Hawaii Hair at Sunset Beach

“That’s a Nice Hairdo!”

PP hears this out of the corner of her curls. A couple of scraggly surfers are clambering around a pick up truck, packing away their surfboards. Smoking a joint? There’s that Stoner Tinge to the air.





“Are you talking to me?” she asks, pleasantly surprised as she comes out of the bathroom at Sunset Beach.
“Yeah, Dude,” Surfer Boy says.
Laughing, she grins, “It’s my Hawaii Hair. The air here makes it Bigger.”

“It’s Awesome,” Surfer Boy's Buddy agrees, coming to the side of the truck to admire.
“Thanks,” PP beams. He’s cute. But way too young for her. Though it’s nice to know that her hair can still work some sort of effect.

Even if it is only in Hawaii....

Just another reason to stay in Paradise, right?

Off to Hauula Hawaii!

PP and DHBF are off for the Islands next week. Yipee! R&R in Paradise is PP's favorite. The swimming. The hiking. The swimming. The reading. (She's bringing Trollope's Prime Minister as well as assorted galleys from her years at the bookstore: Eva Moves the Furniture, My Russian, Some other Scottish Soap Opera Time Travel Novel (No this isn't the title, but that'd be good, eh?) More Swimming. Napping. Swimmming.....



We'll go hiking in the lush Hauula Hills; that is if the Hauula Loop Trail is open. So far it's always been closed because?.....who knows....who cares? We'll just go to the beach if we can't hike. Which sounds just fine. Doesn't it?



Or maybe we'll see a super cute beached seal in Hauula?
Hope so!

PP's not big on the Whole Fish Thing, but the fisherman is cute!


Ahh....night walks on the beach.....is there anything better?




Aloha!

Thea At Big Al's

Rambunctious, giggling, LOUD, group of African American Teenage Girls careen past the three of them (PP, DHBF & Thea) chowing down on fish and chips, corn dogs, fries and of course Milk Shakes.

One of the girls pauses before slamming inside Al’s, “Is this place any good?”
Thea nods ever so slightly, her big beautiful eyes hidden safely behind her dark dark glasses, murmurs coolly as only a White Girl Torrance Teen can, “They have good Milkshakes.”




"EEECHHHC!!!! WHAAAAA!!! YAHHHHH!!!!

The Girls screech, holler, jump up and down in Milkshake Anticipatory Hysteria. Pile into Big Al’s, slamming the door behind them.

Thea takes a sip of her shake, gives a little smile.
“That certainly was a good answer,” PP remarks.
Thea shrugs, then glances at her watch, “I think we should go. The bus will be here in 10 minutes.”

PP realizes that this little scene has no connection to swimming. Unless you count the assumption that those Three Screaming Teens may very well end up swimming in a Pineapple Shake. Or a Coffee Shake. Or a Peanut Butter Shake. Or....

DL's First Lines from Utopia: A Poet's Perspective

"i don't like to sweat before a professional engagement"




"i try to avoid professional engagements as much as possible"





"heat is a migraine trigger"




"the third towel opens up many possibilities"




"the otter popped its head up and was THIS close"



"once i caught waves with dolphins"



"the sea turtles were serene"




"oprah says to use the ball against the wall"




"my core is really bad"
"mine too"
"our cores want to be more coreful"




"7-11 has ice cream, it will be dinner"

I Might Hit You!

”I’m very clumsy. I might hit you!”

PP’s Lil’ Sweet Sis stared at Noodle Clumsy Woman in astonished disbelief. Can it be that Noodle Woman is refusing to share a lane? Here she was at the LA Fitness Pool with PP and DHBF just trying to get a swim in, and when she’d asked if she could share the lane, this was the response?

The nerve!

Every Veteran Lap Swimmer knows that you can’t say ‘No’ when someone asks to share your lane. Of course, there are all sorts of strategies to avoid lane sharing: not making eye contact, mighty flip turns (this is a decidedly effective Aggressive Passive Aggressive (APA--not to be confused with an inane form of citing sources for Psych Students) form of not making eye contact), growling, burping, farting, …..Okay, you get the idea.

Poor Lil Sweet Sis! She was taken aback, PP was certain of this. (Though she got the story from her after the fact.) PP had been deep into her ‘swimming zone’ by the time Sis tried to get into NCW’s lane; she was so happy to finally be in the pool!

They’d first tried to swim at the Encinitas YMCA, but it was CLOSED of all things “It’ll be open on Friday,” the Clearly Imbecilic Kid at the counter said when they’d mentioned they were visiting for the day from Oakland. “That won’t help us today,” PP had snarled.

