Blog Post #300! : Mush Brain

PP’s brain is just mush. She knows that there musta been lots of stories this last week. But where are they now? She just can’t summon them. Perhaps if she just keeps typing rambling something will appear. Or not……not…not….not….okay, that’s not working.


She remembers snippets of several stories. Shall we try that?

I.

“If you’re gonna swim in my lane, you need to stay on your side of the black line!” PP stops in mid lane to admonish super rambunctious teenager. He grins at her. His lanky brown arms flailing in happy abandon.

She shakes her head. Almost done anyway with her swim. When she gets to the wall, he’s there, grinning at her, “You sure do go fast!” he exclaims.
Her hard admonishing heart melts. She can’t help but grin back. His enthusiastic amazement wins her over. Not to mention that she’s always a sucker for compliments. “Well….I’ve got fins on.” She raises one leg outta the water to show him her extended blue and yellow foot.
His eyes open wide with delight. “WOW! I gotta get me some of those!” and off he goes, finless, weaving down the lane.

Not on his side at all.


II.






"I hada drove around forever!" She sighs as opens a locker, takes off her security guard uniform and dons a bright red swim suit. One of those with the old-fashioned skirts round it. The kind that PP cut off her swimsuit when she was 12.
“Yeah, the parking is so crazy round here,” PP nods as she squeezes into her suit.
“I sometime park in the lot, but then I don’t like to cause sometime I get outta here close to 10 o’clock and then …..” She shakes her head, “I don’t wanna go there. But I don’t wanna park out back either.”
”Yeah,” PP agrees, “it's super dark and scary back there.”
“Yeah it is.” She slams her locker closed. PP feels like if Red Swimsuit Skirted Security Guard by day is wary of parking out back, well then it’s a good thing PP never does. RSSSG looks like she could take on anyone when she’s got her uniform on.

But now?

She’s just ready for some water aerobics. “Craig’s class. He’s so great!” she announces as she heads out to the pool, humming to herself.


III.

“Your daughter is such a beautiful swimmer,” PP praises to Diabetes Woman in the Sauna. DW nods, “Yes, she is. She swim very good. Don’t you.”
The Daughter smiles shyly, nods, “I used to swim at college but they don’t have it anymore,”
“That’s a shame,” PP laments. “Must be 'cause of budget cuts?”
”THEY DON’T THINK THEY NEED SWIM BUT THE DO THEY CUT ALL THE SWIM AND NOW MY DAUGHTER SHE HAVE NO PLACE TO SWIM!” DW asserts, just a little too emphatically.

Sandy glances up from her prone heaterized position. “It’s like that all over. There’s no money.”

“BUT MY DAUGHTER!”

The daughter continues to smile, beatific. She knows something, but PP isn’t sure what. Maybe it’s just her defense mechanism again her mom’s overly enthusiastic crusading for her?

Or maybe she’s just had a wonderful swim here at the Oakland YMCA and her smile says it all.


IV

“You get what you put in to it. I tell you. That’s why I come here twice a day. Once in the morning from 8-9 and then again in the evening from 7-8.”

“Wow!” PP exclaims, genuinely impressed. She’d never be able to swim twice a day. But then it doesn’t really seem like Twice a Day woman is a swimmer. Sure she has a swim suit on, but her girth speaks of a more sedentary sort of floating then PP’s languid laps.

“Look at her!” Twice A Day Woman exclaims, “She don’t have one ounce of fat on her!”
Dyed Blonde Afro Woman laughs, kinda embarrassed as she settles down in the sauna. “Oh, yeah I do. I used to be a size 5 and now I’m a size 12 and I don’t know how the hell that happened.”

There’s a short silence. PP knows that Twice A Day Woman would give anything to be a size 12. “And look at her,” TADW points in PP’s direction. “SHE SO SKINNY! But that’s why you’re here. You and her,” She points to a shapely slim woman up top in her blue bikini. “I don’t’ know why the two of you is here, you so skinny. But I guess that’s why, right?”

Blue Bikini woman grins, doesn’t answer. Neither does PP. Another woman starts in about the movie It’s Complicated, “It’s so true to life. You just want to sleep with your ex one more time and then you don’t really want to but you do and well….” She chuckles. “It’s complicated.”






"You can say that again Girl.” TAW shakes her head, rises, lumbers out. PP watches her for a moment before she disappears round the corner to the showers.

Nothing complicated about swimming. If you wanna swim, you do; if you don't wanna swim, you do.

PP's brain has no mush around this. And besides, her brain likes this ending.

Even though it's still mush after (or because of) writing this blog!

Obsession

“I’m obsessed with Cephalopods!”

Sandy stops her Octopus story for a split second, turning toward the young buxom woman who’s made this extraordinary claim. PP glances in DL’s direction. Cephalopods! Obsession! What are the odds? Number 1, how often has an octopus story been told in Utopia? Never in PP’s experience, not to say that it doesn’t happen, but c’mon. Cephalopods? And then , number 2, in the context of this story telling, what are the odds that one of the women in Utopia listening to the story is obsessed with them?

Are you a betting readership? Like what? 1 in a million?

