PP really wants to write this blog about the Lovely I’s marvelous road to recovery and their first trip to Mills without the wheelchair, but she’s so tired. (PP is, well, actually, the Lovely I is tired too, esp. after their swim.)
"Why am I so tired after coming here to Mills? she had asked. I mean. I can go to water therapy and do my water walking for 40 or even 45 minutes and I’m not this tired!”
“It’s the Hot Tub,” PP volunteers. “It saps all your energy.”
“Mmm…..you might have something there.”
“We spent the day looking at faucets,” Fix It GF announces as PP drives the Geo down Hwy 580, toward the Pool. “You wouldn’t believe how advanced they are now. No washers. They’re flexible. They have this special attachment so that you don’t get scalded when someone flushes the toilet.”
“That’s what I don’t get!” The Lovely I leans forward from the back seat. “How can scalding be such a Huge Issue? I mean, I’ve never been scalded in the shower from someone flushing the toilet.”
“Me neither,” agrees PP. “But I live alone. The only way I could get scalded is if Pablo decided to flush the toilet while I was in the shower.”
Fix-it GF and the Lovely I crack up.
“You laugh, but did I send you guys that video of the cat flushing the toilet?”
“No…..I don’t think so….” The Lovely I hesitates.
“Well, it was pretty funny. This guy was getting this huge water bill and thinking what the hell is up with that? And later he discovers that it’s the cat. He’s down there in the basement, flushing the toilet over and over again with his little kitty paw so he can watch the water swirl down.”
“You’re kidding!” Fix-it GF exclaims as the Lovely I chuckles her cute, “Heee Heee Heee….”
“Have you seen the movie, Something something something the Weeping Camel something something…..” The Lovely I asks PP who can’t remember all the longness of the title. Those documentaries. They’re so specific.
“No….” of course PP hasn’t seen it. She just rents really stupid Netflix fare like Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant making silly music together and then having sex under the grand piano.
Come to think of it, maybe that’s not such a bad idea…..
Anyway, the Weeping Camel film really impressed the Lovely I who narrates the cutest part as they make their way across the parking lot to the pool, the Lovely I actually walking up the stairs by herself without PP or Fix-it GF’s help whatsoever.
“You would love this movie, PP!” LI exclaims. “It’s just so cute. When the little camel calf is born, imagine, its little hump is FOLDED OVER! How considerate!”
PP giggles as she imagines a folded over hump all soft and gray atop the baby.
It does sound cute, but frankly, not as good as the Sex under the grand piano.
“So, I hafta tell you, PP,” the Lovely I stands up in the Hot Tub gently stroking the surface of the warm water back and forth as PP climbs in. “I had a dream about you.”
PP is so flattered. The Lovely I had a dream about her? Too cool!
“I was in this store, I don’t know where it was exactly, but it was your birthday and I wanted to get you something, so of course I thought of some Cat Chotchkee (PP knows she’s spelling that wrong, but you know what she means.) and so I did find this purrfect Cat Chotchkkee I can’t remember exactly what it was, but I was very worried that you wouldn’t want it or like it and then you came into the store and I thought ohmygod I hafta hide it from you and then It broke!”
The Lovely I paused, crestfallen for a moment.
PP grinned, “That’s ok. There’s a moratorium on Cat Knickknacks anyway. You must have known this ….”
”Do you mean that in my unconscious I somehow knew that you had a Cat Chotkee moratorium?”
“Exactly!”
“But how could she know?” Fix-it GF asks, puzzled and practical.
PP shruggs. “It’s just a pool cat telepathy thing I guess.”
“Have you read this?” Fix it GF hands PP a library book while they’re waiting for the Lovely I in the locker room. Something non fiction and political. PP can tell from the cover. She barely glances at it as Fix it GF begins to tell her about it. “It’s really interesting. It’s about how the right wing present day Christian Evangelists are really just like Hitler and the Nazis. How Hitler was considered this total outside nut case until and no one took him seriously. Of course, until it was too late. Just like the right wing Christians in this country.”
”I hope it’s not too late for us,” The Lovely I shakes her head.
Fix It GF sighs. Starts to pack up her stuff to head out to the deck.
PP is in awe of Fix-it GF. She knows everything that PP has no clue about. Faucets. Politics. How to do weights at the Y (You need to be careful to not do more than 15 reps at a time and yeah, I have Neck Issues too. You just have to be careful not to lift any weight over your head.” ) And Shade Vegetables. She has an allergy to them. PP doesn’t even know what a shade vegetable is. Fix It GF educates her: potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant and some other stuffs PP has never even heard of and can’t recall now.
“When’s your birthday?” the Lovely I asks PP on the way home after their exhausting but restorative swim in the late afternoon, the sky blue gold over Downtown Oakland.
“February.” PP answers wondering why she was asking. Maybe she was planning on having another dream?
“Ummmm……”
“Hello Kitty!” Fix-it GF exclaims. “They make a Hello Kitty Vibrator.”
”I already have one,” PP grins, flattered that such a charming Lesbian would even mention such a thing to her.
“Oh…” Undaunted, Fix-It GF ponders for a moment. “How about a Hello Kitty Toaster?”
”Yes, I have that too. It makes toast with Hello Kitty’s Face imprinted on it. I can even make the Toast,” PP brags as she remembers the fancy menu of shade vegetables that was discussed earlier in the locker room.
“I would come over for Hello Kitty Toast,” the Lovely I murmurs wistfully.
“Done!” PP exclaims. She could handle this meal. All she had to do was buy some white bread and make some peppermint tea.
“Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?” PP asks LI as she heads over to Hwy 24 and exits at Claremont Ave.
“Yes….” The Lovely I sighs.
“Well, what do you want for your birthday?”
“Oh…..nothing that you guys can get me. What I want for my birthday is completely abstract and non purchasable.”
“Oh, c’mon, try us,” PP pushes.
“I want Muscles for my birthday,” she sighs again.
PP nods as she tries to think of a way to get these for the Lovely I.
“Maybe I could get you some sort of blow up Muscle Model or something like that?” Fix-it GF exclaims as the Lovely I climbs out of the Geo by herself and heads up to their lavender trimmed home.
PP doesn’t think the Lovely I heard this great idea, or if she did, it was just too much for her to respond to in her post swim exhaustion. PP sees how much the Lovely I has improved since several weeks ago. No wheelchair. Walking without trepidation. Swimming again at Mills.
But….
It’s a long road. PP knows this from her own recovery after her surgery so many years ago. 3 weeks to walk a half a block. 3 months before returning to teaching.
But hell, only 10 days till she was back in the Pool even though the doc told her to wait 6 weeks.
6 weeks without swimming? Can you even imagine?
And so, PP sympathizes so much with the Lovely I’s desire to get better faster.
But these bodies of ours. They have their own schedule. And it’s not up for negotiation.
Well, unless of course, Swimming is involved.
"Thanks so much for the ride!" Fix-it GF slams the car door and follows the Lovely I up to the house.
"Yes, it was so nice seeing you again," the Lovely I calls out as she stops to pick up the mail.
Grinning, PP throws the Geo into gear and sighs happily.
It's so nice to see the Lovely I and Fix-it GF again for a swim.
Now if she could just figure out how to have Sex under a Grand Piano!
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
HALLELUJAH FOR THE DUCK GUARDS!
They are very serious. The duck Lifeguards. She sits placidly on the side of Capt. Gwen’s Harbor Bay Pool, watching serenely as CG kicks back and forth, back and forth. Then Pool Puss enters, delighted to no end to have a couple of quakers as her audience. But then realizes, no it’s not entertainment for them. They’re working. As witnessed by Ms. Quacker nudging Mr. Quacker out of the water and up onto the deck. Time to stop swimming for god sakes! There are people swimming! And lord knows, they need watching.
