Sugar on Top

Standing for a moment under the hot spray of the shower, PP let the water pound down on her tired head. Damn she was spent! The swim had been hard (She’d had to share a lane with Serious Swimmer Looking at her Sports’ Watch Constantly Woman, who’d been of course, serious and splashy; her mask had leaked; the time was late (now 9:45 p.m.) and though it was always a delight to go to the Y with her Sexy Italian Lesbian Poet Buddy, DL, PP was wiped out as she stood in the spacey warmth of the shower.

DL had already finished her shower, pattering off to get dressed. Muttered something about where her locker was tonight which PP didn’t quite catch. But since DL had left the shower next to her, PP could now see a beautiful Chinese woman soaping up at the end shower. Her dark hair covered in suds, her long arms delicately massaging her scalp, her firm flat belly sudsy and sexy, her long legs….....PP’ s eyes surreptitiously followed the length of those legs and lo and behold…..

She had goddamn spike heels on in the shower!

Shit!
Can you even believe it?

Where the hell was DL?

PP was beside herself with incredulous sensual delight. The spikes were high! At least 4 inches. They were those girly stilettos with the little straps on the top of the foot and sparkles of rhinestones down the heel and of course, she was completely naked. So there she stood, soapy water running down her beautiful pale form with the suds collecting in little puddles around the sparkly spikes of her stilettos.

Fantasy was reality at the YMCA showers!

“DL!!!!” PP shouted out. She couldn’t help herself. She had to get DL here quick to witness such an exquisite shower spectacle. Why the hell would High Heel Woman even wear her stilettos in the shower, she wondered. Like she didn’t have any flip flops or those ugly plastic holey shows that everyone wore, and she didn’t want to step on the gross locker room floor, but she did have her stilettos on hand, so why not? They were water proof right?

Hell.

PP didn’t really care why HHW was wearing the stilettos in the shower; she just wanted to get DL over to the shower as quick as possible to see it.

“DDDDLLLL!!!!” she hollered again; this time more loudly. But no answer. Damn. Well, too bad. PP had to rinse her suit out, go to the bathroom, and get dressed before the beautiful Vietnamese Clerk from upstairs booted them out. No time to find DL now.

So PP just resigned herself to not sharing the fantasy in reality with DL and went to get dressed, but not before spying DL in the row of lockers next to hers and telling her the story.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” DL exclaimed after hearing PP’s High Heel shower story. “I can’t believe I missed it. Damn. I’m slipping!” Her eyes wide with sparkly delight. Her grin bigger than a Lesbian Cheshire Cat.






“Yeah. It is too bad,” PP agreed. “She was really quite something.”
DL just shook her head.
PP giggled, went to the mirror to brush the tangles out but not before spying HHW in the row of lockers next to hers. Naturally, she was dressed now, in tight blue jeans and some willowy blouse, but she still had the all purpose high heels on.
“Pssssssttt…..DL,” PP ran over to her friend. “She’s in the next aisle if you want to see the shoes.”
DL’s eyes grew wide in lascivious anticipation, as she nodded surreptitiously and strode not at all inconspicuously around the lockers.

Twice.

“They’re PINK!!!!” DL exclaimed.
PP nodded. She hadn’t noticed this detail, only the rhinestones. But of course, DL would notice the femmy colored aspect of the stilettos.
“Yeah?” PP giggled. “I didn’t notice. I just saw the rhinestones.”
“That too! I can’t believe I didn’t see her in the shower. Damn!”
“But you went to look at her now.”
“And did you notice I circled her twice?”
“So you’re definitely redeemed!”
“Am I?”
“Absolutely!”
“Damn!”






Later, PP and DL were walking out of the Y, through the demolished construction zone that used to be the front lobby, DL still shaking her head in amazement as they discussed HHW.
“It’s like a little bit of sugar on top,” DL quipped.
PP giggled. “Oh yeah.”
“....and maybe on the Bottom too!” DL giggled, suddenly shy but not being able to help her sexy self from imagining the scrumptious possibilities of …..

High Heels in the Shower?

