D’s sister had this total meltdown over the George Bush Toilet Paper.”
PP grins. This was gonna be good. “Why?”
“Oh my god. She just went off on D about how it was so inappropriate to give as a gift in front of the children.”
“Why? Don’t kids need to know who to wipe their ass with?”
(PP didn’t really think to say this, but it sounds good now.)
The Lovely I giggles, “Precisely.” (Again, this is made-up, but PP hasta keep the dialogue line going.) “You see,” LI continues, “D had brought the toilet paper as a gag gift. Duh. And while we thought it was hilarious at best and a nice gesture at the least, the sister did not!”
“What did she say?”
“She just went on and on about how it was a Bad Influence on the kids. How they hafta learn to respect those in power, especially the President. Never mind the fact that this President deserves no one’s respect. But hell, what do you expect from a die hard Republican!”
“Ahhh, one of those Sanctimonious Mothers!”
“Exactly! I mean! Even if you could protect your kids from all the Bad Influences out there, everyone knows this is impossible, cuz how the hell are you gonna do that?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re still gonna grow up and hopefully think for themselves and realize that George Bush isn’t even good enough for Toilet Paper!”
“Let’s hope so!”
In the hot tub, the cold rain barreling down, the Lovely I grins as she stands waist deep in the water. “You stayed in a long time!”
“45 minutes.”
“Wow! I hadda get out. I was just too cold.”
“Me too,” PP agrees. “But I figured I hadda take advantage of swimming after 10 a.m. and before 4 p.m. when the clouds provide an opportunity.”
“Heee heee heee!”
“What have you been doing with yourself?” PP asks as she melts down into the warm steamy sanctuary.
“Did I tell you I’m taking Horse Back Riding lessons?”
“No, cool.”
“It is so cool. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time but just couldn’t find anywhere to do it. All the places were either too far away or booked up. But then, lucky for me, the place up at Chabot gave my number to this new instructor and she called me and I said sure, why not? And I’ve had 5 lessons. And can you believe it? It’s really a workout! I’ve never been so sore in my life. I don’t remember this from when I was 12.”
“Yeah, well we’re a little different than when we were 12.”
“Hee hee! Yeah, so I was really happy with this cuz I’ve been trying to think of a way of improving my Core Strength. Swimming doesn’t do it. And I can’t do anything else like, run! So now, with the horseback riding, my Core is gonna improve. I can feel it.”
PP nods in agreement. Having no idea what to say to either horseback riding or Core Strength Improvement.”
“How’s your hand doing?” PP asks.
(The Lovely I has had a severely injured paw for many many months, but she’s driving now and swimming and horseback riding, so, it must be getting better! And it is!”
“I can Iron!” LI exclaims.
PP grins. “That’s wonderful. I guess. I mean, I haven’t ironed anything in 25 years, but hell, I could see how you’d need to use your hands to do it.”
“That’s so interesting.” LI muses. “I’ve come to the conclusion that people are divided into two groups. Those that Iron and those that Don’t.”
“Did you take any pictures with your underwater camera?” PP asks as they head outta the locker room.
“No, I was too cold. Ohmygod! Look at this!” LI cries as she grabs her camera. “I coulda been taking pictures while you were drying your hair.”
PP giggles as she watches LI begin to click away. The big blue pool being pounded into thousands of tiny little bullet indentations as the sheets of grey white rain come tumbling down. The steam rising in big billowing gusts as the swimmers plow methodically through their workouts.
It is beautiful.
And the Lovely I is too!
And swimming in the rain is too!
Happy Winter! PP thinks as she ducks under the LI’s big red and white umbrella to meander spacily back to the car.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
HOT TUBBING IN WILLITS
Willits, California. Gateway to the Redwoods. Home of Seabiscuit. Start of the Skunktrain.
What a place to vacation!
Well, actually, it’s a great halfway point between the Bay Area and Eureka, where PP’s folks live. And while it’s not an impossible drive to make in one trip (about 5-6 hours) if you can stop halfway, it’s so much nicer.
PP had spied the billboard for the Beachtel Creek Inn on the way up for the Thanksgiving Feast. Had been sorely tempted to stop as they’d been sitting in traffic for the last 3 of the 4 hours of the journey so far. Yes, everyone and their mother were headed to Grandmother’s for Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. And the Inn by a secluded creek right offa 101 seemed so tempting.
Alas, they plowed on. But yet, the billboard stuck in PP’s mind. “Come to Beachtel Creek Inn! Your oasis nestled next to a quiet creek. Pool.” (Imagine PP’s excitement!) “Hot tub, cable T.V., and spa.” (PP could do without the spa but everything else sounded heavenly.) So when they were looking for a spot to break up the drive back down to the Bay Area, PP booked a room.
Now, after a grueling mile long walk after the meal at Anna’s Asian Cuisine in the 40 degree cold down 101, a HOT Tub sounded like just the ticket. (The pool, of course, was closed. PP guessed that if the air temp was 40 the pool was probably 50? Maybe 60? In any case no water that she’d like to even dip her big kitty toe in!)
Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend was of course delighted by the prospect of a Hot Tub under the frozen stars of Willits. On their walk back from Anna’s, he’d tried to show PP the constellations. She was too cold to pay attention. (Besides the fact that she never could see the pictures in the sky that everyone else seemed to spot so easily!)
Easing into the steaming tub, DHBF grinned and sighed happily. After all he had been driving for the last few hours and the hot water was deliciously therapeutic. PP, dubious of a Hot Tub while they’d been galloping down 101 after dinner trying to escape the Frigid Night, now happily dunked into the welcoming steam.
Aaaaahhhh! Heaven!
Sinking into the toasty tub, PP closed her eyes, blissing happily, finally relaxing after the cold bone-chilling walk.
It was late. About 9? Maybe 9:15. The cute hick girl that had checked them into the hotel had said that the Hot Tub was open officially till 10, but she didn’t leave till 11, so they could stay that late. No one else was around. Of course no one else was crazy enough to go Hot Tubbing in Willits in the 40 degree weather except for the two of them. Until…..
The pool gate swung open. A couple giggling as they came in. Pert Blonde in sexy knee-high fur boots with her hotel white robe covering her soon to be revealed polka dot bikini, pleasantly rounded, she wore the bikini well. Handsome, blondish longhaired guy, pony tailed, with a sexy smile and a killer bod.
PP was delighted.
Courteous hellos were exchanged as the couple tossed off their robes. Pert Blonde smiling and asking if it was okay to turn on the jets.
