A Pox on the Orange Woman

Swimmers Beware! There is an Odious Orange Woman terrorizing innocent swimmers at the Fairfax Canyon Club Swimming Pool! The following chronicles one swimmer’s trauma: a dear friend of PP’s who’s just trying to get a swim in for chrissakes! PP will try to capture KS’s voice here as it is HER story, but one too good (and important) to not put on Pool Puss Purrs!

“Maybe this has happened to you, Carol. I mean, you swim all the time and I’m sure it’s a common occurrence but I hafta tell you, I was really traumatized (PP’s interpretation) and haven’t been swimming since.”
“OHMYGOD! Tell me! What the hell happened?”
“Well, I just wanted to get a swim in and I only had 45 minutes. Usually I give myself more time, but this day, I had other places I had to be, the kids to pick up, dinner to shop for and make, you know the drill. So I only had this little window of opportunity for a swim. And I get to the pool….”
“What’s the name of the pool? I wanna be sure to get it right for my blog.”
”You’re gonna put my story on your blog?”
”Hell yeah.”
“Wow. Cool. Thank you. The name of the pool is “Canyon Swim Club in Fairfax.” (Swimmers BEWARE!)
“Great. Got it. So what happened?”
“Like I said, I only had 45 minutes and when I got there all the lanes were full. So this has probably happened to you, but when I tried to make eye contact with one of the swimmers, who by the way was this really weird Orange Color….”
”She was Orange?”
”Yeah. What’s up with that?”
“Maybe she eats too many carrots?”




“Maybe…..anyway, she was so mean. And she wouldn’t even make eye contact with me when I tried to ask her if I could share her lane……”
“Oh, yeah. I know that one.”
”You do?”
“Yeah. I do it myself sometimes, I must admit.”
“Yeah, but I bet you’re not as Mean as this Orange Woman!”
“Maybe. What did she do?”
“Well, when I finally got her attention and asked her if I could share her lane, she just glared at me and said, ‘No.’”
“WHAT?”
”Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. And when I pressed her on it and said that I thought it was the pool policy to share your lane when all the lanes were full, she just shrugged and said, ‘I waited for this lane. It’s MY lane. You can wait for your own lane.’ And when I told her that I only had a limited time, 45 minutes, and I couldn’t stand around and wait, she just said, ‘We all make Choices.”
“ What the hell does that mean?”
“I guess that she made the choice to not share her lane and I must make the Choice to agree with her. But you know, her Goddamn Choice impacted my Choice!”
“Absolutely!” PP is suitably astonished by this selfish, spoiled, MEAN behavior of Orange Woman! In all the years she’s been swimming, in all the pools she’s been swimming in, she’s NEVER encountered such blatant rudeness and lack of Swimmer Etiquette. Orange Woman needs to be drowned!
“Did you bop her on the head with your kickboard?”
“No! I shoulda done that. Maybe that woulda helped. Though I don’t know….” KS’s voice trailed off.
“So what did you do if you didn’t brain her?” PP asked.
“I just gave up and went to the next lane and asked the woman there if I could share her lane.”
“And did she let you?”
“No. She said she was pregnant and I might kick her!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
”No.”
“Was she Orange too?”
“No, just pregnant.”
“Wow. She needed to be brained too, but I guess since she had her ‘precious cargo’ it was a little more legitimate. So then did you just give up?”
”NO! I really needed a swim!”
“Yeah, I understand that one!”
“So finally I went to this guy’s lane and asked him…”
“What did he say? He couldn’t have been pregnant at least!”
“Right. So, yeah, he just smiled and said, sure come on in. But I didn’t really wanna swim with him…..”
“Why not?”
“He was one of those kinda flirty beefy guys with a gold chain…”
PP smiled to herself. Of course, the beefy flirty guy is gonna wanna have Cutie Pie KS in his lane.





All the same, the Orange Woman deserves to be outted! If any swimmers encounter her Rude, Selfish, Obscene Behavior again at the Fairfax Canyon Club Pool, you know what to do!

Drown her!

(Or at least jump in and hold her Orange Head under water for several seconds to really scare the Meanness outta her! Hissssss!!!!!)

Truly an Inspiration

“I’ve lost 50 lbs since August!”
“That’s amazing,” PP murmurs, truly astonished. This is like what? Almost half her body weight!
Less 50 lb Woman exhales deeply in the hot tub as her friend, who’d been talking about her Hip Replacement up till this announcement, sat across the tub, shaking her head. “You are truly an Inspiration!”
“Yeah, well, I blew it the other day. My friend and I were driving through Vacaville to see a client and she wanted to stop at a what’s it called? Oh yeah… Foster’s Freeze…. that’s what it’s called.”
”Yum. Ice cream!” PP sighs happily, envisioning those swirled chocolate and vanilla soft cones.
“Yeah, well, if I had just had one of those, I mighta been better off, but no, I had to go for the fried chicken nuggets. I only had 3 or 4 and they were pretty small, but still…..I definitely fell off the wagon on that one.”
“Hell, you’ve been so good for so long,” Hip Replacement Woman encourages, shaking her head. “You deserve a break once in awhile.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s just that once I start….”
“I hear you!”
“How did you lose 50 lbs so quickly?” PP asks, remembering she’d seen Inspiration Woman upstairs in the weight room earlier, looking haggard and glassy-eyed as she rested between sets of some stupid weight machine.
“Thousand calories a day. No more than 30 grams of fat. 50 grams of carbohydrates.” PP could have this measurement wrong. She’s so absorbed in the dearth of calories allotment.


“Wow! 1000 calories!” PP exclaims. Hell, no wonder she was tired up at the weight machines. What women won’t do to lose weight. Thou IW admittedly looked like she’d packed it on in the past. PP had noticed the folding layers hanging limply along her hips, waist, and arms when she’d gotten into the tub. Now with the dramatic 50 lb weight loss story, the loosey brown folds of skin were explained. PP had to admit, too, that she was inspiring! Imagine the amount of determination it must take to stick to 1000 calories a day. PP frankly couldn't imagine. She was always so in awe of these women here at the Y who'd turned their life around like this.

Extremes always impressed her!



“You are an Inspiration!” HRW exclaims again. “I have put on the pounds, too, since I can’t dance anymore. What with my hip issues.”
“Everyone I know,” IW nods her head, “swears by the surgery. My mama got a hip replacement when she was 83 years old and she’s going strong today.”
“Another Inspiration!” PP grins.
“That’s right,” IW eyes PP a little more warmly. Not quite welcoming her into their complaining about their bodies club.
“Yeah, well, I dunno,” HRW shakes her head. “I gotta find out more about it. I just know that it’s hard to do anything anymore.”
“What about swimming?” PP asks, knowing that swimming is the answer to all that ails anyone.
“Yeah, swimming is good for you!” IW nods seriously.
“I know. Swimming is good. I try. But I’m not really much of a swimmer.”
“It’s just good to be in the water, though, isn’t it?” PP asks.
“Oh, yeah. The water does wonders.”
PP nods, happy that her Pool Bliss theory once again pans out. She sees all types in the YMCA pool. From scrawny Asian kids to pudding-type middle aged White Women, to well-built African American dudes. Some can swim. Some can’t. It doesn’t matter. The water is healing and restorative.
“I just hafta get back on the wagon,” IW sighs deeply. “Get back to eating right.”
”What do you eat?” HRW asks.
“Mostly vegetables, fruit….”
“Isn’t fruit high in carbohydrates?”
“Yeah, some of it is. You’re right. But berries, raspberries, blueberries, they’re fine.”



“And high in antioxidants!” PP pipes in. She’s seen the posters at Kaiser.
“That’s right!” IW nods, serious now. “Broccoli. Cauliflower.”
“I love Broccoli!” PP beams. Really she does. Could live on broccoli and ice cream and swimming. That’s all she’d need. Oh and maybe coffee. “Come to think of it, you are making me hungry! I need to get going and find some food.”
“Well, look at you,” HRW shakes her head as they both watch PP climb outta the tub.
PP would’ve blushed if she’d been 16 still. This had been such a source of embarrassment way back then. Thought that she’d never grow out of it. But she had. Like most things. Now she just smiles, charmingly. Or at least trying for a bit of humble humility. After all, she was so damn skinny in these women’s eyes.




