Vichy Springs Pool –Swim Number Two!

After their exciting waterfall hike where many wildlife sightings had surprised and delighted them, (a mommy pheasant mewing, really! Mewmewmewmew….to distract them from her babies according to DHBF; a sweet little frog that let DHBF take his or was it a her? how can you tell with frogs? picture; several shy deer grazing on the dry grasses; and a SNAKE!!! which elicited a suitably horrified shriek from PP—DHBF running to her rescue but not actually participating in the snake sighting since he’d finally gotten the perfect frog pose so the snake was gone before he got there. ‘Was it a rattlesnake? ‘ he’d asked, all concern and worry. ‘Nah, just a garner snake….Or was it a Gardner Snake? What are those snakes called anyway? It was one of Those.’ PP was just glad that she hadn’t stepped on it.), PP and DHBF really needed another delicious cool swim in the Vichy Springs Pool!

Back in their tidy little room, PP couldn’t wait as she hurriedly put on her suit and skipped across the lush lawn to the pool, shady and inviting in the late afternoon sun.

And miraculously, No One was swimming!!! There was one floral suited swimmer lounging on her belly that offered to take their picture together, but PP just wanted Her Picture taken at Her Pool as she posed in many sexy funny Esther Williams frames. (Hey, wonder if Esther Williams had swam in this pool? Bet so PP thought as she slowly inched in to its cool delectability.)

Shivering slightly, PP dove in again for the second time that day, the water folding over her in cool rippling blueness. PP even did some backstroke to gaze at the oak trees, circling hawks, and hot hazy sky. Yet also to give her eyes a break from the mask and the chlorine. (Though the VSP seemed to have less chlorine. Of course, it was a resort and there were no kids. At least so far.)

DHBF dove in too. At least PP thinks he did. She was so deliciously self- absorbed in her perfect pool world that she wasn’t really paying attention to anyone or anything till Polka Dot Suit Woman showed up with her alarm clock. This was really funny, PP thought to herself. What’s she doing with her alarm clock at the pool? PP continued to swim on her back so she could spy. PDSW pulled one of the chairs over to the side of the pool and set the alarm clock on it. Then stretching her full white arms in the sun, prepared to enter the pool.

Ah….PP thought. A Serious Swimmer. She’s timing herself and has brought her own clock since there’s not one at the pool. PP hadn’t even noticed this. Time had disappeared for her when she was swimming in this Pool, which was odd now that she thought about it. She was always so obsessed about time. How long she swam. (Usually 45 minutes, sometimes 50) What time it was. (Is it after 4? Can she go outside now?) Or when she had to be somewhere? (The BART is leaving at 2:49 and it’s 2:34, she’ll never make it!)

Time is such a curse in our world. Or at least in PP’s world. It would be so much more relaxing if it would just go away! And maybe this was another magical value of the Vichy Springs Pool—-Time Vanished. It became all underwater and liquid and inconsequential.

At least till her tummy growled and her head started swimming. Food. She couldn’t ignore her body’s annoying need for sustenance. Damn. Wasn’t the pool enough to sustain her?

Evidently not as PP was forced to abandon her pool, and leave it to Polka Dot Woman, who of course, was happy to have The Pool all to herself for her timed swim. Who wouldn’t?

Clock or no clock, the Vichy Springs Pool was a world onto itself, and if that sounds corny, well, then Hell, you just don’t know anything about the Je Ne Sais Quoi of Pools!
(Thanks to the Lovely I for this perfect description of the Vichy Springs Pool—)

Now, if only PP could capture this feeling of timelessness in her every day world? But how?

Closing her eyes, and imagining this pool might help. At least until Time intruded as it always does. Damn! What’s a PP to do?

Grab a cookie and head for the pool, what else? Grinning, to herself, PP thought this was the answer. At least for the time being.

~to be continued~

The Vichy Pool At Last!

“It’s $40 a piece for day use…..” Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend gave PP that, sorry, doesn’t look good expression as he hung up the phone in the stuffy little Economy Inn Room.
PP really needed to do something good this day, esp. after her 20 scream shower at the Economy Inn when the hot water had suddenly disappeared.
“How many times do you think you said, ‘Fuck’?” DHBF had asked as they sat sipping their coffees under a tree in the Ukiah Town Center Park, later that morning.
“I dunno…..maybe 20.”
“Ummm…. Yeah…that sounds 'bout right,” he agreed.
PP glared at him.
“Not that you weren’t justified…..”

PP sighed. She really wanted to go to the Vichy Springs Pool. She’d wanted to since she had first spied it six months ago on another trip down from Eureka, but back then in January, it’d been too damn cold here in Ukiah. She’d gazed at the silent crystal pool in wistful frustration, tempted to dive in anyway, but she was way too sensitive to cold. Such a swim woulda certainly elicited more than 20 ‘fucks….’

So, now that it was summer, and they were in Ukiah once more, she’d come up with the idea to visit this stupendous pool again and SWIM in it. But....40 bucks a day?
Hell, they may as well rent a room and stay the night…..
Hey, why not?

“Call ‘em back!” PP jumped up and down, excited now at the prospect of actually staying and swimming at the Vichy Springs Resort. “Maybe we can get a room and just swim all day long!”
Grinning, DHBF had made the call, gotten a ‘yes’ there was a room available, but they better reserve it. They were filling up fast for the Convention. What the hell convention would they be having in Ukiah, PP wondered. Must be a Cow Convention, is all she could think of as they threw their stuffs in the Cobalt and left the Economy Inn in the dust—though not before one final tender thought for the blissful little pool that’d been so perfect the night before.


II


PP gazed over the fence at the still turquoise beauty that was the Vichy Springs Pool. Olympic sized is what was advertised, which maybe was true in 1935 when it was built. Today, it looked about the same length as Mills or the Y, but the setting….well, nothing could beat it. The shady sycamores and pines overhanging the right hand corner. The sweet little white picket fence surrounding the pool.

But best of all…..NO ONE was in it!

PP had been sorely worried that it being summer, the pool would be full of screaming children. It was the season after all. But maybe since it was the middle of the week and they were early, it was before noon, the kids hadn’t arrived yet.

Or maybe they didn’t allow kids in the Vichy Springs Resort?

Somehow, PP doubted this, though hope did spring eternal. But now, seeing the pool ready and waiting just for her, PP couldn’t wait. She hadda dive in right now. But oh…could she? Since they were so early, they probably couldn’t check in yet. Damn!

Heading back to the office, PP’s heart was racing. She wanted to swim in this pool so much. It was like a Magnificent Obsession that finally would be realized.
How weird was she? People don’t get obsessed over pools, do they?

Their loss, she thought to herself as she met DHBF grinning on his way outta the office.
“Sean said, no worries. We can go ahead and use the grounds before we check in.”
“Does that mean the pool?” PP jumped up and down, clapping her hands.
“Yes, sweetie, that means the pool. Though we could go for a hike to the waterfall first if you’d rather….”
PP gave him an incredulous stare. Was he serious? No, she could see that twinkle in his eye. He knew better. The Pool was the priority. And that was that!


III


Poised on the edge of the pool, she shivered in anticipation and coolness. The water was clear and glassy, though a bit chilly. Sucking in her breath, PP grinned at DHBF who stood watching her from under one of the shady trees. So gallant, he was gonna let her have the first swim to herself.

What a luxury!

Diving in, PP felt the mineraly water wash over the top of her head as she stroked the still water, cutting through its turquoisy goldenness at a good cold induced clip, the honeycombed reflections on the pools bottom reflecting the noon day sun she’d said ‘fuck it’ to for just this once.

And it was worth it as she swam back and forth. No one in sight except DHBF now seated on one of the lounge chairs reading a mystery.

PP was in Pool Heaven. Her Pool Heaven. Her Vichy Pool!

At least for a little while as she turned and headed back down the center, grinning to herself as she swam over the tiled “Vichy” mosaic laid out on the pool’s sacred bottom.

~to be continued~

The Economy Inn

"There’s a pool….” Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend coaxed, tired, hot and patient after their long, HOT hike round Mendocino Lake. Idling on the side of N. Main St. in downtown Ukiah, PP needed a pool and she needed a pool NOW! But The Economy Inn?

“I dunno…..” PP glanced dubiously out the window, squinting in the afternoon heat. There did appear to be a small pool, behind a cement walled enclosure under the Economy Inn Signage: EVERYONE WELCOME. HBO IN ROOM. AIR CONDITION. MINI FIDGE.

Maybe it was the mini fidge that PP found most dubious about the joint, not to mention the deserted parking lot. So, okay it’d be quiet, but quiet in that sorta seedy creepy way.

“Let’s keep looking,” she murmured. “Maybe there’s a better one with a pool up the road a bit.”
“Sure, no problem,” DHBF pulled into the traffic, keeping his eyes peeled for the next available hotel with a pool.

Actually, PP had already found the Ukiah Community Pool, by following the Emerald Green Parks & Rec sign: Golf/Pool--Turn here, Now here! Okay, here we are!) But her intrepid pool nose only led to Pool Frustration, complete with cranky rude lifeguards and lines of screaming children gearing up for swim lessons. When she’d asked the harried sullen teen at the front window counting the day’s take if there was lap swimming, she’d just shrugged and said “Probably.”
“Probably?” What the hell does that mean? Of course, PP refrained from blurting this out, though it was hard, but she did manage to ask if ‘probably’ was happening today or tomorrow?
“Probably tomorrow.”
“Like probably when?”

”Well, the pool is open from 1-5.”
“So, will you have lap swimming then?”
You know what she said.

Needless to say, PP was a bit cranky with the vagueness of the Ukiah Teen’s response and so when the quest for a hotel pool began, she was in no mood for any more ‘probablys’!

DHBF pulled over to the side of the road, next to the Cabanna Royale Inn. Frankly, there was nothing Royal about it. Limp pathetic palms dying in the heat. A wrong coral colored wall with too big dirty windows showing an over bright lobby.

But there was a pool.

“What about this one?” DHBF asked dubiously.
“No.”
“It has a pool.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Actually, she didn’t really see the pool, but assumed it was somewhere behind the coral wall with the most dead palm drooping over it.
“Can we keep looking?”
“Sure, sure…..” DHBF is beyond patience with her when it comes to pools. She guessed it was because of his sweet nature, but then when she thought about it, he was most likely this way for self-preservation.