“Sure,” DHBF answered good-naturedly. He was so nice. Unlike PP who woulda lied and said that the jets were broken. They’d already tried ‘em.( Cuz she purrfurred the still quiet of the hot water to the noisy bubbles of the jets.)
Giggling, PB turned on the jets and then hopped into the tub, with her handsome man following her dutifully.
“Oooohhh! This is the best I’ve felt all day!” PB exclaimed, sinking deep into the tub, her bleached blonde hair kept outta the water in a tight round bun atop her head.
PP nods. “Yeah, it’s really nice. Especially with it so cold out. We’ve just been walking for the last half hour in the freezing cold and this is divine!”
PB nods and then starts yammering to her partner about this and that. Thanksgiving. Eating too much. “I shouldn’t of had all that rich food! I’ve been on that cleansing diet for the last week and my system is killing me now. What with the turkey and the mashed potatoes and the gravy and that glass of wine. IT did me in!”
Handsome Ponytail Man nods. Doesn’t say much. Till the subject of Hot Tubs comes up. How they’d installed or taken out a hot tub? PP couldn’t really understand which since she was tired and heaterized. “Yeah…you shoulda seen the redwood deck under the tub. It was pure mush! You could stick your finger a half a inch into it.”
PB wrinkles her little nose in disgust. “Gross!”
He chuckles. “Yeah, well, they shoulda thought about the materials they were using when they put that tub there. We’re gonna lay a slab of concrete under ours before we install it.”
PB nods. “He’s a contractor.”
PP and DHBF both nod politely. Trying not to be too bored. PP can’t help but think about the close proximity of these two couples. It was a very small Hot Tub. But, hell, in Willits, it’s surprising there are any hot tubs at all! The town seemed to be full of speeding redneck motorcyclists, or souped up pick-ups with screaming teenagers hollaring at out-of-towners (namely PP and DHBF) trying to get to their hotels.
“These friends of ours gave us their hot tub. They hadda move. You shoulda seen their house! It was full of ART all the way up the wall," PB exclaims.
PP nods again. What the hell was she talking about? ART up the wall ? Contractor Man grins over at her. Silly puss, she was cute, but not so great at describing things. It takes a Contractor Man to really tell it like it is!
“They hadda a A frame house and they had these little shelves built up the wall. All the way to the ceiling. And they had these little pieces of art either on the shelves or nailed to the wall.”
PB nods. “Yeah! It was amazing! Imagine all the Dust!”
PP eyes her. Dust Art? Now there’s a concept! Nodding in pretend understanding, PP watches as they sparkle at each other. The chemistry palpable. If it’d been a few years ago, PP might have added to the chemistry. Now it was all just fantasy. After all they were sexy, even if they weren’t really her type. It was always good to expand your horizons.
Well, at least in theory.
DHBF yawns. Turns and grins over at PP. ‘You ‘bout ready to go?” he asks, with his own twinkle in his eye.
PP nods, giving him her hand as he helps her out of the tub. “You guys have a good night,” she calls back to the Sexy Couple, who now alone in the tiny tub are experimenting with different positions.
NO NOT those kinda Positions! After all, it was Willits, California. And while PP was sure that the good citizens of this fine town partook of as much fun as the next, they certainly would not be the types to look the other way at Hot Tub Shenanigans!
Shivering again, PP grins as she sloshes dizzily after DHBF back up the stairs, into their too green room to watch "The Mists of Avalon" on the cable T.V.
What a place to vacation!
Well, actually, it’s a great halfway point between the Bay Area and Eureka, where PP’s folks live. And while it’s not an impossible drive to make in one trip (about 5-6 hours) if you can stop halfway, it’s so much nicer.
PP had spied the billboard for the Beachtel Creek Inn on the way up for the Thanksgiving Feast. Had been sorely tempted to stop as they’d been sitting in traffic for the last 3 of the 4 hours of the journey so far. Yes, everyone and their mother were headed to Grandmother’s for Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. And the Inn by a secluded creek right offa 101 seemed so tempting.
Alas, they plowed on. But yet, the billboard stuck in PP’s mind. “Come to Beachtel Creek Inn! Your oasis nestled next to a quiet creek. Pool.” (Imagine PP’s excitement!) “Hot tub, cable T.V., and spa.” (PP could do without the spa but everything else sounded heavenly.) So when they were looking for a spot to break up the drive back down to the Bay Area, PP booked a room.
Now, after a grueling mile long walk after the meal at Anna’s Asian Cuisine in the 40 degree cold down 101, a HOT Tub sounded like just the ticket. (The pool, of course, was closed. PP guessed that if the air temp was 40 the pool was probably 50? Maybe 60? In any case no water that she’d like to even dip her big kitty toe in!)
Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend was of course delighted by the prospect of a Hot Tub under the frozen stars of Willits. On their walk back from Anna’s, he’d tried to show PP the constellations. She was too cold to pay attention. (Besides the fact that she never could see the pictures in the sky that everyone else seemed to spot so easily!)
Easing into the steaming tub, DHBF grinned and sighed happily. After all he had been driving for the last few hours and the hot water was deliciously therapeutic. PP, dubious of a Hot Tub while they’d been galloping down 101 after dinner trying to escape the Frigid Night, now happily dunked into the welcoming steam.
Aaaaahhhh! Heaven!
Sinking into the toasty tub, PP closed her eyes, blissing happily, finally relaxing after the cold bone-chilling walk.
It was late. About 9? Maybe 9:15. The cute hick girl that had checked them into the hotel had said that the Hot Tub was open officially till 10, but she didn’t leave till 11, so they could stay that late. No one else was around. Of course no one else was crazy enough to go Hot Tubbing in Willits in the 40 degree weather except for the two of them. Until…..
The pool gate swung open. A couple giggling as they came in. Pert Blonde in sexy knee-high fur boots with her hotel white robe covering her soon to be revealed polka dot bikini, pleasantly rounded, she wore the bikini well. Handsome, blondish longhaired guy, pony tailed, with a sexy smile and a killer bod.
PP was delighted.
Courteous hellos were exchanged as the couple tossed off their robes. Pert Blonde smiling and asking if it was okay to turn on the jets.
“Sure,” DHBF answered good-naturedly. He was so nice. Unlike PP who woulda lied and said that the jets were broken. They’d already tried ‘em.( Cuz she purrfurred the still quiet of the hot water to the noisy bubbles of the jets.)