A helpful Encinitas Swimmer Guy had given them directions to the La Jolla Y---long and involved, down Hwy 5, then up Hwy 8…then…..” PP had spaced out; DHBF had nodded and tried to explain that he didn’t know where any of the freeways were; Lil Sis just smiled politely and then when he left said that she’d just take them to her LA Fitness Club and pay the guest fee, which was 15 bucks a piece. “That’s Highway Robbery!” Lil Sis had exclaimed to the poor harried young woman at the front desk. “The Oakland Y lets us bring in 2 guests per month for free” PP had pointed out. Nice Fitness Manager overhearing the whining, came over, “How about 2 for 1”? Which they’d taken.





And so now, PP was blissfully swimming in the sweet little LA fitness indoor pool without a care in the world cuz finally she was in the water! (The YMCA closure was, of course, so stressful for her swimming obsession! To think that she might not have been able to swim at all? What a disaster that woulda been!)






Driving them home later, Lil Sis had exclaimed, “She didn’t say, 'I hope I don’t swim into you. Or I’m afraid I’m not a very good swimmer so if I run into you, then I’m super sorry.' No. She said ‘I hope I don’t HIT you.’ Meaning, swim at your own risk. So, when I said, ‘Oh, well I guess you don’t want me to swim in your lane,” she had seemed suitably sheepishly embarrassed, ‘Oh, no I didn’t mean that.’”

“Of course she did!” PP had cried. “It was a Strategy. Such a ‘warning’ can only mean, Stay OUT of MY lane.”

“Exactly!” LS cried. “It’s a public pool! She can’t have her OWN lane.”

Then PP had told the story of how her friend KW had had the same thing happen to her—see a previous blog from god knows when; so it does happen.

But when it does? What to do?

Lil Sis had just felt bad and then had swum in the next lane.

PP woulda just gotten in anyway and swiped NCW’s Noodle away from her and then brained her with the foamy device.

How satisfying would that be?

Of course, if PP had done such a thing, then she probably woulda been sued for Swimmer Noodle Injury ….Plus she’d signed some waiver at the LA fitness front desk which of course she hadn't read very closely cause she just wanted to get in the pool for chrissakes! So she probably wouldn’t get any protection from LA Fitness.

Had the waiver banned Noodle Head Bonking to any and all? Even if they were the most deserving non-etiquette paying attention swimmers?

Maybe so.

Maybe not.

But it would just be PP’s luck if it did.

And she certainly did not need to deal with such a Noodle Bonking Contingency, esp. when she was supposed to be visiting her family and enjoying her swim.

Maybe LS coulda just responded with, “That’s okay. I’m clumsy too. And I hope I Don’t Hit you either….”

And then given her a good ‘accidental’ kick underwater....

Patriotic Snorkeler?

He was round. And white. And red eyed. And grey haired.

Got into the lane to the right of PP at the Hilltop Y. Glanced up at her to gauge the lane sharing potential. She, of course, hoped he’d opt for another lane.

He was a Snorkel Guy. (Need she say more?)

But wait. He was no ordinary Senior Snorkel Guy.

Cuz when the lane left of PP opened up and he dove in front of her and under the lane line, with a majestic spray of water honking out of his snorkel, she saw atop It….

A little American Flag waving in water logged glory!





What does it mean?

PP thinks it must be some sort of patriotic drowning ritual. He believes the flag is good for nothing except to wave atop his snorkel.

But yet, he didn't impress her as the disrespectful type. In fact, it seemed to be some sort symbol of Patriotic Honor. The American Flag will carry him through all obstacles: the Obnoxious Screaming Kids; the tidal wave making Butterfly Man; the Needy Floating Woman.

Yet isn’t the wetting of an American Flag sacrilegious or something?

What do you all think it means, oh wise Readers?

Please let PP know as soon as possible.

She's very worried that the American Flag is being used most inappropriately.

Or not...

That Cheating Man!

“Ladies, let me finish.” Gap Tooth Story Teller is holding court in Utopia. All are riveted by her oratory expertise and compelling relationships subject matter.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” Super Swimmer Woman rises from the warm bench and heads out, limp and red.
“Wait a minute wait a minute you gotta hear this!”
SSW laughs, tired. “No, really, I gotta go. But these other ladies will stay. Am I right ladies?”
The little group nods, rapt.

The subject?

How Bad can Your Man be?

