Snoring?

“Was I snoring?”

Glancing down at the Peaceful Questioner Woman, who’d been lying sprawled out half the length of the wooden bench, PP smiled. (Even though she was sure PQW couldn’t see her in the dark that was Utopia.)

“Nah,” PP answered. “Were you really asleep?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Do you usually snore?”
She sighed thinking about it. “My daughter says I do.”
”Well,” PP laughed. “That’s probably just your daughter.”
“Yeah, maybe.”


Later, PP asked DL if she snored. “No, but RQ does.”
“Yeah, so does my sis,” PP offered, trying to get her swimsuit untangled after pulling it off in the shower. Why oh why didn’t she just go buy a new suit instead of wearing two ancient falling apart ones on top of each other to keep her ass from showing?

Shopaphobia.





But that’s another blog.

This one is about snoring, which actually has nothing to do with swimming, but when has that stopped PP? After all, she did get the reference to her pitiful swimsuit apparel in. That counts, right?

“Have you heard your sis snore?” DL asked. Or PP imagined she did to keep the story going and back on track.
“Oh, yeah. And it’s the same as the woman in Utopia who complained about her daughter. My sis’ daughter also makes a point of pointing out her mom’s voluminous snoring. Much to my sis’ dismay. And denial. “I do NOT snore!”

But yet she does. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of, right?

Yet PQW seemed alarmed that she might have been snoring in Utopia. And granted this might have been a bit disconcerting. If she had and she had heard herself.

Isn’t that the beauty of snoring? You’re asleep so you can’t hear yourself?

PP doesn’t know. Since she doesn’t snore.

Or does she?

Good thing she doesn't have a daughter to let her know if she does. She'll have to leave that task to her substitute children.

Those cats will let her know, right?

Or not.

Not Everyone’s a Swimmer

“I hafta tell ya, every time you say you’re gonna go to the pool, I cringe”, PP's coworker laughs, shaking her head.
“Why is that?” PP asks.
“It’s just that I’d rather go on a hike, or walk the dog, or hell, visit the dentist rather than dive into a pool! I’m not a swimmer.”

“Yeah, I understand." PP nods like she does understand. But really she doesn't. At least not yet. So, she tries for some sort of understanding rejoinder: "Yeah, well, I just grew up with it.”

“Exactly. But my parents never gave us swim lessons. For whatever reason, it just wasn’t important ….so I didn’t know how to swim. I actually didn’t learn to swim 'till I was in Jr. High. I was 13. You know Willard Jr. High School?”

“Oh yeah. Nice little pool there.”

“It is. But for me, it was almost traumatic. I mean they weren’t gonna let me graduate from the 8th grade till I learned to swim. And unlike you, since I didn’t grow up with it, I was just terrified of the water. I have this fear of drowning. And I’m sure that stems from not being familiar with swimming and growing up in and around pools. So when I was at Willard, they put me in this swim class, and I tell you, PP, I was the only White Chick in this crowd of African American girls named Latisha. And they were all scared to death of the water and LOUD. ‘Help help me oh Lord I gonna drown!’ Which of course just terrified me and made my fear of drowning that much worse.”








Laughing, PP nods, “So, did you learn how to swim?”

“Oh, yeah, I did eventually, and for me, it was a Real Rite of Passage, so when I got married and had kids, I vowed to myself that I wasn’t gonna let the same thing happen to them. So I gave them all swim lessons and the older two took right to it, but the youngest, he was just like me. Scared to death. Used to fool the swim instructors out at King Pool, you know it? Out on Hopkins?
“Oh yeah…”





“Well, when my youngest took group lessons there. He used to scoop up handfuls of water…” She cups her hands over her desk to demonstrate.“…and then splash the water on his head to look like he’d dunked under. And I thought, hey, that’s pretty smart.”

“That’s so funny,” PP says, “cause it was the same in my family. Me and my middle sis took right to the water, but the youngest. She had a harder time with it. Didn’t learn till way later.”