“It’s all the broccoli!” PP giggles.
“And swimming!” HRW nods emphatically.
“Yup. The swimming doesn’t hurt. See you both next time. In the pool, I hope.”
“You’ll see me. I want to do that water aerobic class. Do you know when they have that?” IW asks.
PP didn’t. She’d never taken one of the water classes, but of course, she had the pool schedule. Gave it to IW, with plenty of encouragement about being active in the water.

Then off she went, really famished, for her broccoli and ice cream midnight snack. Now if only there was a Foster’s Freeze on the way home!

Colette's Pool Fantasy

Did Colette like pools? PP wonders since she wants to be Colette. She has everything else going for her. Cats. Sex. Country estates with lots of fragrant flora. A fine literary career.

Hell, she must have had a pool, too. But PP can’t find any evidence of this. Maybe they didn’t have a pool in Casamene. Yet, doesn’t it seem like Colette would like to swim? It’s such a sexy activity. Full of water and movement. PP can picture her lounging about at poolside, sipping a chilled glass of champagne while watching the young girls frolic in the turquisey water. Giggling and splashing each other as Colette gazes at them in lazy lust, penning a story about saucy felines and wayward maidens.

Damn. Why can’t PP be Colette? It would be so much better than being a goddamn Bay Area Bohemian relegated to teaching, commuting and griping, living underneath noisy grad students and surrounded by mountains of cat litter, with no pool in sight.

But yet, maybe Colette wasn’t a swimmer. Maybe she was afraid of the water. Hell, it’s hard to imagine her being afraid of anything. And even if she wasn’t a swimmer and even if she didn’t have a pool, PP still wants to be her.

If PP were Colette, she would definitely have a pool full of lots of floating felines, salacious swimmers, and juicy strawberries.

Wow. A pool full of strawberries? Where did that come from?

Only Colette would know…..

Sisters

Just got news that PP’s former boss at FFU lost her sister. No details yet on what happened. Just know that it was a terrible tragedy via email. And PP can’t imagine. What would it be like to lose one of her sisters? She would die too.

Swimming. PP and her sisters share this passion. In the beginning, PP more so, but all three girls loved swimming in the pool in Hacienda Heights. Playing Mr. Banana Buddy with Daddy. Dead bug when it was too smoggy to move. PP remembers the high excitement of watching the pool fill up with the garden hoses, the three girls leaning over the sides of the brand new pool, dipping their hands in and shrieking at the cold water. Brimming with excitement over their very own backyard pool!

PP would spend hours swimming back and forth and back and forth in the perfect little pool. 100. 200 laps at a time. (It was a lovely rectangular pool, but not 25 yards like a regular public pool. PP doesn’t know how long it was. Maybe half that? But in any case, it worked. PP’s obsession with pools started way back then. She musta been 11? 12? )

And the sisters. Her middle sister was more of a swimmer than the youngest. PP remembers that her baby sister didn’t learn to swim as early as the older two girls. But now. Watch out. Baby Sister can churn them all out of the water. She’s a lean, mean, swimming machine.

Middle sis, aka Snart, does the awesome ocean swim in San Diego. Wanted PP to swim it with her one year. Get up at 6 am, in the freezing cold water with the fog all about by 7 am. Struggle through cold choppy gray waves till 8 am.

What do you think PP said to that?

“No. Thank you. I think I’ll stay in bed till 9, then get up, take a HOT shower, drink lots of coffee and read the paper. I’ll swim later in the warm sunshine at the sunshine pool with sexy Coach Joe.”

Ah. Yes. This was the sister story that PP needs to share with you all. But no time now. Later….

Till then, PP’s heart goes out to her former boss who lost her sister. Such sentiments seem so shallow written down, so PP is just gonna go swim a few laps in honor of sisters, those who are here, and those who have passed on. (PP’s mom lost her swimmer sister too. Another story there.)

Swimming and sisters. Two of the best ‘s’s in the world. PP knows, whenever she thinks of her sisters, just how very lucky she is to have them in her life—in the pool and in her heart.

26 Hours in the Claremont Pool

“How do you spell your last name?”
JB sighs. Spells her name out slowly, just a little edge to her tone. “Brancusi. B-R-A-N-C-U-S-I.”
Young, flustered lifeguard shuffles nervously through the 3X5 recipe box again. His tan pimpled face heavy in concentration. “Maybe you used the card up?” he asks hopefully.
“No.” JB’s losing patience now. Here she’s offered to treat PP and DHBF to a swim at her steam is rising offa the water Claremont Pool and the stupid moron lifeguard can’t find her friggin membership card.

Shit.

“It’s a very new card,” she hisses evenly. “….only 2 or three uses on it.” Another lifeguard heads into the dreary cement room, starts to help out. “He knows me.” She points at the 2nd guard. “Brancusi!”
PP grins. Loves JB’s no nonsense way about her. Has loved it since she was 13. (Yes they were 13 when they met back in Irvine at Tustin Jr. HS. That’s a long time to know someone. And a long time to love someone’s way. More than 35 years—yes, PP’s 50th is imminent. But she’s not gonna go there now. Though a pool is a must for the Celebration!)

PP and JB have certainly been through a lot, but have drifted apart in adult years. Geography. (JB in San Diego; PP settled in North Calif.) Marriage. (JB, not PP)
Tragedy. (JB lost her brother in a horrible car accident 20 some odd years ago; PP remembers feeling so sad and helpless.)

But of course, the one thing that they’ve always had in common and both have never considered giving up is, SWIMMING!

“If the doc told me I hadda give up swimming, just take me out back and shoot me in the head,” JG pronounced once they’d finally made it into the locker room and were undressing in the cold cement room. (Second Lifeguard had found the Brancusi Card. Crossed off three passes. Waved their little group through.)

In the locker room, JB and PP begin the catching up process. There’s a lot if you only see someone once a year. They start with all their stupid middle-aged health maladies. PP’s melanoma: “OH MY GOD!!!! You didn’t tell me about that! Hell, you dodged the bullet with that one!” JB’s imminent shoulder surgery. Damaged rotary cuff? Rotisserie cuff? Well, you swimmers know what PP means. Fibroids and bleeding in the Bahamas. JB jokes, “Yeah, I thought I better not swim one day. Sharks you know.”
PP had nodded sympathetically. Thank god she didn’t hafta go thro that anymore.

10 minutes later, the health updates done, PP and JB were out on deck in the misty gray San Diego winter. It was so mild. Not like Oakland. Yeah, they called it winter. And as DHBF reminded PP all the time, Oaklanders didn’t know winter either till they spent one in Canada.
No THANK YOU! is always PP’s response.

JB informed them how the Claremont Pool was ‘busy’ that day. 2 middle aged walking, stretching guys in the shallow end. A couple kids diving playfully in the deep end. Then the 4 lap lanes in the center of the pool. Empty and waiting for them. This was busy? Hell, this was Pool Paradise compared to the Oakland Y most days!

It was all so perfect! The temp of the water musta been 85 degrees. PP had her own lane. The water was crystal clear and still blue even with the gray skies. Don’t ask her why. Must be a San Diego thing. Pools are always blue even when there’s no blue sky to reflect off? Maybe since it’s so sunny and blue skied there all year round, the pools store up the blueness just for PP’s swim?

Who cares! All she cared about was swimming! And she did. But not everyone was swimming. Most notably one of the water walking mid-aged guys. PP watched as he stretched to one side and then the other. His arms in an awkward arc over his head. The pain etched on his face.

She dubbed him Grimacing Stretch Man. Later she found out that JB and her hubby called him Shark Man cuz he wore a snorkel across the middle of his face, looking like a hilarious rendition of Jaws.

PP laughed at the image, not really getting it since she saw no sign of a snorkel this Super Bowl Sunday. All she saw was a lot of cranky faces as GSM jerked his pale hairy body in spastic trying to stretch stretches. Yet he seemed oddly at peace. Of course, Pool Bliss reigns no matter what activity one’s pursuing.





50 minutes later, JB and DHBF were hanging out at the wall, the steam playing round the surface of the water as they chatted about fins and strokes.