Sandy continues without engaging the Cephalopod Obsession Woman with more than a glance, and a “Really?” After all, she was on a narrative roll. Had to keep the momentum.

“....and so this diver, he was a free diver which makes it even more intriguing, is trying to get his camera away from the octopus and the octopus just makes off with it and the Camera Guy gives chase and it’s all on Utube….I gotta check it out. I don’t know what it’s called…..

“I think it’s called, ‘How the octopus stole my camera.’” COW ventures.




Black Pantie Woman chuckles softly. PP’s worried about her. Earlier in the hot tub she’d gotten in with PP and had been strangely quiet—not her usual bubbly self—telling stories, asking questions, so when PP had just made a friendly, “How ya doin'?'” BPW had sighed deeply, her eyes so sad as she leaned into one of the jets and said, “Not so good,”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” PP had sympathized.
“Did you have a good day?” she’d tried to smile at PP.
“Well, yes….’PP had thought about it and decided it hadn’t been so bad after she’d recovered from the Pablo Morning Pee Trauma, “It was a good day.”

BPW woman had nodded slowly, “That’s nice. I had a rough day,” she'd murmured, not really looking at PP so PP decides not to ask her why. Normally she would but there was an added thick palpable sadness to the air so she refrained. It scared her a little. So when later in the Sauna, Sandy was telling the Octopus Stealing camera story and BP woman had given a quiet little chuckle, PP felt relieved. Things weren’t so bad that she couldn’t appreciate a good old Cephalopod Yarn!

Sandy takes a new interest in Cephalopod Obsessed Woman now that she knows the Utube title, “Yes, that makes sense. That the video would be called that.”
“Why do they steal cameras?” PP asked. “Are they gonna take some octopus family pictures?”
Laughter. PP likes this when the women of Utopia laugh at her stupid jokes, “Actually, they like to redecorate,” COW answers. “They like bright shiny objects to bring back to their dens.”
Did she say dens? Do Cephalopods have dens? Maybe they inhabit octopus condo compounds with their shiny cameras, spear guns, tin cans etc decorating their living rooms?




“Why are you obsessed with Cephalopods?” PP finally squeezes in this all important query.
“My dad is a Marine Sociobiologist (Or some such esoteric sciency profession).
“Wow,” says The Serene Science Teacher. “Then you must have traveled all over the world with him growing up.”
“Yes, actually I’m from New Zealand, but yeah…we did. It was pretty cool.”
“So that’s why you’re obsessed?” PP presses.
“Well, yes, that. But also they’re so smart! Why they’re as smart as dogs and parrots but without bones!” she beams.



PP nods. Like the intelligence of species is contingent on bone possession? Are the two connected? She’d never thought about this. Of course humans have bones and are generally thought to be intelligent, though PP had her doubts about this. It somehow made sense that boneless creatures might indeed have intelligence. After all, did the brain reside in the marrow?

PP thought not.

Later, walking back to the Geo with DL, PP brought up the line of ‘I’m obsessed with Cephalopods' again to DL.
“Me too!” DL exclaimed as they climbed into the car. “I wrote this paper on Cephalopods when I was in Jr. High. I was totally obsessed with them.”
"Why didn’t you say something in Utopia?” PP laughed, knowing that DL doesn’t like to divulge such personal info while saunaing.
“You know,” DL shrugged.
“Yeah, I know,” PP laughed. “You’re shy. Or so you say.”

Dropping DL off at her car, PP watches as she gets into Moondoggie (her Toyota’s name) and starts the engine, marveling at how now there had been not only one, but two, Utopia listeners who were obsessed with Cephalopods. The odds of that? Maybe obsession for Cephalopods was more common than she'd thought?

Yet, PP had never known about DL’s Octopus Obsession. Who would have thought it?

See what she learns in Utopia?
Not only a plural for octopus that doesn’t include the pretentious sounding ‘Octopi’ but a bit of unknown sea knowledge about DL.

Obsession? It’s a secretive thing sometimes. Maybe esp. if it has to do with boneless intelligent beings? Nah, it's those strange obsessions that lurk from our secretive teenage years. Those are the obsessions that usually remain buried deep in the dark and mysterious sea of our awkward pasts.

Inverness Pics

There's no pool, but it took a pool to get to Inverness, so that counts, right?

Of course!

So enjoy! (Yes, it's possible to enjoy life without a pool, but not for long!)



PP looking pensively from the deck of the cabin between rain showers.




Sunwater diamonds on the old pines.




"We're being watched!" happy hiker up from McClure's beach, pointing at Elk on the ridge.




PP hiking down to McClure's Beach right before sunset. It was cold on the trail down, but the beach itself was magically still.



DHBF on the magic beach. Doesn't the water look inviting?

NOT!



DHBF poses in front of his Rock Tower. See? No wind!




It's getting dark and PP can't tell what this is. Can you?

Meltdown –Part II (Left Brain Readers May Want to Read Previous Entry First)

“How’re you doing?” Handsome, (too handsome?) dark-haired young man (Isn’t everyone young now?) grins over at PP, who’s been soaking in the hot tub waiting on a lane. So far, the lanes at the Mill Valley Community Center are all full, but not too full. Just full enough to be unenticing.

