Professional Swimmer?

“We just love watching you swim,” Black Tank Suit Tank Woman gushes, leaning over the lane line as she walks alongside PP’s lane. “You swim so beautifully. So graceful. You don’t make a splash at all!” she laughs as Scraping Walker Woman passes by her, nodding in agreement.

“Thanks,” PP grins. She’s heard it before, but the compliments work for her. Especially from someone so charming. She’d not seen Black Tank Suit Woman before, round and soft, but there were so many like her at Hilltopia. They all partook of the water walking lane, chatting and chuckling. A real community of aqua walkers.

“Were you a professional swimmer?” BTSW asks.
“Uh….” PP’s not sure what this means. Who the hell is a professional swimmer? Like someone in the Olympics? But no, they were all ‘amateurs’ right? Maybe after the Olympics, when they’re on the cover of a box of Wheaties and get paid for their poses?

PP couldn’t even think of one Wheaties Box sporting a swimmer. Was Mark Spitz on Wheaties?
Probably, but that was eons ago. And she was hardly in his category. Still, she liked it that ‘professional’ was a possibility for a swimmer.

Then of course, Esther Williams did occur to her, but that was it.
Mark Spit. Esther Williams. PP.

Why not?

“You just swim so effortlessly,” BTTW continues, “not like us old slow swimmers!” She laughs, shy now.
PP doesn’t point out that actually BTTW isn’t swimming at all. Why burst her bubble? Instead she grins, “Hey, it’s being in the water that counts. Doesn’t matter how fast you swim!”
BTTW likes this, nods in agreement, “That’s right. Of course.”

And off she goes, catching up to Scraping Walker Woman, “Did you see that I was here a little later today?” SSW asks.
“No, no, I didn’t notice…..”

PP sometimes wishes she were a Walker, but then it just wouldn't be the same even though she might get more idle chit chat stories for her blog.

For now, she'd keep to her graceful rhythm.

Pushing off from the side of the pool, she dives into the middle of the lane, takes one long stroke and then another, stretching, reaching, swimming…smiling..

Lap Swimmers: Second Class Citizens @ Hilltop Y?

PP has had enough! After several weeks of lap swimmer disrespect, she's composed (and sent) a letter to the Director of the Hilltop YMCA Pool.

This took up her designated PP blog time, so she's just gonna post it for all her readers, many of whom she knows will sympathize!

Dear RJ,

I have had several instances in the past couple of weeks of lap swimming hours not being honored. These hours are very specific and limited; therefore, I would really appreciate it if you’d enforce these hours and not allow the families to ‘spill’ over into scheduled lap swimming times.

While I understand that it’s summer and the families want to play in the pool, the lack of consideration for the lap swimming hours is appalling. Your lifeguards need to be reminded that there is a schedule that needs to be adhered to; otherwise, what’s the point of having a schedule?

Here are three specific examples to show you how pervasive the problem is. Keep in mind that I am only one lap swimmer who swims perhaps 3-4 times per week. If this is happening to me this often, imagine how prevalent it must be during the rest of the week.
1) August 5, 2011: I arrived on Friday afternoon for the 4:30-7:30 lap swimmer hours at approximately 6:20 only to find a group of kids and their adult caretakers taking up one of the lap swimming lanes. The lifeguard must have allowed them to stay in the pool even though it was designated lap time. They did get out after about a half hour, but I have no idea how long they’d been allowed to use the lap lane.
2) August 6, 2011: I was swimming during the Saturday lap swim/adult swim lesson time that is held between 1-2. At approximately 1:40 (20 minutes still left of lap time) the lifeguard allowed a family with children to take over one of the lap lanes.
3) August 15, 2011: I waited until 8:30 p.m. (I have built my entire schedule to accommodate your limited lap swimming hours) in order to take advantage of the lap swimming hour (only one hour) offered from 8:30 to 9:30 pm. When I arrived on deck at 8:35, there were still several families and children in two of the lap lanes. When I asked the lifeguard if he was going to request they leave so we could have lap swimming, he told me that this family had arrived late and had traveled a long way (I travel a long way; I wait for the scheduled time!) and so he was going to let them swim for a few more minutes.

This is completely unacceptable! He said that he would ‘Take care of them and ask them to leave if I really wanted him to’ (Like I’m the villain here? Asking that I have the scheduled time that you post for lap swimming?) When I said, ‘Yes, I’d appreciate your asking them to leave,” he did so, but made me feel like I was being unreasonable to make such a request.
Number one: I should NOT even have to make such a request. It’s his job to make sure the schedule is followed, right?
Number two: I don’t appreciate being made to feel like I’m some evil anti-family lap swimmer just because I follow the schedule.

Again, what’s the point of posting a schedule if you don’t follow it? I certainly would NEVER expect that the lap swimming hour would be lengthened and families made to wait or have fewer lanes in order to accommodate me.

The issue is NOT about room in the pool. The issue is about following the schedule and respecting those of us who do.

Thus, I would really appreciate if you would remind (train?) your lifeguards to adhere to your posted schedule. It seems this is the least I can expect as a paying member of the YMCA.

Sincerely,

Pool Purrs

Home

“Do you know how in every stereotype there’s a little kernel of Truth?”

DL pinches together her thumb and index finger to show how small the amount is. Sandy nods, eager to hear the answer to her question “If you could take one thing from your trip, one thing about the culture, or people, back with you, what would it be?” (DL’s been in Italy for the last month; hence, the profound lack of PP stories.)

“That’s a good question,”DL pauses, taking a deep breath, her concentration and attention to Sandy’s Italian Culture Question palpable in the Heaterized Sauna Air of Utopia. “I think I’d like to take that openness, that connectedness, that Italian Way of How Everyone is Welcome…..”

She pauses again, nodding to herself as Sandy and PP sit rapt in anticipation. But they get it. Italians have That Way. Everyone is welcome. Everyone is Family. Everyone matters.

It’s so embracing if that makes sense?

PP still remembers this about Italy even though she’s not been there for over 25 years. Those long dinners with piles of pasta, glasses of wine, miles of chatter—most of which she didn’t understand since she knew only about 5 words in Italian (Grazie, Gatto, Cappuccino, Gelato con panna--oh! That's 6!). But it didn’t matter. No one cared that she didn’t understand exactly what the conversation was about. She was there. She was laughing. She was eating (This was paramount)



And so now, when DL talks about this ‘stereotype’ of openness and welcoming in the Italian people, it makes perfect sense.

She goes on to tell the story of landing in the village in Sicily where her people are from. How over 30 members of her family were there at the docks to greet her. How they were so happy to meet her. Asking her why she’d come ‘back’: “D, everyone leaves This Place," one of her relatives had asked, "but you, you come back. Why?” And the great aunts had tears in their eyes, and DL is weeping too, and she tells them how she had to come back. That the place called to her. That her Artist Great Uncle was here. His art. His soul. His angel lurked in the Place.





And they all understood, even if they didn’t really have the ‘language’.

PP does understand this even though her entire life is about language and words and stories. One can be with people or be in a place and feel like it’s home.

And yes, while this might sound cliché or stereotypical, it’s true.

And so that little Kernel of Truth that DL so eloquently expanded upon for PP and Sandy this night has traveled back to Utopia.

Bella bella bella!

Bondage

What the hell was he doing?

PP had seen him come on deck earlier, just as she was turning at the wall. Could it be? Was it Man Kick Swimmer?

Damn.

Looked like him from what she could tell through her foggy mask. Fortunately she was near the end of her swim and double fortunately there were other lanes open besides the one next to her.

She’d driven through the Rush Hour Friday afternoon traffic again to avoid just this situation, whether it be screaming children or kicking men, & she’d thought suffering through the stop and go traffic would be worth it.

But now?

She stopped at the wall for a moment to retrieve her fins. Slipping them on, she openly stared at Man Kick Swimmer sitting on the side of the pool in front of the lane next to hers, wrapping something around his Kicking Legs.