“What about the Motel Voll?” PP pointed to the side of the road where a cute lemon motel with a mural of a grape vine on the side of the lobby wall sat invitingly in the shade.
“But does it have a pool?” DHBF joked.
PP scanned the parking lot and the area surrounding the motel. A rectangular garden to the side of the motel was suspiciously shaped like a pool.
“Hey!” DHBF scoffed, “Do you think that USED to be a pool?”

”Sacrilege!” PP exclaimed. Filling in a pool should be against the law. Especially when she needed one! “Let’s get outta here!”
“Done!” DHBF stepped on the gas of the Chevy Cobalt, lunging back into the afternoon Ukiah rush hour at a roaring 23 miles per hour. Those, Cobalts! Built for the quick getaways.

“Hey, a Motel 6!” DHBF called out.
PP glanced crankily at the swarms of fat bikini moms and screaming kids jumping into the pint sized pool. Across the street was the helicopter take-off field. What a great combo. Shrieking kids and obnoxious whirly birds.

No thanks. Pool or no pool.

“What do you wanna do?” DHBF pulled away from the curb, doing a crazy U turn taxi driver style. “I don’t think there’s anything else down this way,” he explained, as PP gripped the side of her seat. Part of her liked the dare devil cabbie moves, and part of her didn’t.

At this point, she didn’t care. She just wanted a pool. Any pool. And if she didn’t get in a pool soon, she was gonna have a meltdown in stupid Ukiah.

“Let’s just go back to the Economy Inn,” she sighed.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it was close to downtown. We could walk somewhere for dinner.”
DHBF grinned his sexy smile, “And it had a pool.”

20 minutes later, after checking in with Mr. Patel and airing out the Lysol infested room, PP was happily swimming back and forth in the adorable little Economy Inn pool, delighting in the magic of “MINI FIDGE” hanging above her every time she turned round, which was often. The pool was very small.

But it was a pool! And it was perfect! No one else was there. The water was clear and cool. So refreshing after their baking Lake Mendocino hike and cranky search for the pool.
But now.
It was heaven as she splashed back and forth, the water welcoming her with its enchanted silky embrace. It does just go to show you. It doesn’t matter for a PP how big the pool is or where it is.
It just has to be wet to satisfy her Pool Lust.
Oh, and be screaming kid free, Please!

So, in the end, the sign was right.
Everyone was welcome!
At least if they could swim!
And with a happy splash, PP pounced on DHBF in the lovely little pool, wrapping her legs around him in blissful pool purrs.....

My Pool at Vichy Springs!

Stories to come! Twin Girls trying on PP's fins. Cool turquoisy peace in the late afternoon heat.
Alarm clock lady with loud polka dotted suit.....
Suffice it to say, PP has wanted to swim in this pool since the moment she saw it last winter. Read all about it this weekend......if you dare!

~to be continued~

Suburb Pool Rant

Okay, PP thought it would be a good idea. Stop by the Y on her way home from work. Sure it was in the suburbs, but hell, there were certainly good things about this, right? A parking lot. No traffic thro the odious Caldecott tunnel since she’d be two hours later. A bright friendly suburban swimming experience in Sunny Pleasant Hill, right?

WRONG!!!!

The DeutscherSchlecter Y was from hell on every level. Screaming Children. Rude Lifeguards. Fat leachy cigar smoking middle aged white guys. No they weren’t smoking cigars at the pool, but if they coulda been, they woulda been.

Why do the suburbs have the reputation of being so safe and friendly when in reality they’re so alienating and frustrating?

The bored teen at the front counter was nice enough.Llet her in with her Y Oakland Card. Picked up the pool schedule, glanced at it yawning, and told her that "Ya, there’s lap swimming now, at 4:30, 2 lanes."

Purrfect, she’d thought. She really needed a swim after her long day reviewing research papers on line about food addiction, erectile dysfunction and undocumented immigrants. That’s one thing she could say for the job—the variety of paper grading was there.

But the variety at the Y?
Nothing but goddamn screaming families. Taking over the entire pool. PP slowly made her way out onto the deck in the blazing heat, her sun protective shirt sticking to her. She really needed a swim NOW!!!

But the prospects looked less than promising. Esp. when she asked the surly lifeguard at the helm. “Excuse me?”
Grunt
“Uh…..the guy at the front counter said that there’d be two lanes for lap swimming?”
“One of the lane lines broke.”
“Excuse me?” PP repeated, standing in the glaring light. What the hell was he saying? That cuz a lane line broke there’d be no lap swimming?
Evidently.
She stepped aside as two teenage girls in their matching American Flag Bikinis cannonballed into the pool, shrieking with the abandoned hysteria that only teen girls from the suburbs can .

Frowning, PP continued to try to get a response outta the lifeguard, “So, then.....will there be no lap swimming? “
Shrugging he didn’t look at her, “Don’t know. Go ask one of them.’
“Who?”
‘The swim instructors over there”—he pointed in huffy perturbness—“ask them when their lessons are gonna be over.”
Shit.
PP made her way over to the lesson guards, knelt down and asked. One bleached blonde just steered her child charge away, ignoring her, another one glared at her and announced to the air that she’d be done at 5:30…..

Ok, what to do?

PP could scream.
She did consider this for a moment. But then decided that no one would notice her, let alone pay attention.
She could leave.
She also considered this, but then thought, what the hell, she was here now. It was only about a half hour away.
So, she’d wait.

But where?
All the chaise lounges were taken up with either lazing middle aged men (What was up with that? Didn’t they hafta go work in the Big City every day to support their screaming kids and expensive wives?) or littered with harried moms in oversized gold rimmed sunglasses trying to keep the kids from killing each other.

PP was so glad she lived in Oakland. She complained about it often. The traffic. The overcrowding. The expense. Hell, the pool was often full of kids at the Oakland Y too. But for some reason, they didn't seem so.....Suburban?
Yeah, the big city swimming kids were excited to be there in an awe way. Not a yawn way.

So it shouldn't surprise her that whenever she visited the suburbs for any real necessary experience like swimming, where you’d think the BEST swimming would be, right? she realized that Oakland had been her home for so long for good reason. And even though the Y downtown was often crowded too, there was a friendly big city welcoming feel to it. Not this cold can’t be bothered with anyone but my fr%%**##king children attitude.

The suburbs. They were selfish as all get out.

Why is that? PP is too tired to analyze now. All she knows is that when 5:30 finally rolled around with still no sign of any lap swimming going on so she just got into the swim lesson lane and swam around them, and then when she asked the lesson guard what the hell was up with lap swimming and she’d just glared at PP and said she’d be done with her lesson at 5:40 and then this Ancient Guy from 1876 got in too and started swimming /sinking cuz his legs were so heavy and then a Look Liked She Knew What She Was About Woman got in and when PP asked her if it was always anarchy at the pool and she’d given PP a blank stare PP realized she either probably didn’t know what anarchy meant or she probably didn’t know what anarchy meant……

Well, PP decided, that yes, it was nice to miss the goddamn traffic inching thro the heinous caldecott tunnel, but it wasn’t worth trying to negotiate the insanity traffic in the pool at the DeutcherShlecter YMCA.

It was worse than China.
And that was saying a lot!
Bye Bye Burbs!
Hello Oakland!
Welcome Home and don’t ever, ever, EVER Go Back to THAT POOL again!

The Caw of the Wild

PP had every intention of going to the Y today, but then the Caw of the Wild interrupted and her plans could do nothing but change.


It all started yesterday, really, when PP, in her Saturday morning pre-work daze was sucking down a large coffee and trying to understand why Paris Hilton had to go back to jail. And the damn Crows! They were outside just going nuts. Cawing and swooping and CAWING and swooping and just being completely Obnoxious! PP had cursed them repeatedly in between swigs of Joe and mouthfuls of muffin.

Godamn Birds. What the Hell is their problem? They don’t have to go back to Jail like poor Paris. They had their freedom. What were they complaining about?

Well, she’d found out soon enough when she’d gone out to dump the kitty litter in the trash out back and saw It.

A poor limping pitiful baby crow….actually it looked like a teenager. Not a big full grown guy, but not a tiny baby either. It was painfully trying to make its way away from her to hide behind a trash can or under the neighbor’s porch.

PP had almost started crying.

Oh no….a hurt little crow? No wonder the other crows were so upset. Their baby was injured and they were trying to protect it or at least ward off any predators. Namely stupid Pablo.

But what to do? PP tried to approach the wounded little guy, but then it had limped away, falling on its side and then picking itself up again…before tottering under the fence and out toward the street.

Almost in tears, PP had shaken her head. What to do? What to do? She obviously couldn’t catch it, but if she didn’t catch it surely one of the cats would.

PP locked her three felines in the apt. for the day and then feeling horribly helpless and guilty got her stuff together to head off to work, but not before chatting with a tall elegant woman who had happened into the courtyard, glancing up at the cawcaphony of crowdom. PP had immediately pounced on her, telling her about the injured crow and voicing her frustration over what to do about it.

Elegant Woman shook her head, taking a long slow sip of her latte, “You know, I don’t really think you can do anything. Once I tried to rescue a dove, its chest was all bloody on its lovely white feathered breast, and I caught it in a towel and put it in a bag and took it to the SPCA and they looked at me like I was crazy and said we can’t do anything about this.” EW sighed softly. “So, I learned from that experience. It’s better to just leave Wild Life alone and let nature take its course.”

PP had nodded, gotten in the car and headed off to work, but still the image of the baby bird limping pitifully in her back side yard was so vivid and sad……she just couldn’t get it out of her head as she drove down 24 in the hazy morning light.

She had to do something!

So, she called JL, her best friend and Bird Expert who’d once saved a Wedding Dove from Mills Pool…ah, another pool story, but that’s hers. Of course, JL wasn’t answering her phone, after all, it was only 9 a.m., so PP left a message from work explaining the Crow Crisis back at her house and hoping that JL would have time on her hands to rescue the poor little guy.

Later PP got the story. How JL and PP’s neighbor, Willa, had both tried to find the injured crow. Had searched all over the compound for a good long while.

But no Baby Crow to be found.

So, JL had conjectured that it had simply been stunned and had flown away. Or someone who liked crows, people do, had picked it up and taken care of it or it had just gone off and died a quiet death in some safe place…..