If only PP could pull off such a feet. (Pun intended)

The Power of Prayer

“I have the pain. From the period. I take Africa Medicine and put up my Vagina. It little seed. I put it up. And Poof! Pain is gone!” Diabetes Woman, aka GUW, nods with satisfaction at PP who grins, delighted with the Vagina Africa Medicine Story. The YMCA sauna, a.k.a. Utopia, is gonna be excellent today!

But PP doesn’t really get the story as attested by the buxom, dyed blonde African American Reclining Woman, who after hearing the Miraculous Account, affirms for them all loudly, “Praise the Lord!”
“Yes. He praise!” DW agrees, though PP thinks she probably has a different Lord, one who passes out Magical Vagina Seeds for cramps. PP sure wished she’d had some of these Magical Seeds 20 years ago when her cramps were so goddamn debilitating.
Where had DW been when she needed her? Probably back in Eritrea, birthing many babies and drinking sugary coffee.

”He has the Power, you know that, don’t you?” AARW asks as she rolls over, her brown folds deliciously falling.
“I know…. I know,” DW nods, as she continues to massage her languid breasts with some oddly mustardy green goo.

Yet, PP knows who has the Power round here, and it ain’t the Lord. At least not the Lord they’re talking about. No. The real Power belongs to Hot Tub Mama, who wasn’t around this evening, having been sorely disappointed earlier in the day.

“They no come,” HTM had lamented to PP earlier as she settled onto the too skinny white bench opposite the hot tub where PP, pleasantly post swim exhausted, floated. As soon as HTM uttered her heartfelt lament, PP got really scared cuz she knew exactly what HTM was talking about. And PP wasn’t even telepathic. At least she’d never thought so. Somehow reading HTM’s mind was esp. unnerving to her.





HTM looked like she was ready to cry. Or at least to let out a huge sigh, which turned out, she did. “They no come today,” she repeated.
PP nodded. She was talking, of course, about none other than the Hermaphrodite and her Masseuse. Damn! Too bad they weren’t around today. PP could really use a Part III to her blog!
But HTM’s disappointment was going to have to do. Along with PP’s telepathy.
"Maybe they'll come later?" PP ventured hopefully.
"No." HTM was adamant. "They come always at noon. Now it almost 3. They no come..."
"Too bad," PP offered as she climbed out of the tub.
HTM shrugged, then glanced over at the two Asian Women who were sitting on the bench next to her. "Hello!"
They both gave HTM a wary look.
"HELLO!" HTM hollared at them.
Frowning, one of the Asian Women picked up her towel and headed into the showers without answering, her friend following.
HTM shrugged. Then settled down into some serious staring into space.




PP grinned as she heard singing echoing from the locker room. “Ohhhh Happy Day! Ohhh….Haaaapppyyyy Day!”
Smiling to herself, PP nodded toward Disappointed HTM, as she headed to the bathroom stalls. Now, in the stall next to her, PP heard an unabashed explosion, then an answering refrain, ”THANK YOU JESUS!”

PP couldn’t help herself; started laughing aloud, her laughter drowned out by another astonishing explosion followed by more thanks to the Son of God.

His Power was everywhere, PP mused, thinking how politically incorrect or even blasphemous her blog was gonna be.

Hell, maybe if HTM had used a bit more Prayer Power, the Hermaphrodite and her Masseuse woulda shown up.

Or maybe not.
Maybe the Africa Medicine was the ticket.
If you had a Vagina.

Or even if you didn’t.

Either way, Praise the Lord!

She a Man--Part II

Dear Readers,
If you haven’t read Part I of “She a Man”, it’s in Blog organization and follows this entry.