So how was she doing? Still a little cranky, but better than an hour ago when she’d been standing morosely in front of the empty Marin YMCA pool.

But Handsome Friendly Man doesn’t need an answer from her. Cause he’s doing fine. “This is a perfect way to spend a Friday afternoon. Now all I need is a beer,” he chuckles, not really looking at PP anymore.

DHBF leans over to PP and mutters something about Whiskey and Hot tubs. Or was it Whiskey and Lakes? There’s some lake in Scotland that’s full of Whiskey?

Two boys clamber in the tub next to PP, begin to fiddle with her fins behind her on the deck. She turns around and thinks she doesn’t glare at them, but she probably did. They shy away, stricken as she grabs her stuff and pulls it toward her just as Mom admonishes them, “Those aren’t yours. They belong to someone else.”
PP laughs as the two stare at her, petrified.“Guess I scared them,” she jokes.
“Yes you did,” Mom glares at her.





Damn. What the hell were kids doing in the hot tub anyway? Oh yeah, this was Mill Valley. Kids rule here. She watches the screaming group of children frolicking in half the pool set aside for them leaving only 3 lanes for lap swimmers.

Lap swimming at the Mill Valley Community Center takes second place to kids. Just like China. Only in China kids really ruled. There were NO lap lanes. She just had to swim around all the screaming kids. It was a kid obstacle course. Needless to say, PP didn’t get much swimming in.

This was kinda true now at the MVCC. But aha! Someone was getting out of one of the lap lanes. PP hurriedly grabs her stuff and heads over. Watches as woman with one of those skin-colored nose plugs stops at the wall. PP has always thought these plugs were so gross; how did they even work? But supposes that it must help some poor souls who for whatever reason inhale water up their nostrils. Now she dangles her finned feet into the water to stop her.




"Can I split the lane with you?” she asks Nose Plug Woman, who smiles spacey at her, “Sure.”

And so she’s off. And it’s okay. NPW gets out, and Tan Scrawny Guy gets in. He’s splashy, but there’s only the two of them. And then he gets out and Equipment Man gets in. It seems that no one swims for very long here in MV. Must be the lure of the Whisky Hot Tub.

Yet, it all works out. Though there is that subtle ‘class’ thing going on. PP felt it with the Mother Glare, and feels it again in the locker room after her shower. She’s got her stuff all over the bench—it’s small and narrow, but no one else is around at the moment. A middle aged white woman rumbles in with her roller suitcase, sighing heavily. Sees PP’s stuff and stops, stares, smiles at her, “Can I sit down here?” she asks pointing at all of PP’s stuff.

Why the hell does she want to sit EXACTLY there? PP wonders and this must have shown on her face cuz Suitcase Must Sit Down Woman pauses and then rumbles to the next row. “Oh that’s okay,” she echoes out. “There’s room here.”

Yeah. There was always room there, PP thinks. Again, it’s that subtle “Class Entitlement” thing going on. No one at the Oakland Y woulda asked her to move all of her stuff if there were other places to go. They’d just smile, say ‘How y’all doin' today?' and then head for an empty spot.

What is it about some people who think that the world is all theirs? Maybe it’s not Class. Maybe it’s just personality.

Or maybe it’s just PP’s HSK (Highly Sensitive Kitty) disorder in overdrive this afternoon. After the disappointment at the Marin Y and the ‘fight’ with DHBF, she just wasn’t in the mood.

PP grins to herself. Yeah, this was it. And actually, like she’d predicted, she did feel much better after her swim. Sure there'd been kids in the hot tub, crowded lap lanes and locker room power trips, but overall, it'd been worth it. The restorative magic of swimming triumphs once again.

Now if only she could find that Lake full of Whiskey! Then all of her former crankiness would definitely be drowned!

Marin Meltdown

Part I

Of course going out of town is supposed to be fun, restorative, peaceful. But only if there’s a pool. And when PP and Dashingly Handsome BF got to the Marin YMCA the fiasco began.


“Looks like no one's in the pool,” PP murmurs, already having a bad feeling. Why would there be no one in the pool at 3 in the afternoon?

Only one reason.

The pool was closed.

Shit.

It’s once again goddamn spring break. This means that pools are subject to all sorts of wrong scheduling situations.

At Hilltopia it’s ‘Splash Week’—but that’s another blog.

At Utopia it’s Kid’s Boot Camp—but again, this is another blog.

At Marin?

The pool is closed all weekend for Special Spring Cleaning. Or some such shit.

“It’ll be open again Monday morning at 5 a.m.,” the Too Cheerful Marin Y Clerk offers. She wants to hiss, “That doesn’t help us now, does it?” but refrains. Instead she turns and stares sullenly through the glass at the empty pool, one lone pool man skimming the bottom.

Why couldn’t they just let her swim? It looked clean to her. She'd only swim for an hour. Over in the far lane. No one would even notice her. She'd be very quiet and very small.

She sighs loudly, “I’m going to the bathroom." Without looking at either TCMYC or DHBF, she tromps down the hall.