“We’re not gonna be able to get Carol outta the Pool!” JB joked.
And she was right. PP had no intention of leaving. She was just gonna swim in the perfectly warm Claremont Pool till she had to fly back to Oakland, which wasn’t for 26 hours.

26 hours in the pool. Do you think it’s possible, Dear Readers?

Watching JB shrug, grin and take off for another lap, PP thought so. She just wanted this moment to last forever, in this perfect pool with her best friend from Junior High School and Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend.

26 hours would have to do though, as she reached for the kickboard and followed JB back down the lane.

Boys and Girls Club Pool aka The Sunshine Pool

Okay, PP has a most excellent past story about this pool. Yes, it's funny. Yes, it's silly.

And yes, it's SEXY! (at least in her water soaked fantasy brain)

So, when she returns from the land of sunshine and pools (otherwise known as San Diego), maybe she'll write this story, or maybe she'll have a new story about the Sunshine Pool or the Encinitas YMCA (Magdalene Ecke Family YMCA--Pool of Beautiful Fishes) or the super warm 84 degree Claremont pool....


Personally, she likes the SEXY story about Joe at the Boys and Girls Club...oh, but now she's giving too much away!

Some Things Just Can't Be Explained

12 days without swimming? No. It’s just not possible. PP knew this as soon as the Kaiser dermatologist uttered this ghastly prohibition for any seriously addicted swimmer.

(Coincidentally, PP had had a dialogue about Addiction, specifically smoking, with a very distressed post swimmer in the Sauna Utopia on Saturday. Not ever having smoked, PP couldn't really empathize till she came up with the idea of swimming! 'Yeah, it must be hard to give up cigarettes,' PP had sympathised. 'I get it. It would be like if I had to give up Swimming!' Addict Swimmer had laughed at this. Somehow, once again, swimming had brought two unlikely people to a shared understanding.)

So, when the doc mentioned giving up swimming for 12 days; well! PP nearly stopped breathing.

Shaking her head sympathetically, the doctor began to explain the 'procedure'. If she did a biopsy on one of the goddamn bumps on her butt, then she’d hafta stitch it up, it’d hafta be kept clean (not a nice thought to contemplate) and PP would hafta stay out of the pool.

“For how long?” PP asked, unable to fathom more than a few days without swimming.

Granted, she’d been forced to forgo the swimming for several periods during her life, often health related. But today, PP just couldn’t handle the thought of no pool for 12 days. Even with the pandemonium swim she’d just finished at the YMCA, complete with Crooked Swimming Purple Bandanna Woman sharing her lane. She’d crashed into PP twice before PP was able to switch lanes until a group of half a dozen or so Boy Retards…. Damn, that’s not what they’re called anymore; PP knows this, as she spied their dark forms lurking on the deck. Unsure and swaying. But then, seeing them all cowering in the water, their movements slow and spastic, their swim trunks tied in what would be risqué knots on other men. Well. PP couldn't remember what the politically correct label was. Her frustration level was so high already. And now, PP knew that her swim was gonna take a turn for the worse. So when this Gang of Retards (GOR hereafter--this will be PP's label in lieu of her inability to remember the Correct Term) invaded her lane, staring at her, tongues hanging out, eyes rolling, their coaches apologizing to her, but could they please have her lane, PP just gave up.




Climbing up on the deck, PP glanced around the pool. It was loaded with swimmers. At 2 in the afternoon on a weekday? What the hell was up with that? And PP really really really needed to swim, what with her 2 Kaiser day. That morning, the latest doc had announced after glancing at her ass for 15 seconds, “No, doesn’t look like staph to me.”
“What is it then?” PP asked, relieved and frustrated. Relief that it wasn’t the dreaded flesh eating super bug staph that she’d been losing sleep over all week; frustrated that she’d been losing this sleep for a week, taking the goddamn antibiotics for nothing, and worrying about how she shouldn’t be going to the pool. Why no one on Kaiser’s Hellish Advice Line could tell her. But it still worried her.

“Looks like Bug Bites to me,” Doc Morn had said.
“Bug Bites?”
“Yes. Do you have pets?”
“Yeah, I have cats.”
“Do they have fleas?”
”Well, maybe, but it’s the middle of winter. Not the height of flea season. But they could. I guess…..” PP’s voice trailed off. Bug Bites?

Well, if this were true, at least she could go to the pool now. No worry about Staph Contagion at the gym.





But yet, fleas? She’s had cats her whole life. They have fleas on and off. She’s never had a problem before.
“Why would I be having this kinda reaction to fleas now when I’ve never had a problem before?” she asked Bug Doc.
Big shrug, BD turned to type some vital info into the computer about fleas. “Who knows? Some things just can’t be explained.”

Some things just can’t be explained? This is the kind of medical analysis PP paid 1000’s of dollars a year for?

“I’m gonna give you a referral to the dermatologist. Can you come back today?”
“Sure, I guess….” PP sighed out loud. She was so goddamn sick of being sick and of being given the run-around at Kaiser. First Doc Do Do, now Bug Doctor, and next?
“Can you come back at 3:45?”
“Yeah…..” PP took the referral, watched as Bug Doc finished up the computer task instead of paying attention to the patient in front of her, then headed out the door with barely a nod to PP.

Putting her clothes back on, PP tried not to cry. Well, at least it was only a little after noon, PP thought; she could get a swim in between Kaiser visits.

At least that had been the plan. Till the GOR showed up and then all she could do was surrender her lane to their Slow Group Water Walk.

Glancing up at their coach, PP shook her head, completely exasperated, “Why is it so Crazy here today?”
The Pudgy White T-shirted coach shook his head. He really did seem to feel bad about taking her lane. “I don’t know. I’m really sorry. We just didn’t know where else to put Them…..”

Okay, PP got this. But still....Climbing out of the pool, she turned and watched the little group do a slow Water Tromp up the lane. A little bit of jostling. A little bit of giggling. A little bit of what?

PP gathered up her fins, shaking her wet head after freeing it from the cap confines.

A little bit of swimming can go a long way to helping even the most unlikely souls. Feeling so cranky at the time, it wasn’t till later that PP marveled at the GOR of the Y. Hell, what did she have to be crabby about? A few bug bites? A couple trips to Kaiser? Not swimming for 12 days?

Ok, the not swimming for 12 days would be VERY crabby, but PP had to admit that her privileged brain allowed her so much. Not the least of which was the ability to put down in writing, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, her thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

Plus, wasn’t it marvelous that swimming held no barriers at the YMCA? That any and all were welcome in the pool?

PP had to give the Y Pool that.

Just please, pretty please, next time, could they just bring the GOR after she finished her workout?

After all, swimming, for her, was an Addiction. And yes, Some Things just can't be explained.

Beautiful Stroke

“That stroke of yours has it all!” Hemophiliac Swimmer stops PP at the lane line, leaning over with a toothy grin. She tries not to stare or think about the small round band-aid in the middle of his forehead. “….it’s got a Rhythm…..” He pauses, pondering….. “….and a nice strong kick to it too…..” HS shakes his head in unabashed admiration. “Beautiful!” he exclaims as PP reaches for her fins, thinking how at least something in her life is ‘beautiful’ cause it sure as hell hasn’t been too beautiful lately. What with the goddamn staph infection (Yes, hot tubs may cure constipations but they also may be the bubbly culprit of swimming germs that invade your skin and start to grow ….okay, PP will stop there. The details are just too ugly. Both figuratively and literally.)

So, after avoiding the pool and hot tub for two days on Dr. Do Do’s orders (Kaiser’s version of hell. Give the patient lots of antibiotics. Make the patient super sick. Tell the patient that more antibiotics are the only cure for infection even when the patient questions the wisdom of taking more and more since she’s been reading about how too many antibiotics can build up a resistance to infection and then nothing will cure the super staph infection and…., ‘Are you question my recommendation for cure? I am Doctor. I know what I talk about.’)

Well, PP has very little confidence in doctors or the gym at the moment. So, when HS, the charmer that he is, compliments her so sincerely today at the Y, she almost started crying in the pool. Yes the tears are fast and furious lately. A trait that PP hates. Why the hell are they so goddamn close to the surface?