Giggling, PB turned on the jets and then hopped into the tub, with her handsome man following her dutifully.
“Oooohhh! This is the best I’ve felt all day!” PB exclaimed, sinking deep into the tub, her bleached blonde hair kept outta the water in a tight round bun atop her head.
PP nods. “Yeah, it’s really nice. Especially with it so cold out. We’ve just been walking for the last half hour in the freezing cold and this is divine!”
PB nods and then starts yammering to her partner about this and that. Thanksgiving. Eating too much. “I shouldn’t of had all that rich food! I’ve been on that cleansing diet for the last week and my system is killing me now. What with the turkey and the mashed potatoes and the gravy and that glass of wine. IT did me in!”
Handsome Ponytail Man nods. Doesn’t say much. Till the subject of Hot Tubs comes up. How they’d installed or taken out a hot tub? PP couldn’t really understand which since she was tired and heaterized. “Yeah…you shoulda seen the redwood deck under the tub. It was pure mush! You could stick your finger a half a inch into it.”
PB wrinkles her little nose in disgust. “Gross!”
He chuckles. “Yeah, well, they shoulda thought about the materials they were using when they put that tub there. We’re gonna lay a slab of concrete under ours before we install it.”
PB nods. “He’s a contractor.”
PP and DHBF both nod politely. Trying not to be too bored. PP can’t help but think about the close proximity of these two couples. It was a very small Hot Tub. But, hell, in Willits, it’s surprising there are any hot tubs at all! The town seemed to be full of speeding redneck motorcyclists, or souped up pick-ups with screaming teenagers hollaring at out-of-towners (namely PP and DHBF) trying to get to their hotels.
“These friends of ours gave us their hot tub. They hadda move. You shoulda seen their house! It was full of ART all the way up the wall," PB exclaims.
PP nods again. What the hell was she talking about? ART up the wall ? Contractor Man grins over at her. Silly puss, she was cute, but not so great at describing things. It takes a Contractor Man to really tell it like it is!
“They hadda a A frame house and they had these little shelves built up the wall. All the way to the ceiling. And they had these little pieces of art either on the shelves or nailed to the wall.”
PB nods. “Yeah! It was amazing! Imagine all the Dust!”
PP eyes her. Dust Art? Now there’s a concept! Nodding in pretend understanding, PP watches as they sparkle at each other. The chemistry palpable. If it’d been a few years ago, PP might have added to the chemistry. Now it was all just fantasy. After all they were sexy, even if they weren’t really her type. It was always good to expand your horizons.
Well, at least in theory.
DHBF yawns. Turns and grins over at PP. ‘You ‘bout ready to go?” he asks, with his own twinkle in his eye.
PP nods, giving him her hand as he helps her out of the tub. “You guys have a good night,” she calls back to the Sexy Couple, who now alone in the tiny tub are experimenting with different positions.
NO NOT those kinda Positions! After all, it was Willits, California. And while PP was sure that the good citizens of this fine town partook of as much fun as the next, they certainly would not be the types to look the other way at Hot Tub Shenanigans!
Shivering again, PP grins as she sloshes dizzily after DHBF back up the stairs, into their too green room to watch "The Mists of Avalon" on the cable T.V.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
These Cats Need a Pool!
Hell, they’ve got everything else here at the San Mateo Cat Show. Little pink hammocks to relax in. Matching purple bowls to eat delicately out of. Fancy Feathered Toys always waving for them. It’s Cat Heaven.
PLEASE DO NOT USE BATHROOM SINKS FOR EMERGENCY CAT WASHING. THERE ARE EMERGENCY CAT WASHING SINKS LOCATED IN PROMANADE 8A FOR THIS PURPOSE.
I stare at the sign and think, hell these cats need a pool, no matter how great the Promenade is. Emergency bathing for so many cats? Only an Olympic sized pool would do the trick. Or at least it would seem. Even though cats hate the water, I bet one of these special breeds is a Water Cat.
“Are you from Europe?”
I glance over at the Insane Cat Woman who’s just plopped down in the seat next to me to watch the judging for the Maine Coon cats.
What do I say to the Europe question? Something in German? “Nein, Ich bin auf California, bist du?” But I resist this temptation just in case she is German.
“No, I’m from California, not Europe.”
Insane Europe Woman glances at me skeptically, “Me too. I thought you were from Europe because of your shoes.”
I glance down at my odiously ugly clogs that I got free from the Chandler Apts that my sister hates. See, Snart! I look like I’m from Europe cuz of these shoes.
Well, at least at the Cat Show I do.
Are You From Europe Woman gets bored with me and my shoes, and turns to her breeder friends sitting behind her. “Did I tell you about Blue Cat?”
“No, darling do tell.”
”Well I emailed him about one of his kittens. He was asking $3400 for it which I thought was a bit steep so I forwarded the pic of the kitten to a friend of mine and he said, no way don’t you even think of buying that kitten. Look at its ears. They’re huge!” And so I wrote Blue Cat back and said, thanks so much for your time and your email but I am really looking for a kitten with smaller ears. And you know what he wrote me back?”
Gay Breeder leans closer, “Do tell!”
“He said, ‘I am sooo sorry that I was not able to meet your needs with such Special Circumstances!”
“ The Nerve!”
“Can you believe it?”
“Oh I believe it, honey. I believe it! You know what you shoulda written him back and said?”
“No, what?”
“You shoulda written him back and said you don’t want any kittens that could be dubbed ‘Dumbo’!
AYFE Woman guffaws. “Yeah! That’d woulda cooked his goose!”
“I have an Abyssinian and they’re a kick!”
I nod at a seemingly normal young woman, dark brunette hair framing her pale face. But I shoulda seen it. That crazed look in the eye. She had it.
“My Abyssinian has so much energy! He’s like a dog.
“Really? Like does he come when you whistle?
”Oh yeah! And he dances too.”
”My! That’s impressive.”
”Yes it is. I put a little cowboy hat on him and he does the doesseee doe.”
She grins and starts to do a little skip to demonstrate.
“Wow! That’s amazing.”
”Yeah, and can you believe that he does it on top of the refrigerator?”
“No.”
“This music is actually me singing. All songs about cats. It does include What’s New Pussycat, but it also has original cat songs by me. “
I nod. Pick up the pink CD and glance at the list as Cat Singer eyes me hopefully, her smile ready to crack her face open.
My Cat Belongs to ME
Pussy Cat Pussy Cat
I Left my Cat in San Francisco
The way you wear your Cat
I put the CD back on the table, and give her an encouraging smile. “Looks like a nice selection.”