And so he does as she bids. Flapping up and out of the turquoisy misty water and up onto the deck next to her. Stands first on one webbed foot then the other. Tucking the unused one up under his broad round feathered belly as he stares intently at the two swimmers. For true to form, Capt. G’s pool is all theirs.
With the exception of the Duck Guards who know the pool will be all theirs again soon. When those darn people get out!
And out they do eventually. After a lovely, languid magical swim. The Ducks never taking their beady eyes from the two swimmers. PP giggling every time she passes them.
“Hey, G, did you see we have Duck Lifeguards tonight?” PP hollers over the lane line at her friend.
Capt. G shakes her head and grins. “Yeah, they’re here in the morning a lot. But haven’t seen them at night before,” pulling her goggles down over her eyes and diving off at a brisk crawl.
PP thinks this must be a sign. To have the Duck Guards here for HER swim. Esp. since she hasn’t been to Capt, G’s pool in months. The ducks musta known she was coming!
“Whew! That was so nice!” Capt. Gwen exclaims as they stumble spacedely out of the Club House back out to the parking lot, their wet heads nodding thankfully. “There’s just nothing like swimming!”
“Yup!” PP agrees. It’s so obvious.
“You know, for a while there, I was goin thro this existential crisis and even tried joining a few churches,” CG chuckles, shaking her wet head.
“You’re kidding!”
“Yeah, can you believe it? I tried all these different kinds of churches. Christian Churches. Humanitarian Churches. Unitarian Churches. And I’d be getting up early on Sunday mornings and thinking, Damn, I’d rather be at the Pool! And so then I’d skip church the next week and go the pool instead and think, yeah, duh, Church doesn’t make me feel this good! Only the Pool does!”
“Praise the Lord!” PP giggles.
“Yeah! And you know, I’ve talked to some of these other women that I’ve gotten to know since swimming here the last few months and they all say the same thing. NOTHING makes US feel better than swimming. Not Church. Not some Dumb Aerobics Class.
“Not sex?” PP grins as she climbs into CG’s family van.
Capt. G got that little gleam in her eye that PP knows so well….”
“Well…..maybe not sex, ok, not better than Good Sex!” she qualifies, laughing.
And PP joins in! It’s so true!
Yup, it’s the Church of the Pool. The Guru of the Swim! The Spirit of the Water.
Hell, whatever it is, Hallelujah!
Now if only they could get that Pool High organized somehow. They could go on cable T.V. and sing the praises of swimming laps, and kicking back and breathing rhythmically.
Hell, it’d be a moneymaker for sure.
As long as the congregation could swim, that is.
Or if they couldn’t?
Well, there’s always the Duck Guards!
Quack !
PP sighs happily to herself as CG pulls out of the parking lot and heads back home, leaving the ducks to swim playfully in their very own Quacker Church!
And so he does as she bids. Flapping up and out of the turquoisy misty water and up onto the deck next to her. Stands first on one webbed foot then the other. Tucking the unused one up under his broad round feathered belly as he stares intently at the two swimmers. For true to form, Capt. G’s pool is all theirs.
With the exception of the Duck Guards who know the pool will be all theirs again soon. When those darn people get out!
And out they do eventually. After a lovely, languid magical swim. The Ducks never taking their beady eyes from the two swimmers. PP giggling every time she passes them.
“Hey, G, did you see we have Duck Lifeguards tonight?” PP hollers over the lane line at her friend.
Capt. G shakes her head and grins. “Yeah, they’re here in the morning a lot. But haven’t seen them at night before,” pulling her goggles down over her eyes and diving off at a brisk crawl.
PP thinks this must be a sign. To have the Duck Guards here for HER swim. Esp. since she hasn’t been to Capt, G’s pool in months. The ducks musta known she was coming!
“Whew! That was so nice!” Capt. Gwen exclaims as they stumble spacedely out of the Club House back out to the parking lot, their wet heads nodding thankfully. “There’s just nothing like swimming!”
“Yup!” PP agrees. It’s so obvious.
“You know, for a while there, I was goin thro this existential crisis and even tried joining a few churches,” CG chuckles, shaking her wet head.
“You’re kidding!”
“Yeah, can you believe it? I tried all these different kinds of churches. Christian Churches. Humanitarian Churches. Unitarian Churches. And I’d be getting up early on Sunday mornings and thinking, Damn, I’d rather be at the Pool! And so then I’d skip church the next week and go the pool instead and think, yeah, duh, Church doesn’t make me feel this good! Only the Pool does!”
“Praise the Lord!” PP giggles.
“Yeah! And you know, I’ve talked to some of these other women that I’ve gotten to know since swimming here the last few months and they all say the same thing. NOTHING makes US feel better than swimming. Not Church. Not some Dumb Aerobics Class.
“Not sex?” PP grins as she climbs into CG’s family van.
Capt. G got that little gleam in her eye that PP knows so well….”
“Well…..maybe not sex, ok, not better than Good Sex!” she qualifies, laughing.
And PP joins in! It’s so true!
Yup, it’s the Church of the Pool. The Guru of the Swim! The Spirit of the Water.
Hell, whatever it is, Hallelujah!
Now if only they could get that Pool High organized somehow. They could go on cable T.V. and sing the praises of swimming laps, and kicking back and breathing rhythmically.
Hell, it’d be a moneymaker for sure.
As long as the congregation could swim, that is.
Or if they couldn’t?
Well, there’s always the Duck Guards!
Quack !
PP sighs happily to herself as CG pulls out of the parking lot and heads back home, leaving the ducks to swim playfully in their very own Quacker Church!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
KID TALK
PP hears lots of talk about child rearing in women’s locker rooms at the Pool. Sons. Daughters. Grandkids. Nephews. Nieces. And she’s always so relieved about THAT choice—no kid talk for her! (Though she must admit that her niece is her Favorite Person in the World ala Jonathan Lethem’s latest novel—Lucinda is so sad when Fancher Autumnbreast tells the band to just imagine their Favorite Person in the world to help with nerves for their first radio gig and Luce doesn’t even know who this is for her Ex, the band’s artsy kangaroo guy. Yet PP has to grin. She knows absolutely who her Favorite Person is, her niece, Ms. Theadosia Lohnes. Hands down.)
But PP is pretty sure she’s never given her sis any childrearing advice about her niece. At least not since Thea hit puberty.
But in Pool locker rooms, childrearing advice bounces offa the cement walls, bubbles up in the hot tub and echoes in the showers.
“I just want him to get a taste of the Real World. He’s had this tutoring job for the last year through his Senior Advisor, and he may be able to keep it part time this summer, but I really am looking forward to the day when he’s gainfully employed.”
“Yeah, I hear you. My daughter has been doing this volunteer work for the California Teachers Union and while it’s been a good experience for her, she really needs to find a pay check.”
Middle-aged Montclair Swim Club ladies are all about the Real World.
As they are at the Oakland Y:
“I tol her, what you mean your daddy’s stepping on your head? And she gets her little dolly out and lays her on the floor and spread her hair out and then steps real gently on its head with her foot and says like that. And I shake my head and say, Lord have mercy! this chil is bein abused by her daddy. There ain’t no doubt about that. I gotta go report him to the child protective services and then she tell me how he gave her beer and I say how you know it was beer and she say it was in a brown paper bag and it taste real nasty and I think to myself yeah her daddy is a drinker he probably did give her beer….”
“And how ol was she? Only 6 right?”
“That’s right. Only 6 and a chil psychologist she tol us how a kid know when they’re not wanted by the time they’s 4 years ole.
