YOU CAN BUY CLARITY!

Settling into the warm cave of Utopia, PP and DL sigh in unified contentment. Closing her eyes, PP breathes in the dry heat. Tonight, though, there’s a lovely citrusy scent. “It smells so good in here,” she murmurs.

DL sighs, agreeing.

“It smells like lemons?” PP ventures.
“Or oranges?” DL offers.
“It’s actually called Ylang Ylang. You can buy it from Personal Product on-line,” an Authoritative Product Voice announces.




PP opens her eyes to glance across the sauna at the Voice. Damn if it isn’t Oblivious Mask Woman, stretching her scrawny form out on the redwood slab, inspecting her toes. (Which, by the way, DL had joked were crazy. Well, no, she didn’t exactly say that. When PP had asked DL if she’d seen the look in OMW’s eyes and seen that ‘crazy’ glassed over gaze, DL and giggled and said, “I can see IT in her toes!”)

Now, Crazy to her Toes, Oblivious Mask Woman was the authority on scent?

How delightful! She speaks! And with Information!

OMW Crazy to her Toes continues, “I usually can’t tolerate any scent, but this one I liked. It’s for Clarity.”

PP eyes widen. A scent for Clarity? Hell, she could use that! She was always in a fog. A little bottled Clarity might be just the ticket to help her usually hazy brain.

“A scent for Clarity?” PP questions out loud, as the woman lying supine in front of her grunts in amusement.
“Yes.” OMW nods, “You can buy Clarity.”





PP wonders how much Clarity costs. Is it something she can afford? Or is it out of her price range? Or out of her Credulity Range? She wonders if there are other scents for other calming emotions. Hell, such potions might be cheaper than Therapy!

“What other kinds of scents can you buy?” PP prompts.
“Oh, well…..” OMW continues to pick at something between her toes, as DL glances sideways over at PP, trying not to let a loud giggle out. “You can buy things like Arnica and……”OMW pauses, shifting, exchanging one foot for the other and begins to pick anew. “……but I don’t really like the smell of that one.”




”What’s it smell like?” PP asks.
“It’s kinda more like Eucalyptus and mint and it’s…..stronger….”
DL makes a face. “I don’t think I’d like that one.”
”No, me neither,” OMW agrees. “But in any case, this one here tonight is very nice. It’s very calming. But you can only get it on-line. It’s not available at Whole Foods or anyplace like that…..it’s part of the Professional Pyramid. The Professional Pyramid v. the Personal Pyramid.”

OMW stretches her stick-like legs out in calming relaxation, the Clarity Scent working its magic on her limbs.

PP glances over at DL. What the hell? Professional v. Personal Pyramid? But she can’t ask DL now with OMW present even though she’s dying to know what DL’s interpretation of this is. PP can’t imagine. She’s heard of Pyramid Schemes. But she’s never understood what these are. Something to do with scamming people out of their hard earned life savings with bogus investments that have nothing to do with Ancient Egypt.





Glancing over at DL, PP nods toward the garbled YMCA announcement bellowing outside Utopia about how the facility will be closing in 10 minutes. PP knows she better get to the showers. She is so damn slow. But the Calming Clarity Inertia is hard to break.

“You ‘bout ready?” PP asks DL.
“Yup,” DL grins, her dark eyes twinkling in delight.

“See you later,” DL calls out to OMW, who glances up for a moment, her foggy eyes unfocused behind her glasses.

Does she realize what she’s said? Does she have any idea of her momentous impact on PP’s blog?

PP guesses not as she and DL languidly make their way to the showers, discussions of Pyramid Possibilities and Clarity for Sale heavy in the steamy air.

Under Construction

Since PP's home and office have been subject to much odious and heinous Demolition (the back decks behind her bedroom/office are the subject of this 'project'), she's been unable to write or think for the last week.

Of course, the only recourse she's had is to escape to the pool, so there will be many pool stories, but for now, she's just gonna tease you with the titles:


The Lovely I Rescues a Lovely Ladybug
What!? No Babies?
Where's the Turtle?
All you have to do is Focus
How do you make it look so easy?

and many more....