“Yes, it is. But I have to tell everyone that’s it’s me cuz they just think it’s background music.”
“Look at this Big Guy! Wow aren’t you a handsome Big Boy!
JL coos at the bored giant Maine coon cat lolling about in his princely blue situation.
“What’s his name?”
“Willie.” Can’t Be Bothered Breeder kinda pays attention to us, but really she’d rather talk to her friend. Undaunted, JL presses on. “How much does he weigh?”
“17. I don’t let my cats get over 20. Once they hit 20 then it’s no more food for them!”
“Were you the one that the judge had a hard time lifting?” JL asks Willie who stares at her, completely in love.
”Oh, NO!” CBB Breeder now wants to clarify things for us. “That wasn’t Willie! That was that other Maine Coon. I think he’s 25 lbs.”
“I have a cat that’s at least 20 lbs,” I volunteer.
CBB Breeder looks down her nose at me. “Is he a Maine Coon?”
”No, he’s no show cat.” (SEE PHOTO!)
”Oh.”
“Marvin, can you just speak into the mike and tell us how important it is that the cats stay on the table? That they don’t jump down and chase the toy.”
Impatient dyed blonde interviewer shoves the microphone into Marvin’s face. Her assistant bearing down with the video camera.
“Why sure, Cynthia. I’d be glad to.” Marvin tosses a toy on the ground as the large tabby… Whoops! Of course it’s not a tabby. No Cat here is just a tabby. The large Somali glances down after chartreuse feather toy as Marvin looks directly at Cynthia to answer her question. “You see, if we had the cats jumping offa the tables when the judges are….”
”Can you please look at the camera!” Cynthia’s getting pissed. Time is money.
“Sure…..” Marvin drawls as he picks up the cat toy. The Somali paws for it lazily. “It is VERY IMPORTANT that the cats don’t jump offa the table…..”
The Somali eyes widen at the toy. Stretches his big paws toward it as he begins to roll off the counter. “NO, Tiny! Stay!”
“C’mon Dan, let’s try another one.”
”Are you guys ready to go already?” R asks, crestfallen.
DL and I nod. We’re tired and hungry and catted out. “Yeah,” DL sighs, “but we can stay a little longer if you want.”
R grins. ”Just 15 more minutes. I wanna go through the Meow Mall one more time.”
DL rises offa the grass outside to follow her girlfriend back inside. They link arms. “Do you want your picture taken?” Aggressive CAT Camera Woman blocks them on the way back in.
“No, no….I don’t want my picture taken,” DL protests.
“Oh, c’mon, D, it’ll be fun!” R exclaims as she leads her over to the International Space Station Cat backdrop and they pose cutely for ACC Woman.
“That’s a beautiful cat! What kind is it?”
Harried Balding Overweight Gent, (Is everyone at the Cat Show overweight? ) sighs, shifts a purrfect fluffy white feline to his other shoulder. “They’re Ragdolls.”
“OH, they’re so cute! Do they have a nice purrsonality?”
HROG grunts. I think how he doesn’t have such a nice purrsonality himself.
“Do you have any kittens for sale?” Curious Woman is undaunted. She wants information! That’s why she paid her 10 bucks to get into the goddamn cat show!
Sighing, he shifts the cat onto his lap as another one crawls up on his shoulder. “She might have some for sale. I dunno.”
“Do you have a card? Maybe I can give a call?”
Shaking his head, he glances around the counter full of cat toys, designer kibble and glasses of bad pink wine. “No.”
RQ glances over at me, mutters not too softly under her breath. “Some people aren’t very good salesmen round here!”
“OHMYGOD!!! Did I tell you R’s Adventure at the Cat Show last year?” DL exclaims breathlessly as we pull out of the San Mateo fairgrounds.
I glance around. Plenty of room for a pool! I really need to contact the Cat Show Higher-Ups and get that going for next year’s Emergency Baths.
“No,” JL answers, “What happened?”
”Well, now that you guys have witnessed the Cat Show, you’ll really get this story.” DL takes a deep breath before plunging in. “You know how when the judges are judging the cats and everyone is all quiet and serious and all?”
“Yeah, of course,” JL nods, leaning forward, intensely interested.
“Well, last year, we were at one of those judging moments when it’s really at that point when the Judge is giving the cats that one last close lookover and everyone is just sitting there rapt and R notices that one of the cats behind the judge has somehow gotten a piece of ribbon and is proceeding to chew it down as cats will. And we’re sitting there watching as this beautiful Persian cat is chewing this ribbon and thinking hell, it’s gonna kill itself. So R just gets up and walks right in front of the judge and all the snooty cat breeders and goes up to the cage and starts to yank the ribbon outta the cat’s mouth as everyone just stares in astonishment!”
”Wow! That’s really good she did that!” I exclaim in admiration for R’s amazing Cat Chutzpah.
“Yeah, it was. But the funny, or I guess, not surprising thing is that no one said anything. They all just glared at her as she was pulling the ribbon outta the cat’s mouth and finally when she was done, she came back and sat down and….”
”Didn’t the Judge or the Owner thank her?” JL asks.
“No, no one said anything except when R did sit back down the lady next to us said, “Thank you.”
”Whew. At least someone took the stick outta their kitty ass!” I cry.
7:15, we’re all back home after the day at the cat show and a quick bite burrito at Jose’s in downtown San Mateo. Exhausted we plop down on the couch, with the regular non pampered cats milling about asking for kibble.
“What do you wanna do now?” Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend asks.
I shrug, reach for the remote. It’s Gene Kelley and Debbie Reynolds. Singing in the Rain. Purrfect! Settling in, we start humming along as the MGM Musical Marathon thankfully saves us from Kitty Show Overload.
I grin in tired happiness as Gene and Donald O’Connor sing about Moses to the enunciation teacher. Sure there’s not a pool, but there is rain. And afterwards, it’s That’s Entertainment and wait, yes there is a pool. A clip of Grace Kelly setting that Toy Boat in the High Society’s pool, wistfully watching as it drifts across the blue water to pick up the waiting Tabby on the other side!
Okay, I made that part up. But it makes for a good ending, to a purrfect day!
Monday, November 13, 2006
The Euphoric Bubble
“Hello? Are you there? Ooohhhh! It’s you! I just got outta the pool and I feel so much better!”