“Ummmmhuhhh….yeah….ain’t that the truth. You want in here sweetheart?”
Pink shower capped marshmallow shaped brown woman nods and gives a toothy grin as the Concerned Moms move over in the hot tub, unblocking the stairs.
PP moves over to make herself even smaller in the corner—no one notices her. She’s not a mom and she’s not big! And here at the Downtown Oakland YMCA, Big Moms Rule the hot tub.
But she’s equally inconspicuous at the Montclair Swim Club. She’s not a Mom and she’s not Rich.
“Ordering the limos for the Prom was such a hassle.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
”My son ordered the limo and then tried to collect money from all the kids but it’s hard to get the money out of the girls. There’s all this confusion about whether or not the girls should even pay so my son ended up footing the bill.”
“My son did this really cute thing where he actually ordered a school bus for the prom. It cost a little more, but it was really cute.”
“Wow. What a great idea. Next year, when Josh’s prom comes up, I’m gonna suggest that.”
“But again, it doesn’t solve the problem of getting the girls to pay their fair share.”
Oh those Wily Girls, PP thinks. Always trying to get a free ride. Where the hell did she go wrong? The free rides were there in her youth, weren’t they? But she didn’t take advantage of them and now look at her—shuffling from marginal teaching job to marginal teaching job. Working her ass off grading ESL essays while still trying to write the Great American Soap Opera Novel.
What’s a PP to do? Whine about it in her blog? This works for her. At the very least, the Pool is full of stories! From Oakland to Montclair, the stories can make her thankful for her swimming life and bring out a giggle or two.
Grinning, PP heads outta the Montclair Swim Club to meet her fellow non-breeding teacher friend, Ms. W., sunning herself in the afternoon light. Tells her about the ‘kid limo talk’ in the locker room.
Miss W chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, that’s one thing we did right. Not have kids!”
And PP smiles, happy with at least one choice that she’s made. No kids.
Well, with the exception of That Favorite Person in her life, the one and only, completely Fabulous, Miss Theadosia Lohnes!
But PP is pretty sure she’s never given her sis any childrearing advice about her niece. At least not since Thea hit puberty.
But in Pool locker rooms, childrearing advice bounces offa the cement walls, bubbles up in the hot tub and echoes in the showers.
“I just want him to get a taste of the Real World. He’s had this tutoring job for the last year through his Senior Advisor, and he may be able to keep it part time this summer, but I really am looking forward to the day when he’s gainfully employed.”
“Yeah, I hear you. My daughter has been doing this volunteer work for the California Teachers Union and while it’s been a good experience for her, she really needs to find a pay check.”
Middle-aged Montclair Swim Club ladies are all about the Real World.
As they are at the Oakland Y:
“I tol her, what you mean your daddy’s stepping on your head? And she gets her little dolly out and lays her on the floor and spread her hair out and then steps real gently on its head with her foot and says like that. And I shake my head and say, Lord have mercy! this chil is bein abused by her daddy. There ain’t no doubt about that. I gotta go report him to the child protective services and then she tell me how he gave her beer and I say how you know it was beer and she say it was in a brown paper bag and it taste real nasty and I think to myself yeah her daddy is a drinker he probably did give her beer….”
“And how ol was she? Only 6 right?”
“That’s right. Only 6 and a chil psychologist she tol us how a kid know when they’re not wanted by the time they’s 4 years ole.
“Ummmmhuhhh….yeah….ain’t that the truth. You want in here sweetheart?”
Pink shower capped marshmallow shaped brown woman nods and gives a toothy grin as the Concerned Moms move over in the hot tub, unblocking the stairs.
PP moves over to make herself even smaller in the corner—no one notices her. She’s not a mom and she’s not big! And here at the Downtown Oakland YMCA, Big Moms Rule the hot tub.
But she’s equally inconspicuous at the Montclair Swim Club. She’s not a Mom and she’s not Rich.
“Ordering the limos for the Prom was such a hassle.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
”My son ordered the limo and then tried to collect money from all the kids but it’s hard to get the money out of the girls. There’s all this confusion about whether or not the girls should even pay so my son ended up footing the bill.”
“My son did this really cute thing where he actually ordered a school bus for the prom. It cost a little more, but it was really cute.”
“Wow. What a great idea. Next year, when Josh’s prom comes up, I’m gonna suggest that.”
“But again, it doesn’t solve the problem of getting the girls to pay their fair share.”
Oh those Wily Girls, PP thinks. Always trying to get a free ride. Where the hell did she go wrong? The free rides were there in her youth, weren’t they? But she didn’t take advantage of them and now look at her—shuffling from marginal teaching job to marginal teaching job. Working her ass off grading ESL essays while still trying to write the Great American Soap Opera Novel.
What’s a PP to do? Whine about it in her blog? This works for her. At the very least, the Pool is full of stories! From Oakland to Montclair, the stories can make her thankful for her swimming life and bring out a giggle or two.
Grinning, PP heads outta the Montclair Swim Club to meet her fellow non-breeding teacher friend, Ms. W., sunning herself in the afternoon light. Tells her about the ‘kid limo talk’ in the locker room.
Miss W chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, that’s one thing we did right. Not have kids!”
And PP smiles, happy with at least one choice that she’s made. No kids.
Well, with the exception of That Favorite Person in her life, the one and only, completely Fabulous, Miss Theadosia Lohnes!
Monday, May 14, 2007
A Perfect Pink Princess
She stood sulking in a Perfect Pink Princess Pout. Arms crossed over her bare bikini brown belly. Slender hip thrust out in rebellious defiance. Big brown eyes purposefully glaring past the exasperated swim teacher trying to get her to ‘cooperate.’ Banished from the pool because she wouldn’t answer the teacher’s question. PP didn’t hear exactly what the question had been, but it didn’t matter.
PPPP was not budging!
PP couldn’t help but grin to herself as she turned at the wall to start her next lap. The little hellion was quietly making a scene. All of her classmates were subdued and unsure. Splashing less boisterously in awe of PPPP’s fortitude?
And the teacher? She was pissed. PP couldn’t blame her. With a half a dozen or so 7 or 8 year olds she had her hands full. And while the group, as all kids seemed to be at the Y, were young and obnoxious, none of them could compete with PPPP’s sullen stubbornness.
This is what PP admired. Sure, she was being a pain in the ass for the poor exasperated teacher, but she had a quiet style that yelled, I WILL NOT OBEY YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY OR DO! I AM MY OWN PERSON AND IF I DON’T WANT TO ANSWER YOUR STUPID QUESTION YOU CAN’T MAKE ME, CAN YOU?
“You ready to cooperate with me yet?” Exasperated Teacher asked, the edge to her voice snaking into the chlorinated air.
No way. No how. No answer.
“Okay, it’s your call. Amber, Jason, Taisha and Lionel, Tiffany, right? Swim 3 laps fast now!” Sighing, ET glared at PPPP before following along with the other ‘Cooperative Ones’.
PPPP continued to stare over the top of the teacher’s head. Her gaze unwavering. No way in hell was she gonna crumble. Not now. Not 5 minutes from now. Not ever.
Plump Doe Eyed Lifeguard sauntered over to help. Put a hand lightly on PPPP’s wet shoulder, “Are you ok?”
No answer, of course. If she was gonna stonewall the teacher, she sure as hell wasn’t gonna break down for any Stupid Sympathetic Lifeguard.
“Is she ok?” SSL hollered at Exasperated Teacher.
“Yeah, she’s fine.”
”What’s the matter with her?”
”She wouldn’t answer a question for me.”
“Oh…. Okay…..”
And with another light pat on PPPP’s slim shoulder, the SSL shrugged before heading off to the locker room, leaving ET to figure it out.