At least if she had cried in the pool, she coulda just dunked her head underwater and voila, they woulda been washed away. On the other hand, when she’s wandering around Longs Drug Store, looking for a heating pad and can only find aisles and aisles of plants or automotive supplies and the tears start to well up, she has to fight the urge. No water to dunk under at Longs!

Back in the pool, she can’t help but contemplate…..Oh, but those little staphy buggies! What if they got into her eyes? Her ears? Her nose? Her….

Yes, they’re already there!

What’s a PP to do? Stay out of the pool, says Dr. Do Do (Actually his name is Dr. Do, which seems appropriate what with his 30 second appraisal of PP and then prescription for more antibiotics. He was all Action. But PP is gonna use his real name here so that any of her readers who may be the unfortunate recipients of Kaiser’s Urgent Care will be sure not to see Dr. DD!)

Swimming today, under the antibiotic nausea veil, PP felt strangely floaty. Like she wasn’t even really swimming. The water was warm, the lane was her own, Hemophiliac Swimmer in the lane next to hers.

And for those 45 minutes in the pool, she felt let’s face it, beautiful. Not in the way that HS may have thought, but in the way that only a perfect swim can make her feel. And while the antibiotics did make her tummy, initially, slightly queasy, by the end of the swim, the nausea had dissipated and all that was left was the blissful glow of the post swim endorphins, and the beautiful grin of Dear Hemophiliac Swimmer!

The ONE Line! (Question for PP in YMCA Hot Tub)

"Do you think these hot tubs are good for Constipations?"

Serial Pooling

“Oh! I am sooo sorry!” the Lovely I laments as she dunks her head under the hot shower. “I totally got the time wrong!” Her voice plaintive, face genuinely woeful.

PP laughs as she messes around with the shower temp. Really it’s ok, she tells the Lovely I. She messed up with the time, too, here the first Sunday back at Mills. Schedule still on the stupid break--closing at 2:45 instead of the usual 3:45. What? Like they think this is a college or something? No students so no pool?

How stupid is that?

But really, PP did get a workout in, she tells the Lovely I—probably about a mile.
600 yards: warm up
700 yards: kick (cheating long fins cuz PP was feeling super lazy and pressed for time)
400 yards: pull
250 yards: regular swimming (though the last planned 50 yards interrupted by lifeguard)

So, this still makes for what? 1750 yards—why, a mile exactly! This is plenty of exercise even though it’s not PP’s usual 2200 yards.

But yet.... she could still go to the Y now after Mills.

She jokingly mentions this to the Lovely I.

“Hee hee. That’s a great idea. It’d be like one of those revolving block parties. You know, where you start at one house for cocktails and appetizers and then the next house is Salads and then the next place is the main dishes and then finally the desserts….

“Yeah!” PP giggles. “First I could come to Mills for the appetizers, then the Y for the Main Course, then the Palace Hotel for dessert!”

“Serial Pooling!” the Lovely I exclaims, though PP might have her name for this slightly wrong. But hell, isn’t this part of blogging? To create one’s own reality of EXACTLY what happened?

At least this is what PP thinks. Otherwise, what’s the point of writing anything down if it’s exactly how it really happened. But yet, didn’t her therapist tell her how everyone has his or her own reality? PP had been sorely stymied by this. Didn’t the whole world have HER reality? That being, specifically, the POOL?

Of course, not. PP realized this when her therapist had talked to her about REALITY. PP actually could do without so much Reality most of the time. Especially if it has nothing to do with the pool.

Back to Mills, post shower, PP, DHBF and the Lovely I saunter down the stairs to the parking lot. “I feel better now,” the Lovely I sighs happily.
“Me too,” PP agrees. “But I think since I didn’t get my whole workout in, I’m gonna go to the Y now.” She could feel the two of them nodding behind her.
“I’m kinda kidding, but kinda not,” she giggles.
“Oh, we got THAT,” DHBF asserts for both of them as the Lovely I nods in agreement.

And after dropping off the Lovely I, PP did for a moment really contemplate heading over to the Y if for nothing else than to visit the hot tub and utopia since her Mills swim was so abbreviated by the stupid school schedule.

Did she go you may wonder, Dear Readers?

Ummm….PP could say that she did, couldn’t she? Cuz there’s another beauty of blogging, NO one will ever know if she did or didn’t go to the Y. PP can just make it up. It’s her reality, this blog, and if she wants to write about how luscious the Main Course section of her Serial Pooling was at the Y and then how she took the BART over to the Palace Hotel and booked herself a room after a Cosmo at the seductive bar and then grabbed a cream puff off one of the room service carts and headed up to the pool for a dessertful swim, well, no one would know if what she wrote was true or not….

Well, except maybe for the Cream Puff part…..

A Failure at One Line, but.....

Tonight, what with a nasty itch left over from the antibiotics and the humping homos upstairs, PP finds herself in a profoundly cranky mood, making it difficult to summon up the delight she had at the Y last night in the pool by herself, and in the Hot Tub/Sauna (aka Utopia) with DL. Maybe if she keeps writing it’ll come back to her?

OK, PP keep writing. Actually she even made some notes this morning after her shower (cause everyone knows this is where the best creative thinking happens—other than the pool, of course), so, start with these. She was gonna try to do the ‘one line’ blog like Joe from Canada, but she’s way too meandering, tired and sour. But Hell, one never knows where the writing will lead.

The notes, PP, the notes:

“My Tile Guy could fix it like That.” –Confident Hot Tub Woman snaps her fingers after she and DL watch Spastic Chinese Girl slip on broken, decrepit tiles surrounding the tub and fall splashing into the bubbly water behind a completely oblivious PP jabbering away at DL about Hot Tub Mama's Ridiculous Sink Ownership story from the day before. SCG kept giggling, so they all figured she was OK. But still. CHTW’s Tile Guy needs to be called in to the Y pronto!

“I think you said, ‘Exercise is the Best Revenge,’ but I heard, ‘Sugar is the Best Revenge,”—DL trying to help with the one line blog idea, but she can’t remember the line quite right. Oh, but her line is better, cause Sugar is the best Revenge for that no good lying cheating husband who’s left you for a younger slimmer sluttier woman.

“He’s already hooked up with someone and it’s been less than a month. That hurts.” Philosophical Sensitive Dumped On By Her Man Woman in the Sauna for whom PP had said the above about Revenge and DL had heard about sugar. PP thinks that PSDOW would like the Sugar line better.

“The Flexi-Seed. You Americans. Put it in your cereal. Make delicious shake.” ---The Goddess of the Sauna giving Cultural Analysis of American Breakfast non-habits.

And then the non-lines, but musings in PP’s head after the shower this morn about the pool:

The water is warm; PP is still cold. Why is this? Her core is cold? The winter sucks? She’s crazy?

Tin Man/Cowardly Lion Swimmer with his Silver Cap and Jowly Grin, gives PP a goofy wink as he stops at the wall to turn, catches her eye, before diving back under the water and splashing mightily with his big blue fins.


The pool, for a brief moment, was like a Dream. PP was not only the ONLY swimmer in the pool, but was, in fact, the only swimmer in the entire pool situation! Only the 12 (well he looked 12) year old Lifeguard after he stopped picking the scabs off his forearm was on deck, screwing around with a pale green hose, preparing for God knows what at the end of the night as PP swims languidly blissfully back and forth back and forth back and forth with no one to crash into, talk to, or wink at.


Ah, the Pool Bliss is recaptured.
Leave it to the power of writing.
Oh, and PP’s inimitable spirit of watery prose…..

Hot Tub Mama Rules?

For the New Year….

What about this idea? We’ll see how long it lasts, but….what if PP tried to write a blog about swimming (or some peripheral connection to swimming) whenever she swims? Is that realistic she wonders? It could often just be a little blog, like Joe’s from Canada. His yesterday was just a line about how he was havin' a hard time getting back into swimming after the holidays. And he got LOTS of sympathetic and hearty comments about how tough this is.

Those swimmers! They’re a supportive bunch!

So, PP doesn’t think she can write just one line. Though this is an interesting and challenging idea, but she does think she could try to write a paragraph or two.