PP can’t help but eavesdrop. (Not that she’d want to if she could; think of all the lost stories!) But here in the Mills College locker room, one relieved woman on her cell phone takes over the entire situation!
“I don’t know why I have to work so hard to get here….” Feels Better Now Woman exclaims. “I just have to keep in mind how much more alive I feel after a swim. It’s incredible.” (Okay, PP might have just made up that last bit of dialogue, but it’s the genuine drift.) “Oh, it was wonderful. And then I got in the hot tub and did some little ballet over the bar stretches (PP isn’t making that up since she doesn’t know what it means—she can guess, but not absolutely, esp. in the context of the hot tub having no ballet bars.) “Well, did you take your temperature? And….? Yes….Where does it bother you? In your chest? Throat?....”
PP turns back to the getting-dressed-before-the-next-millennium-business at hand when FBNW shifts to the mundane of some unseen person’s ill health. Sighs as she contemplates feeling better. Yes, she does too. After a swim, it’s that almost euphoric bubble of relaxation and spaciness. Maybe it’s the swimming? PP thinks it probably has more to do with the hot tub.
Whichever.
PP just wishes she could keep it for the whole day. It dissipates so quickly. Too bad there’s no pool and hot tub wherever she ventures. Now wouldn’t that be grand? At GGU, at home, at Safeway, in the BART station, at Kaiser (they really need to have these facilities at Kaiser! How else will the patients truly THRIVE?) at all of her friends apts. Hell a pool and hot tub atop the Chandler Apts? Now wouldn’t that be something!
But yet, this is hardly ever gonna be a reality. Fantasies generally are just that.
So how to keep that just swam (or is it swum? Grammar Queen where are you?) feeling goin all day?
Imagination?
Pssshhhhaw! PP thinks imagination can only carry us so far.
How about a Generous Pool Patron?
Are you out there?
If so, please contact PP as soon as possible.
Cuz she sure as hell needs that pool at Kaiser, pronto!
PP can’t help but eavesdrop. (Not that she’d want to if she could; think of all the lost stories!) But here in the Mills College locker room, one relieved woman on her cell phone takes over the entire situation!
“I don’t know why I have to work so hard to get here….” Feels Better Now Woman exclaims. “I just have to keep in mind how much more alive I feel after a swim. It’s incredible.” (Okay, PP might have just made up that last bit of dialogue, but it’s the genuine drift.) “Oh, it was wonderful. And then I got in the hot tub and did some little ballet over the bar stretches (PP isn’t making that up since she doesn’t know what it means—she can guess, but not absolutely, esp. in the context of the hot tub having no ballet bars.) “Well, did you take your temperature? And….? Yes….Where does it bother you? In your chest? Throat?....”
PP turns back to the getting-dressed-before-the-next-millennium-business at hand when FBNW shifts to the mundane of some unseen person’s ill health. Sighs as she contemplates feeling better. Yes, she does too. After a swim, it’s that almost euphoric bubble of relaxation and spaciness. Maybe it’s the swimming? PP thinks it probably has more to do with the hot tub.
Whichever.
PP just wishes she could keep it for the whole day. It dissipates so quickly. Too bad there’s no pool and hot tub wherever she ventures. Now wouldn’t that be grand? At GGU, at home, at Safeway, in the BART station, at Kaiser (they really need to have these facilities at Kaiser! How else will the patients truly THRIVE?) at all of her friends apts. Hell a pool and hot tub atop the Chandler Apts? Now wouldn’t that be something!
But yet, this is hardly ever gonna be a reality. Fantasies generally are just that.
So how to keep that just swam (or is it swum? Grammar Queen where are you?) feeling goin all day?
Imagination?
Pssshhhhaw! PP thinks imagination can only carry us so far.
How about a Generous Pool Patron?
Are you out there?
If so, please contact PP as soon as possible.
Cuz she sure as hell needs that pool at Kaiser, pronto!
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Janice Gilles
“So, Carol, (This is PP’s real name. She thinks she’ll use it for this particular blog.) “You remember Janice Gilles, don’t you? She coached our team way back when at Temescal.”
I nod to my former swim team member, Brian, who now coaches the Mills Masters Team. “Of course.”
Brian shakes his head sadly, “ She passed away.”
I gasp even in my shivering wet get in the pool state. “Oh, no," I murmur.
Whatever are we supposed to say at such news? I knew her, it’s true, but not well. And I suppose the most upsetting thing about not knowing her now, is that I remember her 20 years ago. Bright, funny, passionate, enthusiastic. She was such fun as a coach. And that team! Lefkowitz and Oppenheimer,(Yes she was related somehow to That Oppenheimer), Jennifer and David and Brian, of course. Janice playfully yelling at me, “Let’s see ya put some hustle into it Jameson!” And Lefkowitz and Oppenheimer cracking up. “She has the purrfect stroke, but it slows her down!”
Sometimes, Janice would don a suit, dive into the water, swim a quick few laps with the fast lane, the Barracudas. Graceful and sleek, she cut through the water effortlessly.
And now….she’s gone? It’s just so strange. Where does all that energy and vitality and sheer water talent go? Is there a Big Pool in the sky for us swimmers?
But I guess it's all part of the aging process. People you know start dying...But I was shocked. And asked Brian, “What happened to her?”
”She had a heart condition.”
“Wow…she seemed so healthy." I shake my head, not asking the detail of this, then venture the obvious question, "How old was she? Like our age?”
Brian nods, “A little younger actually, 48.”
I nod. Assume Brian was talking about himself. Janice was exactly my age. Very eerie, particularly since I was on my way to Kaiser today to get my melanoma skin checked.
Damn.
“Yeah,” Brian continued, “She was my mentor. She’s the reason I began coaching. She really showed us all how it could be FUN!”
I nod, still stunned.
“She had a son too, a nine year old and her husband……” He begins to choke up, but then pulls himself up.
I nod sympathetically, ‘Her poor family…..” My voice trails off, as Brian turns and starts collecting kickboards to begin wrapping up his team's workout.
Yet, I truly don’t know what to say. Of course her family must be devasated. She was so young. Gingerly, I climb into the cool water, with the gray drizzle it seems even less inviting, and begin my laps, shuddering at the cold. Or is it something else? The Grim Reaper? He’s there. Right around the corner or so it seems lately what with Janice dying and Wendy’s friend, K, in the car accident, and William Talcott earlier this summer.