It was all so wrong! she thought as she began her bathroom business. She’d had a hell of a week: grading stacks of Research Papers; navigating her landlady’s move, leaving her stranded with no cable TV or internet; taking the Geo back and forth to the Chinese Mechanic to fix the Check Engine light to no avail.





The trip to Inverness had been her idea to ‘get away from it all’—and the stop at the Marin Y was the first key to this.

And now the goddamn pool was closed. She was hungry. And tired. And it was pouring rain.

What the hell was she going to do? she thought as she headed out of the bathroom to discover DHBF beaming, holding out a sheet of paper to her. “There’s a Y in Santa Rosa that’s open. But that’s pretty far.”
PP grunts.
“And then there’s the Mill Valley Community Center. It’s …”
“I HATE that pool!” she interrupts.

Undaunted, DHBF pretty much ignores this assessment. “It’s open for lap swimming at 3:30 and it’s 3:15 now, so we’ll time it just perfectly.”

PP resists commenting. They’d just been in a stupid fight over ‘time’—she could go on and on about this, but she won’t bore you all with the details. Suffice it to say that Time is usually not DHBF’s strong suit. She thinks he’d be the first to admit it. But maybe not. She'd rather not start another fight because of this blog. Or maybe she would. At least this orneriness captures her mood at the Marin Y.




In any case, the Mill Valley Community Center was always a goddamn Zoo. Full of screaming children in the hot tub; circle swimming adults in clueless abandon; and too much chlorine in the goddamn pool.

Yet……she knew she’d feel better if she got a swim in. She knew she’d feel even worse if they drove to the cabin in Inverness in the pouring rain and then she just sat there in the cold watching it hail down from the sky with no pool in sight.

So, it was off to the Mill Valley Community Center.

Would all of her objections be realized?

Stay tuned for the next part--Mill Valley here she comes!

~to be continued~

Utopian Community

“Did you ladies hear what happened to Suzi?” Sandy sits up slowly. She’s been in Utopia for over an hour. From before when PP went to the pool. PP remembers asking her once how she doesn’t pass out from saunaing so much.

Sandy had grinned. Proud of her Sauna Stamina. But PP can’t remember her answer right now. But she digresses.....

DL shakes her head ‘no’ to the current Suzi Query. Later asks PP who the hell “Suzi” is. The Grape Giving Lady with the Liver Transplant and the Jesus Thong Underwear, PP had replied.

But at the moment of Sandy’s story, DL was in the dark about Suzi’s identity. Not that it really matters.

Well actually it does.

“What happened?” PP prompts, ready for the story even though she’s exhausted from another cold harrowing swim at the always crowded Oakland Y Pool. What the hell was up with that anyway? Why weren’t people home watching cable TV.? Eating dinner? Walking the dog? It was just weird how crowded the pool was at 9 o'clock at night! But again, she digresses....

“Evidently, she was called in to have a special conference with Dora. You know Dora, don’t you?” Sandy asks.
“Just vaguely,” PP replies. “She showed me around when I first joined."

“Yeah, well, she can be a bit of a bitch. As you’ll see.”
DL nods, rapt as always with Utopia Story Time.
“Did she do something Bitchy to Suzi?” PP asks.
“You might call it that. Evidently, Suzi was told to make an appointment with Dora or she wouldn’t be able to come back to the Y.”
“You mean she’d be banished from the YMCA? What did she do?”
“You’ll like this story. One night, she spilled something on herself. You know how she’s always carrying around all this food and drink.’
”Yeah, she has that frozen cranberry concoction she’s always sucking on,” PP offers.

“Exactly. So that’s probably what she spilled on herself. And so she had to try to get it all off before she left. Why I’m not really sure. It was after 10 at night after all.”
“What did Dora say exactly?”
“She told her that in the future she would have to get out of the Y by 10 o’clock on the dot or she wasn’t going to be allowed in again.”
“You’re kidding!” DL exclaims.
“Yeah, I had the same reaction. I mean. What was the big deal? Suzi has issues. She’s got some things that she needs to take care of. She’s always a little overwhelmed.”

PP thinks how she’s just plain Crazy but in a Sweet Way. And who wouldn’t be? What with a huge hole in your side from dialysis and a Jesus Tattoo on your ass, anyone would be Crazy.






“How late was she?” PP asks.
“20 minutes.”
“Oh,” PP shakes her head. It was pretty late. Once in a while she and DL are 5 minutes late and this is nerve-wracking enough with the loud speakers and the towel Nazi and the frantic nakedness.

20 minutes was late. But hell, to be exiled from the Y? Wasn’t that a bit extreme? Didn’t they need their members?

“I mean,” Sandy continues, “isn’t this place all about community and relationships and values and blah blah blah and then Dora goes and slaps Suzi with this ultimatum. Well. I just think it’s not right. Dora coulda just said that her employees need to get out by 10 that they’re not paid for any time after 10 that they have to stay.. But no. She throws her weight around. And at Suzi no less!”

PP shakes her head. Wonders what Suzi’s reaction had been. The summons to Dora’s office. (Which is weird enough) and then the scolding from the Head Bitcho. Well. Such action by Dora certainly did seem counter to all that the Y stood for.