She was almost certain it was him now; though she couldn’t know for sure till he actually got in the water and began his tell-tale spaz splashing stroke.

Taking off down the lane, she would have shaken her head if it hadn’t been underwater. Why her? Why did he have to come at this time? And why did he have to get in the lane next to her?

Was she going to have to get out to avoid being another Victim of his Hideous Man Kick? (If you, Swimmer Readers, don’t recall what happened, PP had been kicked in the kidneys by Man Kick Swimmer a few weeks back. She’d even had to get out of the pool. See previous post for more details)

But now, back at the wall where he was still screwing around with tying what? Was he tying a pull buoy to his legs? And then tying his legs together?

Could this be?

She’d never seen such a swimming training tool if that’s what you’d call it. Once she’d seen a guy with an inner tube wrapped around his ankles to keep his legs together, but she’d never actually witnessed Pull Buoy Bondage Legs before.

Grinning, she had to wonder. Why was he doing such a thing? Could it be because he’d kicked her and felt bad and so was making sure it didn’t happen again?

Nah. PP liked to think the world of the pool swam around her, but this was stretching it even for her ego.

Yet....

In the water now she could tell it was definitely him; his mighty spaz splashing was unmistakable; but now with his legs bound together, no way could he kick out to the side at all.

She was safe!

Did he do this when he saw that she was here? No, it didn’t seem like it since he had to have had the ropes with him already, right?

Or had he come out on deck for a moment, spied her, and then gone back into the locker room to get the necessary ropes?

She tried to remember if this had happened.

Part of her thought that it had; another part of her thought it was her imagination.

No matter. He was bound and harmless today.

PP liked this very much and decided that getting kicked had its rewards. What a relief to swim next to Man Kick Swimmer with no worries.


But there was still a part of her that trembled at the thought of his binds coming loose. Entirely possible since he was so damn spastic. The sheer force of his splashing might be the demise of his bondage.

PP decided she better get out before this happened. Just to be on the safe side. Tempting as it was to swim on the wild side, she nevertheless didn't need to get kicked by Bondage Man Legs! Impossible as that seemed, she knew he couldn't be trusted.

And maybe because of the tied legs his sanity was really what she was questioning.

Which of course made him doubly dangerous!

Giddy with Glee

“Excuse me,” PP’s on the pool deck, ready to go: cap and mask on, fins in hand, but yet....what's up with all the goddamn families in the pool still?

The spaced out but Frazzled Lifeguard gives her a tired smile (How can you be spaced out and frazzled? The Hilltopia lifeguards have this persona down to a science.)

“Hi,” FL manages.
“I thought that it was lap swimming at 4:30.” PP glances at the still mayhem-filled side of the pool where several families are doing their usual screaming Aquatic Antics. Shit. She’d driven up here specially at 4 in the stupid stop and go rush hour traffic so that she could avoid this Pool Chaos and now?

“Oh!” Frazzled Lifeguard looks worried, “Is that what the schedule says? I’m new.”
PP grins. “Yeah, that’s what the schedule says. Lap swimming from 4:30-7:40.”
“Okay, well, thanks for letting me know.”

FL gets up off her perch and starts to instruct the families to clear the water.
PP’s grin widens.
Such power!
All she had to do was inform the lifeguard that the schedule said it was lap swimmers time and then voila! Out with the families!

She loved it!

The families, however, did not.

PP watches in silent glee as they slowly climb out of the pool. Several parents sloshing over to read the posted schedule and shaking their heads.

YAHOOO!!! PP shouts to herself as she helps FL move the lane line over, almost smashing a slow to get out floating child with the line.

It was tempting to brain the little bugger.
But then it’d cry.
And then PP would feel bad.

Well, not too bad as she slipped her fins on and glided across the now clear lane. The water smooth and childfree.

Ahhhh.....

Why couldn’t it always be like this, she thought to herself as she turned at the wall to head back down the empty lane.

Maybe it could, she thought.

All she had to do was tell the lifeguard that it was lap swimming time and....

Oh but there was that damn schedule.

It worked for her this time, and her moment of Pool Clearance Power was Delicious, but in reality, she couldn’t make the schedule her schedule all of the time, could she?

Gleeful and Giddy, she watched as a mom and her kid approached the lifeguard. Were turned away.

Come back when it’s Rec Swim! PP thought. Read the goddamn schedule! She laughed, thinking how it was strange that the new lifeguard hadn't read the schedule before her shift. Or kept it right there next to her to double check throughout the day.

Thanks goodness she had PP to save her from Lifeguard Space out Dereliction of Duty she smiled to herself underwater, dolphin kicking with gleeful abandon. 4:30 on Fridays were Her Time. At least for now.

And that's all that matters!

Season of Mayhem: Summer

I

“Are you okay?”
PP knew Something Bad was gonna happen. It had been inevitable. Hilltopia Pool was jammed packed with screaming children, spastic lap swimmers and wayward kickers.

Which is exactly what had happened to her.

She’d been kicked.

Hard.

Was she OK?

It was too early to tell. The pain was sharp and shooting. Emanating from the spot on her back where he’d landed his icky big foot.

Into her kidneys?

It felt like it.

“Are you OK?” he repeats. PP can vaguely feel his concern. She can’t look him in the eye. Knows that it was an accident.

Except. It wasn’t. When the pool is this much mayhem everyone has to be a little more careful. Watch their kicks into the next lane a little more closely.

Yet no one ever does. Everyone just swims blithely on like they own the pool and they're the king of their lane.

And her lane.

For this is what happened. His powerful Man Kick (as DL dubbed it the next day when PP related the story) had strayed under the lane line and bonked PP’s kidney mightily. She had to stop. She had to swoon.

She had to get out of the goddamn pool.

Later she felt a little sorry for the Man Kicker. She had just left. Not responded to his query of was she OK.

And she was. OK.

But yet she didn’t feel okay enough to feel too sorry for him. At least not yet.

Maybe next time she sees him.
Or not....



II





“I just want to know why it is that the Master’s Team and the Aqua Aerobics are allowed into the pool 5 minutes early, yet the lap swimmers aren’t?”

PP’s pissed. She’d ventured into the El Cerrito Swim Center thinking maybe it’d be better than Hilltopia; but of course, she was wrong.

Summer: The season was enough to stop her from swimming.

She’d gotten to the pool early cuz she knew it’d be crazy. And when she parked the Geo at the end of the lot and witnessed the Spray Play Frog Fountain's gushing in the shallow pool with screaming children scurrying under it, she knew it was going to be a challenge.

Yet the deep pool where the lap swimmers swim was quiet. Still. Peaceful. Kid free.

So, maybe it’d be OK.

Yet no.

After waiting in line, ready to pay the exorbitant $5.50 fee, she faces the polite but non-registering her anxiety kid clerk who asks her, “You here for lap swimming?”
”Yes.”
“You have to wait till 5:30.”
”What time is it now?” PP asks, craning her head under the window to see the clock as a parade of squealing kids with tired parents in tow pass thro the gate with no waiting.
“5:25.”
“Can’t I go in now to get changed?” she asks. The lap swim time is only till 6:30 today. Only 1 hour. Which would be fine. If he would just let her in.

But he won't budge. Shakes his head, “Nope. Lap swimmers have to wait till 5:30.”
She wants to ask why but he doesn’t give her a chance, waving her to the side to help the next person.

So she waits. And the 5 minutes is a long one. She’s anxious since by the time he lets her in it’s gonna be 5:35 and it is.

In line in front of her, two Asian Hello Kitty Women’s Debit Card is declined 3 times. You Can’t Come In Clerk keeps asking them if they have another card. He keeps trying the same one when they shake their heads no. The clock keeps ticking. PP sees her lap hour slipping away.