PP had almost started to cry again. Why the Hell hadn’t she just stayed home from work and tried to catch it when she could have?
DAMN!

Yet she told herself that she had tried. JL and W had tried. Plus, maybe it was true what EW had said. It’s better to leave wild things alone…..

So, today, when she was washing out the cat bowls before heading off to the pool, PP was looking out her window and spied her Big White Pablo Cat slowly stalking something out in the ivy…..

Damn….she thought. What if the baby crow is still here and Pablo gets it?

Rushing out, PP had hurried over to where Pablo was slowly stalking, scooping him up just at the moment she saw the baby crow limping hopping into the safety of the ivy, the Parent Crows dive bombing and cawing up a ruckus.

Oh, no! The baby is still here! Now PP had to do something, but what?

Fortunately, Willa was around and so when PP frantically knocked on her open door, interrupting her tooth brushing, at least she had some moral support and much needed assistance.

Willa…..? Willa….? Can you help me?” PP had called out.
Wiping the toothpaste from her chin, W had stepped out, “Sure, what’s up?”
“It’s the Baby Crow, it’s here. Pablo pointed it out to me.”
”Oh, no!”
“Yeah, so can you watch it while I call Lindsey Wildlife to see if they’re open today? Of course it’s Sunday.”
“Sure….” W agreed dubiously as she followed PP out to the ivy, both of them peering into the dark mass of foilage. Sure enough, the little guy was hunkered down in the leafy sanctuary, his little beady eyes darting around, terrified.
“Poor little guy….” W murmured.
“I’ll be right back,” PP had assured her, running back into the house to get Lindsey on the line. Fortunately, she’d gotten their number from JL yesterday and so had it handy.
“Hello, Lindsey Wildlife Museum, this is Tony.”
”Hi…yes…I have an injured crow that I need to bring to you and ….you guys are open today?”
“Yes, the hospital is open till 8 pm.”
Thank God, PP thought to herself. “Oh, I’m so relieved. But I don’t know what to do. I’ve never captured a wild bird before and I don’t know what to do.”
”Of course,” Tony had soothed, “Let me get someone from the hospital to talk you through it.”
“Thanks….” PP nervously held the phone as she watched Willa ducking the dive bombing parent crows while listening to a recording explaining the amount of venom baby rattlesnakes have in their bite and how the Kingfisher can do…..what? Where the hell was the person who was gonna walk her through the Crow Capture Procedure?

PP hung up and redialed. An authoritative woman answered the phone this time. “OH, hello, I was waiting for someone to help me with how to capture a wounded crow and …..”
”Did you get put on hold for a long time?”
”Yes.”
”I can help you.”
”Oh thank goodness. I’ve never caught a wild bird before and….”
”First, let me ask you, how do you know it’s injured? It’s probably a fledgling and the fledglings can’t fly.”
”I’m pretty sure it’s hurt cuz it’s limping and falling over and oh it’s so sad….”
”Ok, yes, that doesn’t sound good. Now what you need to do it get a towel and from behind put the towel over it, covering its eyes and then pick it up, being careful not to crunch its little wings or breaking any little bones.”PP had swallowed hard. Damn. Could she do this?
“Then you need to put it in a box…”
”Will a cat carrier work?”
”Yes, that will work fine, just once you get it in the box, cover up the holes so it can’t see out. It will be scared when you pick it up and drive with all these images going by.”
Swallowing hard, PP had nodded. “Okay, I just hope I can do this….”
“You definitely can do it. Now let me give you directions to the hospital.”
”What’s your name?” PP had interrupted, thinking how glad she was to have this Crow Authority helping her.
“Wendy. Now where are you coming from? Ok, get on 24 heading…..”
PP had tried to listen and write down the directions but she was so scared and nervous at this point, esp. as she could see out the window how Willa’s ducking and the crows dive-bombing Caws had both increased in intensity.
“Ok….yes….thanks, I’ll see you soon. Thanks so much for your help,” PP had hung up, her hands shaking, her heart pounding.
Could she really do this?
Grabbing the Hawaii towel from its resting place on Parker’s chair and the cat box, PP ran outside to where Willa was crouching, the pair of angry Parent Crows cawing and diving.
“I hope I can do this,” PP had repeated nervously as she approached the baby cowering in the ivy, Willa watching anxiously from the side.
Of course, the baby hopped up and started to limp away, it’s little right wing flapping helplessly, its little body flopping over sideways in heartbreaking jerks.

PP followed it with the towel at the ready. Damn. How was she gonna capture it? The parents were cawing more frantically now, diving and flapping, as the baby hopped flopped under one of the cars and then out from under it again, resting for a moment in the driveway. PP snuck up quietly behind it to within a foot, out of its vision? Or was it just exhausted and terrified? Counting silently to herself…..1….2……3…..

PP tossed the towel gently over the little guy, landing it perfectly over the top of its little crouching body.

It didn’t move.

Willa stared at PP, mouth wide open, eyes startled wide with amazement, as PP softly approached the motionless little mound, “Willa, quick, can you run over and get the cat box?”Yes there is some irony in the crow going to the hospital in the cat box….but…..PP’s life is all about cats and so this fits. Or she hoped it would!

Running back with the box, W sat it down next to the towel mound as PP gently came up behind it, her hands shaking and heart pounding, yes, it’s cliché but true, then scooping up the little guy ever so gently and placing it in the box.
Whew!
Easier than she’d thought!
Closing the box up, both PP and W breathed a huge sigh of relief as PP got out her keys and opened up the Geo. “Hope I don’t get lost trying to find this place,” she’d admitted to Willa.
“Don’t worry, you won’t. The Hard Part is over.”PP placed the cat box on the front seat, shaking her head, still nervous as hell.

But Willa was right. The Hard Part was over.

Or was it? PP tried to shake her apprehension away. What had she done? Now she had this little wild thing in a box and.....

But Willa was right, of course. Now it was up to Lindsey to help the little guy in whatever way they could. Sighing again, still nervous as hell, PP glanced down at the towel covered cat box as she started up the car. “You’re gonna be okay, little guy,” she murmured to him gently as she backed out of her parking spot and headed out to the Crow Hospital, whistling a little bird song she hoped would soothe him as she turned onto College Ave and headed off to Walnut Creek.

Driving down Hwy 24 toward Walnut Creek in the blasting Sunday afternoon traffic, PP tired to avoid another series of bumps on the road. Damn! She’d been cursing this ‘rough road’ for months now on her way to work, but it was doubly upsetting today with the little wounded guy in tow.

PP swallowed hard as she gripped the steering wheel, hoping her wounded wild passenger would survive the trip to Walnut Creek and not die of shock or heat suffocation on the way.

Why the hell was it so far away? PP felt like she was never gonna get to Lindsey Wildlife Hospital, esp. since she didn’t know where she was going.

A little rustle fluttered in the towel-covered box on the passenger seat. Sighing, PP tried to calm her nerves. A little noise was good, right? At least she knew he was still alive. “It’s ok, little guy,” she murmured softly. “Just hold tight and we’ll be there soon.” Stepping on the gas to pass a truck loaded with piles of cardboard, PP hurled down the freeway as fast as the little Geo would take her!

Pulling into the parking lot of the Lindsey Wildlife Hospital, PP breathed a sigh of relief. She’d found it! The directions from Wendy had been excellent and fortunately PP had remembered most of what she couldn’t read in her nervously scrawled notes. Of course, waiting at the signal to change after getting off the freeway at Trent and Geary was nerve-wracking as all get out. Why the hell were the signals so Goddamn long in the suburbs? But eventually it had turned green, and Lindsey fortunately wasn’t far from the highway, safely tucked in a residential neighborhood next to a recreation center with tennis courts, baseball field and probably a pool…..

But no time for that now, as PP parked the Geo and turned off the engine, hurrying around to the side door to retrieve her precious cargo. A silver SUV pulled up alongside her and out hopped a cute young Suburban Princess with a little brown paper bag in hand, its contents making little flapping noises as PP nodded to them.

PP gently carried the cat carrier into the hospital while Suburban Princess held the door open for them. Nervously, PP entered the pandemonium of Lindsey Wildlife Hospital, the front counter momentarily abandoned as personnel scrambled back and forth between waiting rooms that the rescuers had no access to. PP set the carrier up on the counter and waited nervously for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only 30 seconds or so before a Large Pasty White Woman strode out and gave her a forthright appraisal.
“Oh, hello, are you Wendy?” PP asked anxiously.
“No, Wendy works in the museum. How can I help?”
“Oh, well, she was very helpful and well……I have an injured crow here and….”
LPWW reached for the box before nodding to a Harried Looking Latina who had appeared to run the computer. “Can you describe what’s the matter?” HLL asked as she stared intently at the computer screen. PP narrated the story once more. How the little guy couldn’t fly, and yes, she knew now that fledglings couldn’t fly, but that it was also falling over on its little shoulder and didn’t seem to be able to hop on both legs, that one seemed to be injured and…….
LPWW nodded, taking the cat carrier with her. “Do you need your carrier and towel back?”
“Oh, yeah….sure, I guess….” PP had watched nervously as she disappeared into the animal fix it cubicle. “Will he be all right?”
LLPW turned, eyeing her patiently, “I don’t know. I’ll be right back. You can give your contact info to Roxanna.”
“Your address?” Roxanna asked.
PP dutifully started with the info as LPWW came back and started talking to Suburban Princess. “What happened?”
“My cat…”

”You should really try to keep your cat indoors.”
“She was only out for about 5 minutes….”SP murmured guiltily, handing over the little paper bag.
“Address?” Roxanna asked PP.
PP rattled it off.
“Sorry, I’m such a slow typist. Can you repeat that?”
“It’s a Lavender Starling,” LPWW came back to tell SP. “And it looks like your cat did quite a bit of damage in that 5 minutes.”
SP shook her head, muttered a quiet apology. What could she do now? She was here, after all.
“There are actually quite a lot of Lavender Starlings around," LPWW continued. "They are a very common bird and we’re in no danger of running out of them….”

”That’s fine,” SP had asserted. “I understand. As long as it has a quick end instead of the long slow one my cat would have given it.”Nodding professionally, LPWW handed SP a form to fill out. “Yes, well, thanks for bringing it in.”