PP wonders, as GTST continues, ranting about the Bad Man, aka The Cheating Man, what DL is thinking. Does she relate the Bad Man to her experience with Bad Women? Are Lesbians Bad too?

Probably. PP didn’t think it had anything to do with gender. One person cheats on another for a host of reasons: necessity, thrill-seeking, cruelty and payback (Yes, you all know how PP is obsessed with Soap Opera). It was kinda like when PP taught Death of a Salesman and she asked the class why Biff steals (or even broader—Why do people steal?) The answers are similar: necessity, risk-taking, thrill-seeking, revenge, insanity (PP always likes this one best—-she’s had some great discussions about Kleptomania)





But she digresses.

Today, in Utopia it’s about That Goddamn Cheating Man!

And nothing is worse than a Cheating Man. It’s unanimous. “Just tell me where I can find me a Good Man. That’s all I care about.” Sultry African American Princess leans against the wooden wall, worn out by it all.

“Just listen up,” GTST nods, “when I asked Leroy (name changed to protect this celebrity. Also PP can’t remember his name.) “if he ever cheated on his wife. You know what he said?”

The women all wait, wide-eyed, already knowing the answer. But it’ll sound better coming from GTST. “He said. Git this. He said, ‘I’ve been married for over 20 years.’”

“And I repeated my question, ‘Have you ever cheated on your wife?’”
“He said, “20 years is a very long time.”

All the women take this in. The 20 years. The long time of a marriage. The cheating.

“And you Ladies here understand, don’t you?” GTST paused for a moment, letting the drama of the moment build. . . .

PP and DL and SAAP all wait even though it’s high time to get outta Utopia and into the shower. “He did NOT answer the question!” GTST harrumphed. “I repeat. HE DID NOT answer the question! Now what does that tell you? I tell you what it tells me. He cheated in the past. He’s cheating right now. And he’s gonna continue to cheat in the future.”

“I just wanna find me a Good Man,” SAAP sighs, repeating her hopeless fantasy aloud again.

“You ain’t gonna find Him Girlfriend,” GTST asserts, rising with her hands on her wide hips, pointing her finger. “He ain’t on this planet. No, he’s not. So my advice to you is do what you gotta do for yourself. Don’t you ever let any man cheat on you! And if he does? You kick him to the curb! You hear me! You tell that Cheating Man that you won’t stand for his Cheating Ways!”

“It takes a cheating woman to cheat with the cheating man,” One Quiet Woman who’s been sitting in the dark corner finally pipes up.




“That’s a good point,” PP agrees.

“Yes it is. Yes it is,” GTST nods, “It does take two. But like I said, they don’t wanna admit it. They just wanna take what they can get and to Hell with their marriage, to Hell with their integrity to Hell with their marriage vows of lifelong commitment and fidelity till death do us part."

PP thinks this is the clincher. That Death do us Part bit. Who the hell can make such a commitment or predict the future to that degree?





It’s insane!

Which is one of the many reasons PP has never gotten married.

The Loudspeaker harangues them all out of the Cheating Man Diatribe, “It is now 9:51 at the Downtown Oakland YMCA! Please finish whatever you are doing and make your way up to the Lobby and out. We will open again at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning. Have a good night and thanks for being members and guests of the Downtown Oakland YMCA.”

GTST rolls her eyes, blocks the door outta Utopia. “You’all gotta hear the end of this!” she pleads as the women pile past her.

But everyone’s heard enough. At least for now.

Though PP is sure that GTST will resume her storytelling next time: same Cheating Time, Same Cheating Channel, Same Cheating Man! (or Woman!)

The Power of the Indignant Lap Swimmer

At hilltop mall pool. Crazed as usual with goddamn families. One family was actually taking up a LAP LANE!!!

Can you imagine PP’s indignation?

C’mon.

So she stood at the edge of the pool in front of the offending family use of a lap swimmer’s domain, fins in hand, swim mask on, showered and ready…..

And miracle of miracles! The lifeguard saw her and came running from the other side of the pool to direct the Offending Family to move to the other side of the lap lanes.





“Over there?” one of them had questioned, incredulous.
“Yes. You need to move to the left hand section of the pool. This is a lap lane reserved for lap swimmers.”

Wow!

PP watched as the family vacates HER lane: two or three burly guys, a couple women, one with a tiny baby (hope she had her swim diaper on—-PP does NOT need another Brown Alert-—but that’s another blog—she keeps saying this, she knows, but it is)





They grumble just a bit and then duck under the lane lines to swim in the designated Family Chaos Area. (Frankly, PP could see why they didn’t want to be over THERE, but…..they were a Family after all. Yet another reason why PP is glad that she’s NOT!)