Of course, PPPP’s show drew a crowd. Gathered above the pool peering through the glass lookout down on the deck, friends and family of all the children were pointing and mouthing. PP picked PPPP’s mom outta the crowd as she shook her head, and disappeared, only to appear on deck minutes later, all motherly concern in smart white pedal pushers and lime green top, her shoulder length black hair falling stylishly in her dark eyes.
Turning around at the far end of the pool, PP watched in delight as mom kneeled down to chat with ET, shaking her head, arguing? Then rising, turned to her Uncooperative Child, taking her aside and talking seriously at her. Released? PPPP suddenly relaxed. Began dancing round on the deck, almost smiling.
What had mom said to her, PP wondered? Don’t worry honey, that Mean Teacher doesn’t matter. You don’t need to answer her stupid questions. Just keep acting like a little Prima Dona and dance?
PP began her warm down, pulling long slow strokes under the gray blue water. Had the lane to herself for a moment with both Rubric Cap Woman and Spastic White Guy Splasher now gone. Remembering herself at that age. The stubborn resolve born of ‘uncooperativeness.’ Not that PP had ever been an uncooperative child round any pool activities. But she surely must have manifested a few quiet tantrums on the tennis court!
Finishing up her laps, PP looked up. PPPP and mom were gone. The other little fish were getting out, giggling and pushing, but quiet for a group of kids at the Y.
Wonder what had happened to PPPP? PP mused. Did she just get to change, go home, watch ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and never have to come back to the Y ever again?
Grinning, PP heaved herself out of the pool. Hope not, she thought to herself, cause PPPP was certainly her own Dancing Star here at the YMCA!
And PP is certain that every pool deserves to have it’s own Perfect Pink Diva!
PPPP was not budging!
PP couldn’t help but grin to herself as she turned at the wall to start her next lap. The little hellion was quietly making a scene. All of her classmates were subdued and unsure. Splashing less boisterously in awe of PPPP’s fortitude?
And the teacher? She was pissed. PP couldn’t blame her. With a half a dozen or so 7 or 8 year olds she had her hands full. And while the group, as all kids seemed to be at the Y, were young and obnoxious, none of them could compete with PPPP’s sullen stubbornness.
This is what PP admired. Sure, she was being a pain in the ass for the poor exasperated teacher, but she had a quiet style that yelled, I WILL NOT OBEY YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY OR DO! I AM MY OWN PERSON AND IF I DON’T WANT TO ANSWER YOUR STUPID QUESTION YOU CAN’T MAKE ME, CAN YOU?
“You ready to cooperate with me yet?” Exasperated Teacher asked, the edge to her voice snaking into the chlorinated air.
No way. No how. No answer.
“Okay, it’s your call. Amber, Jason, Taisha and Lionel, Tiffany, right? Swim 3 laps fast now!” Sighing, ET glared at PPPP before following along with the other ‘Cooperative Ones’.
PPPP continued to stare over the top of the teacher’s head. Her gaze unwavering. No way in hell was she gonna crumble. Not now. Not 5 minutes from now. Not ever.
Plump Doe Eyed Lifeguard sauntered over to help. Put a hand lightly on PPPP’s wet shoulder, “Are you ok?”
No answer, of course. If she was gonna stonewall the teacher, she sure as hell wasn’t gonna break down for any Stupid Sympathetic Lifeguard.
“Is she ok?” SSL hollered at Exasperated Teacher.
“Yeah, she’s fine.”
”What’s the matter with her?”
”She wouldn’t answer a question for me.”
“Oh…. Okay…..”
And with another light pat on PPPP’s slim shoulder, the SSL shrugged before heading off to the locker room, leaving ET to figure it out.
Of course, PPPP’s show drew a crowd. Gathered above the pool peering through the glass lookout down on the deck, friends and family of all the children were pointing and mouthing. PP picked PPPP’s mom outta the crowd as she shook her head, and disappeared, only to appear on deck minutes later, all motherly concern in smart white pedal pushers and lime green top, her shoulder length black hair falling stylishly in her dark eyes.
Turning around at the far end of the pool, PP watched in delight as mom kneeled down to chat with ET, shaking her head, arguing? Then rising, turned to her Uncooperative Child, taking her aside and talking seriously at her. Released? PPPP suddenly relaxed. Began dancing round on the deck, almost smiling.
What had mom said to her, PP wondered? Don’t worry honey, that Mean Teacher doesn’t matter. You don’t need to answer her stupid questions. Just keep acting like a little Prima Dona and dance?
PP began her warm down, pulling long slow strokes under the gray blue water. Had the lane to herself for a moment with both Rubric Cap Woman and Spastic White Guy Splasher now gone. Remembering herself at that age. The stubborn resolve born of ‘uncooperativeness.’ Not that PP had ever been an uncooperative child round any pool activities. But she surely must have manifested a few quiet tantrums on the tennis court!
Finishing up her laps, PP looked up. PPPP and mom were gone. The other little fish were getting out, giggling and pushing, but quiet for a group of kids at the Y.
Wonder what had happened to PPPP? PP mused. Did she just get to change, go home, watch ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and never have to come back to the Y ever again?
Grinning, PP heaved herself out of the pool. Hope not, she thought to herself, cause PPPP was certainly her own Dancing Star here at the YMCA!
And PP is certain that every pool deserves to have it’s own Perfect Pink Diva!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Fast Friends
PP wishes she could write elegant purrfect stories like Jhumpa Lahiri, whose stories she’s been savoring for the last few days, but alas, she’s sadly lacking in such classy craft. Of course, Lahiri may not write pool stories as well as PP, but then again, what the hell good are pool stories if they don’t pay the rent? (Granted, Lahiri may also have gone thro dry spells with her writing, who knows? And now that she’s got the movie out about her novel, The Namesake, she’s in the money. Hell she could probably buy her own island with pools all around, but then, again, why would she care and….)
Oh damn!
PP has no idea what she’s writing about.
Shall we start over?
What happened at the YMCA today? Nothing of note. PP thinks this is a good thing, esp. since too much happens all the time everywhere. Bridges burning up. (An oil tanker crashed and infernoed the Macarthur Maze over the weekend. PP was afraid to take the freeway home from the Y for fear that the traffic would be horrific, but the drive up Broadway was horrific in its own way. Lanes blocked by loading and unloading mighty truck carriers—Broadway Auto Row has lots of loading and unloading to do. So much in fact that as PP was driving past the Nissan dealership and had to stop in the middle of traffic to allow a Yahoo to back a new Z down the truck ramp landing almost smack dab on top the Geo that PP caught her breath and swerved into the next lane, narrowly missing a silver BMW convertible with Mr. Suave Shaved Headed African American Wheeler Dealer yaking on his cell.
So….PP had to consider just how much the rest and relaxation from her uneventful day at the Y was worth.
Was it worth almost crashing into Mr. Suave?
NO.
Was it worth the heart racing sweaty palms following the above near miss?
NO.
Was it worth the hilarious hot tub with the two crazed Chinese swimmers?
Hell yeah!
Swimmer #1 PP had spied in the pool during her swim. Her blue flowered suit woefully see through, but of course, #1 didn’t give a shit even if she had noticed. She did have on the most delightful shower/swim cap with a giant hot pink Doggie and yellow rubber duckies lining the border. She had her pale blue jogging belt that was completely unnecessary since the pool is only 3.4 feet deep. But what the hell, the jogging belt helped with the workout. PP had no clue how, but was sure that there was some complicated reason for it.
Or not.
Maybe the belt was just lying on the deck and #1 had picked it up, tried it on, and given it a go.