Finally Hello Kitty Woman #2 pulls out some cash.
Shit.
Why the hell didn’t she do that in the first place?

Can’t Come In Clerk takes his time making change. Lets them in. Motions for PP. Says some cheery bullshit when PP hands him the exact change, “Perfect. Have a nice swim.”
Fuck you Asshole, PP thinks as she hurries in.

It’s 5:35 now & Total Hell in the locker room. Kids crying. Moms swearing. Toilet paper draping.

PP hurries to get changed.But this takes 5 more minutes.

Now it’s 5:40; she heads out to the deck. Scrambles to put on her cap. Earplugs. Mask.

Now it's 5:45 as she jump into the pool.

45 minutes.

It’s better than nothing, but still. If You Can’t Come In Clerk had let her in at 5:25......well.... Her swim woulda been relaxing instead of stressing.

So afterwards, when she asks the Tired End of the Day Clerk why she wasn’t let in and got angrier and angrier as he made her repeat her question over and over until finally he shrugs,

“Actually, the lap swimmers are supposed to be allowed in 5 minutes early just like the Aqua Aerobics. In the past, the reason that we didn’t let the lap swimmers in was cuz they’d get dressed really fast and then jump in before a lifeguard was there."

“Obviously, that isn’t the case today,” PP interrupts, remembering how there were at least 5 or 6 lifeguards sprinkled round the deck for swim lessons. Lap swimmers. Good Measure.

“Yes....” He pauses. It’s so hard dealing with these middle-aged women lap swimmers.

PP is a type now; she knows it. Complaining about her ‘pool rights’.

“.... sounds like whoever you dealt with was enforcing a previous policy,” he concedes. Finally.

PP sighs. Loudly. Shit.

“Well, maybe you should let your employees know that the policy has been changed.”
He doesn’t look at her. “Yes, well....we have a meeting in 35 minutes. I’ll be sure to bring it up.”

Oh, sure you will, she thinks as she stomps off, shaking her head in frustration.

Is it a Small Victory that PP was proven right?

Sorta.
Did he offer to give her her money back?

Are you kidding?

Lap Swimmer Discrimination. That’s what it is.

Or Pool Clerk Idiocy.

Yeah, that’s really what it is.

III.






“Can you help me move the lane line over?” Evetlana asks PP who’s just finishing up a surprisingly nice swim at the Oaktown Y in spite of the crazed crowd of parents and small children who’d been flailing in the side of the pool next to her for the last 50 minutes.

“Sure,” PP nods. “No problem,” as she takes her mask off and prepares to dunk under the lane line to help move it.
“Oh no!” Evtlana’s face falls, her pale features falling into a resigned frown of disgust.
“What?” PP glances to the spot where E is pointing.
“I have to close the pool. You need to get out.”
PP doesn’t have to be asked twice. The brown floating slime ickyness nudging its way toward her causes a momentary rise of nausea.

She didn’t need to add to the Brown Alert.



“How was your swim?” DL asks later as PP tries to recover in the hot tub.
PP tells her.

DL nods, “A Lily Pad of Poop.”

"Yes!" PP laughs.

Was she OK?

Sure. As long as she had DL to entertain her with Poetic Pronouncements.

Lily Pad of Poop! What a perfect way to end her first week of Summer: The Season of Mayhem.

It’s Meditative

I

“I have a problem for you to ponder while you’re swimming.” Sandy opens her locker, pulling off her workout togs to prepare for Utopia.

“Well, swimming's good for problem solving,” PP laughs, tucking her hair into her cap.
“Exactly. It’s meditative.”

PP nods, waiting for the Problem Description. She’s getting a little anxious though. Last week she didn’t give herself enough time to swim and barely got a mile in. Tonight she was careful to give herself lots of time, but now Sandy has a Critical Thinking Exercise for her to do in the Pool. Not that she doesn’t believe in swimming's problem solving capabilities, but still....

She really wants to swim NOW!

“You see, I have this vacuum,” Sandy begins, tossing her shoes into the locker, “and it has this very long hose. Oh it must be 30 or 40 feet long. It’s a special kinda vacuum..... What’s it called?” She pauses, thinking.

PP waits. Shit. A Vacuum Question? Like she knows anything about vacuums. In fact, vacuums, over the years, have been her arch nemeses. They never work. And when they do, they always jam up. And when that happens, she has a fit and throws them away.

She remembers the last vacuum she had. A bright yellow sporty model from ACE. It had seemed like a good investment but then the usual vacuum issues arose and the last image she has of it is its bright yellow plastic self, sitting forlornly on the sidewalk of 63rd street, just waiting for some poor sucker to pick it up.





Of course, someone did.

Did PP feel responsible for booby-trapping this poor person into a Delusional Working Vacuum World?

No. She was glad to get rid of it.

And now here’s Sandy wanting Vacuum Advice?

“.....I forget what it’s called exactly. But you know what I mean, don’t you?”

PP shakes her head. She has never seen a vacuum with 30 to 40 feet of hose. The potential for Various Vacuum Issues must be horrendous.

“Anyway, there’s something stuck in the middle of the hose and I can’t get it out. I tried hanging the hose off the 3-story balcony to shake it out. But no go. So, I was wondering if you had any ideas?”
“To get the Blockage out of the hose?” PP confirms the problem before heading off to the pool.

”Exactly. I need to find some way to get whatever’s blocking it out. I think it’s probably a piece of my old linoleum floor stuck in there and I can’t dislodge it. I know I could go to the vacuum repair guy and he’d cut it in half and splice it back together. But that’d cost a couple hundred dollars and I’m cheap.”

PP nods, trying to wrap her mind around the idea of spending $200 to fix a vacuum hose. “That is a dilemma,” she laughs. “I’ll see what I come up with while I’m swimming.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.” Sandy shuffles off, wearing only her flip-flops as she heads to the sauna.

II

It was a glorious swim. PP had her own lane! The water was 84 degrees! And her mask didn’t leak.

A perfect scenario for solving Sandy’s Vacuum Hose Issue.

Of course, an idea did occur to her after about 1200 meters. But it was just a joke idea. Sandy seemed to be expecting a Real Solution.

Well, maybe this idea would work, she thought as she finished her 2000 meters and heaved herself out of the pool right before the lifeguard gave her half-hearted whistle, hollering “POOL CLOSED!”

III

Following DL into the sauna, PP spies Sandy in her usual spot on the top tier.

“So I came up with a solution to your problem,” PP announces. “You wanna hear it?”
”Please,” Sandy’s not sitting up for the presentation, but that’s ok. PP doesn’t expect her to.

DL plops down on the bench below Sandy, sighing.
“How big around is the hose?” PP asks.
“About 2 inches I would guess.” Sandy makes a circle with her thumb and index finger to show the circumference to PP.
“Perfect,” she giggles. “All you need to do is get a piece of cheese,” PP begins, grinning.
“OK.”
“And drop it down one side of the hose till it hits the blockage. Then on the other side, you drop a wee little mousie and let her push and push and push the linoleum out of the other side in order to get the cheese. It has to be a smelly cheese so that she really wants to work for it and....”





“I’m afraid that won’t work. All of the mice in Piedmont are too well-fed. The mouse wouldn’t be interested in it.”

“Oh....” PP allows her tone to show her deflation. “Well, I was only kidding.....”
“Yes, I know. But I have to take every suggestion seriously.”

And she was. Serious. It was no laughing matter. In fact, no one was laughing. Not DL and not Sandy.

But PP does, shrugging. Someone has to laugh at her stupid ideas. Besides what do you expect at the end of a long hellish day even if the swim was perfect?

“DL did you hear what Sandy’s problem is?” PP asks.
“No.”
Sandy explains it to DL, who suggests running a snake down the hose.
“I thought of that too,” Sandy nods. “That’s a good idea. I’m going to give that one a try.”
“A Snake instead of a Mouse!” PP exclaims.
No one laughs at this joke either.
Deciding that it was time to call it a night, PP rises and heads for the shower.