PP tried to keep the shock off her face. They were just gonna do nothing to save the poor little Starling cuz there were plenty of them around? Damn. Maybe Lindsey Wildlife wasn’t the place to bring her Crow in after all?

PP tried not to cry about the Starling’s fate as she watched Roxanna continue to slowly type in her contact info. Turning around, PP saw a burly white guy with his fat wife and child in tow, holding a white plastic bag full of something.
“A dead possum,” he grunted, handing the bag over the counter to a worker. “And we’ve got the babies too.”
“Run over?” the worker asked matter of factly.
“Yeah, ‘fraid so….”
PP watched aghast as the bag was taken into a back room and the babies? Were they in the bag too? Whatever was in there was not moving!

LPWW returned to PP’s anxious plea, “Will the crow be ok?”
“I don’t know. When we let him out of the carrier he just seemed like a normal crow.”
“Oh, that’s good,” PP swallowed hard. Had she brought in a perfectly healthy crow for nothing? All this trauma and he was fine? But wouldn’t that be a good thing?
“So, when will you know if he’s gonna be ok?” PP asked.
“In a few days. We have very good vets here.”

”And what will you do if he’s ok? Will you release him here in Walnut Creek? Won’t that be confusing? I mean, his Crow Family back in Oakland is very distressed.”
“Yes, crows are very social animals. We’ll take him back to his original point of origin.”
“Oh, that’s good…” PP had murmured, thinking how maybe she could stop by on her way home from work and pick him up. But no, he was out of her hands now. Right?

“So, can I call you later to find out how’s he’s doing?” PP asked.
“Sure, here’s the number and the times to call. Give us a few days before you call.” Roxanna handed her a brochure with pictures of raccoons and hawks on it in tasteful evergreen line drawings.
Swallowing hard, PP smiled weakly. Her Crow was out of her hands now. She had done everything she could. Of course she could call later, but what if he didn’t make it? Would she want to know? Maybe it was better to let it all go. But yet…..

Roxanna gave PP a harried smile, “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him.”
“Thanks,” PP tried for a smile back.
“No, Thank YOU for having The Heart to bring him in.”
Grinning now, PP sighed. Yes, this was what it was all about—Heart.
And with a Happy One, PP made her way out of the hospital, and back to the Geo, finally ready for her trip to the pool, now that the little guy was safely in Lindsey’s Care, a place with Heart thanks to Roxanna.

The Lovely I walks (and Swims!) again!

PP really wants to write this blog about the Lovely I’s marvelous road to recovery and their first trip to Mills without the wheelchair, but she’s so tired. (PP is, well, actually, the Lovely I is tired too, esp. after their swim.)

"Why am I so tired after coming here to Mills? she had asked. I mean. I can go to water therapy and do my water walking for 40 or even 45 minutes and I’m not this tired!”
“It’s the Hot Tub,” PP volunteers. “It saps all your energy.”
“Mmm…..you might have something there.”


“We spent the day looking at faucets,” Fix It GF announces as PP drives the Geo down Hwy 580, toward the Pool. “You wouldn’t believe how advanced they are now. No washers. They’re flexible. They have this special attachment so that you don’t get scalded when someone flushes the toilet.”
“That’s what I don’t get!” The Lovely I leans forward from the back seat. “How can scalding be such a Huge Issue? I mean, I’ve never been scalded in the shower from someone flushing the toilet.”
“Me neither,” agrees PP. “But I live alone. The only way I could get scalded is if Pablo decided to flush the toilet while I was in the shower.”
Fix-it GF and the Lovely I crack up.
“You laugh, but did I send you guys that video of the cat flushing the toilet?”
“No…..I don’t think so….” The Lovely I hesitates.
“Well, it was pretty funny. This guy was getting this huge water bill and thinking what the hell is up with that? And later he discovers that it’s the cat. He’s down there in the basement, flushing the toilet over and over again with his little kitty paw so he can watch the water swirl down.”
“You’re kidding!” Fix-it GF exclaims as the Lovely I chuckles her cute, “Heee Heee Heee….”

“Have you seen the movie, Something something something the Weeping Camel something something…..” The Lovely I asks PP who can’t remember all the longness of the title. Those documentaries. They’re so specific.

“No….” of course PP hasn’t seen it. She just rents really stupid Netflix fare like Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant making silly music together and then having sex under the grand piano.
Come to think of it, maybe that’s not such a bad idea…..
Anyway, the Weeping Camel film really impressed the Lovely I who narrates the cutest part as they make their way across the parking lot to the pool, the Lovely I actually walking up the stairs by herself without PP or Fix-it GF’s help whatsoever.
“You would love this movie, PP!” LI exclaims. “It’s just so cute. When the little camel calf is born, imagine, its little hump is FOLDED OVER! How considerate!”
PP giggles as she imagines a folded over hump all soft and gray atop the baby.
It does sound cute, but frankly, not as good as the Sex under the grand piano.


“So, I hafta tell you, PP,” the Lovely I stands up in the Hot Tub gently stroking the surface of the warm water back and forth as PP climbs in. “I had a dream about you.”
PP is so flattered. The Lovely I had a dream about her? Too cool!
“I was in this store, I don’t know where it was exactly, but it was your birthday and I wanted to get you something, so of course I thought of some Cat Chotchkee (PP knows she’s spelling that wrong, but you know what she means.) and so I did find this purrfect Cat Chotchkkee I can’t remember exactly what it was, but I was very worried that you wouldn’t want it or like it and then you came into the store and I thought ohmygod I hafta hide it from you and then It broke!”
The Lovely I paused, crestfallen for a moment.
PP grinned, “That’s ok. There’s a moratorium on Cat Knickknacks anyway. You must have known this ….”
”Do you mean that in my unconscious I somehow knew that you had a Cat Chotkee moratorium?”
“Exactly!”
“But how could she know?” Fix-it GF asks, puzzled and practical.
PP shruggs. “It’s just a pool cat telepathy thing I guess.”


“Have you read this?” Fix it GF hands PP a library book while they’re waiting for the Lovely I in the locker room. Something non fiction and political. PP can tell from the cover. She barely glances at it as Fix it GF begins to tell her about it. “It’s really interesting. It’s about how the right wing present day Christian Evangelists are really just like Hitler and the Nazis. How Hitler was considered this total outside nut case until and no one took him seriously. Of course, until it was too late. Just like the right wing Christians in this country.”
”I hope it’s not too late for us,” The Lovely I shakes her head.
Fix It GF sighs. Starts to pack up her stuff to head out to the deck.

PP is in awe of Fix-it GF. She knows everything that PP has no clue about. Faucets. Politics. How to do weights at the Y (You need to be careful to not do more than 15 reps at a time and yeah, I have Neck Issues too. You just have to be careful not to lift any weight over your head.” ) And Shade Vegetables. She has an allergy to them. PP doesn’t even know what a shade vegetable is. Fix It GF educates her: potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant and some other stuffs PP has never even heard of and can’t recall now.

“When’s your birthday?” the Lovely I asks PP on the way home after their exhausting but restorative swim in the late afternoon, the sky blue gold over Downtown Oakland.
“February.” PP answers wondering why she was asking. Maybe she was planning on having another dream?
“Ummmm……”
“Hello Kitty!” Fix-it GF exclaims. “They make a Hello Kitty Vibrator.”
”I already have one,” PP grins, flattered that such a charming Lesbian would even mention such a thing to her.
“Oh…” Undaunted, Fix-It GF ponders for a moment. “How about a Hello Kitty Toaster?”
”Yes, I have that too. It makes toast with Hello Kitty’s Face imprinted on it. I can even make the Toast,” PP brags as she remembers the fancy menu of shade vegetables that was discussed earlier in the locker room.
“I would come over for Hello Kitty Toast,” the Lovely I murmurs wistfully.
“Done!” PP exclaims. She could handle this meal. All she had to do was buy some white bread and make some peppermint tea.
“Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?” PP asks LI as she heads over to Hwy 24 and exits at Claremont Ave.
“Yes….” The Lovely I sighs.
“Well, what do you want for your birthday?”
“Oh…..nothing that you guys can get me. What I want for my birthday is completely abstract and non purchasable.”
“Oh, c’mon, try us,” PP pushes.
“I want Muscles for my birthday,” she sighs again.
PP nods as she tries to think of a way to get these for the Lovely I.
“Maybe I could get you some sort of blow up Muscle Model or something like that?” Fix-it GF exclaims as the Lovely I climbs out of the Geo by herself and heads up to their lavender trimmed home.

PP doesn’t think the Lovely I heard this great idea, or if she did, it was just too much for her to respond to in her post swim exhaustion. PP sees how much the Lovely I has improved since several weeks ago. No wheelchair. Walking without trepidation. Swimming again at Mills.
But….
It’s a long road. PP knows this from her own recovery after her surgery so many years ago. 3 weeks to walk a half a block. 3 months before returning to teaching.
But hell, only 10 days till she was back in the Pool even though the doc told her to wait 6 weeks.
6 weeks without swimming? Can you even imagine?

And so, PP sympathizes so much with the Lovely I’s desire to get better faster.
But these bodies of ours. They have their own schedule. And it’s not up for negotiation.

Well, unless of course, Swimming is involved.

"Thanks so much for the ride!" Fix-it GF slams the car door and follows the Lovely I up to the house.
"Yes, it was so nice seeing you again," the Lovely I calls out as she stops to pick up the mail.

Grinning, PP throws the Geo into gear and sighs happily.
It's so nice to see the Lovely I and Fix-it GF again for a swim.

Now if she could just figure out how to have Sex under a Grand Piano!

HALLELUJAH FOR THE DUCK GUARDS!

They are very serious. The duck Lifeguards. She sits placidly on the side of Capt. Gwen’s Harbor Bay Pool, watching serenely as CG kicks back and forth, back and forth. Then Pool Puss enters, delighted to no end to have a couple of quakers as her audience. But then realizes, no it’s not entertainment for them. They’re working. As witnessed by Ms. Quacker nudging Mr. Quacker out of the water and up onto the deck. Time to stop swimming for god sakes! There are people swimming! And lord knows, they need watching.

And so he does as she bids. Flapping up and out of the turquoisy misty water and up onto the deck next to her. Stands first on one webbed foot then the other. Tucking the unused one up under his broad round feathered belly as he stares intently at the two swimmers. For true to form, Capt. G’s pool is all theirs.