“You mean she had a Penis!” Incredulous African American Princess exclaims, her dark diamond eyes wide in astonishment. Her 3-inch gold hoop earrings shaking back and forth as she stands majestically nude on the second step of the hot tub.
HTM nods in satisfaction. Finally someone gets what she’s talking about. Honing in on PP she points for validation. “Hey! Hello! You remember? Yesterday?” HTM nods over at PP, who starts to grin. Not again. More Penis Speculation?
“Yesterday?” PP smiles. “What about yesterday?”
”You know!” HTM waves her hand at PP, impatient. Dismissive. Why was she fucking with her when she was in the middle of a story? “That …..” HTM shudders in disgust. Momentarily too upset to carry on.
“What was she?” IAAP asks, shaking her lovely head of braids in long waves. “A hermaphrodite?”
HTM shakes her head. Her indignation fueling her energy back up. Waves such speculation aside. “No….no…. she have a…..” HTM starts to do the Penis Hand job dance again. Today it’s more graphic. She’s thought about it all night it seems. The two fingers on the left hand make a small hole so that the third finger of the other hand can do the in and out in and out motion. PP starts to crack up. HTM is seriously obsessed. How marvelous!
“And then……they go in there….” HTM nods toward the sauna. “…and they do Aaaaaahhhhh…..Oooooohhhhh…..ahhhhhaaaaaahhhh…..Oooooohhhh…… sounds!”
“You mean they’re having SEX?” IAAP mouth drops open. “I’m telling you. This is not why I come here. I’m going to buy me a condo with my own pool and sauna and then Those Types can’t come in and disturb me in such a disgusting manner. This ain’t no place for THAT!”
HTM smiles. Satisfied. Smug. At least Someone gets it.
“Can I come to your condo?” PP jokes with IAAP, who looks her up and down, appraising.
“I dunno….” she answers dubiously.
‘I promise I won’t have sex in your sauna,’ PP wants to say. But then chickens out. Maybe she’s going too far joking with these women. They really believe that SPW has a penis and her girlfriend and she were having sex in the sauna and this is gross and nasty and against all principles of the YMCA value system.
“….Oh, all right….” IAAP relents. “You look okay. You can come to my condo. When I get it.”
“Thanks,” PP grins. Can’t wait to go to IAAP’s condo. But too bad about the implied no sex clause in the sauna. PP wonders what she can do to change that.
“…..they come on Monday. You saw?” HTM is pointing at PP again. Undaunted by her lack of cooperation regarding the Penis Spotting.
“Yeah…I saw them yesterday, but I didn’t see any sex in the sauna….”
IAAP frowns like she doesn’t believe PP as HTM starts in again with the Orgasm sounds. “Ooooohhhh…..Oaaaaahhhh…..Ohhhhhh…..” Then she starts to rub her enormous breasts with both hands and PP stares openly in rapt amazement. What a demonstration! Why, this is better than Dancing with the Stars!
“Mondays, huh?” IAAP asks, yawning lazily, completely oblivious to the impact of the Breast Massaging.
“Monday, They come.” HTM pauses, winded.
“What does she look like?” IAAP asks.
“She too skinny…” HTM shakes her head in disgust.
“Oh! I know who you mean. She got blonde hair and real cute figure and a big tattoo on her back here….” IAAP turns and points to the small of her back.
“That her!” HTM pounces on the description. “She too skinny. No like!”
“Don’t worry,” IAAP laughs, “she’s not after you!”
“Yeah, you’re not her type!” PP mutters, but no one’s paying attention to her at this point. After all she refuses to validate HTM’s rendition of the Penis Woman Story!
“I’m coming on Monday, then, to check it out!” IAAP climbs out of the tub. “Hey, anyone got a extra towel? I need one to keep my braid from losen…..I just called upstairs and no one even answered the phone. Hell, someone could die down here and they’d never know it.” IAAP's scorn filled the steamy room.
“Speaking of which. Did you guys hear that a woman passed out in the hot tub this afternoon?” PP asks, remembering the weird scene upon her arrival to the Y’s women’s locker room that afternoon.





HTM nods, all knowledge of the YMCA is hers. “That woman. She Asian Woman. She old. She fall down.”
“I saw someone lying over there where you are,” IAAP nods to the corner above where PP soaks. “She seem okay to me.”