But yet, as I turn and head back down the lane my heart pounding, my skin in goosbumples, I think hell, at least I’m alive. I may be cold and I may be worried about cancer and jobs and traffic and weather, but I’m not dead. Wow that felt very weird to type. But my senses or, sensitivities, do keep my heart pumping and remind me that it’s all part of moving through the water so to speak.
Turning at the end again, I watch as Cute Polka Dot Bikini Girl gets into the lane next to me and proceeds to do the head outta the water breaststroke. I follow in my lane and we end up at the opposite wall at about the same time. She turns. Gives me a dazzling shy smile.
Grinning, I nod and make my turn.
Yes, I do know I’m alive. And thanks to CPKBG, I’m beguiled into continuing even though the water is a little on the cold side.
The air around me certainly isn’t!
So take that, Grim Reaper!
And to Janice, may you have found your own beguiling smiles in the Big Purrfect Pool up in the blue blue sky!
I nod to my former swim team member, Brian, who now coaches the Mills Masters Team. “Of course.”
Brian shakes his head sadly, “ She passed away.”
I gasp even in my shivering wet get in the pool state. “Oh, no," I murmur.
Whatever are we supposed to say at such news? I knew her, it’s true, but not well. And I suppose the most upsetting thing about not knowing her now, is that I remember her 20 years ago. Bright, funny, passionate, enthusiastic. She was such fun as a coach. And that team! Lefkowitz and Oppenheimer,(Yes she was related somehow to That Oppenheimer), Jennifer and David and Brian, of course. Janice playfully yelling at me, “Let’s see ya put some hustle into it Jameson!” And Lefkowitz and Oppenheimer cracking up. “She has the purrfect stroke, but it slows her down!”
Sometimes, Janice would don a suit, dive into the water, swim a quick few laps with the fast lane, the Barracudas. Graceful and sleek, she cut through the water effortlessly.
And now….she’s gone? It’s just so strange. Where does all that energy and vitality and sheer water talent go? Is there a Big Pool in the sky for us swimmers?
But I guess it's all part of the aging process. People you know start dying...But I was shocked. And asked Brian, “What happened to her?”
”She had a heart condition.”
“Wow…she seemed so healthy." I shake my head, not asking the detail of this, then venture the obvious question, "How old was she? Like our age?”
Brian nods, “A little younger actually, 48.”
I nod. Assume Brian was talking about himself. Janice was exactly my age. Very eerie, particularly since I was on my way to Kaiser today to get my melanoma skin checked.
Damn.
“Yeah,” Brian continued, “She was my mentor. She’s the reason I began coaching. She really showed us all how it could be FUN!”
I nod, still stunned.
“She had a son too, a nine year old and her husband……” He begins to choke up, but then pulls himself up.
I nod sympathetically, ‘Her poor family…..” My voice trails off, as Brian turns and starts collecting kickboards to begin wrapping up his team's workout.
Yet, I truly don’t know what to say. Of course her family must be devasated. She was so young. Gingerly, I climb into the cool water, with the gray drizzle it seems even less inviting, and begin my laps, shuddering at the cold. Or is it something else? The Grim Reaper? He’s there. Right around the corner or so it seems lately what with Janice dying and Wendy’s friend, K, in the car accident, and William Talcott earlier this summer.
But yet, as I turn and head back down the lane my heart pounding, my skin in goosbumples, I think hell, at least I’m alive. I may be cold and I may be worried about cancer and jobs and traffic and weather, but I’m not dead. Wow that felt very weird to type. But my senses or, sensitivities, do keep my heart pumping and remind me that it’s all part of moving through the water so to speak.
Turning at the end again, I watch as Cute Polka Dot Bikini Girl gets into the lane next to me and proceeds to do the head outta the water breaststroke. I follow in my lane and we end up at the opposite wall at about the same time. She turns. Gives me a dazzling shy smile.
Grinning, I nod and make my turn.
Yes, I do know I’m alive. And thanks to CPKBG, I’m beguiled into continuing even though the water is a little on the cold side.
The air around me certainly isn’t!
So take that, Grim Reaper!
And to Janice, may you have found your own beguiling smiles in the Big Purrfect Pool up in the blue blue sky!
Sunday, November 05, 2006
SILENCE IN ALBANY?
How many times have you been in a women’s (or men's--tho this phenomenon might be more common in the male domain) locker room without any talking? I’m talking (no pun intended) utter silence? No one even saying ‘excuse me’ when they walk in front of you getting out of the showers. No one asking to borrow a smite of conditioner. No one commenting on the water temp being too hot or too cold.
No one talking. Period.
PP has been thinking about it for the last 24 hours after her silent swim at the Bay Area’s renowned Albany Pool. A pool she’s been hearing rave reviews about for years!
Yet, no one spoke to anyone in the locker room. It was just weird.
And when PP thinks about it….well….she just can’t think of another instance that was quite so dramatically oppressively silent. And PP’s been swimming all over the world.
Was there talking in the women’s locker room in Dalian, China? Hell yeah! Lots of chatter and gossip and giggling and ogling and touching and scrubbing and sheer boisterous delight. Of course, PP couldn’t understand a word since her Chinese is nil, but there was talking. And lots of it!
Was there talking in Montreal? Oui oui oui! Again, PP couldn’t understand unless they were chatting about amour, cafés or croissants, but hell what else do you need to discuss?
And the other Bay Area pools? Talking at Lions? Oh yeah! Lots of friendly and warm concerned chatter about relationships, kids, jobs, hair, lotion, music, politics, weather, and cancer. At Temescal? Sure of course. It may be a little cooler here, but still someone talks if only to comment on what a nice swim she had or the hassle of getting there after work. El Cerrito’s outdoor lovely pool? Sure, the women talk about this and that. Actually PP can’t remember what they talk about here, but they do talk. Otherwise she’d remember that.
And Club Mills? Well, if you’ve been reading this blog, you know they talk at Mills.
But Albany?
No One talked. And while PP respects each swimmer’s private post swim space out, this felt different. Like no one wanted to even make eye contact, let alone chit chat.
What was it?
It was an especially dreary locker room. With no square inch on the floor free from puddles of icky cement water. So PP couldn’t even put on her pretty panties without getting a wet toe caught.
GROSS!!!