^**^ ~stay tuned~ ^**^

Pink Shark Lady

“I got to chat with Pink Shark Lady again,” DL grins shyly as PP sinks into the welcoming warmth of the hot tub. Nodding, she eyes DL.
“She is such a Sweet Heart,” DL continues, beaming. “And I discovered something about her….”
Giggling, PP grins, “What?”
“She’s a triathlete!”






“Really? Wow….”
“Yeah, so no wonder she has Those Legs,” DL would blush if she weren’t Italian.
“That explains it,” PP agrees.


They’d met Pink Shark Lady a couple of weeks ago while trying to get outta the Y before beautiful Tibetan Woman gave them the Evil Eye. “You Ladies almost Finished?”
PSL was wrapping up her situation, throwing in her wet suit, goggles, and other paraphernalia into her bag. PP didn’t notice at first, but DL did. “OHMYGOD! PP! Look at her gym bag! It’s a Pink Shark!”
PSL beamed proudly, “Yup.”
“Cool!” PP exclaimed, coveting the pink shark like nobody’s business. “Where did you get it?”
”Oh, I got it in Miami. Had it for years now. She’s my trusty companion.”
They all giggled, delighted.
Miami must be such a place, PP thought. She’s always wanted to visit. Bets that there’s lots of excellent pools and beach swimming there.
Though watch out for the sharks!





Tonight, though, in the Hot Tub, DL is thrilled to learn that PSL’s lanky strong form results from her Triathlete Practice. “And she was telling me how she didn’t get up this morning at her usual 5 a.m. 5 a.m! Can you even imagine?”

PP shook her head. No she couldn’t and she didn’t want to.

“So she was telling me how she had to cut her workout down to 5 100’s on the 1….” DL stops, shakes her head. “I had no idea what she was talking about. Do you know?”
“Yeah,” PP sighed. Gone were her days of swimming sets on the 1 minute, but hell, she did have a vague recollection of these kinds of workouts that she explained to DL.
“Oh. Well, anyway, I just had to shake my head and explain how I’m not really a swimmer. I guess she thought I was since I’m always here with you….”
“Maybe Pink Shark Lady will inspire you?” PP teased.

Again, blushing if it were possible, DL smiled shyly. “Yeah, maybe….”

But PP knew that DL wasn’t gonna jump in the pool anytime soon, even though PSL was a ‘Sweet Heart’ “She would’ve talked to me all night if we’d had time….”
“I bet!”
Grinning, PP climbed out of the Hot Tub and headed for Utopia, DL following in a spacey PSL daze.

Italian Women, you gotta love ‘em, especially if there’s a Pink Shark Lady round to get them all Hot and Bothered.






And so, Pink Shark Lady did inspire DL here, Poet Extraordinaire that she is:

Fast tough swimmer, a lady
arms in lithe movement through pool
Olympian legs in locker room
safe voice sudden tickle
we exclaim:
pink shark, a lady!

More Hawaii Pics

What's DHBF doing? Taking any and all ideas.




Of course, we all know what PP is doing--posing beach beauty that she is!



Ahh....
If only PP could stay under this palm tree, gazing out at Waikiki, forever and ever and ever....

Doris Day at the Pool

“Que Sera, Sera…
Whatever will be, will be…
The future’s not ours to see
Que Sera, sera…
What will be, will be….”

Doris Day’s voice echoed heartily through the pool auditorium. Imagine PP’s delight upon entering!

Spying the water workout ladies bouncing in their shower caps, their leader energetically waving her hands to Doris’ song, blue bandanna covering her hair, wired rimmed glasses perched on her nose, her followers grinning blissfully to the beat of the music, PP watches in awed amazement. As she sits on the edge of the deck, beaming to herself, she thinks of how the Oakland Y is just the most surprising place on earth.

Doris Day at the Pool? How cool is that?