Though PP has always been dubious of these so called ‘values’ anyway.

Honesty. (Someone did steal her swim cap)

Responsibility. (Dirty Used towels were often left on the floor for someone else to clean up)







Sharing. (Just look at the pool for gross abuse of this value! Of course, PP was one of the main culprits. She hates sharing a lane!)

Community. (What the hell does this even mean? it’s one of those Oprah words that gets so bandied about that it means absolutely nothing.)






Besides, if there really were ‘community’ at the Y, then Suzi wouldn’t have been treated like this. She woulda been welcomed into a nice cozy Cranberry filled room with Jesus watchin her from above and lots of grapes overflowing from silver bowls surrounding a sparkling pool with cushy lounge chairs with cable TV’s attached.

Poor Suzi.

No way was there any community for her here at the YMCA.

Except for that of Utopia. Here is where the Real Community lies.

Just don’t tell Dora!

The Polish Gambler & The Serbian Beauty

"Where you talking about?"

PP plops down on the top shelf of Utopia. Interrupting Sandy and a Fluffy Blond Woman. Sandy'd been saying how she never goes there. Of course, PP has to know where it is that she never goes. Maybe she's been?

Nah, that's not her motivation. She just wants the story.

"Cache Creek," Fluffy Blond eyes PP suspiciously.
"Tanya, Penelope. Penelope, Tanya," Sandy introduces before rolling over onto her other side.
"Please to see you," Tanya says, though still with reservation. Then shrugging, continues on.
“You should see Those Chinese. Oh. They are smokers!” Tanya laughs, shaking her fluffy head at Sandy.
“And the way they hold their cigarettes," Sandy smirks.
Tanya stares at Sandy for a moment, shifts her towel up to cover her ample bosom peaking out, before frowning. “I don’t understand.”
Sandy holds up her third and fourth finger, (Can you tell PP teaches piano?) pins them together, pretends like she’s smoking.

Tanya continues to frown. “And the gambling! They love to do the gambling. For me. I don’t care for it. But it is my friends. They like it. Why one friend, he is retired and he is always gambling and I tell him, no I can’t go with you, I have to work, but he doesn’t understand. He wants me to come with him. But I only go sometimes. Not all the time. I have to see the sunlight.”





“Gamblers are Vampires!” PP blurts out. Wondering if Tanya's friend is Chinese too, or is it just racist stereotypes running rampant at 10 pm at the Oakland YMCA Sauna?
Figures that Vampire stereotypes would be less disturbing. Or not....

Tanya turns and stares at her, for a long moment, before nodding, “Yes. That is right. Vampires. But not me. I like to go to the sunshine and stay outside. Not inside in the gambling.”

PP eyes her. She sure looks like a Vampire. Pale. Shiny. Eyes wide and dark. Piercing. Of course, she must drink blood with That Accent.

Though with the blond hair, maybe not.

"I must go now," Tanya announces, rising, still holding the towel up, but it's no use. There's no contest between her bosom and the skimpy cloth. PP watches as she exits the sauna, then smiles, turns to Sandy, "Where's she from? Transylvania?"


Sandy chuckles, "No, Poland. But you're close. One of those Eastern Block countries.” She pauses for a moment, wistful. "I have visited Eastern Europe."

This doesn't surprise PP at all. Sandy seems to be a woman of some sort of Independent Means. Usually such means includes travel.
"Where to?" PP asks.
"Serbia."
"Serbia?" PP wouldn't have guessed this. Who goes to Serbia? Of course, Sandy intuits her surprise.
"Yes, well....My half sister, we share the same mother, and her brother’s cousin married a Serbian Beauty and we were all invited to the Wedding. And let me tell you, it was something.”

“I bet.”

“Yes. And so while we were there we toured around Serbia and saw the sights. Then we went on to Athens. I had to see Athens. My sweetie is Greek. And so he had family that had a sweet little hotel right downtown across from the Acropolis. We’d sit out on the porch and sip our coffee and gaze at those ruins and it was so….”
“History?”
“Exactly!”





PP nods, remembering her own trip to Athens. How much she hated that City. But she does remember the enchantment of the Acropolis. Lit up like a magic castle, golden and orange and shadowy as she and O stood on the rooftop of their hotel and listened to a Crazy Greek play some ukulele-like instrument.

It was another world.

Like Cache Creek. Or Poland. Or Transylvania.

Or Utopia....

That's How Hitler Started!

“Those Tea Partiers!” Danish Accent Woman almost shrieks, or at least it sounds like it echoing in the women’s locker room at Hilltopia.’
PP can’t hear any response as she makes her way around to the other side of DAW, the better to eavesdrop without engaging.

“That is how Hitler started!” DAW continues. PP can visualize her waving her scrawny arms in a wide dramatic arc even though she was on the other side of the lockers.

“No one remembers. No one puts two and two together. But in Europe....”
“Where are you from?” Some Brave Interrupter asks.
“Holland. I am Dutch. And let me tell you, in Holland, we remember. I tell you, these Tea Partiers. They are just like Hitler.”