With the exception of the Duck Guards who know the pool will be all theirs again soon. When those darn people get out!

And out they do eventually. After a lovely, languid magical swim. The Ducks never taking their beady eyes from the two swimmers. PP giggling every time she passes them.

“Hey, G, did you see we have Duck Lifeguards tonight?” PP hollers over the lane line at her friend.

Capt. G shakes her head and grins. “Yeah, they’re here in the morning a lot. But haven’t seen them at night before,” pulling her goggles down over her eyes and diving off at a brisk crawl.

PP thinks this must be a sign. To have the Duck Guards here for HER swim. Esp. since she hasn’t been to Capt, G’s pool in months. The ducks musta known she was coming!

“Whew! That was so nice!” Capt. Gwen exclaims as they stumble spacedely out of the Club House back out to the parking lot, their wet heads nodding thankfully. “There’s just nothing like swimming!”

“Yup!” PP agrees. It’s so obvious.

“You know, for a while there, I was goin thro this existential crisis and even tried joining a few churches,” CG chuckles, shaking her wet head.
“You’re kidding!”
“Yeah, can you believe it? I tried all these different kinds of churches. Christian Churches. Humanitarian Churches. Unitarian Churches. And I’d be getting up early on Sunday mornings and thinking, Damn, I’d rather be at the Pool! And so then I’d skip church the next week and go the pool instead and think, yeah, duh, Church doesn’t make me feel this good! Only the Pool does!”

“Praise the Lord!” PP giggles.
“Yeah! And you know, I’ve talked to some of these other women that I’ve gotten to know since swimming here the last few months and they all say the same thing. NOTHING makes US feel better than swimming. Not Church. Not some Dumb Aerobics Class.
“Not sex?” PP grins as she climbs into CG’s family van.
Capt. G got that little gleam in her eye that PP knows so well….”
“Well…..maybe not sex, ok, not better than Good Sex!” she qualifies, laughing.

And PP joins in! It’s so true!
Yup, it’s the Church of the Pool. The Guru of the Swim! The Spirit of the Water.

Hell, whatever it is, Hallelujah!

Now if only they could get that Pool High organized somehow. They could go on cable T.V. and sing the praises of swimming laps, and kicking back and breathing rhythmically.

Hell, it’d be a moneymaker for sure.

As long as the congregation could swim, that is.

Or if they couldn’t?

Well, there’s always the Duck Guards!

Quack !

PP sighs happily to herself as CG pulls out of the parking lot and heads back home, leaving the ducks to swim playfully in their very own Quacker Church!

KID TALK

PP hears lots of talk about child rearing in women’s locker rooms at the Pool. Sons. Daughters. Grandkids. Nephews. Nieces. And she’s always so relieved about THAT choice—no kid talk for her! (Though she must admit that her niece is her Favorite Person in the World ala Jonathan Lethem’s latest novel—Lucinda is so sad when Fancher Autumnbreast tells the band to just imagine their Favorite Person in the world to help with nerves for their first radio gig and Luce doesn’t even know who this is for her Ex, the band’s artsy kangaroo guy. Yet PP has to grin. She knows absolutely who her Favorite Person is, her niece, Ms. Theadosia Lohnes. Hands down.)

But PP is pretty sure she’s never given her sis any childrearing advice about her niece. At least not since Thea hit puberty.

But in Pool locker rooms, childrearing advice bounces offa the cement walls, bubbles up in the hot tub and echoes in the showers.

“I just want him to get a taste of the Real World. He’s had this tutoring job for the last year through his Senior Advisor, and he may be able to keep it part time this summer, but I really am looking forward to the day when he’s gainfully employed.”

“Yeah, I hear you. My daughter has been doing this volunteer work for the California Teachers Union and while it’s been a good experience for her, she really needs to find a pay check.”

Middle-aged Montclair Swim Club ladies are all about the Real World.


As they are at the Oakland Y:

“I tol her, what you mean your daddy’s stepping on your head? And she gets her little dolly out and lays her on the floor and spread her hair out and then steps real gently on its head with her foot and says like that. And I shake my head and say, Lord have mercy! this chil is bein abused by her daddy. There ain’t no doubt about that. I gotta go report him to the child protective services and then she tell me how he gave her beer and I say how you know it was beer and she say it was in a brown paper bag and it taste real nasty and I think to myself yeah her daddy is a drinker he probably did give her beer….”

“And how ol was she? Only 6 right?”

“That’s right. Only 6 and a chil psychologist she tol us how a kid know when they’re not wanted by the time they’s 4 years ole.

“Ummmmhuhhh….yeah….ain’t that the truth. You want in here sweetheart?”

Pink shower capped marshmallow shaped brown woman nods and gives a toothy grin as the Concerned Moms move over in the hot tub, unblocking the stairs.

PP moves over to make herself even smaller in the corner—no one notices her. She’s not a mom and she’s not big! And here at the Downtown Oakland YMCA, Big Moms Rule the hot tub.

But she’s equally inconspicuous at the Montclair Swim Club. She’s not a Mom and she’s not Rich.

“Ordering the limos for the Prom was such a hassle.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

”My son ordered the limo and then tried to collect money from all the kids but it’s hard to get the money out of the girls. There’s all this confusion about whether or not the girls should even pay so my son ended up footing the bill.”

“My son did this really cute thing where he actually ordered a school bus for the prom. It cost a little more, but it was really cute.”

“Wow. What a great idea. Next year, when Josh’s prom comes up, I’m gonna suggest that.”

“But again, it doesn’t solve the problem of getting the girls to pay their fair share.”

Oh those Wily Girls, PP thinks. Always trying to get a free ride. Where the hell did she go wrong? The free rides were there in her youth, weren’t they? But she didn’t take advantage of them and now look at her—shuffling from marginal teaching job to marginal teaching job. Working her ass off grading ESL essays while still trying to write the Great American Soap Opera Novel.

What’s a PP to do? Whine about it in her blog? This works for her. At the very least, the Pool is full of stories! From Oakland to Montclair, the stories can make her thankful for her swimming life and bring out a giggle or two.

Grinning, PP heads outta the Montclair Swim Club to meet her fellow non-breeding teacher friend, Ms. W., sunning herself in the afternoon light. Tells her about the ‘kid limo talk’ in the locker room.

Miss W chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, that’s one thing we did right. Not have kids!”

And PP smiles, happy with at least one choice that she’s made. No kids.

Well, with the exception of That Favorite Person in her life, the one and only, completely Fabulous, Miss Theadosia Lohnes!

A Perfect Pink Princess

She stood sulking in a Perfect Pink Princess Pout. Arms crossed over her bare bikini brown belly. Slender hip thrust out in rebellious defiance. Big brown eyes purposefully glaring past the exasperated swim teacher trying to get her to ‘cooperate.’ Banished from the pool because she wouldn’t answer the teacher’s question. PP didn’t hear exactly what the question had been, but it didn’t matter.

PPPP was not budging!

PP couldn’t help but grin to herself as she turned at the wall to start her next lap. The little hellion was quietly making a scene. All of her classmates were subdued and unsure. Splashing less boisterously in awe of PPPP’s fortitude?

And the teacher? She was pissed. PP couldn’t blame her. With a half a dozen or so 7 or 8 year olds she had her hands full. And while the group, as all kids seemed to be at the Y, were young and obnoxious, none of them could compete with PPPP’s sullen stubbornness.

This is what PP admired. Sure, she was being a pain in the ass for the poor exasperated teacher, but she had a quiet style that yelled, I WILL NOT OBEY YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY OR DO! I AM MY OWN PERSON AND IF I DON’T WANT TO ANSWER YOUR STUPID QUESTION YOU CAN’T MAKE ME, CAN YOU?

“You ready to cooperate with me yet?” Exasperated Teacher asked, the edge to her voice snaking into the chlorinated air.

No way. No how. No answer.

“Okay, it’s your call. Amber, Jason, Taisha and Lionel, Tiffany, right? Swim 3 laps fast now!” Sighing, ET glared at PPPP before following along with the other ‘Cooperative Ones’.

PPPP continued to stare over the top of the teacher’s head. Her gaze unwavering. No way in hell was she gonna crumble. Not now. Not 5 minutes from now. Not ever.

Plump Doe Eyed Lifeguard sauntered over to help. Put a hand lightly on PPPP’s wet shoulder, “Are you ok?”

No answer, of course. If she was gonna stonewall the teacher, she sure as hell wasn’t gonna break down for any Stupid Sympathetic Lifeguard.
“Is she ok?” SSL hollered at Exasperated Teacher.
“Yeah, she’s fine.”
”What’s the matter with her?”
”She wouldn’t answer a question for me.”
“Oh…. Okay…..”
And with another light pat on PPPP’s slim shoulder, the SSL shrugged before heading off to the locker room, leaving ET to figure it out.

Of course, PPPP’s show drew a crowd. Gathered above the pool peering through the glass lookout down on the deck, friends and family of all the children were pointing and mouthing. PP picked PPPP’s mom outta the crowd as she shook her head, and disappeared, only to appear on deck minutes later, all motherly concern in smart white pedal pushers and lime green top, her shoulder length black hair falling stylishly in her dark eyes.

Turning around at the far end of the pool, PP watched in delight as mom kneeled down to chat with ET, shaking her head, arguing? Then rising, turned to her Uncooperative Child, taking her aside and talking seriously at her. Released? PPPP suddenly relaxed. Began dancing round on the deck, almost smiling.

What had mom said to her, PP wondered? Don’t worry honey, that Mean Teacher doesn’t matter. You don’t need to answer her stupid questions. Just keep acting like a little Prima Dona and dance?

PP began her warm down, pulling long slow strokes under the gray blue water. Had the lane to herself for a moment with both Rubric Cap Woman and Spastic White Guy Splasher now gone. Remembering herself at that age. The stubborn resolve born of ‘uncooperativeness.’ Not that PP had ever been an uncooperative child round any pool activities. But she surely must have manifested a few quiet tantrums on the tennis court!

Finishing up her laps, PP looked up. PPPP and mom were gone. The other little fish were getting out, giggling and pushing, but quiet for a group of kids at the Y.

Wonder what had happened to PPPP? PP mused. Did she just get to change, go home, watch ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and never have to come back to the Y ever again?