PP had noticed, or correction, couldn’t help but notice, #1 last week. She’d been in the Hot Tub, soaking before her swim, and then had gone to use the toilet. Remember the toilets at the Y are right there in the hot tub room. There’s a stall, but really that’s all. So, when #1 came out of the toilet and looked in the mirror, she noticed that she had little bits of toilet paper stuck all up and down her bare wet legs. Shrugging, she’d stood there, picking the wet tissue off in nonchalant methodicism.
PP hadn’t wanted to stare. But she had.
And thought. Damn. Too much intimacy with strangers here at the Y!
Today, though, #1 had either gotten all the TP off already, or hadn’t followed the same routine but instead had come in the Hot Tub after her swim. PP was soaking in her Post Swim Space Out Euphoria, when #1 entered the tub. Naked except for her string of white pearls (were they real, PP wondered?) overlaid with a yellow rope necklace for her locker key, and still donning her hot pink doggie with the duckies shower/swim cap. She gave PP a snaggled toothed grin as she entered, planting herself at the opposite side of the tub and proceeding to do some sort of kicking exercises.
The Hot Tub was no place to slough off for #1!
Then enter her friend, #2, in her black suit and constant laugh. As soon as she splashed down into the tub, a loud and friendly gossip session started up as #2 started to jump up and down spastically in the center of the tub creating little waves that washed over PP’s chin.
They were very busy in the Hot Tub, PP thought. Both with the exercise and the talking. PP wondered what they were saying, but not knowing Chinese, just felt like she was back in China. The lone white woman privy to nothing as all the women yak yak yakked!
Maybe they were talking about their workouts?
PP had to smile to herself.
Yeah, right.
They were probably complaining about their husbands and kids. But then, they seemed so happy. #2 just kept laughing and laughing. Something was very funny and PP so wished she knew what it was, but….
Then again, maybe it was better to not know. To just guess. To let herself relish the anonymity that was the Y for her. So different from Mills where everyone knew her, if not by name, at least by sight, so that in the hot tub there, she was always chatting to someone.
PP missed this sometimes. But not today. Today she was just happy to be in the tub, with these two friends, for it was very clear that they were fast friends, and not be responsible for reacting or listening or participating in the conversation at all.
Not even eavesdropping. Which granted, was one of PP’s favorite pastimes, but sometimes even this seemingly passive activity was exhausting.
And so, PP knew that while she was never gonna write stories like Jhumpa Lahiri, she was gonna keep writing stories about swimming and tubbing and eavesdropping and driving and hell…..
Why not?
No one else could write a Pool Story, like PP.
At least she liked to tell herself this as she climbed outta the tub and headed off for the shower.
Oh damn!
PP has no idea what she’s writing about.
Shall we start over?
What happened at the YMCA today? Nothing of note. PP thinks this is a good thing, esp. since too much happens all the time everywhere. Bridges burning up. (An oil tanker crashed and infernoed the Macarthur Maze over the weekend. PP was afraid to take the freeway home from the Y for fear that the traffic would be horrific, but the drive up Broadway was horrific in its own way. Lanes blocked by loading and unloading mighty truck carriers—Broadway Auto Row has lots of loading and unloading to do. So much in fact that as PP was driving past the Nissan dealership and had to stop in the middle of traffic to allow a Yahoo to back a new Z down the truck ramp landing almost smack dab on top the Geo that PP caught her breath and swerved into the next lane, narrowly missing a silver BMW convertible with Mr. Suave Shaved Headed African American Wheeler Dealer yaking on his cell.
So….PP had to consider just how much the rest and relaxation from her uneventful day at the Y was worth.
Was it worth almost crashing into Mr. Suave?
NO.
Was it worth the heart racing sweaty palms following the above near miss?
NO.
Was it worth the hilarious hot tub with the two crazed Chinese swimmers?
Hell yeah!
Swimmer #1 PP had spied in the pool during her swim. Her blue flowered suit woefully see through, but of course, #1 didn’t give a shit even if she had noticed. She did have on the most delightful shower/swim cap with a giant hot pink Doggie and yellow rubber duckies lining the border. She had her pale blue jogging belt that was completely unnecessary since the pool is only 3.4 feet deep. But what the hell, the jogging belt helped with the workout. PP had no clue how, but was sure that there was some complicated reason for it.
Or not.
Maybe the belt was just lying on the deck and #1 had picked it up, tried it on, and given it a go.
PP had noticed, or correction, couldn’t help but notice, #1 last week. She’d been in the Hot Tub, soaking before her swim, and then had gone to use the toilet. Remember the toilets at the Y are right there in the hot tub room. There’s a stall, but really that’s all. So, when #1 came out of the toilet and looked in the mirror, she noticed that she had little bits of toilet paper stuck all up and down her bare wet legs. Shrugging, she’d stood there, picking the wet tissue off in nonchalant methodicism.
PP hadn’t wanted to stare. But she had.
And thought. Damn. Too much intimacy with strangers here at the Y!
Today, though, #1 had either gotten all the TP off already, or hadn’t followed the same routine but instead had come in the Hot Tub after her swim. PP was soaking in her Post Swim Space Out Euphoria, when #1 entered the tub. Naked except for her string of white pearls (were they real, PP wondered?) overlaid with a yellow rope necklace for her locker key, and still donning her hot pink doggie with the duckies shower/swim cap. She gave PP a snaggled toothed grin as she entered, planting herself at the opposite side of the tub and proceeding to do some sort of kicking exercises.
The Hot Tub was no place to slough off for #1!
Then enter her friend, #2, in her black suit and constant laugh. As soon as she splashed down into the tub, a loud and friendly gossip session started up as #2 started to jump up and down spastically in the center of the tub creating little waves that washed over PP’s chin.
They were very busy in the Hot Tub, PP thought. Both with the exercise and the talking. PP wondered what they were saying, but not knowing Chinese, just felt like she was back in China. The lone white woman privy to nothing as all the women yak yak yakked!
Maybe they were talking about their workouts?
PP had to smile to herself.
Yeah, right.
They were probably complaining about their husbands and kids. But then, they seemed so happy. #2 just kept laughing and laughing. Something was very funny and PP so wished she knew what it was, but….
Then again, maybe it was better to not know. To just guess. To let herself relish the anonymity that was the Y for her. So different from Mills where everyone knew her, if not by name, at least by sight, so that in the hot tub there, she was always chatting to someone.
PP missed this sometimes. But not today. Today she was just happy to be in the tub, with these two friends, for it was very clear that they were fast friends, and not be responsible for reacting or listening or participating in the conversation at all.
Not even eavesdropping. Which granted, was one of PP’s favorite pastimes, but sometimes even this seemingly passive activity was exhausting.
And so, PP knew that while she was never gonna write stories like Jhumpa Lahiri, she was gonna keep writing stories about swimming and tubbing and eavesdropping and driving and hell…..
Why not?
No one else could write a Pool Story, like PP.
At least she liked to tell herself this as she climbed outta the tub and headed off for the shower.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
FRENCH FRIES & GOLD CHAINS IN PARADISE
When in Paradise, Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend hankers for adventure, while PP purrfurs to lounge about under a palm, devouring Trollope. Sometimes, he can rouse her for a walk on the beach or a drive down the coast, but this takes some coercion on his part. Or bribery works.
PP will usually do anything for a swim!
So, the day he wanted to find a beach outta the rain, PP shrugged, and nodded, what the hell? As long as she got to swim in the sea (or a pool—the pools were FREE on Oahu, can you even believe that? Now there’s civilization for you!), PP was happy.
And lord knows, DHBF wanted to keep her happy.
So, they hopped in the Pontiac Grand Am—yes, the rental car was supposed to be a Tercel, but they were outta the compacts at Alamo, so the gas-guzzler muscle car was theirs for a week.