So, the Power of the Solitary Indignant Lap Swimmer looking pitiful and perplexed.

Try it sometime.

It might work to clear a lap lane for you, or it might not.

Depends on the level of your Indignation.
And the level of a Lifeguard’s Awareness.




And the level of the Offending Family’s Acquiesce. (A decidedly random variable!)

Milkshake Reveries

“I really want a milkshake!” Super Swimmer Woman shakes her head and laughs to herself as she continues to rub lotion all over her tanned toned body.
“Me too!” PP yells down the aisle of lockers as she pulls on her suit. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.”
“Yeah, I know. But a milkshake would certainly solve the problem.”

“I went to this place in Piedmont last weekend where you could make your own shakes. Well, not actually make them. They were pre-made. What you did was get one out of the freezer section and then you could mix it up at their shake machine and it was like you were making one fresh yourself.”

“Yum. What flavor did you get?”
”Strawberry. I love strawberry,” SSW grinned.
“Me too! Everyone always wants chocolate or vanilla, but I love strawberry!” PP agrees, trying to stave off the hunger pangs before she plunges into the pool. It really is too late to swim. 8:45-9:30 p.m. She hadn’t eaten in over 6 hours. But what to do? It wasn’t like she could pack a milkshake and bring it with her to the pool.

“I love the strawberry shakes with the real pieces of strawberries in them,” SSW is in Milkshake Reverie now.
“Oh, I don’t.” PP wrinkles her nose. “I like the really bad fake creamy ones. Like the ones you get at MacDonald’s.”





“They have strawberry ones at MacDonald’s?”
“Yeah. They’re super trashy and delicious. You know with the little bit of vanilla swirl still at the top with the pink oozy syrup not quite stirred in.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll have to check ‘em out. I didn’t think MacDonald’s would have strawberry.”


PP nods as she snaps on her mask and inserts the completely ineffectual earplugs. (This is another blog--why oh why don't earplugs work anymore? even the new ones? the ringing in her ears is evidence of their ineffectiveness but....okay, see? Definitely another blog)

But in her own silent world now she remembers how her mom and sisters used to go to MacDonald’s when they were kids and just get milkshakes. And how her mom went on these milkshake ‘diets’ where all she had all day was just a MacDonald’s milkshake (she believes it was strawberry—maybe this is where PP’s taste for the pink variety stems from?) and then she remembers another offshoot of this ‘diet’ where her mom would just drink one eggnog all day.




These liquid treat diets seemed so fun and exotic to PP as a child. Maybe that’s why she still enjoys stopping off at MacDonald’s on her way up and down Hwy 5, in Santa Maria, or King City, or some other godforsaken truck stop, but there’s always a McDonald’s and she always just wants a Strawberry shake. (Well, sometimes DHBF will tempt her with some fries.)

Milkshakes. Who knew that a simple wistful desire voiced out loud in the women’s locker room of the Oakland Y could inspire such a tasty blog.

Strawberry shake anyone? (Of course, after the pool!)

Dialogues

That evening, tuckered out in front of the TV, PP savored the discovery of yet another trashy t.v. show: Holly Hunter as a sassy trashy bleached blond detective in Saving Grace who while investigating the murder of a 99 year old gamblin man, had to tell her best friend how her husband had betrayed her. Then the best friend had the predictably teary, yet slightly warped, nervous breakdown during which she made Holly promise not to ever sleep with another Married Man, which PP thought was a bit unrealistic given Holly's obvious appeal.

At the muted commercial break, after all this intense dramatic dialogue, PP realized, unlike Holly, she hadn’t spoken to anyone all day.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. She had had a conversation with a composed young swimmer while taking a shower. Now PP is definitely NOT thrilled about the plethora of kids allowed to use the WOMEN’S locker room at the Hilltop Y. This is something that she’s appreciated immensely at the Oakland Y---no kids under 18 allowed in the women’s locker room. No exceptions. In fact, if any of those sneaky underage darlings did try to venture into the Oakland Y’s Women’s room, there was signage all over the place instructing Members to use the White Phone to call upstairs and have the infiltrators booted.

This is as it should be.

Yet, PP has been swimming long enough to know that kids rule often when it comes to pools, locker rooms and showers.