Doris doesn’t seem to mind not being in control, so why sweat it? Though frankly, PP doesn’t think Doris is as Zen as all that. In all her movies, she’s always meddling and fussing and causing a ruckus with Tony Randall or Rock Hudson or whatever Male Hunk she’s paired with. Doris doesn’t really embrace the idea of “ What will be, will be” in her movies. She’s all about Control and Power and Trouble.



PP has always liked this about her movies. (And yes, granted, they are movies, and Doris is playing a ‘character,’ but hell, doesn’t she always play her own sassy self all the time? That blonde ditzyness is all a ruse. PP gets that!)

.
But why not embrace Doris’ pretend philosophy? At least for an hour. And damn the ‘Will I be pretty? Will I be rich part?’—Doris’ mom was right. The future is not ours to see no matter how much we want to. “What will be, will be…..” seems apt for the pool.



This is fine with PP, especially when she’s in the pool. It’s all about the present.

Oh, and keeping time to Doris as she glides along the water, “Que Sera, Sera….
What will be, will be…..”

What would Dante have done? (Part II) Dear Readers, please read the previous blog first--Dante in Paradise--4 14 08--for optimum sequential enjoyment

“Have you seen the Pool Key?” PP shrieked, gritting her teeth as she rifled through Cindy’s various containers full of stuff. Coffee cans full of receipts, Cosco cards, pencils, Hello Kitty note pads.

Alas, no Pool Key. Damn!

“You can’t find the key?” Dashingly Handsome BF scratched his head in bemused jet lag wonder.
“No. I can’t find the key. And I need to go to the pool!”

PP turned upside down the flat basket on the kitchen counter. Tossed aside all the stuff that was not a pool key. “Where the hell is it?” she demanded. “I can’t believe it’s not here! Cindy knows how important it is. It’s not like her to not leave it. Usually it’s right here….and….” PP started to run out of complaining steam, the jet lag, lack of coffee and Pool Access Frustration taking their toll.

“Are you sure that it’s not here?”
“YES! I’m sure it’s not here. And I need to…..”
“I know I know. You need to go to the pool. Well, you may just have to go later and….”
“I DO NOT WANT TO GO LATER! I WANT TO GO NOW! I CAME ALL THE WAY HERE TO SWIM IN CINDY’S POOL AND NOW I CAN’T BECAUSE THE GODDAMN KEY IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! SHIT!!!!”

“Calm down…”
PP glared at him.
“OK, don’t calm down. Let me help you…..”
“Can you just call Cindy and find out where she put it?”
”Sure, sure, I can do that. Maybe I should make some coffee first. We didn’t get much sleep last night….”
PP glared at him again.
“Okay okay, I’ll call her.”


PP nodded before heading back out the door and making her way back to the pool. Why she didn’t really know. It wasn’t like she had the key now and could get in. And it wasn’t like Gramps was gonna let her in. Though maybe he would?

Sighing, she ignored the coo coos of the sweet doves and the fragrant trade winds blowing in the palm fronds.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
How the hell could this be happening?
Yes PP knows she’s repeating herself. But. One must understand the depth of her frustration.

Or must one?

Suffice it to say that she found herself, once again, on the wrong side of the pool fence staring mournfully as Gramps and Jr. toweled off in jolly post pool good humor, completely ignoring her, before heading out of the pool compound through the gate opposite her.

Shit. She couldn’t even try a smile sneak-in since they’d gone out the opposite way. Though she doubted it would have worked.

The pool taunted her, glistening in a perfect golden turquoise tease.





Sighing, PP turned and made her way back down the hill. Of course, it did occur to her that she could try climbing the fence, but now it was after 10 am and the sun factor was in full play. No swimming between 10 a.m. and 4 pm—doctor’s orders.

But she was in Hawaii! Couldn’t she take a vacation from the doc’s orders for just one week?

PP wishes she could, but the fear of more melanoma, though probably mostly unfounded, still permeated her being. She could not ignore the fact that she was very near the equator in a blazing sun filled tropic. Her powers of Denial were just not that strong.

Damn.

Sighing deeply, she trudged back down the stairs to the condo, the sweet doves mocking her. “Where you going? Where you going? Where you going?”
Stupid birds. They had it easy. They could just fly over the fence and go for a swim. A lack of key would be no obstacle for a dove, would it?