Thinking how it just goes to show that while a swim may be meditative and thus a ripe arena for ideas, sometimes it just doesn’t yield anything worth sharing.

Even if someone does command it.

Alternate Universe

Dear Readers: Please read the preceding blog entry first, Missing Person, for proper chronological soap opera sequence.


~Part II~

“Hey, Sandy,” PP calls out to the prone form lying on the top deck of Utopia, Oaktown. “I found DL!
“Yeah,” DL laughs as she follows PP into the sauna, “ It only took a week.”
Sandy chuckles. “Very good. Where was she?”
“In an Alternate Universe,” PP jokes.
“Really?” Sandy shifts, squirts herself with a spray of water.
“Yeah, bet you didn’t know there was one at the Berkeley Y,” PP teases.

“Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me,” Sandy answers. “But seriously where was she?”
“In the upstairs women’s sauna. Did you know there was another women’s locker room, upstairs?”
“That’s right,” Sandy nods, knowingly. It does occur to PP to ask why the hell she hadn't mentioned another sauna to her last week when she'd been so panicked about DL's whereabouts. Chalk it up to Heaterization Disorientation?

“I had no idea,” PP shakes her head. “I’ve been going there for years and no one ever told me there was a Parallel Universe at the Berkeley Y.”
“The funny thing is,” DL interjects, “is that I did think of it. That there might be more than one sauna in that place. And when I asked this other woman who was in the sauna with me if there was another one she just looked at me like I was crackers and said, ‘No.’”

“Really?” Sandy says, “That’s odd.”
“Yeah, isn’t it,” PP agrees. “I wonder why she lied to DL about another Sauna? If she hadn’t, maybe none of this woulda happened.”
“No, you’re right. It could’ve been avoided,” Sandy agrees.
“I think the Lying Sauna Woman was part of the Evil Parallel Universe Cohort that didn’t want me to find DL or for DL to tell any of her friends about the other sauna. Then she could have it all to herself.”






”It was icky,” DL murmurs. “I didn’t know what to do. I was upstairs with a towel wrapped around me wondering where is PP where is PP I wonder if there’s another sauna and so when I asked this woman and she said no there wasn’t well.... I.... was very confused.....”
“I bet.” Sandy nods. “But tell, me, PP how did you end up finding her if you didn’t know the other sauna was up there?”

PP paused for a moment, trying to remember. What had she done? They’d told her at the front desk that they didn’t have a PA system and so she’d been completely flummoxed by this, not knowing what to do, when oh yeah that’s right, she’d mentioned that she was supposed to meet her friend in the sauna and then the Big Pasty Clerk had asked her which sauna.
“There’s more than one sauna?” she’d asked, astounded.
“Well, yeah, there’s one upstairs and one downstairs. Which one were you supposed to meet your friend in?”
PP had shook her head, “I had no idea that there were two saunas. I was just in the downstairs one..... I guess that’s what happened. My friend is in the upstairs one.”

And sure enough, when PP had hurried up the 3 flights of stairs, her bare feet cold, her wet hair tangling, her panic beginning to subside, she arrived breathless into the Women’s Locker room. Upstairs.

So weird.
A parallel universe.

PP glanced through the rows of lockers where a door was open into a weight room, the clanking and banging adding to her disorientation. It was too bright. Yellow. Eerily empty....



And then voila! there was DL wandering around in a daze, her eyes bright behind her wired rimmed glasses, a towel wrapped around her waist, “OH MY GOD!” she’d exclaimed.

“Here you are! I had no idea there was an upstairs women’s’ locker room!” PP had cried, so happy and relieved to see DL.
“Where were you?” DL asked, the panic melting off her face.
“Downstairs!”
DL broke into a grin, “Upstairs, Downstairs.”





“Yeah, something like that,” PP laughed, her having to go to the bathroom suddenly hitting her hard.
“Okay, well, I’m so glad I found you,” she’d said, “Meet you downstairs?”
”Yeah, yeah....just give me a few minutes. I’ll be down after I put some clothes on.”



After PP finishes telling the story, Sandy laughs.“If you’d peeked behind her and seen Erica Kane working out, then you’d really know you were in a Parallel Universe!”






And it’s true. If La Kane had been there in her little black stretch pants and designer sneakers, lifting weights with her perfect make-up, it wouldn’t really have surprised PP at all.

Parallel Universes. Missing Persons. Sauna Liars.

It was all just another day in the life of a swimmer. In an Alternate Universe, that is....

Missing Person!

Where the hell is DL?

PP’s been hanging out in the Berktopia Sauna chatting with Sandy about what else? All My Children. Who will discover that Erica Kane is in fact a crazed fan gone plastic surgery hog wild? Will it be her fiancé, Jackson? Or her lesbian daughter, Bianca? Or her archrival, Greenlee?

Everyone acknowledges that Erica hasn’t been herself since the kidnapping, but.....
Will anyone ever figure it out?

Yet, as PP and Sandy speculate about the possibilities of discovery, PP has this nagging worry as their talk continues.

DL was supposed to meet her in the sauna at 9:30 and it must be 9:45 by now.

Where the hell is she?

She’s never late—unusual for an Italian-- but there you have it.

Something’s very wrong.

Of course, PP jumps to the worst possible scenarios:

She’s fallen off the treadmill and been carted off to the emergency room.

She’s had a psychic breakdown from the unfamiliarity of Berktopia being thrust upon her, so now, she’s out on the streets of Berkeley, wandering aimlessly up and down Addison, strange weirdos accosting her in the darkness.

She’s passed out behind the counter of the Y, hidden away in a room with concerned YMCA clerks waving smelling salts under her nose.

Okay, she’s not in a Victorian Novel, but you all get PP’s anxiety.

Where oh where is she?

It had been a strange night to begin with. The Oakland Y was closed due to ‘paint fumes’ from an outside source—mysterious and stupid, but they’d been forced to venture into Berktopia spontaneously. Spontaneity with PP and DL is sometimes ok and sometimes not. DL had seemed unnerved this eve by being at Berktopia, so now that she’s gone ‘missing’ PP unlike the citizens of Pine Valley, knows that something is WRONG!!!!!


PP interrupts Sandy’s monologue about Greenlee being the most likely to succeed, “Have you seen DL tonight?”
”Nope.”
“That’s so weird. She was supposed to meet me at 9:30 here. What time is it now?”
Sandy leans out and over to glance at the clock, “It’s about 9: 43.” (PP always thinks it’s funny that she says ‘about’) but tonight, it doesn’t strike her as funny.






Only as Anguish! 9:43! DL is 13 minutes late! What can it mean?

“I better go look for her,” PP rises, pulling her damp suit back on and weaving through the crowd of Japanese beauties to exit the sauna.
“You could have her paged,” Sandy suggests.
PP nods, relieved to have a plan of action. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck.”

PP wanders out, wrapping her towel round her waist wondering if she should go to the bathroom before venturing on her mission.
Decides against it. Time is of the essence. The Y is gonna close soon and she must find DL before it’s too late.
Not to be melodramatic or anything.
But it felt this way.

PP hurries up the stairs. Decides to take a quick look around all the exercise rooms before going to the extreme of having DL paged. Maybe she just got caught up in Ameircan Idol and lost track of time?




The floor cold on her bare feet, PP thinks for a minute how she shoulda put some shoes on, but then she was in her swimsuit and so....

It didn’t matter.

Hurrying though the weight room and then the treadmill room PP glances around. No DL in the weight room. She’s not on the treadmills though it was hard to tell where the room ended what with all the goddamn mirrors. PP’s anxiety exacerbates the mirror distortion.

Damn.
Where the hell is she?

PP rushes back down the stairs to ask for the Paging Element.