“She okay!” HTM waves any concern in the air away. PP nods. It had all seemed pretty distressing or at the very least, disorienting. When she’d entered, she was confronted with the official YMCA spokeswoman who was informing everyone who entered the Locker room that someone had passed out in the hot tub. “She’s ok. But the paramedics are coming through pretty soon, so you might want to get changed over there,” waving vaguely toward a line of lockers past the Hot Tub No Pass Zone. PP made her way over to them thinking how surprising it was that women didn’t pass out in the hot tub and sauna all the time. Hell it was amazing how much stamina some of these women had. Sitting in the hot tub for 1 or even 2 hours at a time. PP always felt like she was gonna pass out after 10 minutes, esp. if she hadn’t eaten in awhile.


“Mondays, you say?” IAAP interrupted her musings, as she wondered why it mattered that the paramedics had to be shielded from all the changing women. Don’t they see women in various states of disrobe in their jobs everyday? Or maybe it was for the women’s sake that they were being told to stay out of sight? Hell, it didn’t make any sense. If someone were really in bad shape from passing out in the hot tub, shouldn’t they be closing the locker room completely?

Hell, PP would want them to do this if she were lying there passed out.
Damn!


“You come?” HTM was asking IAAP as she stood in front of the sink now, rinsing out some fruit and then redoin the head towel as she started to munch on an apple. PP has always thought it’s really weird to eat in locker rooms, but for HTM, it’s a daily ritual. Biting down on the apple, she continued to nod at IAAP.
“Yeah, I usually come at 5, but next Monday I’m gonna try to make it earlier.”
PP wanted to shout out, for the Sex Show? But refrained. Again they were so serious. It was almost as if HTM was selling tickets to a big event and in a way, it was.

At least for her.

Sighing, PP stood up in the tub, then caught herself, feeling a little dizzy. Was it the heat? The talk?

Nah, it had to be HTM’s sex show that had caused her weak knees.
Even though she wasn’t her type.
HTM still made some awfully good orgasm sounds while demonstrating how a penis worked before massaging her ample breasts.


If only PP could put on such a show!

Maybe in her next life.

Or maybe next Monday!

She a Man!

“I am so scared!”

Hot Tub Mama rolls her eyes heavenwards. Shudders her mighty brown scarred shoulders in flabby terror.

PP giggles as she leans back into the hot tub’s steamy watery warmth. What the hell was HTM so scared of, PP wonders. Hasn’t she ever seen anyone with a shaved pussy before? PP did have to admit that this is always a little startling. But hey, whatever. Could have some benefits for certain oral activities even if it seems a little vulnerable in full view.

Or Shave Pussy Woman and her friend were speaking Spanish. It could just be a cultural thing, the shaving. Who knows? SPW was petite, muscular, fit. With an overly obvious religious crucifix tattooed above her shaved pussy. Her toned midsection tan and flat. Her dyed blonde hair tied back carelessly in a stick up off her head back bun. Lots of bangles and earrings, heavy make-up. Sitting on the edge of the tub, completely out of the bubbly water except for her bejeweled ankles dangling over the edge. Hence, the shaved pussy was very much in HTM’s face.

But why she couldn’t handle it was a mystery to PP until the two women got out of the tub, SPW donning an impressive pair of spangled wedgie high heels before heading into the sauna.

HTM slid over towards PP, nodding conspiratorially. “She a Man.”
“What?”
Nodding in her knowing commanding way, HTM grimaced as she repeated, “She a Man.”
“How do you know?” PP was awestruck and completely amazed. SPW hadn’t looked like a man to her. She had breasts and what looked like the necessary... how can PP put this delicately?

Oh, she can’t. She had a clit. Granted, it was very hanging out there. But hell, she didn’t have any protective pubic hair, so what would you expect?

Evidently, HTM thought that what was hangin out there was NOT a clit as she began making strange finger motions to somehow convey that what It was was a Penis. Holding up two fingers with her right hand and then with her middle finger of her left hand she rubbed in jerky little spirals on the first two fingers. Obviously HTM had some interesting sign language attached to the male genitalia.




Not knowing how else to react, PP just started cracking up. She just couldn’t believe that HTM was right and the penis fingering demonstration sent her over the edge. “Maybe I’ll go into the sauna and check her out…..”