“I talked to Cindy,” DHBF was at the sink, making coffee.
“And?”
“She said that her friend Julianna (PP is NOT gonna change her name—you’ll see why! Julianna deserves to be outed!) probably has the key since she’s been here before us feeding the cat and going to the pool. Cindy said that she’s kinda flaky….”
“KINDA FLAKY!!!! That STUPID BITCH! I cannot believe that she didn’t leave the key for us!”
“I’m sure it was just an honest mistake….” DHBF was often infuriatingly right.
“I don’t care! I HATE HER! Did you call her?”
He shook his head. “No, Cindy said she’d call and work it out with her. Here. Have some coffee.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, PP plopped down at the table and stared at the steaming brew. How the hell could someone borrow the pool key and then not leave it for the next person? What kind of IDIOT did such a thing?

Obviously someone who was not a Pool Fanatic!

Or, someone that deserved to burn for eternity in Dante’s Hell!





Of course, PP did calm down. Eventually. DHBF took her to her favorite Kailua Beach where she had a most delicious ocean swim in the bluey warmth of Hawaii’s sea. DHBF even said that she was swimming over a turtle. That he saw its shadow.




This lie made PP feel a little better, esp. when later that evening, after FLAKY Julianna the Key Keeping Bitch returned the pool key and PP was able to go for swim in the dusky balmy twilight.





Fortunately for Julianna, PP never saw her.

Otherwise, who knows what would have happened.

Dante’s hell would pale in comparison to what PP might have done had Julianna had the misfortune of meeting her ire!

Dante’s Hell in Paradise

Slumping her head against the warm metal bars, PP tried to keep back the tears of frustrated disbelief. How the hell could this be happening? Here she was. Her first day in Paradise. Jet lagged and in need of caffeine sustenance, but never mind. She was gonna wake up early, before the 10 a.m. sun curfew, and go for a swim in Cindy’s Perfect Paradise Pool.

She’d scouted the kitchen counter for the weird pool key, which looked like a credit card, but was only good for the pool. She knew what it looked like, but couldn’t locate it. Yet the paradise pool was calling her on this first morning in Hawaii and damn it, she was gonna climb the fence for a swim if need be.

If only she’d known!

Grabbing another card, that was the same shape, and a similar blue color, PP knew it probably wasn’t right, but she headed out the condo door into the balmy fragrance of Oahu anyway. Coo cooo’s of the morning doves greeted her (Where’s the Poool?….Where’s the Pooool? Where’s the Pooool?) as the gentle breeze soothed her aching head. (PP is majorly addicted to her morning coffee. But this morning, what with the time change and all, she knew there was no time before her swim for the morning fix, so she headed up the stairs in a foggy caffeine deprived haze.)




This woulda been ok. For after all, here she was, her first day in Hawaii, her favorite place on Earth. Who cares if you’re awake or not? All she needed was a swim!

Rounding the bend at the top of the stairs, PP spied the lovely little pool glistening in the bright blue air under the white puffy clouds, the giant brilliant mustard colored flower trees waving an aloha morning greeting to her.

The pool the pool the pool! She’d been waiting for this moment since she’d been here last year.

And now. Here she was! Back in paradise at last!

Little did she know that she was about to enter Dante’s Hell.




You all know his version, right? (PP knows that she has a well-read, literary following, but just to review at least in a PP superficial way since she really didn’t get through the Inferno, but hell, she got the gist of it.) In Dante’s Inferno, you have to live out your eternity doing the thing you hate the most. Like Dante has the story of the two lovers who are somehow attached back to back to each other so they can't see their beloved and are doomed to be connected but not really. Or in modern times, if you really hate driving, you have to commute on the wretched 880 interstate dodging big rigs and speeding SUV’s till the end of time. Or if you love to eat chocolate, you have to sit under a giant chocolate tree and stare at the chocolate leaves that dangle over your head just out of reach for eternity.

Or if you can’t live without swimming?