PP finishes changing into her new cute suit ala LJ. So happy that finally she’s not dressed in her Punk Suit with the rip round the middle and back.(Though she was tempted to take CC's jest in earnest and use safety pins to accessorize the look.) Now, she wants to stay for more Fascist Eavesdropping, but the pool is calling.

Yet it's her lucky day! DAW is on her way to the pool too. PP ends up showering next to her before diving in; DAW smiles at PP, before donning her cap and heading out to the water.

She takes up the entire lane, DAW does, on her back doing her version of the Elementary Backstroke. It’s impressive in its flailing spectacle. PP is careful not to get in her lane; instead, she thankfully shares with gentle Asian Guy who does a languid breaststroke with nary a wave.

PP notes how everyone avoids DAW’s lane. She’s a terror. Maybe this has to do with growing up in Europe? You have to defend your territory from who knows who? It’s all so close there; all the countries are small and share myriad borders. PP can’t recall exactly how Holland is laid out, but she bets it’s vulnerable to invaders, unless those windmills are armed. And they might be.

It occurs to PP now that DAW’s backstroke is like a windmill. Her arms spinning wildly under the water. Lethal blades--that’s for sure.





Would Hitler survive such an assault?

PP thinks not. Though those Tea Partiers, that’s another story. They're a tough and supid bunch. Someone with the likes of DAW's weapons would be nothing to them.

Later in the Hilltopia sauna, PP lies exhausted on the upper deck when DAW lumbers in. She sighs deeply and begins:





“You see that sweet little boy? The one whose mama is 8 months pregnant?”

PP knows she doesn’t have to answer. DAW will continue regardless of a response.

“I told her she should go in the walking lane. Those kids. They are kids. They wouldn’t mean to, but she could get hurt. 8 months. She shouldn’t take a chance. And the little boy, he is so blonde, he loves the water. When I was growing up in Holland, I learned to swim at 1 years old. And by 3 years I was saving others."

PP does murmur an obligatory I'm Impressed Response, "Wow, that’s amazing.” She’s heard this brag before. DAW has a soapbox. Htler isn’t her only obsession.

No sooner does PP think this, then it’s off with Hitler again. “Those Tea Partiers!” DAW harrumphs, never mind that there is absolutely no transition between the 3 year old lifeguards in Holland and the Nazi Regime in Germany. “They are so scary!”
“Yes,” PP agrees.
”You know,” DAW pauses, dramatically. “That is how Hitler started.”
PP wants to say, “Really? What’s the connection between the Tea Partiers and Hitler? But she doesn’t. Just agrees instead.
“And in this country, in America. People just don’t know. I’m from Holland. And we remember.”
“Yes, that’s true,” PP agrees, “Americans are so gullible.”
DAW pauses for a moment, cocking her head at PP, eyeing her with a new found respect?

“You know, you are a very good swimmer!” she exclaims.
“Oh,” PP grins, only a little surprised at the non sequitor. “Thanks.”
“I love to swim!” DAW continues. “Nothing like it. I come every day. But I can, I’m retired.”
Sighing, PP wishes she were retired so she could come every day. But on the other hand, she’d have to be careful not to come at the same time as DAW.

That is how Hitler started. Remember?

Plush Outpouring of the Women in 3 parts

Part I

“I’ve been a Nurse for 33 years and I just haven’t been suited to it. Lately. All the time... I’m just Angry.”
“I bet,” PP answered, not sure at all what Hot Tub Nursie would be angry about.
“The HMO’s. Kaiser. You know Kaiser?”
Does she know Kaiser! She wrote a book about it, but PP just nodded.
“They are so gurgle gurgle gurgle….”

PP couldn’t hear what she said. The Hot Tub bubbles filling in the Kaiser Rant.

“I’m trying to get out of Nursing now. Doing more blah blah marketing.” PP didn’t understand the blah blah blah part either. But it obviously didn't matter.

“What’s that?” PP asked, pretending like she was hearing every word that HTN uttered.
“It’s like marketing, you know Amway, or Tupperware, though this is for Wellness.”

“Ah,” PP nodded. She hates Wellness. It’s so stupid. She’s all about Sickness. Well, not exactly. But she does get so tired of the woo woo buzz words.




"Anyway, I could get you a brochure, if you're interested."

"That's okay," PP rose to climb out of the tub, feeling just a little unwell. Fortunately DL had shown up, eyes wide, grinning at PP's Nurse Entrapment in the Hot Tub.
"What brochure?" DL asked. No, not really, DL just turned away from the conversation and tried not to laugh at whatever look PP had on her face.

"I could use one of those brochures," Jesus Tattoo Liver Transplant Woman had ambled over. PP tried not to look at where her liver used to be. How could that be that her liver was gone? That couldn't really be, could it?

PP was starting to feel very unwell.
DL held the door of Utopia open, and PP weaved into its sanctuary.


Part II

“Where Evie been?”
“I ran into her last Saturday, she was here early, and she told me she’s taking classes to improve her English.”
“Ummm…” African American Princess murmured.
“Yes; I hope when she finishes I’ll be able to understand her better.” Sandy sighed, turning over onto her back.
“I sure do miss her!”
“Me too, me too,” Sandy agreed, sighing again.
“I miss her laugh. I miss her talk. I miss her underwear hanging on the side of the hot coals there.”
“I don’t miss that!” Sandy laughed. “But you’re right, she is a presence.”
Laughing, AAP slapped her firm long thigh, “Aren’t we all? Why we all have our own Individual Characteristics.”