That was just a given. So, when this young lady stood at the entry to the showers calmly staring at PP in the shower (This is another thing PP hates—Kids that stare at the naked women. In the shower. Out of the shower. They stare. Of course, this is natural. But again, just another reason to keep them quarantined in their own lock rooms. )




“Did you have fun in the pool?” PP asked, deciding chatting might be better than the stare down.
“Yes.” She nodded seriously, wrapping her Hello Kitty towel round her pink suit.
“What’s your favorite stroke?”
“The backstroke.”
”Ah.”
“And the …..” she paused searching for the correct term.
“The breaststroke, with the frog kick?” PP demonstrated with a kick in the shower, but then realized too late that this would only exacerbate the unwanted staring.
“Yes,” she nodded. “And the….” Again she searched for the word. What’s up with that? PP wondered. She can swim all the strokes but she doesn’t know the names of them?
“The freestyle?” PP offered, making the arcing arm motions in the shower.
Swimmer Kid nodded. “And the butterfly!” she announced confidently.
“Really? The butterfly? Wow. That’s a hard one.”
SK nodded again.





“You must be a really good swimmer!” PP smiled through the spray.
“Yes. I had fun in the pool.”
This seemed to signal an end to the dialogue. The kid had a natural storyteller’s knack for ‘framing’ her narrative.

“You can get in the shower now,” Mom bustled in, all business, instructing her daughter.
SK meekly obeyed, her attention now completely on Mom. PP was a distraction of the past.

Which was fine by PP.
Though at the end of the day, when PP looked back on it, she thought, there must be a story here somewhere with that Shower Staring Kid....

And there is.

But only a slight one. Esp when compared to Holly Hunter's story. Who of course, in the end solved the murder, toasted her best friend's grudging forgiveness of her cheating husband, and polished off a basket full of barbecued ribs with her cynical boss before heading to the pool.





(You all do know PP just made that last bit up, right?)

Hilltop YMCA Zoo

It was a ZOO! At least on a Friday night. (PP had swum last Sunday and it had been a swimmer's Paradise. Her own lane. No screaming kids. A lovely waving lifeguard.)

Yet, on this particular Friday, well, it was anything but a swimmer’s paradise. Unless you're an 8 year old fish.

And she was.

When initially her father (PP assumed he was Dad--who else would be taking an 8 year old swimming? Okay, maybe a brother or a cousin.) But Dad. This seemed right. He was encouraging, but serious. And so was she. In her little Speedo navy suit. Bright pink goggles. Hair pulled back in a pony tail.

She was ready to go.

Yet PP was dubious when she first spied a kid. A kid? Wants to swim in her LAP lane?
C'mon.

Yet, the Dad was so nice, "Can we share your lane?" A shy smile on his friendly round brown face; a weed-like tattoo on his bicep that was surprisingly non-intimidating. Maybe because of his daughter. How could he be a big tough trouble- maker with a sweet little fish at his side? (Though this is an old stereotype of tattoos, PP knows this. They have connotations of coolness or even ordinariness nowadays.)

"Sure," PP tried not to act too accommodating. After all, she'd rather have her own lane.

Obviously, this was definitely not in the cards this night. The 'family' side of the pool was packed. Hundreds of screaming, splashing kids. (Okay, maybe not hundreds, but it sounded like that many)

The ear piercing cries of "Marco Polo" echoing in the pool’s A framed inside arena. (Can't kids come up with another obnoxious pool game already? Hell, PP & her sisters were torturing her parents with this cry 40 years ago!)





Ready to Go Girl shifted eagerly back and forth from foot to foot, anxious to get started. Again, PP wondered how this was gonna work out. Circle swim? With a kid?

Shit.

So when she asked Dad if they wanted to circle swim (and not very nicely either), he just gave her a big friendly grin and said, “No. That is okay. We will swim on this side,” motioning to splitting the lane down the middle.

Okay, PP nodded, wondering how the hell this was gonna work out. Though when she thought about circle swimming with a kid, she thought maybe splitting the lane might be the better option. For her. And as you all know, when swimming, it’s all about PP!

And the two of them did it somehow. Stayed on their half of the lane. Well, most of the time. Dad would take off. Daughter would follow. She was actually quite a good little swimmer. A most passable freestyle which reminded PP of her own way back when. In Hacienda Heights. Swimming back and forth back and forth, lap after lap in the dear little pool. 100’s of laps at a time. (It was a shorter pool than the Y, granted, but still PP was pretty serious about lap swimming, even when she was 10!)