Like, why does Hot Tub Mama think she owns the locker room? I mean! PP soaks her suit in one of the sinks (there’s two in the hot tub room and then another 3 or 4 in the room next door) for like 2 minutes while she goes to the bathroom and when she comes out, HTM has taken PP’s suit out and tossed it in a wet ball on the counter. PP’s first instinct is to ask her why she thinks she owns the place.

Hell, it's not like she left her CAT in the sink!





Besides, if the situation had been reversed, and PP had wanted to use the sink to rinse out her piles of weird cups, bottles, shampoo containers etc, and had found that someone had left a suit in the sink, she’d just shrug and go into the other room and use one of those sinks.


But no. HTM can’t be bothered to move her fat ass an extra 3 feet. Hell, isn’t this the Y? Couldn’t that waddle around the corner and find another sink be part of her workout? Come to think of it, PP doesn’t think she works out at all. She just comes to the Y to lord over the Hot Tub, Sauna and Sink Situations.

Shit.

PP thinks that HTM should try working out. Maybe take a swim. Hell, she’d float really well with all that blubber.

Oh, that’s so mean, PP!
But it feels so good.

Yes, PP thinks that this short blog idea might just be the best idea for the New Year.
Oh, unless she can get them to heat the pool a few more degrees. But that’s another blog.

Till tomorrow.

Temperature Complaining. PP knows that’s a Cliffhanger!

DHBF Tests the Y Waters

What the hell is up with all the goddamn rain? PP knows that it’s January. It’s the rainy season. That we ‘need’ the rain.(Yes, even she must admit that without rain, there'd be no swimming pools!) But hell. It means that she’s gotta either hang her wet laundry all over the apt. and wait days for it to dry. Or take it to the scary laundry mat on Claremont and Colby.

Where the hell did that laundry mat come from? It’s outta a 3rd world country. PP had no idea that such a place existed in Tony Rockridge. Several dryers marked 'OUT OF ORDER' in bright pink felt pen. Football game blaring on the highest volume possible as a bored African American Gent stares at it completely unengaged. Two moms, also African American, are sorting through 3 tons of laundry. Several carts are loaded with baby clothes, sheets, towels, pants, shirts, and sweats—-PP wonders why only African Americans are in the laundry mat.

Whatever the reason, they all seem really Cranky too!

And she is Cranky Cranky CRANKY about having to go to the stupid laundry mat.

Why is she writing about this you may well ask, dear Readers. What's the crappy laundry mat got to do with swimming? Nothing, except that she was gonna use this time to write her blog. But hey, she can escape laundry mat hell for an hour and at least start the blog, right?

She’ll type fast. She just hopes that no one steals her laundry. Nah. Bored Football Man certainly isn’t her size. And the two women are so focused on their tons of clothes they didn’t even see her come in.





So. The good news for the New Year? DHBF is testing out the YMCA! Yipee! Alas, this last weekend it was utter mayhem as the New Year’s Resolvers all swarmed to the gym. So stupid. Fortunately, the crowds won’t last. Especially in the pool. PP overheard two women, wet and shivering from their swim, complaining today how they just can’t go to the gym in the winter cuz they get colds.

Yeah. PP too. But it doesn’t stop her from going to the Y. Yet the crowds didn’t seem to deter DHBF. He gamely asked Macho Man if he could split his lane, “What side do you prefer?” he’d politely asked. Oh that good mannered Brit style. MM had just hurrumphed. What? Was he supposed to have a conversation in the middle of his workout?




So DHBF got in on the left side. Started swimming. PP, on the other hand, was in Lane Hell. She was already circle swimming when she spied Standing Woman making ready to enter her lane. When PP had brought JL on New Year’s Eve, SW had been blocking the lane then too. Scrawny.... (Sorry, PP knows that’s not a very flattering adjective, but it’s apt.)... Crazy, Chinese Woman with that Look in her eye. The white swim cap circa 1967 snapped snugly under her skinny chin. She nods and smiles at PP before climbing in. Swims 3 strokes and then stops and stands for several seconds. Or minutes even. JL had asked what was up with the standing in the middle of swimming? PP had no answer other than to say that maybe she felt like she had to stop to let swimmers pass. This makes no sense. The other explanation is that she’s just CRAZY!!!!

So, PP felt kinda bad that DHBF’s first swim at the Y was pandemonium. But he didn’t seem to mind. After all, Standing Woman wasn’t in HIS lane! So unlike PP he didn’t have stop, circle around her, almost crash into an oncoming swimmer, and then, whew!, narrowly keep from kicking SW. (Though PP was tempted.)

How much time's left till the laundry’s dry. Damn. What time was it when PP put the clothes in the dryer? 5:45? She thinks so. It’s now 6:15, so she’s got a half an hour to finish this blog. Hey, that’s kinda cool to have a time limit. It means PP can't digress in her usual rambling way.

What else? Oh, yeah, DHBF can give the man’s perspective of Utopia Sauna Talk. PP loves this. She only gets the women’s gossip. What do the men talk about in the Sauna?

Are you all dying to know?

Guy Talk.

Cars. Sports. Women.

It went like this (as far as PP can recall from DHBF’s telling of it on the drive home from the pool—-please forgive her, DHBF, if she gets it slightly wrong. Blame it on the laundry limit)





“I got me a 20 year old car. And a 20-year-old motorcycle. And a 100-year-old house. I ain’t never gonna get me nothing new.”
“Nah, you can’t think that way. You gotta think positive. What you need is a 20 year old girlfriend.”
Lots of guffaws. Then lots of joking about how much trouble a 20-year-old girlfriend would be, esp. for these old geezers. (PP’s summarizing and making a lot of this up, but you get the idea.)

Then they talked about how the rainstorm made the timers on one of the guy's house go all haywire, and so he was asking all the guys in the locker room about how to fix these timers, and they were all giving advice: the best and the most predictable being, of course, the Internet. Then DHBF made some joke about how he can’t find the serial number on the timer without his glasses, but now PP can’t remember how this fit into the story. But it was more self-effacing humor around aging guys.

Guys worry about getting older too. Whether it be their chances with a 20-year-old GF or their chances of reading the serial number on a timer. Testosterone and sight. Two parts that dwindle with age.

With women it’s estrogen and sight too. Though PP thinks she hears more complaints about weight and hair and kids in Utopia.

So, it’s almost time to go get the laundry. PP hopes that it’s dry cuz she does NOT want to watch football.

Welcome to the YMCA, DHBF, and next time, PP will be sure to write down the Men’s Utopia sooner.





Laundry Mat Epilogue

Ok, PP has to admit. That wasn’t so bad. And it IS nice to have warm dryer clothes. She’s gonna be so smug when she wakes up at 6 am tomorrow to the sounds of rain rain rain and her clothes will all be in the apt, folded nice special in their drawers, all dry and clean instead of outside on the line wet and dirty in the rain.

PP really hates it when her clothes get rained on.

Also, PP did get a story when she went to pick up her clothes and granted it’s not a swimming story, but PP thinks maybe a little digression in this New Year might be a good thing.

The two women were gone, but Football Man was still watching the game when she arrived. He even gave her the Evil Eye, but PP just smiled sweetly. Considered asking who was winning, but then thought better of it. As she was getting her clothes out of the dryer, she felt him behind her, doing something weird. She turned and saw that he was bending down between the line of washers, where a disgusting River of suds was gushing. He had some sort of plastic container that he was scooping the sudsy water up with.

What’s up with that?

Then as PP was driving back down Colby, the street now dark and deserted, she caught sight of him hurrying along the sidewalk, the plastic container of used washer water flashing in the streetlight’s glow.

Did he just go the laundry mat to watch the game and collect dirty water?

PP has to wonder.
What do you, Dear Readers, think?

All PP knows, is that she’s glad her clothes are clean, she got her blog written, and she’s still in plenty of time for Bruno v. Carrie Ann in the insipid spin off from Dancing with the Stars.

Part III ~ Palace Hotel Grand Finale!