Grinning, PP heaved herself out of the pool. Hope not, she thought to herself, cause PPPP was certainly her own Dancing Star here at the YMCA!

And PP is certain that every pool deserves to have it’s own Perfect Pink Diva!

Fast Friends

PP wishes she could write elegant purrfect stories like Jhumpa Lahiri, whose stories she’s been savoring for the last few days, but alas, she’s sadly lacking in such classy craft. Of course, Lahiri may not write pool stories as well as PP, but then again, what the hell good are pool stories if they don’t pay the rent? (Granted, Lahiri may also have gone thro dry spells with her writing, who knows? And now that she’s got the movie out about her novel, The Namesake, she’s in the money. Hell she could probably buy her own island with pools all around, but then, again, why would she care and….)

Oh damn!

PP has no idea what she’s writing about.

Shall we start over?

What happened at the YMCA today? Nothing of note. PP thinks this is a good thing, esp. since too much happens all the time everywhere. Bridges burning up. (An oil tanker crashed and infernoed the Macarthur Maze over the weekend. PP was afraid to take the freeway home from the Y for fear that the traffic would be horrific, but the drive up Broadway was horrific in its own way. Lanes blocked by loading and unloading mighty truck carriers—Broadway Auto Row has lots of loading and unloading to do. So much in fact that as PP was driving past the Nissan dealership and had to stop in the middle of traffic to allow a Yahoo to back a new Z down the truck ramp landing almost smack dab on top the Geo that PP caught her breath and swerved into the next lane, narrowly missing a silver BMW convertible with Mr. Suave Shaved Headed African American Wheeler Dealer yaking on his cell.

So….PP had to consider just how much the rest and relaxation from her uneventful day at the Y was worth.

Was it worth almost crashing into Mr. Suave?
NO.
Was it worth the heart racing sweaty palms following the above near miss?
NO.
Was it worth the hilarious hot tub with the two crazed Chinese swimmers?
Hell yeah!

Swimmer #1 PP had spied in the pool during her swim. Her blue flowered suit woefully see through, but of course, #1 didn’t give a shit even if she had noticed. She did have on the most delightful shower/swim cap with a giant hot pink Doggie and yellow rubber duckies lining the border. She had her pale blue jogging belt that was completely unnecessary since the pool is only 3.4 feet deep. But what the hell, the jogging belt helped with the workout. PP had no clue how, but was sure that there was some complicated reason for it.
Or not.
Maybe the belt was just lying on the deck and #1 had picked it up, tried it on, and given it a go.

PP had noticed, or correction, couldn’t help but notice, #1 last week. She’d been in the Hot Tub, soaking before her swim, and then had gone to use the toilet. Remember the toilets at the Y are right there in the hot tub room. There’s a stall, but really that’s all. So, when #1 came out of the toilet and looked in the mirror, she noticed that she had little bits of toilet paper stuck all up and down her bare wet legs. Shrugging, she’d stood there, picking the wet tissue off in nonchalant methodicism.

PP hadn’t wanted to stare. But she had.
And thought. Damn. Too much intimacy with strangers here at the Y!

Today, though, #1 had either gotten all the TP off already, or hadn’t followed the same routine but instead had come in the Hot Tub after her swim. PP was soaking in her Post Swim Space Out Euphoria, when #1 entered the tub. Naked except for her string of white pearls (were they real, PP wondered?) overlaid with a yellow rope necklace for her locker key, and still donning her hot pink doggie with the duckies shower/swim cap. She gave PP a snaggled toothed grin as she entered, planting herself at the opposite side of the tub and proceeding to do some sort of kicking exercises.
The Hot Tub was no place to slough off for #1!

Then enter her friend, #2, in her black suit and constant laugh. As soon as she splashed down into the tub, a loud and friendly gossip session started up as #2 started to jump up and down spastically in the center of the tub creating little waves that washed over PP’s chin.

They were very busy in the Hot Tub, PP thought. Both with the exercise and the talking. PP wondered what they were saying, but not knowing Chinese, just felt like she was back in China. The lone white woman privy to nothing as all the women yak yak yakked!

Maybe they were talking about their workouts?
PP had to smile to herself.
Yeah, right.
They were probably complaining about their husbands and kids. But then, they seemed so happy. #2 just kept laughing and laughing. Something was very funny and PP so wished she knew what it was, but….

Then again, maybe it was better to not know. To just guess. To let herself relish the anonymity that was the Y for her. So different from Mills where everyone knew her, if not by name, at least by sight, so that in the hot tub there, she was always chatting to someone.

PP missed this sometimes. But not today. Today she was just happy to be in the tub, with these two friends, for it was very clear that they were fast friends, and not be responsible for reacting or listening or participating in the conversation at all.

Not even eavesdropping. Which granted, was one of PP’s favorite pastimes, but sometimes even this seemingly passive activity was exhausting.

And so, PP knew that while she was never gonna write stories like Jhumpa Lahiri, she was gonna keep writing stories about swimming and tubbing and eavesdropping and driving and hell…..

Why not?
No one else could write a Pool Story, like PP.
At least she liked to tell herself this as she climbed outta the tub and headed off for the shower.

FRENCH FRIES & GOLD CHAINS IN PARADISE

When in Paradise, Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend hankers for adventure, while PP purrfurs to lounge about under a palm, devouring Trollope. Sometimes, he can rouse her for a walk on the beach or a drive down the coast, but this takes some coercion on his part. Or bribery works.

PP will usually do anything for a swim!

So, the day he wanted to find a beach outta the rain, PP shrugged, and nodded, what the hell? As long as she got to swim in the sea (or a pool—the pools were FREE on Oahu, can you even believe that? Now there’s civilization for you!), PP was happy.

And lord knows, DHBF wanted to keep her happy.

So, they hopped in the Pontiac Grand Am—yes, the rental car was supposed to be a Tercel, but they were outta the compacts at Alamo, so the gas-guzzler muscle car was theirs for a week.
What a way to tour the island!

But the rain! PP was trying to tell herself that it was a good thing. That with the rain was less sun and so less chance of more skin cancer. But yet…..she longed for a bit of that bright yellow light on the blue turquoise sea, so down the coast they went. To the awesome snorkel beach at the dead volcano next to Diamond Head, H Cove (PP can’t remember the entire name of this beach, but it did start with an H—close enough for a PP blog.)

Heading down the coast, it rained rained rained! PP was getting pretty cranky about both the rain and her bladder. She really hadda go to the bathroom. Thank God for the Sport of Golf in Hawaii. Those country clubs all had great bathrooms. The one on the way to the awesome snorkeling beach was bigger than their condo and smelled like bottled hibiscus.

PP was in Bathroom Heaven.

No wonder she loved Hawaii!

Yet, later, pulling up to the parking lot of the awesome snorkel beach, PP spied too many tour buses full of Japanese Hello Kitty Swimmers. Damn. The snorkel beach was a tourist trap?

The parking lot lady was fat and friendly. “You can just pay a $1, and stay for 15 minutes. If it’s not your cup of tea, you get your dollar back.”
DHBF nods, smiles, hands her a dollar. “Can’t lose, eh?”

Glancing around the parking lot, PP thought otherwise. It was fucking Disneyland. In addition to the tour buses, there were hundreds of rental cars full of screaming pasty families from Minnesota to Texas, armed to the hilt with their snorkels, beach chairs, ice chests, laptops, and umbrellas.

This looked like a big Adventure Mistake, PP thought. But she was trying to be more flexible. Have an open mind and not be so set in her ways. There was more to Paradise than Trollope and Kailua Beach.

From what PP could see, the More was Wrong.

Undaunted, DHBF bounded up to the lookout point. “You just wait here, and I’ll go check it out,” he called back to her, delighted.
PP felt the crankiness creep in despite her resolve. Hell, maybe at least she could find a bathroom.

Following him up the hill, she caught up to him and looked down the rocky cliff at the most beautiful turquoise corralled cove she’d ever seen.
Damn.
Too bad it was chalked full of screaming families.
“I don’t know….” she murmured. “Looks kinda crowded, but it’s not raining at least.”
DHBF nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Should we try it?”PP shrugged, trying to be adventurous, but it was really against her better instincts. While the beach was incredibly beautiful, the droves of tourists weren’t.
She glanced over at him. He was smiling but worried. Knew that she wanted to go, but couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Okay,” she headed back to the car, “Let’s get our stuff and head on down.”
”You sure it’s ok?”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe I can find a bathroom.”
Grinning he nodded. “I’m sure they have a bathroom.”
”Yeah, Disneyland usually does,” she muttered as they started to gather their stuff outta the Grand Am.

Confused and cranky, PP stood in the middle of a crowd of sunburned tourists wolfing down French fries and talking on cell phones. Where’s the goddamn bathroom, she wondered. Glancing around, she spied it under a cave overhang, and headed toward it, narrowly missing a bleached blonde with a gargantuan plate of fries and catsup, followed by her water buffalo hubby, in gold chains and wrong too tan.
Damn. This was not the beach for her. Just use the bathroom and fuck the adventure, PP thought to herself.
Inching through the crowd, the smell of grease and Coppertone enveloping her, PP stopped at the “CLOSED FOR CLEANING” sign and stood staring at it, crestfallen.

Hell, can’t she even go to the bathroom at the French Fry and Gold Chain Beach? What a gyp. Wonder if they can still get their dollar back.

“Did you find the bathroom,” DHBF caught up with her after she’d turned and headed back up toward the parking lot.
“Yeah, it was closed.”
”Closed?”
”That’s what I said. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Yeah, I agree. It’s costs another 5 bucks to get down to the beach.”
”You’re kidding.” PP shook her head. No bathroom and lots of grease, both of a fried and human variety.

No thank you.

Back in the car, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Can we stop at the Golf Course again so I can go to the bathroom?”
Grinning, DHBF looked over at her, “Of course.”
“And then can we go back to Kailua Beach?”
“Just what I was thinking.”
“Cool, cuz the French Fries and Gold Chain Beach really made me long for Trollope and a palm.”
”Me, too,” he chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot of the Diamond Head Country Club and let PP out to find the bathroom, happy now that she was gonna not only get to use the Condo Bathroom again, but also supurr relieved that the Adventure was over!