You have to stand on the other side of the fence, watching a Stupid Grandfather give his squealing in delight grand kid swim lessons without any possibility of being able to enter the pool because the goddamn key doesn’t work!

Shit.

The first time PP swiped the card on the pool magic gate opener, and the little green light didn’t appear signaling that she could push open the gate, she thought, ‘Ok, well, maybe I didn’t do it exactly right. After all I haven’t had any coffee yet, and in Oakland time it is 6 am.’ So she tried it again.

No green light.

Goddammit! PP gazed through the bars at the ongoing swim lesson, the grandpa with his gold chains and U.S Military visor, the kid screeching in inane swim lesson frenzy.

They completely ignored her. How could this be? Wasn’t her frustrated anguish being communicated across the chlorinated expanse between them?

For a moment, PP thought of hollering at them. “Hey, can you please let me in? I’m staying with a friend and can’t get the key to work and….”

But she opted not to do this.





Later she wondered why. Hell, Gramps probably woulda let her in. Or not. PP had some idea, in her jet lagged uncaffeined brain, that being an old military guy, he’d be less likely to help her. You know, like suspicious of her. “Whatdya mean your key doesn’t work? How do I know you’re not making up a line here? I never seen you before, Missy. Why should I let ya in?” while the sniveling grand kid shivered in the morning pool crispness. “Grandpaaaa! Can you show me againnnnnn!!!” he’d whine, tugging at Gramp’s wet suited sleeve, leaving PP in humiliating Can’t-get-into-the-pool- with-that- sorry- lie- young-lady-embarrassment.

What could she do?

She did consider just jumping over the fence. It wasn’t very high. And if Military Gramps hadn’t been there, she would have.

The pool beckoned to her in all its tropical glory.

Goddammit! This could not be happening!

Standing at the fence, her nose pressed through the bars, PP stared at the two in the pool, willing them to at least acknowledge her existence. Hell, if Gramps saw her in her Pitiful Pool Lockout State, wouldn’t he take pity and get out of the pool and let her in?

“Why lookee here, lil lady. What’s the problem? You got the wrong key? Hell, don’t worry your pretty lil head bout it, come on in, the water’s fine.” And he’d retrieve his key and gallantly swipe it on the magic metal thingee, the gate would pop open, she’d smile graciously and thank him, then don her wetsuit and dive into the welcoming embrace of Cindy’s Paradise Pool.

PP continued to stare at him. Look over here, dammit! She thought, willing him to do her bidding.



Alas, her powers of telepathic persuasion were woefully absent. The two continued to joyfully partake of the paradise pool’s magical aura. Completely oblivious to her Anguished Stare Down.



Shit.

What’s a PP to do?


~Stay tuned~

Wild Waikiki--Part II

Dear Readers,

This is the second part of yesterday's blog, so if you haven't read Part I, it's best (for the narrative flow and suspense!) to begin with the April 7th Entry first. Then pretend like you've been waiting with baited breath for the last 24 hours to find out what the BIG mystery is all about, okay?

She basked on the hot sandy beach in splendid voluptuous glory.



Of course, PP didn’t realize this when she first saw her, lying behind the yellow crime tape roping off her section of the beach. DHBF had halted, pointing, “Did you see her from your swim?”
PP shook her head, her immediate thought being that the enormous sandy brown shape was a dead seal. She was so motionless. Catching her breath, PP turned toward DHBF, “Is it alive?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s definitely alive. Have you ever seen a Monk Seal before?”
”No, can’t say I have. But she’s so still….” PP’s voice trailed off, still worried about the large beast. Hell, she’d heard of heavy sleepers, but this Monk Seal beat all!

“I’ve been visiting here with one of the Monk Seal Volunteers who’s been telling me all about her. It seems that the seals decide to come up on the beach for a nap, and then they have to be cordoned off like this so that all the crazy picture taking tourists on Waikiki don’t bug her. Oh, and she can be ferocious too.”