A Big Pasty Clerk is chatting amiably with a Big Pasty Berkeleyite.
“I told myself I wasn’t gonna make it tonight. And then here I am.”
”That’s the important thing, Doreen,” PBC guffaws.
“And then my car was towed and I had to call my ex husband to help....”

PP sighs loudly, glaring at them. Don’t they know that she’s in the middle of a crisis? That there’s a missing person at the Y and she needs answers pronto!?

“Excuse, me,” PP finally butts in, “but can you page someone for me?”
They both look at her likes she’s crackers.
“We don’t have a paging system,” BPC shakes his head.
“You don’t?” PP is staggered by this information. How could that be? What do they do when the need to announce closing time? To call a staff member to the Welcome Center
To find a MISSING PERSON????

PP is beside herself.

What the hell was she gonna do?

~to be continued~

Fantasy

“How was your swim?”

Modest Vietnamese Woman tilts her pretty head, thinking. “It was so peaceful. ….I had my own lane. ……The water was warm.” She considers for a moment, “There was no one else in the pool.”

PP laughs.

Of course, it’s all Fantasy. There was NO One in the pool tonight. The pool was closed due to “Mechanical Failure.”

PP had arrived for her usual Wed eve Oakland Y “Girls Night” with DL. There had been a sign on the door—-big red letters explaining the pool closure. But all PP saw was Pool Closure.

She couldn't believe it. 2 Pool Closures in 3 days! Last Sunday at Hilltopia had been Mayhem Hell. First Hector's Swim Party jamming screaming kids into the pool with so many writhing little bodies that two lap lanes had been taken away. Then the 'Emergency' where everyone had been forced out of the pool with rude whistling and no explanation, "What's going on?" PP had asked. "Why do we hafta get outta the pool?" She'd only been swimming about 25 minutes; less than half of her swim completed. Swimus Interruptus was hella cranky!

"It's a Personal Space Issue" the lifeguard had said, waving his arms frantically to clear the pool of Hector's revelers.
"What does that mean?" PP had asked.

PP hadn't found out till later. Someone had almost passed out in the pool. She'd seen a shaky blobby man in the corner being supported by his blobby wife when she was getting out and had wondered if he was the culprit for her Swimus Interruptus.

And yes, it turned out that his blood sugar had been too low.

Shit. Eat a goddamn cookie before coming to the pool, why don'tcha? PP had thought. Don't kick us out before she's done with her swim for chrissakes!



And so now, tossing her fins on the counter, she couldn't believe that another pool closure was a part of her week.

Waiting for the busy clerk to finish ordering her Chinese Takeout, PP sighed loudly, shaking her head. “Excuse me, but I see the pool is closed and I didn’t get any notification about it. Aren’t you guys supposed to send out emails letting us know about this?”

Chinese Take Out Clerk was confused, casted about for help. Another clerk offered that it had just happened last night. PP glanced at the clock—7:35 pm. “So you had all day to email us though, right?”

The two clerks shrugged, glanced round nervously for more reinforcements. DL stood next to PP, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other, rolling her eyes.
To the rescue, Head Clerk, H, the Only Clerk Who Knows What's Going On, scurried up, “Do we have your email?”
“Yes,” PP tried not to scream.
“Is it Swimpurr at Yahoo?”
PP sighed, Damn. “No, actually that’s an old one. It’s on Gmail now, but Gmail imports all the yahoo email and I didn’t get anything today.”
“Are you sure?”
PP had to back down. Shit.

But somehow she knows they’re lying. The next day she did find out that, yes, in fact, no one had sent an email notification of the pool closure. She had been right, but at the time, she didn't know it for certain. No hard evidence. Only intuition. Which counts for nothing with the YMCA....

What can she do at the moment except follow H into the inner staff sanctum and type in her new Gmail account for future notifications.
Part of her is a bit excited about this back of the counter experience. But most of her is pissed off that she can’t swim.

She finished filling out the form, “Is that working for you?” H called out.
“Yup, done.” PP rose and followed DL down to the locker-room.

And so, when Modest Vietnamese Woman muses about her ‘swim’—PP has to grin. Maybe Pool Closures are good for something. Fantasy. Imagination. Community.

Of which there had been much in U.

“They’re gonna cancel All My Children. Oprah’s gone now. Gonna replace her with another hour of news. I ask you, how many ways can you hear about Arnie dickin around?" Sandy hurrmphs as she moseys out of the sauna.




DL and PP crack up.
How many ways indeed!

The problem with Arnie is that he got caught in his 'Fantasy'--Reality sucks, doesn't it Arnie?

Esp for Maria.

But Maria would survive. She'd go on Oprah. Divorce Arnie. Take a fabulous vacation. Swim in the sea where no emergencies would happen.





PP wants Maria's Fantasy, now.

But not before she has her cookie. That's the most important part of the fantasy.....Well, except for the beautiful, empty warm watered pool.

I Have A Story To Tell

“Excuse me Ladies….” Travel Story Woman inserts herself between PP and Sandy, who’s been narrating her own update to PP about who is kidnapping Erica Kane.

The other women between the rows of lockers are all standing, sitting, squatting in various stages of dressing before getting kicked out of the Downtown Oakland Y: DL sits on a stool next to PP playing with her lotion top; Susie tugs at peach colored tights between Death Hacks; Modest Vietnamese Woman struggles to put on her clothes under her towel without anyone glimpsing her private parts.

TSW stares at PP pointedly for a few moments, her seriousness exuding what? Daring? Frustration? Insanity?

PP’s not sure; her Imposition was so startling. And as DL commented later, TSW’s interruption of Sandy’s monologue violated some sort of unwritten locker room code of conduct. If women were talking, let them talk. Don’t interrupt.
Esp. if the conversation revolved around soap opera.

And so the abruptness of her ‘Imposition’ takes PP by surprise. Where had she come from? Earlier, PP, DL and Sandy had all been listening to TSW’s rambling cross country train travel saga in the Utopia Sauna, then DL had left, then Sandy, then PP. After all it was 9:45, and the place was closing up in its usual obnoxious way.

“Attention all members and guests: the Downtown Oakland Y will be closing in 30 minutes.... Attention all members and guests the Downtown Oakland Y will be closing in 20 minutes…. Attention all Members and Guests…..” The countdown had already commenced 15 minutes ago when PP had left Utopia.

So, now when TSW physically inserts herself between PP and Sandy, the effect is not exactly threatening, but it is intense.

PP has to wonder what was up with her lately? Why did she seem to be attracting intense situations at the Y? First the Some Attitude Sauna Woman. Next Killing Children Sauna Family. And now?

But then again, maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe TSW just had a story to tell.

Or maybe she was just ‘crackers’ as DL had commented later.

“I haven’t finished telling my story,” TSW continues, “so if you don’t mind?”
Sandy jumps in, the leader of the locker room women. “No, of course not. Please continue.”

PP breathes a sigh of relief. She’d been tempted to do what? Tell her no I don’t want to hear the end of your story. Cuz to be honest, PP thought that the story had already ended.

Or that it would never end. Meeting TSW in the showers after leaving Utopia, she’d cornered PP again, continuing the train travel ramble. PP had nodded and said something about the circularity of the story and TSW had nodded, given PP that crazed too long stare and said, “Yes, ma’am, 360 degrees.”





And that had been that.
Till now.

“I was stuck in Reno without money and I tried to buy me a ticket and you know they wouldn't sell me a ticket without a driver’s license.”
“You’re kidding!!” PP exclaims. ““They wouldn’t take your money for a ticket?”

She stares at PP intensely for a moment, then shakes her head. “I’m a black woman. If a white person wanted to buy a ticket then I’m sure it’d be no problem.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” PP agrees, “I’m blond. I’m sure they’d sell me a ticket no questions asked.”
TSW nods, “That’s right. My mommy keeps telling me to come back to France. She don’t get what I go through here in this country being black.”
PP nods, “No, I can’t imagine,” And she can’t. From all of the stories she’s heard over the years from her students, the women at the Y, various friends—it’s hell to be black in America.