So, yeah, maybe the yuckiness of the place didn’t exactly inspire anyone to stand around and chat. But yet…..here was the same Crazed Pink Suited Woman that PP had almost run into multiple times (Albany has the wretched three wide lane organization where everyone is supposed to swim up the middle and down the sides, but some people just swim in big spastic splashes all over the place. Hence much obstacle course swimming and near crashes.) So, CPSW was there in the shower with PP soaping up and staring straight ahead. PP tried a hesitant smile but….no eye contact. PP tried this with another young woman standing across from her in the shower. She’d had on a cute black one piece with hibiscus flowers on the front and PP was gonna ask if she’d gotten it in Hawaii, but then again, the moment came and went and Hibiscus Flower Woman had looked away. No friendly smile even.
It was just weird.
So, PP wonders what’s up with Albany Pool? It is just a conservative little community where everyone is afraid of anyone new and so they don’t talk to strangers? Yet, Lap Swimmers usually swim at the same time, same day, same lane. And Albany’s times are very limited—only 1 hour to swim laps before the next program begins. So these women, theoretically, swam with each other every Sat. afternoon between 2:30 and 3:30. Or did they not? Was this afternoon where PP had happened in on her quest for an indoor pool the same story for all these women? None of them had been there before and so everyone was shy?
PP finds this hard to believe with a dozen or so women all morosely trying to get dressed without touching the floor.
Maybe it was the floor? It even had passable floor potential with cute little cement circles carved into the cement by what looked like upside down Campbell’s soup cans.
Yet the guncky water factor superseded the cuteness pretty darn fast.
Maybe it was the floor, PP thinks now as she tries to guess at the other obvious reasons for Albany’s Silence. (Tiredness, Crankiness, Anit-Socialness, Pre-occupiedness, Newness, hell, who knows? But PP does enjoy making up these noun form reasons. They’re so possible.)
Will PP return to Albany Pool? Most probably. It is indoors and the water is 84 degrees. Two very important features. Will these outweigh the spastic circle swimming and the silent gunky locker room?
PP thinks so. Hell, next time she goes she’s gonna raise a ruckus in that locker room and ask to borrow someone’s conditioner!
No one talking. Period.
PP has been thinking about it for the last 24 hours after her silent swim at the Bay Area’s renowned Albany Pool. A pool she’s been hearing rave reviews about for years!
Yet, no one spoke to anyone in the locker room. It was just weird.
And when PP thinks about it….well….she just can’t think of another instance that was quite so dramatically oppressively silent. And PP’s been swimming all over the world.
Was there talking in the women’s locker room in Dalian, China? Hell yeah! Lots of chatter and gossip and giggling and ogling and touching and scrubbing and sheer boisterous delight. Of course, PP couldn’t understand a word since her Chinese is nil, but there was talking. And lots of it!
Was there talking in Montreal? Oui oui oui! Again, PP couldn’t understand unless they were chatting about amour, cafés or croissants, but hell what else do you need to discuss?
And the other Bay Area pools? Talking at Lions? Oh yeah! Lots of friendly and warm concerned chatter about relationships, kids, jobs, hair, lotion, music, politics, weather, and cancer. At Temescal? Sure of course. It may be a little cooler here, but still someone talks if only to comment on what a nice swim she had or the hassle of getting there after work. El Cerrito’s outdoor lovely pool? Sure, the women talk about this and that. Actually PP can’t remember what they talk about here, but they do talk. Otherwise she’d remember that.
And Club Mills? Well, if you’ve been reading this blog, you know they talk at Mills.
But Albany?
No One talked. And while PP respects each swimmer’s private post swim space out, this felt different. Like no one wanted to even make eye contact, let alone chit chat.
What was it?
It was an especially dreary locker room. With no square inch on the floor free from puddles of icky cement water. So PP couldn’t even put on her pretty panties without getting a wet toe caught.
GROSS!!!
So, yeah, maybe the yuckiness of the place didn’t exactly inspire anyone to stand around and chat. But yet…..here was the same Crazed Pink Suited Woman that PP had almost run into multiple times (Albany has the wretched three wide lane organization where everyone is supposed to swim up the middle and down the sides, but some people just swim in big spastic splashes all over the place. Hence much obstacle course swimming and near crashes.) So, CPSW was there in the shower with PP soaping up and staring straight ahead. PP tried a hesitant smile but….no eye contact. PP tried this with another young woman standing across from her in the shower. She’d had on a cute black one piece with hibiscus flowers on the front and PP was gonna ask if she’d gotten it in Hawaii, but then again, the moment came and went and Hibiscus Flower Woman had looked away. No friendly smile even.
It was just weird.
So, PP wonders what’s up with Albany Pool? It is just a conservative little community where everyone is afraid of anyone new and so they don’t talk to strangers? Yet, Lap Swimmers usually swim at the same time, same day, same lane. And Albany’s times are very limited—only 1 hour to swim laps before the next program begins. So these women, theoretically, swam with each other every Sat. afternoon between 2:30 and 3:30. Or did they not? Was this afternoon where PP had happened in on her quest for an indoor pool the same story for all these women? None of them had been there before and so everyone was shy?
PP finds this hard to believe with a dozen or so women all morosely trying to get dressed without touching the floor.
Maybe it was the floor? It even had passable floor potential with cute little cement circles carved into the cement by what looked like upside down Campbell’s soup cans.
Yet the guncky water factor superseded the cuteness pretty darn fast.
Maybe it was the floor, PP thinks now as she tries to guess at the other obvious reasons for Albany’s Silence. (Tiredness, Crankiness, Anit-Socialness, Pre-occupiedness, Newness, hell, who knows? But PP does enjoy making up these noun form reasons. They’re so possible.)
Will PP return to Albany Pool? Most probably. It is indoors and the water is 84 degrees. Two very important features. Will these outweigh the spastic circle swimming and the silent gunky locker room?
PP thinks so. Hell, next time she goes she’s gonna raise a ruckus in that locker room and ask to borrow someone’s conditioner!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Hazards of Morning Swims
8:10 am, PP is trying to get on the stupid freeway in the stupid commuter zone to swim in the stupid morning before the stupid sun is at its stupid zenith.
Glancing down Hudson Street, she sees the carpooler cars lined up, collecting passengers for their heinous commute across the Bay Bridge. The signal is red, so of course, PP is waiting till the coast is clear to make her turn. But it’s hard. The carpooler cars are crazed and spastic. It’s difficult to tell whether they’re gonna go on their green light or keep idling in line for their passengers.
So, PP waits. And waits. And waits. Seems like over a minute, but probably just 30 seconds or so till…..
THUUNK!!!
Goddamn it. Some idiot has just rear-ended her! PP feels the thud, her neck snapping back minutely.
Shit.