PP almost fell over. Did AAP really just say that? Did she know that PP was writing a Novel (cause that’s what it is at this point) about all of the ‘characters’ in Utopia?
“I just don’t need her Salad Dressing Vapors filling up the sauna,” Sandy frowned.
“Yeah, I tell her, she could eat herself!” AAP laughed loudly.
“Is it really salad dressing?” PP had to ask now, if for no other reason than to keep the conversation going.
“Nah, not really,” Sandy grinned.




“But it could be!” AAP disagreed. “It full of avocado, cucumber, lemon, what else?”
”Garlic” Sandy added, wrinkling her nose.
“That too!”
“But you’re right. I still do miss her in spite of the Salad Dressing.”
“Yeah….” AAP nodded, “She good people.”
“That she is. That she is.”

Part III


“I am so hungry! I’m going to faint!” PP announced to no one in particular while getting dressed. The row of lockers now filled with several women desperately trying to get their clothes on before the YMCA Get the Hell Out of Here Clerk kicked them out.
“Here,” Jesus Back Tatoo Liver Transplant Woman bent down, picked up a Trader Joe’s feta cheese container and handed it to PP.

PP didn’t really want any feta cheese right now, but felt it was impolite to refuse. So asked instead, “What’s in it?”
“Open it.” JBTLTW nodded, serious as she slipped on her thong panties that allow Jesus to peer over their tight elastic band.





Feeling a little scared, PP peeled away a side of the lid. Behold!
GRAPES!
She grabbed a couple, popped them in her mouth. “Yum! Thanks!”
“Take some more,” JBT woman encouraged, serious.
“Nah,” PP handed back the container, feeling a little queasy, but also a little better. It was hard to tell. “I’m fine now. Thanks I just needed enough to get me home.”
JBT nodded, received the container, plopped it back on the floor. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I just need a little something, too, to get me home.”

Hair Dryer Delight?

“I’ve just been so cold all day!” Sandy shivers, even though she’s in the hot heat of Utopia, naked, sanding the bottom of her feet.

PP, naturally, had just been complaining about the cold pool. Well, it wasn’t that cold, she’d been in colder, but it wasn’t what she’d call ideal.

“Me too!” Swimmer in the Dark Corner agreed. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, we think it’s March and it’s gonna be spring, but in fact March is wrought with wretched wind and cold air.” PP sighs. She hates March.




“Getting in bed is the hard thing for me,” Sandy announces as she switches to sanding off her other foot. PP tries not to get too grossed out by this, but can’t get DL’s voice out of her head whenever she sees Sandy doing this, “She’s spreading little particles of dead SKIN all over Utopia!”

But, this is what Sandy does, and she’s very nice and entertaining otherwise, so PP tries not to hold it against her, but still….The things women do in the Sauna are often left best to the imagination and not the reality of Utopia!

“It’s so cold between the sheets,” Sandy continues. “I like to use a hair dryer to warm it up.”

PP nods. A hair dryer? What the hell was she talking about using a hair dryer to warm up the bed? Like she’s going to throw back the sheets, plug in the dryer, turn it up high and blast the bed with hot air? Or is she going to get in bed with the hair dryer nestled next to her and turn it on and…

Actually this sounds a little kinky.




PP is sure this isn’t what Sandy means, but then again, she doesn’t really know her very well except through stories at Utopia. Maybe she is into kinky hair dryer activities between the sheets.

This would keep one warm, wouldn’t it?

DL is lying quiet. Is she listening? Does she know what Sandy means by the hair dryer sheet method of warming? Or is she just in her own poet world, swirling around inside her brain, the hair dryer conversation not even registering?

It’s hard to tell. PP is gonna assume that she’s just taking it all in and will write a poem about it when she gets home.

She’ll ask her tomorrow.

"I'm hot," DL announces, sitting up. "I need to get out of here." She stands, makes her way out of Utopia and toward the showers.

PP wonders if all the Hair Dryer Talk had caused the Hotness?

Nah, it was probably just the sauna. It is hot. Unlike between Sandy's sheets. Before the hair dryer delight, that is.

Homage to Macaroni….

She was the Queen of Tortoiseshells. Macaroni was. Sassy, bossy, noisy, purry. She’d let everyone know what her needs were, and everyone knew that she would have them met! Or else!

She was DL’s constant companion. Through thick and thin to use a cliché. DL is lost without her. And PP knows this.

PP will never forget the time that for some stupid reason she thought she’d let Macaroni out! (Mac was an indoor only cat. The big city is a scary place. Full of dangers that no Queen Feline should face!) DL and PP searched all over. In the apartment. Down the driveway. Under cars. Where oh where could she be? DL was near tears. And then, voila. There she was. Somewhere obvious. In the closet, on her pillow system. In her quiet Queendom. Looking at the two women like they were crazy. DL breathing laughing a sigh of relief: “Thank God we found her. Otherwise, you and I would have to go through a lifetime of therapy to work through it.”