“Really?” PP continued to stare at the enormous mass of brown sandy blubber lounging in the hot noonday sun. Hard to imagine her even moving, let alone harming anyone!
“Here, follow me,” DHBF led PP over toward a visored middle-aged woman sporting a ‘Monk Seal Rescue Volunteer’ T-shirt. “Hiya,” he hailed her. “How’s she doing?”
“Oh, she’s just fine. Takin a little snooze despite all the hoopla,” Monk Seal Volunteer Woman nodded a professional knowing grin at the two of them.
“Is she alive?” PP asked, still unbelieving. She hadn’t seen the Monk Seal move at all.

“Oh, yeah, she’s alive all right. That’s why we have to keep her roped off like this. Monk Seals can attack at a moment’s notice before anyone knows it. Why one time, they called me to come down here cause a seal had gotten up to the sidewalk there and I had to get me a ten foot pole to prod him back down to the sand and he was snapping the hell outta that pole let me tell you. But I finally was able to get him back down to the sand, and some other volunteers were able to keep the tourists away and rope off a section of the beach to protect both the seal and them!” MSVW wiped her brow in the noontime sun, grinning widely at the adventurous memory of it all.

PP nodded. Damn. She had no idea that such a vocation was in existence. A Monk Seal Rescue Volunteer? Why, she was as fanatical as the crazy cat rescue women she’d met at the SPCA! What was it about single women and rescuing animals? Not that this woman was single, but PP was willing to bet she was. The rescue aspect must be part of that Fabled Maternal Instinct that PP had zero clue about!




“Wow! That sounds like quite a story!” DHBF exclaimed, smiling down at PP who continued to watch the Monk Seal in her languorous slumber. Suddenly the seal heaved a mighty sigh, and turned her massive body over in the sand, an active flipper giving an unconscious wack to some pesky fly.
“What’s her name?” PP asked, knowing she had one.
Pleased, MSVW nodded, “Well, we call her Irma, but she’s officially got a number that she’s tagged with, A1030.”
“Irma’s much nicer,” PP concluded.
“Oh, yeah,” MSVW agreed.
“She’s awfully quiet,” PP continued, thinking how earlier when she’d been swimming she’d heard what she thought was a seal barking, but had dismissed it as surfer yelps. Maybe the Monk Seal was part of a herd and her family was out swimming in the warm Waikiki Sea? “Does she have a family out swimming out in the ocean?” PP asked. “I thought maybe I had heard a seal bark when I was out swimming just now. Maybe it was her friends?”
MSVW shook her head. “I sincerely doubt it. They really are solitary creatures. Though for awhile there was a male round these parts too.”
PP nodded, romanticizing the Pair of Monk Seals, playfully frolicking in the warm turquoisy sea amongst the Aaaaaaiiiippppoooeeee Fish.


Irma gave another enormous sigh, her rounded side heaving lazily in the sun. “How much does she weigh?” PP asked. Hell, since she had a Monk Seal Rescue Expert here, why not pick her brain?
“Oh, she can weigh upwards of 400-600 lbs.”
“Wow! You’re kidding!”
“Nope, she’s a healthy girl.”
”And what about the males? Do they weigh even more?”
”Actually, not, the females are the bigger ones,” MSVW laughed heartily.
“Ain’t that always the way of it!” a Sunburned Buxom Blonde tourist called out, joining the conversation.
“Ain’t it just!” MSVW agreed.
PP giggled, thinking of all the buxom women she knew. Hell, curves were where it’s at. Even in the Monk Seal World!




Curves or not, PP felt suddenly nervous about standing out in the midday sun, and tugged at DHBF’s elbow, signaling the let’s get going directive. Nodding, he smiled over at MSVW, “Well, thanks a lot for all the info and great stories!”
“No problem,” she nodded, back to business as a Japanese couple inched close to the crime tape barricade, cameras snapping. “Be careful,” she called out, “she’s sleeping.”

The Japanese couple took a step back, abashed and apologetic. “So sorry,”

Opening one brown eye, Irma stared at them, then glanced out toward the sea. Was she going to make her move? Escape back to the lovely warmth of Waikiki’s Embrace?