“Go on,” Sandy interrupts, sensing the sensitivity of the situation? “What did you do?”

TSW grins slowly, so pleased with herself now, “I stowed away!” she giggles.
“You’re kidding!” PP exclaims.
“Nope. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”
“I dunno. How’d you do it?”
“Well, when the conductor was going down the aisles asking for everyone’s tickets, I just made my way up to the restaurant car and when he was finished I just made my way back.”




“Wow,” PP shakes her head. “That’s astounding!”
“Yes, it was,” she agrees. “But like I said, what was I gonna do? I had no other way to get back home.”

Sandy nods now as does DL and PP. It was quite a story. “A story of Social Consciousness,” Sandy proclaims after TSW left. “For our day. The present day.”

PP is confused. Is Sandy referring to TSW’s story of Racist Travel Hell? Or was she back in Pine Valley, commenting upon Erica’s celebrity kidnapping?

It could be either, but PP chooses the former since it is the one most recently narrated. For this is the most astonishing part of the story. That this kind of story still happens today. In the 21st century.

Racism.

It is alive and well in America.

Sauna Trauma

After her Sauna Trauma of the day before (see previous post), PP was in no mood. So when the mother ushered her two little girls into the sauna, PP let ‘em have it.

“You know the kids aren’t allowed in here,” she informed them.
Mom gave PP a blank stare, a shrug, and then the not so original response: “They just in here for few minutes.”

The two girls eyed PP widely, their chatter suddenly silenced.

“Well,” PP continued, “I did talk to one of the clerks upstairs about this issue and he told me that the sauna was a health hazard for kids.”

PP paused for effect: “….that it could kill them.”

Mom stared at PP for a moment. Trying to process the info? Trying to come up with a response? Trying to decide if she really wanted her kids or not?

For a moment, PP wondered if Mom was going to argue with her. Claim that how could only a few minutes harm her children? How could the sauna possibly kill them?

Yet, thankfully for her, she musta sensed that PP was having none of it when she ushered the girls out, “Come on, let’s not stay in here,” she murmured.

Lying back down in the dark heat, PP sighed. What was up with her Sauna Karma this weekend? Why couldn’t she just go for a swim, and then come in the sauna and relax?
Was that asking so much?

Evidently.

But with this small victory, PP had to smile. Maybe this was the last of her difficulties. From here on out, it would be back to Sauna Relaxation Situation.

Unless of course, this mom comes back for Revenge. Brings in a whole crowd of screaming little girls and lets them screech and jump and whine all over the sauna.






Here's where Some Attitude Woman might come in handy. With one Steely Stare, she'd be able to put the gang of unruly girls in their place: out of the sauna and into the pool. Preferably underwater.

See Some Attitude does have its purposes. Not the least of which puts PP in a much better mood!

Some Attitude

“She had Some Attitude.”

PP sighs, relieved. It hadn’t been anything she’d done. “You noticed too?” she asks Curvy Latina.
CL nods, “Yeah.”
“Oh,” PP exclaims, “that makes me feel better. I thought it was something I’d done, but now that you say she had Some Attitude, well..... I mean, I didn’t think I’d done anything but....it’s just weird. Stuff like that doesn’t usually happen here.”

CL stretches one shapely brown arm out and over her head, “I know. And she was shaking her head when she left.”
“Really?”

Now PP shakes her head, trying to process the ‘situation.’ She’d had a nice swim, but hard. She’d been tired. The water had felt like Jell-O swimming through it. So when she’d finished, she was so looking forward to a nice relaxing sauna here at Hilltopia.




When she’d walked in, the sauna was not crowded exactly, but there was only one space on the top shelf, behind Gargantuan Towel Woman. PP likes the top shelf best since it’s the hottest. She’d glanced around and seen a spot on the bottom shelf in the opposite corner from GTW, but she didn’t see any reason why she couldn’t just sneak past GTW and sit above her. After all, that's what the two levels are for.


“Excuse me?” PP had asked GTW, softly, politely. “But do you mind if I just sneak past you and sit up there?” She’d pointed to the spot behind GTW, who just stared at PP like she was crazy. You wanna do what? Sit behind me? Like you think that there’s a bench there for other women to sit on? Oh, you are sadly mistaken. This entire section of the sauna is mine.

At least that’s what it felt like when GTW, after staring at her for a moment said, “What did you say?”

PP repeated her intention, knowing that GTW had heard her perfectly well the first time. Some sort of Power Thing was going on here.

“I need to keep my towel here," GTW motioned to a bright striped towel wrapped around her neck that fell onto a small portion of the top shelf. “I need it to keep warm.”

PP wanted to say that hell, weren’t you already warm in here, but refrained. She just wanted to lie down for chrrissakes! What was the problem? Was GTW afraid that PP, just out of the pool, was going to drip on her towel? Or was she feeling like her Personal Space was being invaded?

PP had no idea. It was too weird how GTW did NOT want to let PP slip in the spot above her. Hell, that’s what the sauna was built for. Two long benches. One below and one above, so that two layers of women can SHARE the sauna.





Yet, for some inexplicable reason, GTW seemed to think she was entitled to an entire quarter of the sauna, both bottom and top shelf.

PP made to step around her in spite of GTW’s Hostility Wall Of Keep Away From Me, forcing her to move her towel that had been touching the top shelf so that PP wouldn’t touch it. Not that PP had any intention of touching her or her towel! If that was even the issue.

PP could feel the wrath of the high level sour face on GTW and it was weird. Why did she care? It was a public sauna; not GTW’s private one. What was the problem anyway?
PP never liked to attribute subtle or not so subtle hostilities to Size or Race Biases, but could this be it?

Was GTW anti-small woman? Or was she just a stupid bitch?

PP crawled above GTW in stubborn but nervous refusal to let herself be intimidated. Sat down scrunched as small as she could make herself in the corner. The tension in the sauna was palpable.

What the hell? PP sat for a few moments, breathing slowly and quietly. Shit, she thought, then sighing, she lay down, keeping herself as small as possible by crossing her arms over her belly instead of her usual one over the top of her head stretch.

For she was small. It was no problem for her to fit up on the top bench even if GTW was 3 times her size.

PP tried to relax but it was impossible. She could feel GTW’s Hostile I HATE YOU FOR SITTING ABOVE ME VIBES.

Fortunately, after about 5 minutes, she rumbled up slowly, then hobbled out.

This is when CL noted her Bad Attitude. “And did you see? She was shaking her head at us when she was walking out?” CL observes.

PP tries to laugh, but it wasn’t funny. It was just weird, “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. ”
“Did something happen with you too?” PP asks.
Sighing, Curvy Latina shakes her head, “Yeah, when I came in she was sitting there, taking all that space" –she had no qualms about calling it as she saw it---"and when I wanted to sit down, she made some comment about someone’s bra being there and when I said that I thought it was hers she just gave me this Look and so I climbed up here and let it go.”

Nodding, PP sighs again; well at least it wasn’t just her. It wasn’t like GTW was targeting insolent blonde petite swimmers.

But now, since Curly Latina wasn’t blonde or petite, PP had to just chalk it up to GTW’s sour mood. It seemed she had it in for everyone that dared to enter Her Sauna!

“Maybe she’s just havin a bad day,” CL offers, eyeing PP sideways and smiling.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Maybe it’s Mother’s Day.”
“Mother’s Day puts people in bad moods?”
CL shrugs, “Maybe. I dunno. All's I know is that with That Attitude, she’s not gonna make any friends."
“And you know what?” PP giggles now, “I saw her pick up her gym bag and it said, ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’”





“Well, she ain’t doing any loving today!” CL scoffs. “I gotta go pick up my kid. He’s still in the pool.”