So, now, with great sadness, the Queen has passed to her special kingdom where there’s lots of whipped cream, fat mice and color TV.

DL will miss her oh so much (This is why there was no Utopia last week), but Queen Macaroni will always be with us, esp. when we're feeling sassy, bossy, or noisy (or not!). We'll hear her Tortoishell MRRROOOWWW and know that whatever we're doing, it's with the Queen of Tortoiseshell's approval.

It's a Good Day!

“You are very good swimmer!” Square Asian Woman nods and smiles, the shower running full force next to her.
“Oh, thanks,” PP grins. “Today was a good day.” And it was. Being her birthday and all. She got her own lane. The pool was a perfect temperature. And now, compliments in the Shower. It IS her birthday at the pool!

“Yes. You are very good swimmer,” SAW repeats, then motions with her hands. Holds her right hand at about hip level, palm down, to measure height. “You swim very young?”
“Yeah, very young. Maybe 4 or 5?”
“Oh! That very YOUNG!”
“Yes, it is. I think I may have learned to swim before I learned to walk,” PP jokes, then thinks how maybe SAW may not get it.





But she does. “AHHH! Very Good!” she exclaims, beaming.
“How about you? Did you learn to swim very young?”
She shakes her head, embarrassed, “No…no….I swim as adult….”
“Good for you!” And PP means this. Thinks of her friend Miss WW who learned to swim when she was in her twenties having grown up in Toledo all her life with no pool? No swim lessons? No ocean? Or what?





Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter now. Miss WW did learn to swim and swims as obsessively as PP. Well, almost.

“You swim every day?” SAW asks.
“Nah, maybe 3 or 4 times a week.”
“Ah….very good.”
Shy now, SAW goes back to her shampooing, vigorously rubbing the suds all over with her puffy pink thingee. PP always thinks she wants one of these thingees. They seem to hold the soap so well and produce so many bubbles, unlike her feeble attempts to wash with her hands.

Oh, but this is off the topic of the story.

For after all, PP is a good swimmer. And this is a Good Day.
And happy birthday to her.

Maybe next year she’ll ask for a Pink Thingee for her birthday. If she's still a good swimmer, that is.

Make ‘Em Cry

As you all know, PP is a big fan of small children. She loves to hear their screeching in the pool, the showers, the sauna?

Hello?

It’d been a hellacious swim. Not just because of the birthday party filling the pool at Hilltopia with 30 plus gleeful 6 year olds. (Though this was ultimately what set her off.)

No. She had to share a lane with Multiple Kickboard Butterfly Kick Man. (Is his name self-explanatory?) This resulted in the requisite washing machine wave action which every lap swimmer just loves to pieces. Turning to breathe and inhaling huge gulps of water instead of air.

After he got out, Flailing Swedish Accent Woman got in. PP likes her, but FSAW gets on her back, and does a mighty flailing Elementary Backstroke that can be lethal if you don’t watch out.

And So. PP was really looking forward to the QUIET of the sauna. The Birthday Party’s noise level is beyond description. Just imagine 30 plus hyper 6 year olds screaming at the top of their little lungs while bopping each other on the head with the brightly colored noodles. There was laughter. There was joking. There was crying.

You get the picture.

In the sauna, PP lies down, sighs in relief. It’s QUIET!

But not for long. She hears the echoing screams of several of the Party-Goers pile into the showers. Damn. Why the hell do they come in the women’s locker room? Why don’t they use the kids' locker room like they do in Oakland?

In Oakland, these kids would be toast.




“Here’s the Warm Room, Cameron, come on in here…..” The soothing mom voice enters the sanctity of the sauna. PP opens one eye.

Horror of Horror. Soothing Mom is bringing her 6 year old BOY into the women’s sauna! PP can’t believe it. But then she can.

Mothers know no boundaries.

PP rises, “You know, you can’t bring kids in here.”
Soothing Mom ignores her, “Sit down over here, Cam….”
PP tries again. She is NOT taking a sauna with a 6 year old boy!
“NO ONE UNDER 18 IS ALLOWED in the SAUNA!” She tries not to shout, but it’s a close call.

SM glances over at her, perplexed for a moment. Was someone actually telling her she couldn’t bring her kid in the Warm Room?

Yes.

She doesn’t respond to PP at all. No apologies. No acknowledgement whatsoever of PP’s presence. Though she did hear her since she backed out, her arm around Cameron, “We can’t go in the Warm Room today, Cam. I….”

"WHAAAA!!!!!! EERRRRGGGHHH!!!! ARRRGGGHHH!!!!" Cameron screeches at the top of his lungs.

It’s an Impressive Tantrum.




PP is quite pleased that she’s elicited it.

Her day is always satisfying if she can cause one child to break down in tears for no good reason.

Who was it that sang, “Make ‘em Laugh?” Wasn’t it Donald O’Connor in Singing in the Rain?





Well, PP has a slightly different take on the lyrics, “Make ‘em Cry! Make ‘em Cry! Make ‘em Cry!”