Muscle Mass

If PP has to listen to one more Trying Too Hard to be Positive Before She Crashes middle aged woman rhapsodize about the golden opportunity presented by fuckin menopause to embrace CHANGE and IDENTITY, she’s gonna scream! ARRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!! (Sorry must be the Hormones yelling? That is one nice thing about menopause, you can blame ALL physical and emotional maladies on it. )

But…..
When Muscle Mass Loss Menopause Woman started to get into the Menopause is Opportunity Lecture, PP almost puked. I mean. What the hell is so great about it?
The Hot Flashes?
The Night Sweats?
The Vaginal Dryness. (Sorry, but it’s true)
The Sleeplessness?
The Hypersensitivity to any and all chemicals from antihistimines to alcohol. (And Lord knows, PP needs that glass of wine when she comes home, esp. after a Menopause Lecture)
What else?
Depression?
Crankiness?
DRY SKIN!!!

Oh, and don’t forget, Loss of Muscle Mass. Hell, MMLMW had already admitted that women start to lose their muscle mass (Has PP said that enuf times? It’s obviously bugging her!), so NOW IS THE TIME to start doing something about it. Weights. Weight bearing exercise. Swimming is great, its cardiovascular, but it’s not gonna help with the Muscle Mass Loss Situation.

Damn.
What’s a Menopausal Swimming Kitty to do?

Take the weights into the pool?
Somehow, PP doubts this is what MMLMW had in mind, and after all, she was just trying to be helpful while undressing and dressing for their respective workouts at the YMCA.

PP hadn’t liked her right off the bat. She’d come in, demanded PP move outta her way. Okay, maybe she wasn’t that demanding but it felt that way after PP’s long day at Psycho University hearing about the Lost Souls of Maui and Orinda. Now, she just wanted to swim. So when MMLMW had barged in, glaring at PP for taking up the entire aisle (Hey, no one was around when PP first came in!), PP's fur had been more than a little ruffled.

“I need to get right there!” she’d announced, pointing at the floor. “Locker 732.”
PP glanced down at her crap spread out all over the floor. ‘Oh, ok. Sorry, I can move,’ she apologized crankily.
Then thought better of her Cranky State. After all here she was at the Y and this was obviously someone who knew her way around. She had a locker! And she was FIT. Solid, muscled, curvy Asian Woman. No nonsense. That muscle mass was calling.

“You a swimmer?” PP asked, knowing she wasn’t. How could PP tell? She just could. There was something about swimmers that set them apart. They were, oh, more soft? Less intense? Ummm….PP will have to think about this since she has known some very intense swimmers in her day.

But this woman, of course, just chuckled, and glanced up at PP as she was lacing her Athletic Shoes, “I swim, but no, I’m not a Swimmer.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
“Weights.”
“Oh…I just swim.”Glancing at her suspiciously, MMW sighed, as she looked PP up and down. “Yes, it’s very important that we start working out with weights. We start to lose our Muscle Mass during menopause. How old are you?”

PP tried to keep the aghast reaction of ‘None of your fucking business’ going thro her brain from showing on her face. Doubted that she was successful, but MMLW wasn’t paying attention to such nuances. PP wondered, should she lie? Say she’s 39? Could she get away with it? Probably not since the subject of Menopause had already come up, so PP swallowed hard, admitted the truth. (Wait, she’s not gonna tell here. )

“I’m 48,” MMLW asserted strongly as she headed for the toilet. “It’s time you started doing something about it,” she called out as the tinkle trickle began.
“But it’s a time issue.” PP whined. “I mean, if I have time to make it here to the Y, I swim. I don’t really wanna give up my swimming time for weights.” PP also didn’t want to admit that she was supurr intimidated by the goddamn weights. So heavy and sweaty.

Yuck!

“You don’t have to do them all the time,” MMW continued after flushing the toilet. “You could just start slow, do it once a month. Get a buddy to exercise with.”
“That’s a good idea,” PP lies as she heads for the toilet too. It’s a little weird how the toilets are in the midst of the dressing area, the hot tub, actually they’re all over. So you’ve peeing and talking and …..okay, whatever. It’s weird. PP’s getting off the track here about peeing, but it is a Big Consideration with her. Did she list it with the Menopause Woes? You can add it on. Peeing every 30 minutes—Menopause. Don’t ask the details. Too icky!

When PP does return from the toilet, MMLW is sitting on one of the square wooden stools (Why does everyone sit on the stool, PP wonders? She never has, but has observed that everyone else does. Plops down. In bra and panties. Staring into space.
Exhaustion inspires stool use?)

Anyway, MMW is sitting on the stool, bent over a book, sniffling. PP thinks, oh no, she’s crying? But why would that be? About the book? About her loss of Muscle Mass? About Menopause?
Closing the book, she glances up at PP, and then smiles fakely. “Have a good swim.”
“Uh, yeah, you have a good workout too.”
“Thanks.”


Happily exhausted from the swim and hot tub, PP half wishes that she won’t run into MM woman again, but no, there she is, getting dressed. “You have a good swim?”
”OH, yeah, and did you have a good weight workout?”
”Oh, yes, those endorphins. They make all the difference.”
“That’s for damn sure,” PP agrees.
“Esp. now that I’m just starting Menopause.”
”Yeah, I’ve been in Menopause for years.”
“Really? Well, you’re doing the right thing.”
She was? PP shakes her head and smiles slowly in confusion, remembering the admonishment regarding swimming vs. weights only a little over an hour ago.

“Just think of our Mothers. All those kids and no one talked about IT.”
“Yeah….” PP thinks that talking about IT has its drawbacks, but hell maybe it’ll turn into a good story.
“IT is a Big Change, tho,” MMW muses. “But what I tell my friends, is that if you don’t like it, if you don’t like the New ME, well, then too bad. This is it and I’m glad of it.”
PP nods, not knowing what the hell she’s talking about. Menopause creates a New Me? Maybe so, for PP at least, it’s created a new Crankier Me.
“I see it as an opportunity for transformation and change, going forward to a New Tomorrow.”
Did PP just hear her right?
No, PP thinks she just made that part up.

Yet, maybe MMW had a point? If we can’t do anything about Menopause, then why not embrace it? Treasure it? Rejoice in it?

Fuck.

PP hates it. There’s nothing rejoicive about it on any level. Hell, maybe if she still had periods it’d be a relief on that end, but even with her friends that still have periods, it sounds like Menopause just messes their cycles up. Makes them unpredictable and painful.

So, what’s to Embrace?

PP glances over at MMW and shrugs. She is fit. And her Muscle Mass looks pretty good.

But still, PP wonders…..if Menopause is such a wonderful life transforming change, then why the Hell does everyone bitch about it?

Exactly!

Tossing her stuffs back in her big blue bag, PP heads out of the locker room and past MMW chatting with a new victim. “And I tell my friends, if they don’t like the NEW ME well then…..”

Giggling to herself, PP heads out of the locker room and into the gray rainy afternoon. Thankful that it’s Saturday but even more thankful that she’s finally learned what to do about Menopause.

Ignore it!

A Two Pool Day

No wonder PP is exhausted as she sits at the computer, 11:15 p.m.—after all it has been a two pool day. One for the Lovely I’s Water Therapy at the Big Blue Albany Pool; the other for PP’s own Water Therapy at the Oakland Y.

Therapy is hard work!

Yet, after hers, the Lovely I was still able to recite The Canterbury Tale’s Preamble in Middle English on the car ride home; and PP is still able to file her state income taxes on efile. What a nightmare. No pool at the IRS. Damn! A pool would really help. Then you could just put all those damn forms on their own little individual kickboards and float them out to their appropriately numbered section. The W-2 could head to the deep end. The 1099 for the little skimmer drain at the opposite end.

It’d be a very floaty way to do your taxes.

PP thinks she’ll suggest this to the IRS for next year.

In the meantime, remembering the day, PP’s swimming again at the Y in her own lane and thinking of how to tie together her two pool day. Glances over at the red faced rollypolly white gent with the bulbous nose clinging to a kickboard with a gigantic grin on his face and it hits her.

Pools are Bliss. She sees it with Bulbous Nose Man. She saw it with the Lovely I walking up and down the Albany Pool chatting happily to the Asian Stroke Guy who lost his fiancé over the Black Panthers. She sees it with the tiredly happy Mole Man making his way slowly slowly slowly up and down the ‘walk and stalk lane’ (no it’s not really called that) at the Y, his quiet smile belying the slowness of his water walk. She sees it with the Intense Bird Woman, entirely and completely in the Moment at the Lovely I’s water therapy, her determination to finish her workout with her overwhelmingly yellow equipment the only thing on her mind.

Yes. Pools are the answer to all for just a little while.

And so PP says goodnight to them all.

Good Night Mole Man.
Good Night Asian Stroke Guy.
Good Night Bulbous Nose Man.
Good Night Intense Bird Woman.
Good Night Lovely I.

But mostly, Good Night beautiful Pools from Albany to Oakland to Dalian to Amsterdam to Montreal to Arcata!

And may thee wander happly in the bluey aqua marine ferevereveer more!

Pretty Good for a Man with One Leg!

PP loves Sundays at the Y!
Y?
CAUSE THE METERS ARE FREE!!!
No scrounging for quarters. No worry that she’s lounging about in the Hot Tub too long and gonna get a ticket. No wishing she lived in the Suburbs where they have that unheard of luxury—a parking lot!
Nope. On Sundays. It’s free for all. Plus no one seems to be around much on Sundays. The construction workers are taking the day off. The office workers are watchin football on their wide screen TV’s. Or is it baseball now? The obnoxious screaming kids are home torturing their siblings.

So, on Sundays, PP feels a certain lightness from worry about the whole cranky parking sitch at the Y. Today, she pulls into a nice sunny metered spot on 23rd and sighs happily, preparing to brave whatever chaos may await her in the pool. Spies a Disorganized Giant White Guy with his gym bag splayed haphazardly on the asphalt outside his beat up Volvo two cars behind her and then a Jockey Looking Blonde Woman across the street, neatly throwing her big bag over her shoulders.