What a way to tour the island!
But the rain! PP was trying to tell herself that it was a good thing. That with the rain was less sun and so less chance of more skin cancer. But yet…..she longed for a bit of that bright yellow light on the blue turquoise sea, so down the coast they went. To the awesome snorkel beach at the dead volcano next to Diamond Head, H Cove (PP can’t remember the entire name of this beach, but it did start with an H—close enough for a PP blog.)
Heading down the coast, it rained rained rained! PP was getting pretty cranky about both the rain and her bladder. She really hadda go to the bathroom. Thank God for the Sport of Golf in Hawaii. Those country clubs all had great bathrooms. The one on the way to the awesome snorkeling beach was bigger than their condo and smelled like bottled hibiscus.
PP was in Bathroom Heaven.
No wonder she loved Hawaii!
Yet, later, pulling up to the parking lot of the awesome snorkel beach, PP spied too many tour buses full of Japanese Hello Kitty Swimmers. Damn. The snorkel beach was a tourist trap?
The parking lot lady was fat and friendly. “You can just pay a $1, and stay for 15 minutes. If it’s not your cup of tea, you get your dollar back.”
DHBF nods, smiles, hands her a dollar. “Can’t lose, eh?”
Glancing around the parking lot, PP thought otherwise. It was fucking Disneyland. In addition to the tour buses, there were hundreds of rental cars full of screaming pasty families from Minnesota to Texas, armed to the hilt with their snorkels, beach chairs, ice chests, laptops, and umbrellas.
This looked like a big Adventure Mistake, PP thought. But she was trying to be more flexible. Have an open mind and not be so set in her ways. There was more to Paradise than Trollope and Kailua Beach.
From what PP could see, the More was Wrong.
Undaunted, DHBF bounded up to the lookout point. “You just wait here, and I’ll go check it out,” he called back to her, delighted.
PP felt the crankiness creep in despite her resolve. Hell, maybe at least she could find a bathroom.
Following him up the hill, she caught up to him and looked down the rocky cliff at the most beautiful turquoise corralled cove she’d ever seen.
Damn.
Too bad it was chalked full of screaming families.
“I don’t know….” she murmured. “Looks kinda crowded, but it’s not raining at least.”
DHBF nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Should we try it?”PP shrugged, trying to be adventurous, but it was really against her better instincts. While the beach was incredibly beautiful, the droves of tourists weren’t.
She glanced over at him. He was smiling but worried. Knew that she wanted to go, but couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Okay,” she headed back to the car, “Let’s get our stuff and head on down.”
”You sure it’s ok?”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe I can find a bathroom.”
Grinning he nodded. “I’m sure they have a bathroom.”
”Yeah, Disneyland usually does,” she muttered as they started to gather their stuff outta the Grand Am.
Confused and cranky, PP stood in the middle of a crowd of sunburned tourists wolfing down French fries and talking on cell phones. Where’s the goddamn bathroom, she wondered. Glancing around, she spied it under a cave overhang, and headed toward it, narrowly missing a bleached blonde with a gargantuan plate of fries and catsup, followed by her water buffalo hubby, in gold chains and wrong too tan.
Damn. This was not the beach for her. Just use the bathroom and fuck the adventure, PP thought to herself.
Inching through the crowd, the smell of grease and Coppertone enveloping her, PP stopped at the “CLOSED FOR CLEANING” sign and stood staring at it, crestfallen.
Hell, can’t she even go to the bathroom at the French Fry and Gold Chain Beach? What a gyp. Wonder if they can still get their dollar back.
“Did you find the bathroom,” DHBF caught up with her after she’d turned and headed back up toward the parking lot.
“Yeah, it was closed.”
”Closed?”
”That’s what I said. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Yeah, I agree. It’s costs another 5 bucks to get down to the beach.”
”You’re kidding.” PP shook her head. No bathroom and lots of grease, both of a fried and human variety.
No thank you.
Back in the car, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Can we stop at the Golf Course again so I can go to the bathroom?”
Grinning, DHBF looked over at her, “Of course.”
“And then can we go back to Kailua Beach?”
“Just what I was thinking.”
“Cool, cuz the French Fries and Gold Chain Beach really made me long for Trollope and a palm.”
”Me, too,” he chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot of the Diamond Head Country Club and let PP out to find the bathroom, happy now that she was gonna not only get to use the Condo Bathroom again, but also supurr relieved that the Adventure was over!
PP will usually do anything for a swim!
So, the day he wanted to find a beach outta the rain, PP shrugged, and nodded, what the hell? As long as she got to swim in the sea (or a pool—the pools were FREE on Oahu, can you even believe that? Now there’s civilization for you!), PP was happy.
And lord knows, DHBF wanted to keep her happy.
So, they hopped in the Pontiac Grand Am—yes, the rental car was supposed to be a Tercel, but they were outta the compacts at Alamo, so the gas-guzzler muscle car was theirs for a week.
What a way to tour the island!
But the rain! PP was trying to tell herself that it was a good thing. That with the rain was less sun and so less chance of more skin cancer. But yet…..she longed for a bit of that bright yellow light on the blue turquoise sea, so down the coast they went. To the awesome snorkel beach at the dead volcano next to Diamond Head, H Cove (PP can’t remember the entire name of this beach, but it did start with an H—close enough for a PP blog.)
Heading down the coast, it rained rained rained! PP was getting pretty cranky about both the rain and her bladder. She really hadda go to the bathroom. Thank God for the Sport of Golf in Hawaii. Those country clubs all had great bathrooms. The one on the way to the awesome snorkeling beach was bigger than their condo and smelled like bottled hibiscus.
PP was in Bathroom Heaven.
No wonder she loved Hawaii!
Yet, later, pulling up to the parking lot of the awesome snorkel beach, PP spied too many tour buses full of Japanese Hello Kitty Swimmers. Damn. The snorkel beach was a tourist trap?
The parking lot lady was fat and friendly. “You can just pay a $1, and stay for 15 minutes. If it’s not your cup of tea, you get your dollar back.”
DHBF nods, smiles, hands her a dollar. “Can’t lose, eh?”
Glancing around the parking lot, PP thought otherwise. It was fucking Disneyland. In addition to the tour buses, there were hundreds of rental cars full of screaming pasty families from Minnesota to Texas, armed to the hilt with their snorkels, beach chairs, ice chests, laptops, and umbrellas.
This looked like a big Adventure Mistake, PP thought. But she was trying to be more flexible. Have an open mind and not be so set in her ways. There was more to Paradise than Trollope and Kailua Beach.
From what PP could see, the More was Wrong.
Undaunted, DHBF bounded up to the lookout point. “You just wait here, and I’ll go check it out,” he called back to her, delighted.
PP felt the crankiness creep in despite her resolve. Hell, maybe at least she could find a bathroom.
Following him up the hill, she caught up to him and looked down the rocky cliff at the most beautiful turquoise corralled cove she’d ever seen.
Damn.
Too bad it was chalked full of screaming families.
“I don’t know….” she murmured. “Looks kinda crowded, but it’s not raining at least.”
DHBF nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Should we try it?”PP shrugged, trying to be adventurous, but it was really against her better instincts. While the beach was incredibly beautiful, the droves of tourists weren’t.
She glanced over at him. He was smiling but worried. Knew that she wanted to go, but couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Okay,” she headed back to the car, “Let’s get our stuff and head on down.”
”You sure it’s ok?”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe I can find a bathroom.”
Grinning he nodded. “I’m sure they have a bathroom.”
”Yeah, Disneyland usually does,” she muttered as they started to gather their stuff outta the Grand Am.