(Dear Readers, again, note that this is the final chapter in a series of three. Please see the two entries below this for parts I & II)

5:23 a.m. PP awoke with a raging headache. Where was she? Wasn’t she at the Blue Palace swimming with Daryl Hannah? Yes, and Daryl had invited her over for a cocktail and when PP got out of the water, Daryl giggled, turned around and then dove into the bright blue sea. Vanished. Like a flying mermaid. Hey wasn’t she a mermaid in another one of her movies? That Daryl. She’s definitely part of PP’s swimming faith.

The headache pounded in her ears. Temples. Back of the head. Neck even. Where the hell was the Advil? Glancing around, PP remembered where she was. Not at the Blue Palace but at the Real Palace. With a nasty sickness. And no swimming!

Tottering into the bathroom, she retrieved the Advil and gulped two down. Then glanced over at the curtain drawn across the window in the dark stillness.

The pool opens at 5 a.m. Wonder if anyone’s swimming? Peeking through the curtain, PP spied a steady back and forth splash. Yup. Some insane swimmer was up doing laps at 5 in the morning.

Crazy. Yet, PP did admire such obsession around the pool. Another member of her swimming faith.

PP closed the drapes as the headache returned. What was she gonna do? Here she was, the day after Christmas now upon her, and she still had this stupid headache. She had had HAD to swim today before they checked out. She was no way not going to. Maybe if she went back to bed she’d feel better in a few hours. If only Daryl would come and whisk her away to her blue mermaid sea…..lying back down, sinking into the luxurious big pillows, PP smiled sleepily as the vision of a beautiful blonde flying mermaid carried her away.

“Here’s your coffee,” DHBF had run down to Starbucks instead of the crazy room service coffee extravagance. Since it was the day after Christmas they were open and pouring. Thanking him, PP took a sip of the strong brew as another shooting pain came upon her. Damn! Her headache just would not go away. The Advil from 5:23 had done little to dull the pain. What was she gonna do? She must swim before the noon checkout time, especially since she’d missed yesterday’s swim.

Glancing at the clock, PP noted that it was already 9:30 as another shooting pain took hold of her. Shit.

DHBF gave her the worried look. “You’re not any better today, are you?”
PP tried to keep back the tears as she shook her head no. “What am I gonna do? I have to swim before we leave.”
”We’ll come back again some day…” he assured her, though PP was unconvinced. When the hell would she ever have this opportunity again? It wasn’t like she was really part of the SF Aristocracy. She’d just been pretending for a couple of days so she could swim in the precious little pool. And now this damn headache!

“Can you hand me my backpack, Honey?” she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of one of the gaudy Louis the 14th style chairs. Raising an eyebrow, DHBF rose to retrieve it for her. Handing her the pack, PP rummaged around till she found the bottle of pills.
“What are you gonna do?” he asked, just a little anxious.
“I’m gonna take a Darvocet. And then I’m gonna go swimming!” she announced, stubbornness taking over common sense.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not? If I’m allergic to it, a rash is better than this headache. And if I can get rid of the headache then I can go swimming.”
”Makes sense.”
Though even if he’d told her she was crazy, no way was PP gonna be talked out of the idea. Downing the pill, she lay back on the puffy pillow and took another sip of coffee. Yes. It was the only recourse. A Darvocet Swim is the answer!



30 minutes later, the pain began to subside and PP slowly rose and started to get ready for the pool.
“Is the headache gone?” DHBF asked, worry still lacing his tone.
“Yup!” PP felt a little dreamy as she put on her suit and looked around for the white terry cloth robe. “You coming?” she asked him.
Grinning, he grabbed his swim trunks and threw on his white robe. “Oh, yeah! I’m so glad your headache went away!”
“Me too. Now I can do what I came here for. The pool!”

Floating down the long hallway toward the pool, PP touched her head tenderly. She could still feel that the headache was there, but the drug really did a fabulous job of masking it! Why hadn’t she thought of this last night? If she’d taken a Darvocet then, she wouldn’t have wasted her Christmas writhing in pain.

On the other hand, she never would have discovered the Blue Palace on Crete with the 109 pools!




Signing in at the pool’s front desk, PP chitchatted with the bored pool girl about the insanity of all the new skyscrapers taking away the light and the view. Guess they’d given the Filipino Woman the day off; she certainly deserved it.

As they meandered out onto the deck, past the rosy candles and smell of coffee, PP smiled to herself about the little civilized touches of the Palace Pool. Of course they’d have coffee at the pool in the morning! Every swimmer needs to fuel up before taking the plunge. Then PP heard the sound of screeching children as they opened the door onto the deck. Damn. Children. How many? It sounded like a zillion!

But really it was only a few. 2 in the pool, shrieking in delight while throwing the kickboards across the little lanes. Another 4 in the hot tub. Wait a minute, kids in the hot tub? What’s up with that? Guess the Palace was more permissive than Mills College. But now PP didn’t care. She was deep into in a floaty Darvocet cloud and nothing was gonna phase her as she climbed into the hot tub and starting chatting with two blond brothers, ages 8 and 10 about the new Chipmunks Movie. Fortunately, a buff blonde dad came to retrieve them. It was nearly 10:30 a.m. now, and PP was hankering for that final floaty swim.

And dreamy and floaty it was. The Darvocet made swimming so easy! Why she didn’t even have to pull at the water. She just floated up and down the lane, the bright blue sky and the little lion heads on the curly cues of the building across from the pool glimmering in the morning light.





Who knew that Darvocet could make swimming so dreamy? Hell, she was gonna take a darvocet before every swim from now on. Giggling to herself as she turned at the wall, PP grinned over at DHBF as he did his slow easy breaststroke. Had he taken a Darvocet too, she wondered. No, not that she could recall. But right now it was impossible to recall anything. She was just swimming in the Moment.

Deepak Chopra would be so impressed. Though he probably wouldn’t have approved of the drug aspect of her mindfulness.

PP turned onto her back and kicked languidly on her back, watching the puffy clouds float through the blue blue sky between the surrounding skyscrapers. Laughing at the little lions on the building directly across from the pool each time she turned at the wall. Later when she pointed them out to DHBF, he shook his head, “I don’t think they’re really lions, Honey. They’re just curly cues.”
“But they look like LIONS!” PP insisted. And they did. At least in her present dreamy state.

Finishing up her laps, PP hopped into the hot tub, sinking down into its warm bubbles as she continued to watch the enchanting sky through the Palace Pool’s glass domed roof. The kids had all left. It was just her, DHBF and one lone swimmer, lounging on the chair opposite her, his body lean and long. His sideburns lean and long. What’s up with that? He looked like he could be on Masterpiece Theater in a Jane Austen production with those sideburns. Or maybe he was just from France.

It was so peaceful. So quiet. So like a dream. Why PP wouldn’t be surprised if Daryl Hannah were to appear in her gold bikini with a tray of mimosas for them.




“Did you have a nice swim?” DHBF asked as he climbed into the tub with her.
“Oh, yeah,” she murmured. “It was so dreamy.”
”Musta been the Darvocet,” he grinned.
PP smiled. “No, I don’t think it was just the Darvocet.”
He nodded, understanding her completely, as he nudged closer to her, slinging his arm round her shoulders to bend down for a final dreamy Palace Pool kiss.

Part II ~ Palace Blue

(Dear Readers, please see entry below for Part I—PP is still not quite sure how to handle the organization of chaptered entries since the blog automatically places the most recent entry first. However, she’s certain that you, Dear Readers, will figure it out, yes?)


O Glorious Christmas morn at the Palace Hotel. Room service (Hey, it’s Christmas and everything’s closed. Perfect excuse to spring for the $25 coffee and puny pastry basket. But the little individual jams are cute—blackberry and orange marmalade!) A bit of frisky play on the King-size bed, then PP runs to check out the pool! Yes! Their room has a view of the pool’s domed top and if you look closely, you can see if anyone is swimming! Can you believe that? Only a swimming kitty would get a room with the check-out if it’s crowded in the pool vista!

But this Christmas day, it’s so lovely. The San Francisco Skyscraper sky is a bright vivid blue. The air in sunshiny crisp. And yes, there are some splashers in the pool, so why not a walk first and then the pool?

At the time, PP felt a twinge of misgiving. She really just wanted to spend the entire day at the pool, but on the other hand, how often do you get a perfect walking day in San Francisco in December? Rare rare rare is this. Plus, she figured she could swim after the walk, right?