They all converge up Broadway at the same time, hitting a mighty wind tunnel.
“What’s up with all the Wind?” DGWG jokes.
JLBW makes some rejoinder but PP can’t really make it out cuz of the wind.
“…..guess it isn’t really a good idea for a White Guy to say that round here.”
Damn, PP thinks. What the hell did she miss now? Sounded like something politically incorrect. A favorite of hers.
“You a Tango Dancer?” he asks JLBW, who smiles, unsure, shakes her head. “Uh…no.”
He chuckles, then turns to PP, “You a Tango Dancer?”
“Hell, no.” PP laughs.
“It must keep you in pretty good shape,” JLBW tries. PP glances across him at her. Maybe she likes him? Though he doesn’t seem like a match for her. DGWG is lumbering between them, his ungainly pasty legs slowing to match the two women’s gait.
“Yeah, maybe,” he answers her, “It’s just my Obsession right now.”
Both women laugh uneasily. “Plus it’s really a good way to find a relationship.” He guffaws heartily as he speeds up to bounce pass them, climbing the stairs to the gym. Not waiting for a response to this line.

PP and JLBW make their way up the stairs together. PP looks at her sideways. “Haven’t heard that line before.”
“No,” JLBW laughs.
“Maybe he thought since he was surrounded by blondes he had a better chance.”
She looks at PP in perplexity, then shrugs, holding open the door for them to present their ID’s to the overly friendly clerk, (Did he get some this morn, PP wonders), collect their towels and head down the stairs away from the Tango Studio (Does the Y have even have a Tango Studio?) and into the Women’s Locker room.

“You’re not finished already, are you?” PP asks as she dips her toes into the cool gray water after watchin Pudgy African American Rolling Swimmer make his way slowly down the lane toward her.
He turns round, his goggles perched on top his curly grey hair. “10 laps!” he announces, “Pretty good for a Man with One Leg.”
PP nods, astonished. So that’s why he was rolling so strangely in the water. Only one leg to kick with. Though PP doubts that he’d be much of a swimmer even with another leg.
“Wow!” she exclaims, beaming at him as he heads toward the stairs and his awaiting wheelchair. “10 laps! That’s fantastic!”
He nods, dignified and tired. “Yeah it is. You have a good day now.”
“Thanks, you too,” she returns before diving into the now empty lane and zipping to the other end, her two legs kicking mightily as she revels in their working.


“You are a very good swimmer!”
“Thanks,” PP smiles as she sinks thankfully into the hot tub’s warm embrace. She’d seen Swimming Compliment Woman in the lane next to her, arguing with a Gold Chain Guy about some feminist issue. PP couldn’t quite make it out between her earplugs and being underwater most of the time, but she’d hear SCW nod and point, then exclaim, “WOMEN HAVE A DIFFERENT BIOLOGICAL CLOCK THAN MEN! Then GCG would shake his head, laugh, point his finger at her, “Now you got me going. I’m gonna prove my point. I got two granddaughters. Both more aggressive at 14 and 16 than the guys.”
A couple more laps and PP would catch another snippet. “More men are joining the Nursing Profession every day,” SCW was asserting seriously.Was GCG a nurse?
PP didn’t think so, but hell appearances can be deceiving, esp. when you’re wet.

So, when SCW pronounced to the air in the locker room PP’s Beauty Swimming, PP wasn’t really surprised since she’d been in the lane next to her and had noticed her too, though admittedly not for her swimming. More for her animation, large blue flowered suit and fake red curls cut short round her pale face.
“I’m from Minnesota,” SCW continues. “Land of 10, 0000 lakes.”
PP nods as she tries to figure out a way to dunk under the hot water without appearing rude. “So, I learned how to swim when I was a girl. We had swimming in Jr. High and High School. Were you on a swim team?”
PP nods after quickly dunking under. “Yeah, I used to be on a swim team, but not anymore.”
“I was never on a swim team, but we all learned to swim. Minnesota! Land of 10,000 lakes. But the snow! It'd be snowing on Halloween. We’d go out trick or treating in our galoshes. That’s what we called them. And then come Easter, we’d be out hunting for eggs in our skis.”
PP nods. Sounded like hell to her.
“My friends, who still live there, they have snow sculpting in their garages and cross country skiing round the neighborhood. They Embrace the Snow.”
SCW shakes her head, “I never got that.”
“No, me neither,” PP agrees as she sinks down into the warm soft water, thankful that it never or rarely snows in Oakland, and NEVER snows in the pool at the YMCA!

Outside on the Broadway Wind Tunnel sidewalk, PP saunters back toward her no ticket guaranteed Geo. Passes a quiet round African American Man waiting patiently in a wheel chair. Notices he has only one leg. Smiling, she pauses, “See you in the Pool next time,” she calls out to him. He stares at her perplexed. Of course doesn’t recognize her dry and non-pink suited. Or maybe he doesn’t recognize her at all? PP falters a bit. Should she not have said anything? Shrugging, she tries again, “Maybe next time you can do more than 10 laps!”

Now a sudden glimmer of recognition passes over his fine features, and he smiles and nods, “You have a good day now,” he says softly as PP turns and heads up Broadway, the lazy afternoon sun and her two good legs suddenly lifting her mood out of the snow, and into the windy blue skies of Downtown Oakland.

SO SEXY SAFE....

Post mammogram, PP heads out to the pool, relief following her clean bill of health spilling over into the chlorinated air of the YMCA. Surveys the scene.

Swimming chaos.

3–4 swimmers per lane. And at the Y, this means trouble. Harried Lifeguard catches her as she steps onto the deck, brow furrowed through her tired smile. “Hi, what speed are you?”

PP glances at the lanes. No one’s goin at too brisk a clip. So she shrugs; gives the standard swimmer noncommittal answer, “Medium, I guess.”

“Cool,” HL answers, nodding officially. “He,” she points to a Confused African American Gent, “is a medium too, so both of you can circle swim here,” she points to a lane with 3 zigzagging women in it. “That’ll be a nice medium lane for you.”

PP thinks NOT as she glances at CAAG, who shrugs and tries for a grin, but PP can tell hell, he just wants to swim, too. They both glance over at the ‘slow’ lane with one Meandering White Guy with lots of back moles. PP shakes her head, “I don’t understand,” she points to MWG, alone in his own lane, “Why do we hafta swim circles here? Why does he get his own lane?”

CAAG chuckles in a serious way, “Evidently, he has some sort of Blood Condition. If we touch him, he’ll bleed and then they’ll hafta close the pool.”

“Ah, well, guess we better not get in HIS lane,” PP giggles as she remembers the Swimming Hemophiliac.

Yet, doesn’t it seem a bit risky, not to mention unfair, that the SH gets his own lane while the rest of the swimmers are relegated to circle swimming? Not that he shouldn’t get to swim, but does he hafta swim at swimmers rush hour? In fact, maybe swimming isn’t really a good idea for him at all. If bumping him will cause the entire pool to be closed down. Hell, it’s nice the Y is so accommodating to its Various Swimming Wounded, but giving SH his own lane everyday seems a bit much.

Couldn’t he take up some other sport? Say, trampoline?

No, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. What if he jumped so high that he bumped into the ceiling or jumped so spastically that he fell off? All that blood would splatter all over the walls and they’d have to close the entire facility down.

PP giggles as she prepares to get ready for the dreaded circle swim. Slowly slowly picking out her kickboard, pull buoys. Maybe if she takes her time someone will get out. She’s noticed that no one swims for very long at the Y. Usually only 20 minutes or so…..and now!

Voila!

SH is getting out and motioning for CAAG to take over. PP follows him, “I’m pretty slow,” CAAG grins.

“Oh, that’s ok,” PP shrugs, “We can just split the lane.”

He looks at her dubiously. She’s not sure why till she watches him get in and plow down the center of the lane causing the most ferocious washing machine splashing she’s seen in a long time.

Oh, well, she thinks, at least I don’t have breast cancer, and dives in beside him, zipping by as he continues to thunk mightily through the turquoise water, lit by the afternoon light filtering through the high slanted windows.

It’s almost like Kailua Beach, PP thinks but then opens her eyes to the intense chlorine.
Well, there’s a lot more chlorine than Kailua Beach, she giggles as she turns around at the wall and heads off to continue her workout.

Afterwards, soaking in the Hot Tub, exhausted from her swim, which actually turned out fine since all the 20 minute swimmers got out, leaving PP with, miraculously, her own lane, she sinks tiredly into the soothing warmth as Topless Chinese Woman with her faded blue flower suit rolled over her bottom sits languidly on the side of the tub, staring into space. PP tries to make eye contact, but no go. Sometimes she feels like she’s back in China with all the beautiful, silent Chinese women spacing out in the locker room. Another one gets in, this one slimmer, her breasts like perfect white cupcakes perched on her chest. Sinks into the tub and closes her eyes. PP watches as TCW shifts around on the deck, her long, brown nipples pert and unashamed.

Breasts. So many of them. PP loves the women’s locker room at the Y. It’s so full of breasts. But then, she thinks about her own. And how worried she’d been an hour ago during the mammogram. How if she got breast cancer this would just be the worst. Much worse than if the melanoma had taken hold. It’s hard to explain since the melanoma is frankly much more likely to be deadly. Something about losing a breast or breasts. Well, it must be devastating. PP thinks of O’s friend, the Beautiful Redhead, who’s just had a mastectomy. How horrible this must be. She had such Beautiful Breasts.

But yet, O had said the prognosis was good. That they’d gotten all the Cancer. That the BR would probably be fine……

PP sighs as she glances down at her pink suit, her breasts still tightly bound within its confines. Why doesn’t she take off her top like all the Chinese women?

Was PP really that shy?

Especially since she should be celebrating her Breasts after her successful Mammogram?

Hell, why not?

PP hesitates as another stunning woman gets into the tub. Some Asian Mix with a large tattoo of a rooster on the small of her back. Wait. Could that be right? Could she really have a rooster tattooed on her back?

Hell, maybe. She could have been born in the year of the Rooster and so she wanted to what?

Remind her back of it? Let all the women at the Y know?

Somehow, this seemed too weird as PP watches her small soft breasts sink into the tub next to her.

It was all So Sexy Safe in the Y Hot Tub.

PP started to slip her top off but then…..

Got shy.

Why?

Shrugging, she climbed out of the tub. Maybe next time she’ll go topless.

It took awhile in Greece too!

Grinning, PP headed into the shower, nodding at a statuesque African American Princess with Enormous Gold hoop earrings and majestic breasts to match.

Yup, maybe next time she’ll bare her breasts, till then, PP sighed a happy smile as she headed into the shower to her favorite stall, #26, turned on the hot water, closed the dark green curtain, and took her top off.