Grunting, Irma closed her eye. Rolled over onto her other side. Heaved another mighty sigh.




Nah, give it some time.
She still needed to work on her tan.
Monk Seal Waikiki Style that is.

Waikiki Welcome

With the first stroke into the welcoming blue sea of Waikiki, PP knows she’s in paradise. What is it about the ocean in Hawaii? Of course, there’s the perfect 82 or so degree temp, then there’s the amazing crystal clarity of the water, but it’s more than this.

She floats along so easily in Waikiki. It’s like the water gently ushers her through its welcoming embrace.

Hell, that sounds like a lover, doesn’t it?

Well, for PP, the waters of Waikiki are so sexy. If she could, she’d never leave their warm caresses.

Okay, enough mushiness. You get the idea—Waikiki is PP’s swimming Paradise. And on this day, swimming out beyond the gently breaking waves to glide over the coral fisheries, PP grins as she reaches out to almost touch a crowded school of adorable yellow and black striped zebra angelfish. This is surely their official name. Or maybe not. In Hawaiian, they’re most probably called aaaaalooouuulllaaapppaaaoooiiieeeee fish….

What is it with the Hawaiian language? So many vowels, so few consonants.
That must be it.

But hell, the fishes don’t care as PP glides over them, this dense bunch scurrying underneath her only inches away. Part of PP gets a little nervous with all the fish. Like she’s going to touch one and what? It’s gonna bite her? Do aaaaalooouuulllapppppoooieee fish bite? She doubts this, but still. There’s a lingering ‘icky’ feeling too in addition to the stronger feeling of wonder and delight whenever she’s in the midst of these wild swimming creatures.

Maybe because of all this emotion and excitement, PP tires after swimming too long parallel to the shore. From their spot down the beach to the beach in front of the Royal Hawaiian, PP figures is probably a good half a mile maybe more and even in the calm of Waikiki, she decides maybe she’ll get out and walk back up the beach.

She so rarely does this. Is always such a stubborn swimmer. If I swam out here, I’m gonna swim back. No matter what.


But today, she changes her mind, and emerging from the turquoisey waters in front of the Royal Hawaiian she hears Dashingly Handsome BF call out to her.
”Hey Cutie!”
Giggling, she takes off her cap, shakes her wet locks out, unplugs her ears and grins over at him. “What’re you doing up here?”
He waves a pair of goggles at her. “Lookit here!”
“Goggles?”
”Yeah. Cool, eh? From the ABC store, for only $6.95”
“Gotta love that ABC store!” PP laughs as she slings her wet arm through his dry one and lets him lead her back up the beach.

Five minutes later, she doesn’t see anything except the bright yellow Crime Scene tape roping off a section of the beach. What’s going on? she wonders. Murder on Waikiki? Too bad Owen Hill isn’t here to get the scoop for his next thriller.




As she shades her eyes with one of her big fins, (the sun is too bright, she’s super scared of getting sun burned. The melanoma trauma is too close to the surface in Hawaii, but the swimming is always worth the risk) PP squints to see what’s on the beach…..

What is it?
Lying there in the sand?
It’s not human….
It’s not a fish….
It’s not a dog or a cat (thank goodness)

What could it be with a crowd of people gathered round, cameras flashing, fingers pointing?

Can you guess?

More tomorrow…..

Wild in Waikiki!

How much fun does PP have in Waikiki?

You can imagine!

Stories soon!

Till then, enjoy her flexibility fins!

The Salt Vault

“Looks like this is the place to be!” Enormous Stately African American Queen ambles into Utopia. Everyone scrambles to make room for her. The two Latina women wrapped modestly in their skimpy Y towels move closer together, sleeping supine Asian woman next to PP continues to snore softly, Big Black Panty Woman shifts to the side, nods in recognition to SAAQ before closing her eyes and settling back into her silent dream world.

