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Showing posts from November, 2015

Time Out?

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“Time out! Time out!” The little round gnome of a man waddles toward me. Out of the pool now, he hollers and grins, his squashed Santa-like visage all crinkles and sprinkles.
What’s he talking about? I wonder as I perch on the edge of the deck, feet in the water, preparing my cap, mask and earplugs for my swim.

I glance over at Ian, who’s already in the pool. He’s giving me the Big Grin. It’s the Theater of the Pool. All the deck’s a stage!

“I saw you coming,” Time Out Santa huffs at me, getting closer and closer to my sacred prep spot on deck. Giggling, I nod, again wondering why he’s so excited. Why is he yelling ‘time out’ at me? Do I need a time out? Isn’t that what frustrated moms yell at their kids when they’ve been brats? “Matilda! Stop biting your brother! Time out!” And Matilda pouts. The brother beams. The mom shakes her head as she drags Matilda over to the corner of the room, away from her brother and all biting temptations.
Yet, doesn’t everyone need a time out?

I could …

It’s Like We’re Rich People

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“When this pool is perfect, it’s really perfect!” I exclaim to Handsome Swimmer Man, waving my arm in sweeping drama at the empty pool.

I hadn’t seen him in months. Had run into him one day coming out of the locker room, heading up the stairs. He told me he had arthritis in both his shoulders. Ouch. And so wrong for a swimmer. I’d suggested that he get some fins, kick laps, just to get in the pool. He’d nodded, thought it was a good idea, but then I hadn’t seen him.

So today, when the pool was empty except for the two of us, I kept trying to catch his eye as we both swam back and forth, back and forth. He seemed fine. Zipping past me, doing all the strokes. No evidence of any arthritis that I could see.

“It’s like we’re Rich People!” he joked, tossing his cap onto the deck and shaking out his hair.
“Oh, yes! If I were rich, the first thing I’d buy is my own pool!”
We’d laughed. “It seems like you’re feeling better?” I ventured. “The arthritis is gone?”
He shrugged, “Nah, not reall…