”Exactly! But this kid, my youngest, finally did learn when I took him to private lessons one-on-one. The instructor was this really mellow knowledgeable young lady who just worked with him about the dunking your head under the water thing and told him, ‘Hey if you don’t want to dunk your head in you don’t have to but if you do dunk your head under, it won’t kill you.’ So eventually he tried it. And it didn’t kill him.”





PP nods. “Yeah, not everyone's a swimmer. I get that.”

But actually she still didn’t. Why the hell wouldn’t everyone want to swim? Of course there is the real possibility of drowning if you don't know how to swim. But why wouldn't everyone want to learn? It’s the BEST thing in the world. Why it’s the closest thing to being back in the womb as Super Swimmer Woman had said one night in Utopia.

PP wasn’t so sure about the Womb Thing, but she did know that there was, as you all know who read this blog, something about swimming that you can’t get anywhere else.

“Is it kinda meditative for you?” Non-Swimmer Co-worker asks, interrupting her reverie.
“Oh, yeah. As long as I don’t have to run the YMCA obstacle course.”
“You mean if you hafta share a lane?”
”Yeah. That can get a little dicey.”
“I could see that.”

But PP could see that she really didn't. For her, swimming was probably still a dicey affair. And this was such a tragedy. For what would Reality be without Swimming?

PP couldn't imagine. It'd be like living without chocolate. Or Dancing without the Stars. Or barfing without the cats. (Well, she could live without cats' barfing.)





You get the gist.

Life without swimming?

It just isn't living.

At least not in PP's Reality.

And frankly, what other Reality matters?

Brilliant!

"It was brilliant!"
Owen Hill, poet extraordinaire and mystery writer magnifique proclaimed.

And it was. DHBF, aka Ian Lambton, swam to glory in his debut as the narrator of Melville's Bartleby.

"Your BF certainly has a LOT of different people in him," KS said.
"Yup," PP responded. "Means I don't have to sleep around as much as I used to."

So, let's look forward to DHBF's next run of his genius one-man show. At the Marsh Theater or beyond.

Oh, and PP thinks there's a Brilliant Swim in his near future. Without the top hat of course!

Bartleby Swims in the Marsh

And when he arises, he can don his goggles instead of his top hat and join PP at the Pool where he's been sorely missed for weeks and weeks and weeks!

Tomorrow is the day!

Ah, Bartleby!
Ah, Humanity!
Ah, Poolby!

Dangling Modifiers

“Ouch!" PP shrieked in agony at the bottom of the hot tub, not knowing that the weird wrong sharp plastic thingee was on the bottom of the tub. When the hell did it get installed? Had she missed stubbing her foot on it all these years?
"Attacking my big toe where did that thingee come from why didn't I see it?" she whined. "Hey, how's that for a Dangling Modifier?" she asked DL.

"What's a Dangling Modifier?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but I think that...." PP can't summon the definition to the surface of her pool soaked brain.

Sometimes, she wonders how the hell she’s ever gotten this far in her career as an English Instructor. Since she called the above a dangling modifier, which it isn’t even, but actually more of a run-on sentence. Then neither she nor DL could define one as they headed into Utopia.

“Sandy will know,” PP announced when she saw Sandy lying naked, sweating and relaxed on the top shelf of the sauna. Obviously, she was a Grammar Expert.
“What will I know?” Sandy doesn’t miss an opportunity to participate in Great Utopia Queries.
“A Dangling Modifier,” DL said.
“Do you know what one is?” PP asked.
“Here we are an Editor and an English Teacher and neither one of us can define it.”
“Ummm……” Sandy thought aloud, still lying down. She wasn’t gonna expend too much effort. Or she was good at Grammar Analysis in the prone position. “Isn’t it when you don’t know what something is referring to?”

“Maybe,” PP agreed, not sure. “Can you think of an example?”
“That’s just what I was trying to do,” Sandy paused, thinking hard. “But I just can’t come up with one right now.”

“Well, it is 9:30 and we have just worked out and it’s time to eat and go to bed,” PP offered. Maybe this is why she can’t get her brain to spit out a definition and an example?