And the walk was divine. Down Mission street to the Embarcadero. A new building on the grassy knoll next the giant tacky bow and arrow sculpture. PP is convinced that there’s a pool in this new building, peering through the chain link fence, trying to decipher what its interior holds.

“The sign says here that it’s gonna be A Bar and Grill Smokehouse,” DHBF announces.
“Are you sure?” PP continues to peer through the fence. “It really looks like there’s a pool in there! Wouldn’t this be the perfect place for a pool, overlooking the bay with a view of Treasure Island and the Bridge?”
DHBF chuckles. Not everything is a pool he reminds her.





PP is hard pressed to believe this, but decides against arguing the point on this glorious day. After all, it is Christmas. The time of spiritual giving and such shit.

Personally, PP’s religion is the pool. But unfortunately she’s had little time to organize a special holiday for her faith.

Yet there is a hint of her Faith on this walk. At Aquatic Park the insane Polar Bear swimmers are out in the frigid bay. Hell, they don’t even wear wet suits! PP admires their dedication and does understand it on a watery level, but hell, you’d never get her in that 54 degree water! Then picnicking at Washington Square Park, she spies another member of her church. A gimping geezer in flip-flops and wet suit (Yes, he was limping round the park in his full wet suit!) hollering at the top of his lungs. “I’m looking for someone to go swimming with me! Hey! Will you go swimming with me?” he hails a passing Chinese woman laden with pink plastic bags. She gives him a look of crazed bewilderment as she scurries by. She’s NOT a member of His Church! But he does find someone. With the next holler a sprightly elderly North Beach Poet type slings her arm round his wet suited waist. “Sure I’ll go for a swim!”
“Hot Dog!” he cries, as he drapes his arm over her shoulders and guides her back through the park to the sea.

After lunch, walking briskly down Montgomery Street back to the Palace and the Pool, PP is stricken with the goddamn shooting pain headaches again. DAMN!!!! Wretched Wind! Maybe if she can just get to the Palace and lie down and take some Advil she’ll be ok to swim in an hour or so.

It was not to be. PP lay in the lovely King size bed writhing and whining in earache agony. How could this happen? She’d come all the way to the Palace Hotel to swim at the little pool and now this?

DHBF looked after her in his warm caring worried way. Getting her water and cookies. Telling her how the pool still looked really crowded. PP wasn’t buying it, but was too sick to even stand up and look at the pool from their window. Damn. Damn. Damn! What was she gonna do?

Nothing for now. She drifted off in a headachy doze for a few hours while DHBF went down to the festive lobby to gawk and make phone calls. PP was near tears, but didn’t have the energy to cry. Besides, if she did cry, it would only make the headache worse!

Later that evening, the headache had somewhat abated, but not enough to even contemplate for a moment a swim. DHBF sat by the bed, sifting through the room service menu and various pamphlets. “Hey, look at this. Here’s a guide to all of the Palaces in Europe. I bet you could take a Palace Pool tour.”
PP sniffled.
“Here, let’s see where you could go. Vienna…. Oslo. Frankfurt….Venice. Florence. Stockholm…. London…..wait, no London’s Palace doesn’t’ have a pool…..”
”Stupid London,” PP snorts. “Of course they wouldn’t have a pool there!”
DHBF shakes his head. “I don’t know why you hate London so much. You must have had a really bad experience there.”
”Yeah, all it did was rain and there’s no pool at their palace!”
“Hey, listen to this one,” he pauses as a slow grin comes across his handsome visage. “The Blue Palace Resort and Spa on the island of Crete.”
PP smiles to herself. Of course Crete is gonna have a great Pool Palace. It’s such an enchanted place. Plus isn’t that the island where Daryl Hannah had the three way with the Archeologist and the Doctor in ‘Summer Lovers’?



DHBF read on, excited by his find of the Blue Palace. “Experience a resort of exceptional quality. The Blue Palace is the perfect destination with its combination of natural beauty, deluxe accommodations, terracotta colors, and endless blue from the 106 private pools and the serene waters of the Cretan Pelagos Sea….”
“106 POOLS!!!!????” PP sat up in bed. “Did you say 106 pools?”
“Yup! Listen to this; all 79 bungalows and the 3 private villas each have their own private pool. The pools are seawater, but can be changed to freshwater upon request!”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Yes, hello, Michos, can you please change the seawater in my private pool to freshwater. I’ve had too much seawater for one day swimming in the Pelagos Sea ….” DHBF chuckles at the imaginary request.



PP shakes her head. There’s a place on this earth with 106 pools?
“Also there are two outdoor pools and one indoor heated pool,” he continues to read.
“Plus the 106 private pools?”
“Yup.”
“That makes for a total of 109 pools! I have to go there!” PP’s mind reels. She must go to this Blue Palace. There was no question in her medicated congested mind. 109 pools? All in one place? She could bring all of her friends. JL and the Lovely I and Ms W and of course, DHBF! Why this would be the perfect place to establish her Church of the Pool too! But how was she ever going to make it to Crete? Here she was at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, and she couldn't even make it down the hall to the enchanting pool here!





Later that night, PP drifted off into an uneasy sickly sleep, but her dreams were filled with blue pools nestled on palm treed hillsides overlooking a turquoisy sea with Daryl Hannah in a gold bikini sipping fruity cocktails as she lounged by the side of one of the Blue Palace’s 109 blue blue pools, one lanky leg dangling in the water as she watched with lazy dreamy eyes, PP swimming back and forth and back and forth in her own private Blue Palace Pool!



~to be continued~

Part I ~ Full Disclosure

Finally! PP is well enough (though admittedly still not quite back to 100%) to write about the ‘Undisclosed Location’ for Christmas. Did anyone guess? I bet some of you did!

Well. Here you go: The undisclosed location was The Palace Hotel! (Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend’s Genius Idea for their Christmas getaway)

Was it everything she’d fantasized about?

Oh, yes and more! Of course she expected it to be exquisitely enchanting. But little did she know how much.

Donning the requisite white hotel robe and rushing down the royally carpeted hallways in bare feet and swim garb, PP was bursting with excitement. Here she was at last! The Palace Hotel Pool, lying hidden on the 4th floor, overlooking New Montgomery and Market, glowed turquoise in the late afternoon light. Stupidly, PP had forgotten to eat anything before boarding BART, so when they arrived, she was too hungry to swim. It being Christmas Eve and all, everything was closed. The little pizza place across the street. The Boulangerie Sourdough spot. Even the Quinnzoe’s Subs—which normally she would have shunned, but damn, she was hungry and she needed to eat before swimming. Otherwise, fainting would ensue. And she sure as hell didn’t need to faint at the Palace Hotel on Christmas Eve!

So 7-Eleven was gonna hafta do. Can you believe it? PP ate a 7/11 turkey and one piece of lettuce sandwich in order to swim!

But it did the trick. The major hunger pangs were quashed, and off to the pool they headed.

Yes, the same Filipino Woman was there, folding towels and laughing at PP’s need to eat. (PP had gone to the pool the very moment they checked in. Yet the hunger issue delayed her first dive. FW had cheered her on: “You need FUEL to swim!”)

So, when they finally arrived in their white terry cloth robes and the pool was hosting a couple of screaming children, PP was undaunted. Here she was, finally, at the Palace Hotel Pool! What matter a couple screaming brats! She hadn’t had to seduce some smarmy businessman at the bar (a strategy to get into the Pool that she’d written about a few months back), but was here completely legit! The white robe proved it. (Later, PP mused about how, yes, they had to sign their names in on a clipboard that the FW guarded, but there was no room number needed or any other proof that they were guests at the Palace. If somehow, she could score one of these white terry cloth robes, she could surely sneak in unsuspected.)

But that’s another blog.

This day, Christmas Eve, she was here in all her Guest Glory, ready to dive on into the perfect little pool.





First the hot tub. It was December after all and PP was still recovering from her odious sinus infection.