Completely alarmed, HTM grabbed PP as she tried to make her way out of the tub, “NO NO! You no go there! Wait! You wait!! It not safe. They do SEX massage.”
“Are you kidding?” Now PP was really curious. She wanted to see the Sex Massage with the SPW or Transgender and her Spanish Masseuse, and tried to politely free herself from HTM’s iron grip so she could head into the sauna for the show.

Now part of PP knew that HTM was either overreacting or PP was just misunderstanding her broken English. Yet a bigger part of her really wanted to go check out the SPTransgender in the sauna. She just didn’t know how to escape HTM.

Suddenly, there was no other option.

PP just started to laugh. It was all too funny. The YMCA, of course, is a place of diversity and acceptance. Maybe HTM was right. But if she were, she should be a little more accepting. And since she wasn't, well, hell. Laughing did seem to be the only answer!





Such frivolity, was not HTM’s way, and PP knew this, as she gently disengaged herself and slid past her. HTM gave a mighty sigh, settling back at her favorite corner jet in the tub. Watched out of the corner of her squinty brown eyes as PP climbed out of the tub, still giggling.

Suddenly, an enormous belly laugh erupted from HTM. It rose up and out and filled the echoy locker room with its stupendous mirth. PP glanced over at her. HTM was beside herself with giggles.

She couldn't help herself. No matter how much she tried to keep her Authoritative HTM demeanor, it was all too funny. A man in the women’s hot tub. Get out of here!

Wiping her brow and waving her away, HTM eye’s glittered in golden hilarity. “You go. You go….” She sighed, breathless now, easing back into the jet.

PP nodded. Thank goodness she had HTM’s permission to check out the Transgender Sex Massage in the sauna.

Too bad it was all just HTM’s over active imagination.

Or was it?

You Can’t Give Up Everything!

“I have the Diabetes. It is in my knee….”

PP watches as Gregarious Utopian Woman examines her bent knee in the sauna, a worried frown on her lovely brown face under the plastic bagged head covering. “My friend. She go to Kaiser. They take the blood. Then Poof! She no more! I no go to Kaiser for my diabetes. They take the blood. I may not be. I take care of me. I ride the bike. I do the walking machine. I swim a little bit….”

GUW giggles shyly at PP and her friend, DL who are nodding in serious empathetic agreement. “I like your swimming,” she nods toward PP. “You are very fast.”

PP nods and explains how she uses the big long fins to speed down the lanes, while at the same time, still trying to absorb the fact that GUW isn’t getting any medical treatment for her diabetes. It’s highly worrisome. Though PP does understand her aversion and distrust of Kaiser. Lord knows, they’re not the best medical care. But aren’t they better than nothing? Isn’t untreated diabetes pretty serious? People lose limbs and such? Damn.

But GUW, though obviously worried herself, seems like she knows what she wants to do. And hell, if she wants to take care of her diabetes herself without Kaiser, then isn’t it her call?

“I give up the soda, I give up the chocolate, I give up the ice creams. But I still drink the sugar in the morning.” She makes a dramatic slurping sound, pretending she's holding an invisible cup to her pursed lips, like she’s sucking down coffee. Maybe she dumps a lot of sugar in her coffee and this is what she’s unwilling to give up? She’s given up everything else. You have to draw the line somewhere.

‘Yeah,” PP nods, “you can’t give up Everything!”
DL nods in agreement. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Yet, still PP wonders. Maybe she should say something alarming about how diabetes is really a serious disease and needs to be treated so that GUW will go to the doctor?

Or not. After all, Kaiser did kill her friend.


DL sits next to PP in the sauna, says something about how Kaiser isn’t really the best place to go if you’re sick. Which is often true as PP can attest time and time again, most recently with her Bug Bite/Staph Infection Fiasco experience.

But this isn’t diabetes. She’s not gonna die or lose a limb from goddamn bug bites. Though she did read in the paper how people die from staph infections. But Kaiser misdiagnosed this and she didn’t have staph and so again, it’s not diabetes.

What should PP do?