“Dangling Modifier?” Towel Covered Always Vietnamese Woman Swimmer asked, sleepily. “What is this, Dangling Modifier?”
“Oh, that’d be good. To get the answer from the Vietnamese contingent.”
“Actually,” PP interrupted, “from all my working with international students, they do know their grammar terms. They might not be able to write a sentence, but they can tell you what a Conditional Subjunctive Blah blah blah is!”




“Do you know what it is?” Sandy asked TCAVW.

“Dangling Modifier….” She rolled over onto her side, careful to keep covered up. PP has always marveled at her ability to keep the towel on her body with it never falling off. It seems to have some sort of special elastic holder at the top to help. But she wears it everywhere. In the hot tub. In Utopia. In the shower.

Not in the pool though. Here she dons a swimsuit. But PP has always wondered how she gets from her street clothes to the swimsuit without the towel? Maybe she does use the towel?

Oh, how far off the topic of Dangling Modifiers is this?

A Dangling Towel would be much more interesting though, don’t you think? What is under that towel that she doesn’t want anyone to see?

Something else that dangles?

“No….” Constant Towel Woman answers slowly now, “I never heard of this. Dangling Modifier.”
“Ah, okay, well, I’m curious now,” Sandy said. “I’m gonna look it up first thing when I get home.”
“You’ll let us know, next time?” PP asks.
“Sure, of course.”

But yet, of course, PP had to look it up when she got to Woo Woo U the next day.


“A dangling modifier fails to refer LOGICALLY [PP’s caps] to any word in the sentence. Dangling modifiers are easy to repair, but they can be hard to recognize in your own writing.” (Diana Hacker, Goddess of Grammar)

And here’s Diana’s example:

“Opening the window to let out a huge bumblebee, the car accidentally swerved into an oncoming car.”

To fix:

When the driver opened the window to let out a huge bumblebee, the car accidentally swerved into an oncoming car.

The message of the modifier is:

Let the Bumblebee drive!





And the message of the Towel is:

Let it fall let it fall let it fall!

Spitting

“The only thing that was grossing me out was that Asian couple in the lane next to me.” CC wrinkled her cute nose, shaking her head.

“Why? What were they doing?” PP hadn’t noticed them other than the fact that they weren’t swimming much. Just hanging around on the side of the pool, taking up the lane. Which didn’t really matter. For some reason the Hilltop Y was unusually quiet. Was this because everyone was home mourning the loss of light with the demise of daylight savings time? (Sad sad sad SAD!!!)

CC took a deep breath, then went on, “They kept leaning over the side of the pool and spitting kaapuuukuuueeee into the drain. It was so disgusting!”

PP laughed. “Maybe they were from China? It’s a cultural thing?”
“I don’t know.....” CC was dubious.

“...Cuz when I was teaching in China, and of course, I’m generalizing here with gross stereotypes and all, but this was my experience. One of my students, in the middle of my lecture, just up and spit a huge loogie (PP hates that word, but it’s the only one she can think of right now) in the aisle right in front of me. Naturally, I completely freaked out. Yelled at him about how rude and disgusting this was. How disrespectful to the professor (this always shamed them) and the other students (not so much). He was initially confused, and then as I continued to hurl invectives at him, I could tell that he was starting to feel really bad. He didn’t realize that it wasn’t an acceptable behavior in the classroom setting. Then I felt kinda bad for yelling at him. But not too bad. Cuz it was disgusting. Lying right there on the cement floor 4 feet away from me."




“UGGHHH!!!! OKAY! Enough!” CC shuddered, completely grossed out now. Her swim at the Hilltop Y had been so nice, relaxing, rejuvenating, till PP started going on and on about spitting.

Well, CC'd brought it up in the first place, right?

"Maybe you shoulda just ignored the Spitting Asian Couple in the lane on your left side and instead concentrated on Gandhi swimming in the lane on your right. Then all would have been so peaceful."

Laughing her raucous guffaw, CC nodded. "Yeah. I did notice Gandhi too. His boxers ballooning underwater. His scrawny legs flailing inside the too big leg openings....” She had to stop, wrinkling her nose again. Another image that was not so pleasant.