“Ah, okay. Well, have a great Mother’s Day,” PP called after her.
CL shrugs, then smiled. “Thanks. See you.”

Lying back down, PP sighs, relieved to be alone for a last moment in the sauna.
She was all for Some Attitude.
As long as it wasn’t directed at her!

Blood & blood & more blood....

"We see blood. We see it. We have to see the blood. We do not know if no blood….”
Diabetes Woman is on a Blood Rant when PP and DL enter Utopia. PP knows what it’s probably about, but has to ask anyway.

“What are you talking about?”

Sandy shakes her head, a smirk on her face, “You know what she’s talking about.”
Busted.
Osama Bin Laden. Who else?

Such Blood Talk scares PP mightily. She gets, on an abstract intellectual level, the emotional righteous passion surrounding his killing. But her own gut reaction is: the whole thing is eerily weird. All the Patriotic Fervor in front of the White House that smacks of college kids out for any excuse to drink and wave the flag. Sure, The Guy was a Demon, but still…

The Celebratory Party Atmosphere of it all just creeps her out.

So, now in Utopia with DW ranting on about the Blood, she just feels confused and grossed out.

Sandy, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying the show.
“You think I am crazy?” DW demands of Sandy.
“No, no, you’ve got a right to your opinion," Sandy says, grinning.

“That Osama Bin Laden, you understand, he is the Devil. And his children, they are the Devil. It is in the blood, you know?” DW glares at PP demanding a response.






On the spot, PP nods grasping for something to say, “Like it’s passed on from generation to generation?” she ventures.

DW waves her hands around before letting them continue their under the breast rubbing ritual, “That is right! It is the generation. Like you say!”

Another Ethiopian Woman, or at least PP assumes she is since DW rattles off quick asides in her language to her, starts to giggle. “You are so funny,” she says.

“What so funny!” DW demands. “He was Evil man. He deserve to die. He killed thousands and thousands of people. Innocent people women children babies. What funny about that?”

“Nothing,” AEW continues to grin, “It’s just you’re funny is all. When you said about it’s like Africa. How they get into power and stay in power for 30, 40 years.”

“Africa!” DW stands up, waves her hands dramatically toward all of them, “Africa Stupid!”

Now everyone laughs. PP can see DL’s glasses jiggling on her belly from the giggles. PP has no clue what the Africa Stupid proclamation has to do with Osama Bin Laden. Maybe he aspired to a dictatorship of Ethiopia and it's only just being revealed now in the Sauna at the Oakland YMCA?

“WHAT WHAT WHAT so funny?” DW proclaims, but then she too dissolves into a broad grin. “Okay, okay, you all think I’m crazy. That ok. I don’t mind. I go now.”

Grabbing her soaked towel from the soggy bench, she heads out of the sauna, letting the door close behind her, a sudden quiet calm filling the room.

“On a totally different note, did you see Susan Lucci on Jay Leno the other night?” Sandy asks PP.

"Wow, no. Wonder how I missed that?"
"I have no idea. Seems like something you woulda caught. Anyway, she was saying how....."





PP tries to listen, but the images of a bloody terrorist keeps crowding out the All My Children gossip.

"....and she said that she had had no idea they were canceling the show till the week before we, the public, found out. Can you believe that?" Sandy asks PP, eyeing her intently.

Shaking her head, PP smiles, "No, that's hard to believe. And how long has she been on that show? 47 years?"
"Over 40."
"It's criminal," PP comments.
Sandy nods, gathering up her towel, water bottle, foot scraper, etc. "That's one way of putting it," she agrees as she exits the sauna.

PP sighs, gathering up her stuffs. It's been a long day. The Osama Bin Laden Blood Rant took a lot out of her.

And now the news of Susan Lucci's Kept in the Dark Layoff.

Well, it was all just too much.
There was just way too much carnage in the world. And sure how can you compare the killing of Osama Bin Laden to the Layoff of a Soap Opera Diva?

You can't really.
Or can you?

A Chlorinated Proposal

“I just don’t think I coulda manipulated the situation to a happy ending….” Sandy shakes her head as she rubs lotion meditatively into her toned tummy.

They’d been talking about chlorine in the pool. How since all of the Brown Alerts of the previous summer, the Oakland Y had upped the concentration. Sandy had asked PP if she’d noticed the more intense concentration of chlorine. PP had responded with, not really. The Oakland Y’s chlorine level seemed always to be the worst of any pool she’d ever been in.

“Why the hell they just couldn’t require the kids to wear water diapers is beyond me!” Sandy had exclaimed.

“Yeah, it makes no sense,” PP had agreed. “Every other pool I’ve been to requires the babies to wear ‘em. But there’s enough chlorine in the pool to kill anything I’d think,” she'd added, laughing.

Sandy had nodded, “And hopefully it’ll kill the babies too!”
Delighted with Sandy’s Babycide Desire, PP had laughed. “It’s a theme!”
“What do you mean?”
“Earlier today I was working with a student on Swift’s “Modest Proposal” and you know he’s all about killing the babies and making yummy stews out of ‘em!”
Sandy had grinned, “That’s right. Thanks for reminding me of that!”




“Yeah, but this student, she thought that he was really meaning to eat the babies. You know, literally. She was very disgusted.”
“Wait a minute….” Sandy had paused in her lotion application ritual, “you’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope,” PP had shaken her head.

How to explain that the idea of satire is beyond most of the average person’s conception. If this weren’t the case, then reality shows wouldn’t be as popular as they were. PP has no idea what she means by this, only that somehow Beverley Hills Housewives was satire to her, but to other viewers? Maybe not so much. Though come to think of it, she doesn't know anyone else who partakes of such guilty pleasures. She was almost certain that Sandy didn't.





And so, after PP had mentioned the student's literal mindedness round Baby Stew, Sandy had just stood there, in mid-lotion application, astounded, “I just don’t think I woulda been able to manipulate the situation to a happy ending.”

PP had laughed, “Yeah, well, I don’t think I did. I mean, I think I kept it from being an absolute tragedy, like if those babies in the pool were really in danger of being gassed by chlorine the lifeguard would at least have been able to prevent that. But they’d still be damaged. You know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sandy had nodded. “Their little faces would be all scrunched up in chemical anguish!”
PP had laughed. Did Sandy really say that?
Who cares?
Swift would have liked the image, right?

After all "A Modest Proposal" is just that, all about the image. And the seasoning. And the tenderness. And the screams of agony....

Would A Chlorinated Proposal, if PP were to write it, be seen as satire?

Somehow, she doubts it.

Though if she showed it to Sandy, well, she'd surely at the very least, get A Modest Chuckle.

The Hug

“EEEEUUUUWW, Gross!” PP exclaims, dancing around the puddle on the disgusting locker room floor. She’s just accidentally soaked the bottom of her skirt in the mucky water. Lifting up the edge of it, she tries to shake the wet spot out.

Malena giggles, delighted. “It’s just water,” she grins.
“Yeah, I know, you’re right, but it’s yucky!”

M laughs again, her eyes sparkling behind her thick foggy glasses. “I have a hula hoop,” she announces, trying to detract PP from her water grossness obsession?

She pulls out a black, red, and blue striped hula hoop from her locker; folded in half now, she unravels it and shows it to PP, who’s sitting down, pulling her Kitty Kat socks on, having given up on the skirt dampness.




M stares at the cat socks, but makes no comment as she holds the hula hoop up for PP to admire.
“That’s super cool,” PP smiles, “Did you take a hula hoop class tonight instead of swimming?”

Earlier M had plopped down on the sauna bench adjacent to PP, already dressed in her “I Heart NYC” t-shirt and black stretch pants. Her long dark hair wet and stringy.