Queen Stately plants herself heavily on the bench next to PP, sighs loudly, before beginning the slow process of removing her black gold trimmed one piece with the skirt swim suit. (When was the last time you saw a suit with a skirt? PP had one in Hacienda Heights in 1968, but she cut the skirt off. Once a tomboy, always a tomboy)

“I sure had me a workout today. Whhhhooooeeeee!” Queen Stately sighs, as she continues to peal off her suit, revealing a tacky rose tattoo on her left large brown melon of a breast. PP stares. She tries not to, but just can’t help it. It’s that tattoo etiquette again. If you have one, doesn’t it invite appraisal?

“I had me a Personal Trainer today and I tell you, I worked it Girlfriends,” QS chuckles, the rest of the women with the exception of Softy Snorer, joining in.
“What did you do?” PP asks, always eager to begin a new story.
“I did everything!” she laughs, slapping a gigantic fleshy thigh in delight. “I did me a hour on the elliptical and then another 30 minutes on the bike and then I did a nice variety of machines.”
”Wow! You did do a lot!” PP exclaims, truly impressed. If she does even a half hour on any of the torture machines, she feels like she’s accomplished something. Though it’s never the same as swimming. But you all know that, don’t you?





QS pulls out a zip lock bag bursting with Epson salts, unzips it, and begins clutching out handfuls of the big salts and spreading them all over her massive body. As she covers her breasts, arms, thighs and then her astounding belly, the salt sparkling like diamonds on her dark soft skin, PP marvels at her matter of factness about this process in front of them all. It’s like she’s at home with a group of lovers.

“You gonna turn yourself into a Salt Vault,” Black Panty Woman asserts seriously.
PP giggles. A Salt Vault? Damn she loves this! BPW is a goddamn poet. PP thinks of saying this, but then decides against it. Not sure why other than the poet joke might not go over big with this crowd.

Salt Vault Queen chuckles. “Yeah, you got that!”
“But you better be careful,” BPW continues, “if she see you with that salts, she gonna kick you outta here.”
“You serious?” SVQ frowns.
“Oh, yeah. She real nice, but I seen her get mad and kick people out when they use their stuff in here.”
”Why is that?” PP asks, knowing the answer but not wanting them to stop talking. “Cuz of the mess?”
“Mmmm…. You got it,” BPW nods.
“Hey! If they’re so worried about the mess round here, they could clean up that Nasty shit in the steam room. You seen it next door?”
“Mmm..yeah, I seen it.”
“I always wash up, I never leave no mess,” QSV harrumphs. “They could clean up that nasty ring round the hot tub too. You seen that?”
”I seen it, all I’m saying is if she see you, she gonna kick you out!”
QSV frowns again as she pulls out another enormous handful of salts and angrily massages them into her belly.
“What’s the salt do anyway?” PP asks, trying to change the subject slightly.
“It takes away all the muscle ache,” Queen Salt asserts.
“Really, wow. How’s it do that?”
”It just soak into your skin and pull out all that pain in your muscle. Works all over.”
“You can put two cups in your bath too,” a quiet up till now woman offers.
“Yeah, that work too,” Queen Salt agrees, smearing the salt all over as PP watches in rapt fascination. The way the salt glistens on her skin mesmerizes her.” It don’t have no smell,” she continues. “I always thought this was the problem. I always wash up,” she repeats.
BPW nods, “I know. I seen you. I’m just saying, she will kick you out.”
“Which one? The Spanish one?”
”That’s the one. She real nice, but she gets mad. I seen it.”
“Maybe I should cover myself with a towel?” QSV glances around for a towel with absolutely no intention of using one for this purpose.
Grinning, PP decides she’s gathered enough material for one story. Besides she’s feeling that faint hungry post swim 9 p.m. space out energy loss. She doesn’t have the reserves of these women.





Maybe she needs some Epson Salts?

Or not. One thing she can say, she rarely has achy muscles all over. But then again, swimming doesn’t make you ache unlike the goddamn machines.

“I’ll warn you if I see her coming,” PP offers as she rises, shaky, to head out of Utopia.
Queen Salt Vault nods, completely unbelieving of PP’s intention or completely spaced out in her Salt Vault. It’s hard to tell as PP opens the door, exits Utopia, and heads off for a shower.

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?