"Well at least he didn’t spit," PP laughed.
"No, you’re right. He didn’t spit."

For Gandhi was above such Human Expulsion Fluid Frailties. He was a man of the mind, not of the mucus, as evidenced by the following quote:

Action is no less necessary than thought to the instinctive tendencies of the human frame.
Mohandas Gandhi

In other words:
Spitting is no less necessary than swimming to the instinctive tendencies of the human frame.

Own Lane!

PP got her OWN lane!
How happy is she?
This never happens at the Oakland Y.
Y?
Cuz there are too many swimmers who want to share your lane. And you don’t want to share your lane, but you have to; otherwise, you’re a swimmer without morals. Which PP admits she’d like to be. But when it comes right down to it, she can’t help but share the lane if someone asks, albeit begrudgingly.

DL thinks that PP should keep track of the number of times she gets her own lane (for the entire swim!) She thinks that there’s some way to track this on the blog. PP is gonna look into this. But she doesn’t have to hurry with her investigation.

She won’t get her own lane again for a long long time.

Unless she does.

Which will make her very very happy!

CRAZY

“She really is a fish, isn’t she?”
GP grinned as she relayed her husband’s assessment of PP. Going swimming in this weather?

In the worst storm of the year? (Okay, it was the first storm of the year, but still.....)

“Or he coulda said she was the Craziest Fish, really!” PP muttered aloud to herself as she vainly tried to see the freeway in front of her through the driving gray sheets of windy rain.

What she will do for a swim!

Is the pool worth risking your life for?

Goddamn right it is.

PP hit the brake as the cars in front of her slowed to a crawl, red brake lights thankfully warning her to keep her distance. The gargantuan yellow truck at the front of the line of cars spewed a ghastly black smoke as it chugged up Hwy 80 toward Pinole.

Glancing down at her speedometer, PP saw that she was barely going 35 miles an hour.

This is for the best, she thought. Of course unless some stupid idiot rear-ends her. “Maybe you should think less about what’s behind you and concentrate on what’s in front of you instead,” DHBF had advised when she complained of yet another harrowing drive to his apartment on Fruitvale Ave.
“But I’ve been rear ended twice!” she’d exclaimed.
“So have I,” he answered. Why the hell does he always have to do that? Whatever she’s being highly sensitive about, he’s already done it. And it was nothing.





Trying now to follow his advice, PP kept a good distance between herself and the car in front of her, thinking to herself how CRAZY this was to be driving to the pool in such a storm. Esp. after her nervous breakdown earlier that morning after getting caught in the torrential downpour in the parking lot of Safeway. Couldn’t get the Geo’s door open. Had to run around to the other side of the car, spastically fitting the key into the front door, finally opening it to let the rain gush into the car. Tossing the plastic sopping wet bags all over the back seat. Her hair matted to her forehead in a pitiful clump. Slamming the door, she sat inside the car, soaking in the front seat, breathing in and out rapidly, trying to control herself.

PP tries not to have breakdowns in public places.

Was inside her car a public place? she wondered.

Damn. She breathed in again. Watching the rain hurling down from the sky through the foggy windshield.

If she were really a fish, a little rain wouldn’t really have bothered her, right?

Now, finally taking the exit for the pool, PP waited at the light, before making the left hand turn. A angry "HONK"! from behind startled her already rattled self. Had she just cut off someone behind her because of her fogged up windows? Damn!
That's what she gets for the followment of DHBF’s advice to not be so concerned with what’s behind her.

Oh, blame him! She grinned to herself as she headed down the windy hill toward the Hilltop Y.

Yet. 15 minutes later. In the pool. Only one other Crazy Fish was in the water.

Heaven!

It had all been worth it, she thought as she jumped in, streaming through the glassy water, feeling her arms stretch out and cut through the water.

Later, post swim, relaxed and satisfied, PP came out of the sauna and ran into Scraping Walker Woman, who had just done her water walking. “The weather is pretty bad today, isn’t it?” she said, giving PP her blue eyed twinkle even as she grunted toward the shower.

“Oh, yeah!” PP agreed as she turned on a shower. “The rain is Nasty. Esp. driving on the freeway.”