“You weren’t in the pool tonight?” PP had observed.
“No, I’m too tired,” M had sighed.
“Yeah, me too,” PP had agreed, thinking of how exhausting the pool has been lately. Full of screaming kids splashing and novice lap swimmers crashing. Summer was coming. Ugh.
“I’m hungry too,” M had announced.
“Oh, yeah, me too,” PP had agreed, “What’re you gonna eat?”
She’d shrugged, “I dunno. Probably a cereal.”
“Sounds good,” PP had nodded, rising and heading out of the sauna.
“Same old thing!” M had pronounced, referring to their Tuesday night shared locker area as she followed PP out.
“Yup, same thing,” PP had agreed, “I know it’s Tuesday cuz of you!”
M had giggled, so easily amused by PP’s random nonsenses.


Now, with the hula hoop, M glances around, “No room here,” she muses.
“Nope,” PP’s gathering up her lotions and hair brush, preparing for the next phase of the getting out of here ritual. Heading over to the mirrors, she thinks of how she really needs to get out of the Y before she faints from hunger and exhaustion. It’s been a long day.

M appears behind her, stands next to the mirrors in a space that may be roomy enough for a hula hoop demo. She gives it a try, but the hoop knocks into a locker. She sighs, then smiles, glancing up at PP who’s trying to get the goddamn tangles out of her wet hair.




“Guess there’s not quite enough room here, eh?” PP observes as she picks up the blow dryer and attempts to administer its half-assed warming agents.

M continues to try the hula hoop, but then after it falls down again, her rounded hips unable to keep it going, she sighs. Giving PP a shy smile, she heads back to her locker.


A few moments later, while wringing out her suit at the sink, PP feels a firm, shy arm wrap around her from behind. A wet head nuzzles into her side, resting on her.

It’s M, giving PP the sweetest Surprise Hug. “Oh….” PP exclaims, touched. “A hug! That’s so sweet. If my hands weren’t wet, I’d hug you back.”

M continues to hold PP, gently but firmly for several seconds, her arm wrapped around PP’s waist possessively.

Her affection does surprise PP. She’s not used to such advances, esp. from sweet youngsters. PP’s not sure exactly what inspired M to give her a hug this evening. Was it her jokes about the gross water? Her willingness to watch the hula hoop demo? The commiseration with being tired and hungry?

Maybe all of the above? PP, nevertheless, is genuinely touched by M’s gesture.

It’s not often that appreciation and affection come at one out of the blue. And when it does, well, there’s a lot to be said for it, isn’t there? Esp. if it’s from a sweet girl who obviously has a lot of love to give, cliché as that sounds. PP’s just glad that she’s the lucky recipient of M’s fondness.





If only more of us showed our feelings so openly and spontaneously. It’d be a very different place, wouldn’t’ it?

M lets go and backs away, picking up her pink panther backpack and heading out of the locker room.

“Bye, bye,” PP calls after her. “You made my day!”

M giggles softly, shakes her head as she gives PP a little wave before trudging out into her world.

The Simpkins Family Swim Center

Anytime ‘family’ graces the name of a pool, PP knows that it bodes odiousity. And the Simpkin's Family Swim Center in the Live Oak neighborhood of Santa Cruz was no exception.

It wasn’t the pool. No, the pool was stupendous. 50 meters long. Divided into 18 wide wide lanes. When PP shared the lane, she could hardly tell there was someone else on the other side. Except for String Bikini Big Yellow Cap Girl. Swimming with her head held out of the water high. No goggles. Like she was playing water polo. But she wasn’t. She was racing some middle-aged dude in the lane next to PP and kicking his ass. Easily. Even with stopping at the wall at the end of every lap to re-tie her string round her neck.

But she only lasted 5 minutes. Had proved her point. 18 year old girls can out swim middle-aged dudes with one bikini string untied behind their necks.

Before String Bikini Girl was Hawaiian Swim Trunks Breast Stroke Guy. Quiet and slow and peaceful. Definitely PP had little inkling that she was sharing a lane with him.
Finally another beefy mid-aged guy (Was this the pool for this demographic?)barreled in, beating the water for the last 20 minutes of her swim. Yet again, the wide lane went far to mask the water beating action.

But before the swim, the real heniousity came in: The locker-room.

Initially, when PP had first entered the women’s locker room and come upon the tiny locker area—she’s terrible at space measurements, but maybe it was 10 X 12? Is that super small?--she was dumbfounded. She beheld only two narrow benches that could hold just one person’s stuff. (Well, PP’s stuff—maybe someone else’s stuff might be able to fit two people's stuff.) And two rows of lockers wedged into the corner and....

Okay, see? She can’t even describe it. It was so small. She’d thought that there must be another few rooms, identical to this one, if she just ventured around the corner, but no. Around the corner were the sinks and toilets. Then the showers. Then the door out to the pools.

Was it for real?

PP stood for a moment, awestruck, thinking, “Can I do this? Where am I gonna get changed? Should I just turn around and leave?” She glanced round at the full-to- capacity room of 3 moms, 4 kids, and a grandma sitting in the corner slowly rubbing lotion into her rolls of tummy.





“Here, let me move this for you,” One Woman offered, as she pushed aside her daughter’s Little Mermaid back pack.
“Thanks,” PP tried to smile, but didn’t manage a genuine one. Of this she was certain.



But she was here now. And the pool beckoned. Its 18 lanes enticing her. (Of course, 10 of the lanes were full of Special Olympics’ kids and parents. Here’s the family part. And what is it about the Special Olympics swim teams anyway? They follow PP and DHBF everywhere. At Hilltopia. Now at the Simpkins Family Swim Center.)




Yet, again, in the pool, all was bliss. Swimming under dusky sky, wispy with high pink clouds, the singing birds flitting about in the big tall trees surrounding the pool.... It was nice to be outside!



But as the time to close inched nearer, PP began to feel a bit panicky. She better get out of the pool and head to the showers before the onslaught of Special Olympics Families finished their workout.

And so she stopped. Giving herself 10 minutes before closing time. Heading into the locker-room to nab a shower.

Which she did, but Claustrophobia set in big time once she finished her shower. Crammed into the tiny locker-room, she tried to control herself.

Yet, she couldn't quite: “They coulda made the locker room a bit bigger,” PP grumbled as she tried to squeeze past a mom yanking on a pink and green striped sock of her Special Olympics Daughter. The daughter stared at PP, her bright red hair sticking out in all wet directions.
Another woman, PP didn’t even see who since she couldn’t turn around the space was so small, grunted a reply to her comment. Something like, “Uh, yeah….” Her voice trailing off. Like “Duh!” –we all know the locker room is too infinitesimally small for the size of any public family pool, let alone one of the Simpkin’s pool’s dimensions.

PP resisted a response, got herself dressed, and then ran out of the locker room, plopping herself on the carpet outside next to DHBF’s chair, where he was calmly reading Hunter S. Thompson. Finally, she could breathe now that she was out of the locker room.





“I hadda get outta there before I screamed.”
Nodding, DHBF finished his paragraph, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“I’ve never seen such small locker rooms. I thought Mills was bad…”
“Nope. Mills is a Palace compared to this place,” he joked.

Laughing now as she dried off her cap, PP was suddenly confronted with a small person’s staring gaze. A boy round 4? 3? 5? Hell she can’t tell. “Did you have fun swimming?” she asked, trying to be kid friendly even though it went against the grain.
He nodded.
“How far did you swim?”
He held up both hands and spread his fingers.
“10 miles!” PP exclaimed. “Wow! You’re a fish!”
Singing Dad glanced over at them, “She's a Rock Bottomed Woman....", a dopey grin finishing out the refrain.

“Let’s get outta here,” PP nodded to DHBF, who grinned and started packing up.
“She’s a ….” SD wailed as 10 mile boy danced.

And even though the Simpkin's Family Swim Center sucks at locker room proportions, PP had to admit that the pool had been worth it.

Though she didn’t plan on going back there anytime soon!