Climbing into the little tub, PP sank down into its delicious warm bubbles and beamed over at the pool. The kids were getting out, and so was a beautiful bikini girl. Dark, slender, lithe. Her long pony tail wet from the water, she climbed thankfully into the hot tub, “Brrrrrr….” she grinned over at PP above her chattering teeth, the skimpy bikini leaving little to the imagination.

“Is it cold?” PP had asked, only a little worried. She’d felt the water earlier. It was at least 81 or 82.
“Oh, yes, but I could not swim much. I am a very bad swimmer.” She gave PP a wide sexy grin. Her accent giving that added cosmopolitan flare to her sexy persona. PP was naturally delighted to chat with her. The Palace Hotel Pool was not only cute, but it attracted sexy bikini girls from faraway lands!

Can the Fantasy get any better?

Ah, but this was Reality! Yet, PP could hardly believe it was happening. For so long now she’d wanted to swim in this pool and now, on Christmas Eve, it was really happening. With Sexy Israeli Woman to boot! PP wondered what she did in L.A., but was too overcome with excitement to really partake of her usually probing story dredging. Maybe she was an actress or a model? She certainly looked like one. And isn’t that why good looking people flock to L.A. from Israel? To be in the movies?

Who knows? She was probably just a software engineer, whatever the hell that is, but it sounds good!

“I’m warm enough now, PP nodded to DHBF who was also unabashedly charmed by SIW. “So, I’m gonna swim now. Hope I don’t get too cold.”
SIW shook her head, smiled in a gorgeous movie star way, “Oh, I am sure you’ll be fine!”

And PP was. The Palace Hotel Pool was lit as the sky darkened, and PP found herself looking out the windowed sheltered dome at the 4th story of the office buildings surrounding the pool. It was just too cool. To be swimming up here amongst the skyscrapers in downtown SF at the Magical Palace Hotel Pool! PP turned onto her back after warming up, gazing up at the moon shinning through the glassed domed ceiling. She was in Heaven and it was Christmas Eve!

Who needs Santa?

Back and forth, PP kicked, and then swam. The pool now empty except for herself and DHBF. It seemed so effortless, this swim in the Palace Pool. She hardly felt like she was working out at all. And it was NOT cold. 82 degrees is what had been advertised, and PP guessed that this was exactly right. (Thank goodness they hadn’t gone to Asilomar with the Lovely I and her GF where the pool was only 75! At least this was the info that the Lovely I had gotten that PP had heard third hand from JL. Hopefully, this wasn’t really the case for the Lovely I. Though PP thought that they could just heat up the pool for her. After all, she was the Lovely I and she had deigned to grace their pool!)





45 minutes later, PP was warming down, eyeing DHBF already back in the hot tub chatting up SIW. Duh! Bet he was having a very merry Christmas! Seeing a trio of rounded swimmers shed their white robes and climb gingerly down the ladder into the pool, beginning the inevitable out of the water breast stroke right toward her, PP decided it was time to get back into the hot tub. To avoid a collision. But also to check up on DHBF and SIW. They needed her to really have fun!

“You are such a good swimmer,” SIW gushed shyly.
“Oh, thanks,” PP grinned, sinking into the tub.
“I must learn how to swim better! I need to practice more!”
“That’s all it takes. Practice and a pool!” PP encouraged as she slid over next to DHBF.
“She’s a runner,” he nodded toward SIW.
“Wow! That’s wonderful,” PP admired. Runners were so out of her imagination. How anyone can run without barfing was a mystery to her.
“Yes. I used to run marathons. But that was many years ago. Now I cannot. My back, it is bad. Sciatic nerve.”
PP nodded sympathetically, remembering OH’s back problems around this nerve. His pain and surgery. Hopefully, SIW wouldn’t have to have surgery. PP thought this, but didn’t mention it to her.
“She also has ear problems.” DHBF certainly had obtained a lot of information while PP was swimming laps.
“Oh, yes, I have a tiny hole in my eardrum. I can not even stand to get one drop of water in my ear.”
”Oh, that’s too bad,” PP sympathized, her own ears being such a problem lately what with the tenacious sinus infection from Hell.
“But I have these ear plugs! Have you seen them? They come from Israel. They are wrapped in cotton.”
PP shook her head. She didn’t know about the Israeli Cotton earplugs.
“I have so many. Let me get you some!” SIW beamed brightly as she hopped out of the tub, her long legs dashing across the deck to the little group of handsome dark men in the corner, waiting for her, bored and sullen.
“Here, you can have these,” she returned, handing PP several of the little plugs.
“You seen them before?” she asked as she held the black and gold tin in front of PP for inspection.
“Wow, thanks,” PP took the gift, as she glanced at the tin. It just looked like one of those Altoid tins but was filled with earplugs instead of mints. Embarrassed a little, PP took the plugs, “You sure you can spare these?”
SIW pooh-poohed! “Oh! I have lots. Please you take them. You are a real swimmer. They are the best ear plugs.”
PP thanked her again, and then carefully popped the plugs into her cap, dubious of their real effectiveness in the water. They looked more like plugs for blocking out sound rather than water, but hey, maybe the Israelis know how to make cotton earplugs for the pool? Hell, it didn’t matter. She’d gotten her first Christmas present of the season and how enchanting that it was from a Sexy Israeli Beauty at the Palace Hotel!

~To be continued~

Christmas and Pools

As many of you may already know, PP is heading off for an 'undisclosed location' for the Christmas holiday. Of course, any destination she chooses will have a pool.

Do you think the pool will have a floating Christmas tree, too?
PP can only hope so!

Stories to come after Christmas!

Till then, swim swim swim!!!

PP

Everybody Got a Blow Job

So much was happening at the pool today. The last day at Mills before the long winter break, that PP can’t write it all down what with JL, and the Lovely I and DHBF not to mention many Random Swimmer’s Commentaries and Asides. So, she’s gonna try something a little different and try to write her blog ala Frank O’Hara’s ‘Do this Do That’ style…..

Of course, she’s no Frank O’Hara.

But he’s dead, so he’ll never know that his name is going underwater.

For you Frank:

You’re not gonna like the water today. It’s really COLD!
I was in the Hot Tub the other day and these Sport Jocks were complaining about the Cold Water and then I got in and it wasn’t so bad.
There were tons of empty lanes but she had to choose mine!
Lane Stalker.
I like the Middle of a Relationship. Not the Beginning. Not the ending. That’s why I’m still single. How do you get to the middle without a Beginning?
Not me! I love the Beginning. The Chase! I miss That!
And then it turned out that this woman who insisted on getting in my lane was the same Woman who crashed into my car in the Whole Foods Parking Lot eons ago.
How do you get to Lions Pool? I can give really good directions to the wrong places, but only bad directions to the good places.
Why is this a bad kickboard?
You guys do know that you only have 15 minutes left to swim before the pool closes?
We’ve been friends for over 8 years and now we’re dating.
They never like to take the covers off but I wave my cane around and that gets ‘em moving.
Will you save me if I start getting Hypothermia?
I did all this research on pools in Dallas and this one 50 meter one looked good online but when I got there the deck was all slimy and the bulkhead was in the wrong place.
Did you hear how Pool C’s kitty got attacked by Coyotes?
Is everyone blaming you for the pool fee increase?
She reminds me of a whippet. She looks so sad.
A little bit of well-deserved sarcasm can go a long way to making you feel better.
I went to San Francisco and thought how everyone is Sooo Nice. Then I went to New York, and I thought, wow, everyone is sooo NICE and then I went to Paris and I thought, Wow, everyone is SOOO Nice. Then I had to think that maybe it was where I was coming from and NOT the place I was going to at all!
Did you like the Hello Kitty Hair Dryer?
Everyone tried it. JL. The Lovely I. PP.
Great! So then everyone got a Blow Job.


Frank O’Hara would like that last line, so PP’s gonna leave it at that.

Many thanks to the Lovely I, JL, DHBF and Random Swimmers.

Happy Winter Break and may you all find pools to sustain you while Club Mills is closed.

And PoetOwen's Nod to Frank! (and PP, too, of course!)

it is 1:18 in Berkeley
and I
am wondering if pool
puss has a new entry
but I'm distracted by
HD who comes in carrying
a piece of carrot
I say hey that's no
cat toy but then I
do read the entry
and it's funny as
all get-out