Sometimes Ready to Go Girl would get too excited, want to jump in front of Dad and not wait. Once she was so anxious, PP stopped at the wall to let her go before her. “You wanna go ahead of me?” she asked.

RtGG looked at her wide-eyed through the foggy goggles, nodding shyly. No verbal answer necessary as she took off in a speedy flash.

She really was a little fish.

PP wanted to tell her this. What a good little swimmer she was. But they got out before she had a chance.

Yet, somehow, PP knew that RtGG knew she was a good swimmer. It was evident in her stroke, in her enthusiasm, but most of all in the way she followed Dad, so eagerly, back and forth back and forth back and forth.

There is something about the Father/Daughter swim experience, isn’t there? PP remembers her father and the Mr. Banana Buddy games and the Dead Bug games and how special (cliché yet true) these times were and the memory still is.





And so for all those fathers who take their daughters to the pool (and the daughters who can swim!) PP’s willing to share her lane with them.

Even if it is a Zoo.

El Cerrito Pool Shower Secret

Shhhhhh……

It’s a secret. Or at least it was to PP. Till she got in the know.

She’s new (again--she did swim here quite a bit when Dashingly Handsome BF lived in the Richmond Annex) to the El Cerrito Pool. A lovely pool, but alas FREEZING! (At least the two times she’s swum there recently.)

This is too bad since she can walk to it from the Cottage. But then again, walking isn’t everything. As all of you swimmers know.






So, she swims. She freezes. It’s late afternoon, early evening. The shadows of the big pine trees spread across her end of the pool to protect her from the evil sun. (Well, almost. There is a smite of sunshine at the lifeguard end that she tries to swim around by going really close to the wall. But hell, this is a bit much. Even for a sun scarred PP!)

In any event, she’s got Goosebumps up and down her arms & legs, and can barely finish her workout cuz she’s so cold. Disgustedly, a young fit Young Fast Young Asian Girl gets in the lane with her to share. Passes her every 4 laps or so. Waits at the end while her coach/father? gives her the next set. She’s not cold at all (PP can tell she's not cold. She's just so relaxed and bored. Can you be bored if you're freezing? PP thinks not, but has to analyze the reasons for it another time as it's really beside the point now and not a part of the story. Of course, she coulda written her analysis here instead of this aside, but she didn't cuz she doesn't really know or hell, doesn't really care.) In any case, PP seethes in warmth coveting envy as YFYAG just hangs out at the end for like 5 minutes at a time.

How the hell can that be?

Oh to be young and fast.

Actually PP was never that fast. Well not in the pool at least.

So, when PP does emerge from the pool and scurry into the showers to warm up, she’s a frozen fishsicle.





Turns on the shower. And...shit.
Lukewarm? No, it can’t be!
She stands there shivering, holding her hand under the stream hoping that it will get warmer. But it doesn’t.

Goddammit goddammit goddammit!

She’s never going back to the El Cerrito Pool again!

Yet then, voila! A Shower Angel in the form of a middle aged suburban woman magically appears from the other side of the shower (It's a large metal pole in the center of the tiles with four nozzles coming out of it instead of being on the walls—this only adds to the magic of it all for some reason.)




SA smiles beatifically at PP. “If you don’t turn the spray to its full pressure, it gets warmer,” she beams as she reaches around and adjusts the handle for PP, the water pressure gentler as it sprays.

And it works! Ahhhh! Warm water to thaw her out!

“Wow!” PP exclaims. “I never woulda figured that one out!”
“Yes, well, it is unusual, I will concede,” SA smiles mysteriously as she asks around if anyone has some shampoo she can borrow. Which by the way PP has never understood. How can you borrow the shampoo? You take it. You use it. You leave. Do these women remember that they were given a precious smite of shampoo and return the favor next time?

Maybe.

PP is at least going to practice this good karma with the shower if she ever ventures forth again to the El Cerrito Pool.

Or at least divulge the ‘secret’ of getting a warm shower at the El Cerrito Pool for any of her brave-the-cold swimmer readers that may find themselves in the same frigid predicament that PP was.

Before the Shower Angel, that is!

Got it!

PP's Luddite computer brain has figured out how to not use the Netscape email anymore. (Totally by accident. She has no idea how she did it.)

So....onward ho all stories tangentially and literally water immersion connected.

Sigh....it's such a relief. Whatever would she have done without her backlog (waterlog) of 250 plus swimming stories?


Pool ponder for the day:

Why the hell did PP ever choose swimming as her obsession? It is kid-infested in the summer! Arrrgggg!