PP glances in her rearview mirror. A crazed caffeine deprived (obviously, or he wouldn’t have hit PP’s geo) is gesticulating wildly behind his windshield. Are they gestures of apology? Anger? Frustration?
It’s hard to tell. PP knows the protocol is to pull over and exchange car license insurance info, but where to pull over as the light turns green, finally, in her favor? Also, does she really wanna confront this guy face to face?
So she gets on the freeway, the Crazed Rear Ending Guy still bouncing wildly round in his seat as he accelerates up the ramp behind her.
Damn.
PP’s been hit by a nutcase. Great. Well, of course he’s a nutcase; otherwise he wouldn’t have hit her.Though to give him the benefit of the doubt, PP realizes that she mighta been takin her foot on and offfa the break in anticipation of the carpooling spazes….so he mighta thought she was going when in fact, she wasn’t!
“Damn! damn!! Shit !!!!Shit!!!” PP hisses aloud as she creeps onto the traffic laden highway. This is one of the many reasons she hates to swim in the morning! The goddamn traffic. And now a goddamn accident.
Yet was it really an accident? PP thinks not. Though what if her neck is hurt? Damn. She shoulda stopped. Gotten his info. Sued him for a million bucks. That would solve all her job woes. Hell she could buy an indoor pool and swim at any time of the day.
Damn! Why hadn’t she stopped?
PP watches as CRRG speeds away. A ratty old white Honda? Acura? PP strains to get the license number….MUH431? Yes. Remember this and then look it up on the DMV website and get his info and sue him…
Yeah, right. PP knows that even if this were possible, she’s just not the suing type. Some people are. She can hear her friend, Miss W, goin on and on. You could sue the asshole and make a mint and quit your stupid job at stupid FFU and then ….
PP sighs as she pulls offa the freeway at the Mills College exit, MacArthur. Parks in the pool lot. (This is one advantage of swimming in the morning--there’s plenty of parking. Hell it might be the ONLY advantage!)
PP gets out. Inspects the bumper. It’s fine. ‘Bumpers’ good. That’s the geo motto. And it’s true. But what about her neck? What if the asshole had hurt her with the impact? Damn.
PP sighs as she heads into the pool to bother the anatomy studying Cute Girl. “How’s the anatomy going today?”
CG grins, she’s more animated today. “It’s going.”
“It’s the same as it always is.” Some Smart Ass Lifeguard Guy that PP has never seen announces.
“Actually, no it isn’t!” CG exclaims. “There’s all sorts of things that they’re discovering that they don’t know what they are! They find these organs and they look at it and say, now what’s this? And they don’t know!”
“Really?” PP’s intrigued. Maybe the CRRG is missing a vital organ that directs the motor capabilities. Or he has an extra organ that keeps telling him to step on the gas even if there’s a car stopped in front of him!
PP grins. Yeah, that musta been it, as she collects her pool equipment from CG and heads into the locker room, rubbing her neck in tender worry as she plops her gym bag down on the bench.
Glancing down Hudson Street, she sees the carpooler cars lined up, collecting passengers for their heinous commute across the Bay Bridge. The signal is red, so of course, PP is waiting till the coast is clear to make her turn. But it’s hard. The carpooler cars are crazed and spastic. It’s difficult to tell whether they’re gonna go on their green light or keep idling in line for their passengers.
So, PP waits. And waits. And waits. Seems like over a minute, but probably just 30 seconds or so till…..
THUUNK!!!
Goddamn it. Some idiot has just rear-ended her! PP feels the thud, her neck snapping back minutely.
Shit.
PP glances in her rearview mirror. A crazed caffeine deprived (obviously, or he wouldn’t have hit PP’s geo) is gesticulating wildly behind his windshield. Are they gestures of apology? Anger? Frustration?
It’s hard to tell. PP knows the protocol is to pull over and exchange car license insurance info, but where to pull over as the light turns green, finally, in her favor? Also, does she really wanna confront this guy face to face?
So she gets on the freeway, the Crazed Rear Ending Guy still bouncing wildly round in his seat as he accelerates up the ramp behind her.
Damn.
PP’s been hit by a nutcase. Great. Well, of course he’s a nutcase; otherwise he wouldn’t have hit her.Though to give him the benefit of the doubt, PP realizes that she mighta been takin her foot on and offfa the break in anticipation of the carpooling spazes….so he mighta thought she was going when in fact, she wasn’t!
“Damn! damn!! Shit !!!!Shit!!!” PP hisses aloud as she creeps onto the traffic laden highway. This is one of the many reasons she hates to swim in the morning! The goddamn traffic. And now a goddamn accident.
Yet was it really an accident? PP thinks not. Though what if her neck is hurt? Damn. She shoulda stopped. Gotten his info. Sued him for a million bucks. That would solve all her job woes. Hell she could buy an indoor pool and swim at any time of the day.
Damn! Why hadn’t she stopped?
PP watches as CRRG speeds away. A ratty old white Honda? Acura? PP strains to get the license number….MUH431? Yes. Remember this and then look it up on the DMV website and get his info and sue him…
Yeah, right. PP knows that even if this were possible, she’s just not the suing type. Some people are. She can hear her friend, Miss W, goin on and on. You could sue the asshole and make a mint and quit your stupid job at stupid FFU and then ….
PP sighs as she pulls offa the freeway at the Mills College exit, MacArthur. Parks in the pool lot. (This is one advantage of swimming in the morning--there’s plenty of parking. Hell it might be the ONLY advantage!)
PP gets out. Inspects the bumper. It’s fine. ‘Bumpers’ good. That’s the geo motto. And it’s true. But what about her neck? What if the asshole had hurt her with the impact? Damn.
PP sighs as she heads into the pool to bother the anatomy studying Cute Girl. “How’s the anatomy going today?”
CG grins, she’s more animated today. “It’s going.”
“It’s the same as it always is.” Some Smart Ass Lifeguard Guy that PP has never seen announces.
“Actually, no it isn’t!” CG exclaims. “There’s all sorts of things that they’re discovering that they don’t know what they are! They find these organs and they look at it and say, now what’s this? And they don’t know!”
“Really?” PP’s intrigued. Maybe the CRRG is missing a vital organ that directs the motor capabilities. Or he has an extra organ that keeps telling him to step on the gas even if there’s a car stopped in front of him!
PP grins. Yeah, that musta been it, as she collects her pool equipment from CG and heads into the locker room, rubbing her neck in tender worry as she plops her gym bag down on the bench.
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