SWW nodded, considering PP’s plight before answering. “Yes, well I live close by. But I thought to myself that I needed to come here today. Because there were lots of days before when I wasn’t well enough to come at all.”

PP had nodded. Now here’s a person with real problems, not just Parking Lot Breakdown Disorder.

And she appreciated what she could do today. And of course, the Pool was key. Admirable to be so optimistic in the face of physical limitations, PP thought.
Oh, to hell with Optimism, she grinned as she headed back over to her locker.

She’d take Crazy any day.

The Marriott at Kalapaki Beach

”Not that I don’t LOVE all of you beautiful people, but….” Love Fest Woman glances around the pandemonium that is the Lihue airport and sighs, “…I’ve booked a room at the Marriott.”
“How much is a room at the Marriott?” someone asks wistfully.
“$199.99. But I don’t care. I can’t take it anymore. Ciao!”

PP watches in a jealous cloud of exasperation as LFW strides purposefully out of the airport, husband and luggage in tow. Damn! Why can’t she go to the Marriott?

Oh, yeah that little thing called money.

Damn again. Bet there’s a really great pool at the Marriott too!

Sighing loudly, PP plops back into the uncomfortable plastic chair, her head aching, her nerves frayed.

She’d asked if they could be sent to a hotel when the flight had been canceled and there wasn’t another one till the next day. But nooooo….

“We can book you on a flight to LA and then from there you can get a connecting flight to SFO.”
“Are you serious?” PP had practically screamed at the Stony Faced Agent. “I’m not flying to LA! That’s ridiculous.”

Stony Face looked right through PP before continuing. "Or there's a flight out of Honolulu to SFO tonight. We could...."

"We just came from Honolulu! I'm NOT going back there! This is insane!"

“I’m sorry, Ma’am," she answered, gathering up some papers to prepare to walk away. She knew an abusive passenger when she saw one! "... but that’s the best we can do right now. Why don’t you just take a seat and wait.”

Wait for what? PP had wanted to holler at her. But what was the point? Obviously, Stony Face was NOT going to help her.

The sleep deprivation was debilitating at this point in the ordeal. (They'd gotten up a 6 a.m. to get to the Honolulu airport for the connecting flight to Lihue. Ass backwards, did anyone say?) And so, PP was NOT gonna spend the night on a flight to LA or in the goddamn waiting room at the Honolulu airport where she'd already spent an hour lying on the floor in the air-conditioned room. Why the hell is everything kept a miserable 53 degrees in Hawaii?

Hell, if she wanted 53 degrees she woulda stayed in San Francisco.

And so, she waited. And waited. And waited.

DHBF, on the other hand, was standing is some line, talking to various other passengers. He could juggle waiting on hold for United Airlines while chatting away amiably with complete strangers. How the hell did he seem, at least outwardly, to to be having a great time in all the chaos? While she, on the other hand, was way past a nervous breakdown and could only sit mutely in the damn plastic chair trying not to cry.




Must be in the DNA as her mother would say. Or all that acting background. Pretence would come in handy right about now.

“I’m gonna go make a reservation at another hotel,” Marching over to DHBF, PP had finally gotten up after an hour of watching the pandemonium of non-action in action. Nodding at her, he continued to listen to both the phone and some dumpy guy go on and on about his flight to LA that he was just so relieved to get.

Shit, she thought as she went over to the phone booth and looked up hotels. There were only 4 listed on Kauai. (Of course, the Marriott caught her eye first) Dialing the number on her too small cell phone, she got on the line with the Kauai Inn. Had made the reservation when felt herself nudged in the middle of the call my Marin Aussie Woman who wanted a reservation too.

Funny how everyone bands together in a crisis.

Not that everyone would view being stranded at the Lihue Airport on Kauai a crisis. But an airport waiting room full of angry passengers is the same wherever you are: Kauai, Bakersfield, Beijing. (That’s another story. But even China Airlines put them up in a hotel when the flight was canceled. Hell, if it can be done in Communist China, why not America the Beautiful?)