Confused and cranky, PP stood in the middle of a crowd of sunburned tourists wolfing down French fries and talking on cell phones. Where’s the goddamn bathroom, she wondered. Glancing around, she spied it under a cave overhang, and headed toward it, narrowly missing a bleached blonde with a gargantuan plate of fries and catsup, followed by her water buffalo hubby, in gold chains and wrong too tan.
Damn. This was not the beach for her. Just use the bathroom and fuck the adventure, PP thought to herself.
Inching through the crowd, the smell of grease and Coppertone enveloping her, PP stopped at the “CLOSED FOR CLEANING” sign and stood staring at it, crestfallen.
Hell, can’t she even go to the bathroom at the French Fry and Gold Chain Beach? What a gyp. Wonder if they can still get their dollar back.
“Did you find the bathroom,” DHBF caught up with her after she’d turned and headed back up toward the parking lot.
“Yeah, it was closed.”
”Closed?”
”That’s what I said. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Yeah, I agree. It’s costs another 5 bucks to get down to the beach.”
”You’re kidding.” PP shook her head. No bathroom and lots of grease, both of a fried and human variety.
No thank you.
Back in the car, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Can we stop at the Golf Course again so I can go to the bathroom?”
Grinning, DHBF looked over at her, “Of course.”
“And then can we go back to Kailua Beach?”
“Just what I was thinking.”
“Cool, cuz the French Fries and Gold Chain Beach really made me long for Trollope and a palm.”
”Me, too,” he chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot of the Diamond Head Country Club and let PP out to find the bathroom, happy now that she was gonna not only get to use the Condo Bathroom again, but also supurr relieved that the Adventure was over!
Muscle Mass
If PP has to listen to one more Trying Too Hard to be Positive Before She Crashes middle aged woman rhapsodize about the golden opportunity presented by fuckin menopause to embrace CHANGE and IDENTITY, she’s gonna scream! ARRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!! (Sorry must be the Hormones yelling? That is one nice thing about menopause, you can blame ALL physical and emotional maladies on it. )
But…..
When Muscle Mass Loss Menopause Woman started to get into the Menopause is Opportunity Lecture, PP almost puked. I mean. What the hell is so great about it?
The Hot Flashes?
The Night Sweats?
The Vaginal Dryness. (Sorry, but it’s true)
The Sleeplessness?
The Hypersensitivity to any and all chemicals from antihistimines to alcohol. (And Lord knows, PP needs that glass of wine when she comes home, esp. after a Menopause Lecture)
What else?
Depression?
Crankiness?
DRY SKIN!!!
Oh, and don’t forget, Loss of Muscle Mass. Hell, MMLMW had already admitted that women start to lose their muscle mass (Has PP said that enuf times? It’s obviously bugging her!), so NOW IS THE TIME to start doing something about it. Weights. Weight bearing exercise. Swimming is great, its cardiovascular, but it’s not gonna help with the Muscle Mass Loss Situation.
Damn.
What’s a Menopausal Swimming Kitty to do?
Take the weights into the pool?
Somehow, PP doubts this is what MMLMW had in mind, and after all, she was just trying to be helpful while undressing and dressing for their respective workouts at the YMCA.
PP hadn’t liked her right off the bat. She’d come in, demanded PP move outta her way. Okay, maybe she wasn’t that demanding but it felt that way after PP’s long day at Psycho University hearing about the Lost Souls of Maui and Orinda. Now, she just wanted to swim. So when MMLMW had barged in, glaring at PP for taking up the entire aisle (Hey, no one was around when PP first came in!), PP's fur had been more than a little ruffled.
“I need to get right there!” she’d announced, pointing at the floor. “Locker 732.”
PP glanced down at her crap spread out all over the floor. ‘Oh, ok. Sorry, I can move,’ she apologized crankily.
Then thought better of her Cranky State. After all here she was at the Y and this was obviously someone who knew her way around. She had a locker! And she was FIT. Solid, muscled, curvy Asian Woman. No nonsense. That muscle mass was calling.
“You a swimmer?” PP asked, knowing she wasn’t. How could PP tell? She just could. There was something about swimmers that set them apart. They were, oh, more soft? Less intense? Ummm….PP will have to think about this since she has known some very intense swimmers in her day.
But this woman, of course, just chuckled, and glanced up at PP as she was lacing her Athletic Shoes, “I swim, but no, I’m not a Swimmer.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
“Weights.”
“Oh…I just swim.”Glancing at her suspiciously, MMW sighed, as she looked PP up and down. “Yes, it’s very important that we start working out with weights. We start to lose our Muscle Mass during menopause. How old are you?”
PP tried to keep the aghast reaction of ‘None of your fucking business’ going thro her brain from showing on her face. Doubted that she was successful, but MMLW wasn’t paying attention to such nuances. PP wondered, should she lie? Say she’s 39? Could she get away with it? Probably not since the subject of Menopause had already come up, so PP swallowed hard, admitted the truth. (Wait, she’s not gonna tell here. )
“I’m 48,” MMLW asserted strongly as she headed for the toilet. “It’s time you started doing something about it,” she called out as the tinkle trickle began.
“But it’s a time issue.” PP whined. “I mean, if I have time to make it here to the Y, I swim. I don’t really wanna give up my swimming time for weights.” PP also didn’t want to admit that she was supurr intimidated by the goddamn weights. So heavy and sweaty.
Yuck!
“You don’t have to do them all the time,” MMW continued after flushing the toilet. “You could just start slow, do it once a month. Get a buddy to exercise with.”
“That’s a good idea,” PP lies as she heads for the toilet too. It’s a little weird how the toilets are in the midst of the dressing area, the hot tub, actually they’re all over. So you’ve peeing and talking and …..okay, whatever. It’s weird. PP’s getting off the track here about peeing, but it is a Big Consideration with her. Did she list it with the Menopause Woes? You can add it on. Peeing every 30 minutes—Menopause. Don’t ask the details. Too icky!
When PP does return from the toilet, MMLW is sitting on one of the square wooden stools (Why does everyone sit on the stool, PP wonders? She never has, but has observed that everyone else does. Plops down. In bra and panties. Staring into space.
Exhaustion inspires stool use?)
Anyway, MMW is sitting on the stool, bent over a book, sniffling. PP thinks, oh no, she’s crying? But why would that be? About the book? About her loss of Muscle Mass? About Menopause?
Closing the book, she glances up at PP, and then smiles fakely. “Have a good swim.”
“Uh, yeah, you have a good workout too.”
“Thanks.”
Happily exhausted from the swim and hot tub, PP half wishes that she won’t run into MM woman again, but no, there she is, getting dressed. “You have a good swim?”
”OH, yeah, and did you have a good weight workout?”
”Oh, yes, those endorphins. They make all the difference.”
“That’s for damn sure,” PP agrees.
“Esp. now that I’m just starting Menopause.”
”Yeah, I’ve been in Menopause for years.”
“Really? Well, you’re doing the right thing.”
She was? PP shakes her head and smiles slowly in confusion, remembering the admonishment regarding swimming vs. weights only a little over an hour ago.
“Just think of our Mothers. All those kids and no one talked about IT.”
“Yeah….” PP thinks that talking about IT has its drawbacks, but hell maybe it’ll turn into a good story.
“IT is a Big Change, tho,” MMW muses. “But what I tell my friends, is that if you don’t like it, if you don’t like the New ME, well, then too bad. This is it and I’m glad of it.”
PP nods, not knowing what the hell she’s talking about. Menopause creates a New Me? Maybe so, for PP at least, it’s created a new Crankier Me.
“I see it as an opportunity for transformation and change, going forward to a New Tomorrow.”
Did PP just hear her right?
No, PP thinks she just made that part up.