Not much she can do right?

She only hopes that GUW doesn’t show up in the pool with only a half a leg amputated at the knee.

Though she could still swim, right?
This is all that matters.

At least in PP’s book. But she doesn't have Diabetes nor is she in much danger of getting it. Well, unless she eats too many cookies, ice creams and candies.

Or, the sugary coffee?





PP's intrigued. Maybe when next she sees GUW she'll ask for more specifics about this concoction. It could be some delicious Ethiopian Beverage. Till then, she hopes that GUW gets some long fast fins and keeps on swimming. Swimming cures whatever ails you, right?

Well, better than Kaiser!

Wrong Pool Situation Etiquette Quiz

The following quiz was initially inspired by Kevin Alexander’s blog about How to Write a Literary Masterpiece—check it out:(http://www.writersdigest.com/writerslife/)

Also, since PP has been an English Teacher for the last 2 decades, she has plenty of practice creating grammar quizzes for various ESL situations.

Quiz Instructions:
1) Choose the answer that is the best given your own moral and ethical pool behaviors.
2) Choose only ONE answer even if more than one applies.
3) Write your name at the top of your quiz and be sure to include your pool ID
4) Failure to score at least 70% will result in suspension of pool privileges for eternity.

Scenario:
The pool is complete pandemonium and everything upon first glance is completely wrong. Every lane is brimming with swimmers; circle swimming is supposedly what’s going on. Oh, and the water is stupidly cold since the pool has been closed due to “mechanical and electrical malfunctions”; PP just hopes she doesn’t get electrocuted in the lane lines’ machinery.


1) You enter the YMCA’s pool situation and are confronted with the pandemonium described above. What should you do?

a. Slump down against the back deck wall and cry big alligator tears
b. March over to the lifeguard and demand she clear the pool out for you. After all, you are the pool princess (or prince)
c. Stand stupidly dumbfounded in a spaced-out daze for 10 minutes in complete confusion
d. All of the above




2) You select a lane that has only one whale-like swimmer hogging the entire lane. What should you do?

a. Grab a kickboard and when he comes to the wall bop him on the head to get his attention.
b. Call out politely to him to signal that you want to share his lane and shake your head in futility when he continues to swim on in oblivion
c. Jump in the lane with your big fast fins on and run him over
d. All of the above


3) You stick your big toe in the water and are greeted with a frigid temperature that is definitely NOT the 82 degrees that you were quoted over the phone two hours prior. What should you do?

a) Scream bloody murder
b) March over to the lifeguard and complain bitterly to her shrugging nonchalant boring do nothing face



c) Chat with the cute girl in the lane next to yours who agrees that the water is really only in the high 70’s, but once you get swimming it’ll be okay.
d) When the cute girl dives in the water and seems unfazed by the chill, curse her cuteness and her youth

4) All the lanes have at least 2 swimmers, some already contain 3 circling. You decide to ask one of the 2 swimmer lanes to circle swim, but both swimmers ignore your deck lingering appeal. What should you do?

a) Jump in anyway, making sure that you stop in the middle of the lane to block their progress and really piss them off
b) Grab a kickboard and do some serious sequential head bopping
c) March over to the lifeguard and slap her
d) All of the above

5) You’ve finally completed your swim and feel completely frustrated and cold. You want to complain to someone about your pandemonium wrong swimming experience, but no one cares. What should you do?

a) Heave yourself out of the water, shrug good naturedly, and hope the cute, youthful, non-cold girl is in the hot tub
b) Stand at the side of the pool, glaring and shivering at every swimmer that passes you or tries to climb into your lane
c) March over to the lifeguard and___________.
d) Fantasize about a hot sauna full of beautiful bosomy women who welcome you into their world with open arms and nods of commiseration



e) Never go back to the YMCA again. Well, at least not on a Sunday afternoon when the weather outside is wet and dreary and the Academy Awards are looming so everyone has to swim to accommodate these wrong situations!


Stay tuned for the answers. Or make up your own. It really doesn’t matter since PP went to UCSC and she was just kidding about percentages and passing grades and such.

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.