PP and MAW made the reservation at the Kauai inn. Then sat down to wait for vouchers for tomorrow’s flight that their respective mates were supposedly getting.

Hours and hours and hours slogged by. By 6 pm there were only a few of them left.

No announcements had ever made about what United was gonna do with them. But something had happened to most of the passengers, cause by this time (the flight had been canceled at 1? 2? After waiting on the runway in the airplane for an hour) there were now only a handful of them left.

And United gave in.
The new crew came on at 6 and guess what?

They were going to the Marriott!

Relief poured thro PP’s tired limbs and brain. Thank goodness. At least this ordeal in the airport was over and she’d get to swim!







After settling in their deluxe FREE room, PP had to do you know what--find the pool!
And when she did, her expectations were more than met. Because this Marriott had the most amazing pool in the world. Five hot tubs surrounded by Greek columns that you had to swim to. The pool itself was not rectangular or the insipid liver shape, but ROUND!

Why this pool looked like a tacky replica of William Randolph Hearst’s Pool at his famous Castle. But this one at the Marriott---you could swim in!

When they arrived, it was dark evening, but the pool was lit up in romantic magic. Embracing couples floated in the dark, the girls riding on the boys' backs, their arms slung lazily round the boys' necks. Leaving little to the imagination even in the dark. The air was a balmy 78 degrees; the full moon shone its pearl light on the dark turquoisy water; the black tiles glistening seductively under the glimmering surface.

Enchanting and enchanted. PP couldn’t wait to jump in.

And when she did?






All the stress of the day just melted away. Floating in the warm moonlight under a giant statue of a Rabbit, she swam in circles till she was dizzy!



Once again, a pool saves the day.

But of course, you all know this already.

If only United Airlines had figured it out earlier!

First Sightings in the Perfect Hawaii Sea

Swimming in the perfect blue warm sea outside their bedroom window in Hau’ula, PP revels in its embrace. Ah! Hawaii ocean. There’s no swimming like it in the world! She could swim all day in this sea if she didn’t get hungry or her ear plugs didn’t leak or she didn’t have to go to the bathroom.

Okay you didn’t need to know that last one.

But it was so lovely to be back in Hawaii again. PP swims and swims and swims. Out to the breaking waves on the coral reef several hundred yards from the shore and back again.

Dashingly Handsome Boyfriend is also in the sea, swimming away with his snorkel and red zoomers. So serious and cute in the Hau’ula waters.

Afterwards, resting on the porch that overlooks the water, PP sighs happily.

Till DHBF gets out of the water. Too breathless with excitement to be believed.

“You know what I saw?”
“No.”
“You’ll never guess.”
“No, probably not.”
"I saw a turtle….” He waits for PP’s excited response. She sighs inwardly. How come she never sees a turtle? In fact when she thinks about it she hasn’t seen one since she’s been coming to Hawaii with DHBF. He must be taking all the Turtle Sightings away from her.
“Really?” She doesn’t try to keep the envy and disappointment for her selfish turtleless self out of her tone.






He doesn’t notice, but carries on. So excited. “Yeah! A Big One!” He spreads his arm wide demonstrating the Turtle’s Monster Size.

How could she have missed it? Part of her doesn’t believe that he really saw one. But then she knows better. DHBF Never lies! (At least that’s what he’s been telling her all these years.)


“….he was so close to me! And I could almost touch it and then it saw me and just up and sprinted away.” He pauses for a breath. Not waiting for her response this time. He’s so goddamned excited. “And you know what else I saw?”
“No.”
“A Sting Ray!”
“Really? Aren't those poisonous?”
“Hmmm....I dunno...maybe. Anyway, it was real close too, but then it saw me and swoosh! It flew off. It was incredible!”




He looks down at her, sitting wet and morose on the white plastic porch chair. But PP doesn’t think he notices her cranky Sea Animal Sightingless State.

“What did you see?” he pauses, asking her.
She sighs, “You won't believe it...."
"Try me!"
"I can hardly believe it myself, especially after hearing your stories."
"What did you see?

"Well...." A little smile creeps up, "I did see a couple of golf balls."

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"