Yet, maybe MMW had a point? If we can’t do anything about Menopause, then why not embrace it? Treasure it? Rejoice in it?
Fuck.
PP hates it. There’s nothing rejoicive about it on any level. Hell, maybe if she still had periods it’d be a relief on that end, but even with her friends that still have periods, it sounds like Menopause just messes their cycles up. Makes them unpredictable and painful.
So, what’s to Embrace?
PP glances over at MMW and shrugs. She is fit. And her Muscle Mass looks pretty good.
But still, PP wonders…..if Menopause is such a wonderful life transforming change, then why the Hell does everyone bitch about it?
Exactly!
Tossing her stuffs back in her big blue bag, PP heads out of the locker room and past MMW chatting with a new victim. “And I tell my friends, if they don’t like the NEW ME well then…..”
Giggling to herself, PP heads out of the locker room and into the gray rainy afternoon. Thankful that it’s Saturday but even more thankful that she’s finally learned what to do about Menopause.
Ignore it!
But…..
When Muscle Mass Loss Menopause Woman started to get into the Menopause is Opportunity Lecture, PP almost puked. I mean. What the hell is so great about it?
The Hot Flashes?
The Night Sweats?
The Vaginal Dryness. (Sorry, but it’s true)
The Sleeplessness?
The Hypersensitivity to any and all chemicals from antihistimines to alcohol. (And Lord knows, PP needs that glass of wine when she comes home, esp. after a Menopause Lecture)
What else?
Depression?
Crankiness?
DRY SKIN!!!
Oh, and don’t forget, Loss of Muscle Mass. Hell, MMLMW had already admitted that women start to lose their muscle mass (Has PP said that enuf times? It’s obviously bugging her!), so NOW IS THE TIME to start doing something about it. Weights. Weight bearing exercise. Swimming is great, its cardiovascular, but it’s not gonna help with the Muscle Mass Loss Situation.
Damn.
What’s a Menopausal Swimming Kitty to do?
Take the weights into the pool?
Somehow, PP doubts this is what MMLMW had in mind, and after all, she was just trying to be helpful while undressing and dressing for their respective workouts at the YMCA.
PP hadn’t liked her right off the bat. She’d come in, demanded PP move outta her way. Okay, maybe she wasn’t that demanding but it felt that way after PP’s long day at Psycho University hearing about the Lost Souls of Maui and Orinda. Now, she just wanted to swim. So when MMLMW had barged in, glaring at PP for taking up the entire aisle (Hey, no one was around when PP first came in!), PP's fur had been more than a little ruffled.
“I need to get right there!” she’d announced, pointing at the floor. “Locker 732.”
PP glanced down at her crap spread out all over the floor. ‘Oh, ok. Sorry, I can move,’ she apologized crankily.
Then thought better of her Cranky State. After all here she was at the Y and this was obviously someone who knew her way around. She had a locker! And she was FIT. Solid, muscled, curvy Asian Woman. No nonsense. That muscle mass was calling.
“You a swimmer?” PP asked, knowing she wasn’t. How could PP tell? She just could. There was something about swimmers that set them apart. They were, oh, more soft? Less intense? Ummm….PP will have to think about this since she has known some very intense swimmers in her day.
But this woman, of course, just chuckled, and glanced up at PP as she was lacing her Athletic Shoes, “I swim, but no, I’m not a Swimmer.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
“Weights.”
“Oh…I just swim.”Glancing at her suspiciously, MMW sighed, as she looked PP up and down. “Yes, it’s very important that we start working out with weights. We start to lose our Muscle Mass during menopause. How old are you?”
PP tried to keep the aghast reaction of ‘None of your fucking business’ going thro her brain from showing on her face. Doubted that she was successful, but MMLW wasn’t paying attention to such nuances. PP wondered, should she lie? Say she’s 39? Could she get away with it? Probably not since the subject of Menopause had already come up, so PP swallowed hard, admitted the truth. (Wait, she’s not gonna tell here. )
“I’m 48,” MMLW asserted strongly as she headed for the toilet. “It’s time you started doing something about it,” she called out as the tinkle trickle began.
“But it’s a time issue.” PP whined. “I mean, if I have time to make it here to the Y, I swim. I don’t really wanna give up my swimming time for weights.” PP also didn’t want to admit that she was supurr intimidated by the goddamn weights. So heavy and sweaty.
Yuck!
“You don’t have to do them all the time,” MMW continued after flushing the toilet. “You could just start slow, do it once a month. Get a buddy to exercise with.”
“That’s a good idea,” PP lies as she heads for the toilet too. It’s a little weird how the toilets are in the midst of the dressing area, the hot tub, actually they’re all over. So you’ve peeing and talking and …..okay, whatever. It’s weird. PP’s getting off the track here about peeing, but it is a Big Consideration with her. Did she list it with the Menopause Woes? You can add it on. Peeing every 30 minutes—Menopause. Don’t ask the details. Too icky!
When PP does return from the toilet, MMLW is sitting on one of the square wooden stools (Why does everyone sit on the stool, PP wonders? She never has, but has observed that everyone else does. Plops down. In bra and panties. Staring into space.
Exhaustion inspires stool use?)
Anyway, MMW is sitting on the stool, bent over a book, sniffling. PP thinks, oh no, she’s crying? But why would that be? About the book? About her loss of Muscle Mass? About Menopause?
Closing the book, she glances up at PP, and then smiles fakely. “Have a good swim.”
“Uh, yeah, you have a good workout too.”
“Thanks.”
Happily exhausted from the swim and hot tub, PP half wishes that she won’t run into MM woman again, but no, there she is, getting dressed. “You have a good swim?”
”OH, yeah, and did you have a good weight workout?”
”Oh, yes, those endorphins. They make all the difference.”
“That’s for damn sure,” PP agrees.
“Esp. now that I’m just starting Menopause.”
”Yeah, I’ve been in Menopause for years.”
“Really? Well, you’re doing the right thing.”
She was? PP shakes her head and smiles slowly in confusion, remembering the admonishment regarding swimming vs. weights only a little over an hour ago.
“Just think of our Mothers. All those kids and no one talked about IT.”
“Yeah….” PP thinks that talking about IT has its drawbacks, but hell maybe it’ll turn into a good story.
“IT is a Big Change, tho,” MMW muses. “But what I tell my friends, is that if you don’t like it, if you don’t like the New ME, well, then too bad. This is it and I’m glad of it.”
PP nods, not knowing what the hell she’s talking about. Menopause creates a New Me? Maybe so, for PP at least, it’s created a new Crankier Me.
“I see it as an opportunity for transformation and change, going forward to a New Tomorrow.”
Did PP just hear her right?
No, PP thinks she just made that part up.
Yet, maybe MMW had a point? If we can’t do anything about Menopause, then why not embrace it? Treasure it? Rejoice in it?
Fuck.
PP hates it. There’s nothing rejoicive about it on any level. Hell, maybe if she still had periods it’d be a relief on that end, but even with her friends that still have periods, it sounds like Menopause just messes their cycles up. Makes them unpredictable and painful.
So, what’s to Embrace?
PP glances over at MMW and shrugs. She is fit. And her Muscle Mass looks pretty good.
But still, PP wonders…..if Menopause is such a wonderful life transforming change, then why the Hell does everyone bitch about it?
Exactly!
Tossing her stuffs back in her big blue bag, PP heads out of the locker room and past MMW chatting with a new victim. “And I tell my friends, if they don’t like the NEW ME well then…..”
Giggling to herself, PP heads out of the locker room and into the gray rainy afternoon. Thankful that it’s Saturday but even more thankful that she’s finally learned what to do about Menopause.
Ignore it!
Monday, April 16, 2007
A Two Pool Day
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!
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!
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.
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