I’m getting tired of being on display at the pool. I need my own lap pool. I’m asking Santa. Just like Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation. He wanted a pool. I hope I don’t end up with the Jelly of the Month Club too. Although Cousin Eddie says it is the gift that keeps giving all year long, so it can’t be that bad.
Here are the top three things that bugged me about the public pool today.
1. You can’t swim naked. My bathing suit is disintegrating before my eyes. The chlorine has eaten it away. I got home today from my 64 minute water running session (I said, 64 FREAKING MINUTES) and showed Ken the suit. When I held it up he said, “That is really see through. Those male lifeguards must love you!” What I hadn’t realized was that as the chlorine at up the suit, it also ate up the lining (Here’s a pic, it’s seriously not as bad as it looks. The sun added some dramatic affect. OK it’s bad. That’s one worn out piece of crap. Really good views of my boobs and torso). Where is my new grab bag suit???
2. Stuff in the pool. Today before I got into the DE (deep end) I noticed the lifeguard squatting down and trying to see something on the bottom of the pool. I looked too and saw something shaped like a turd. I asked him, “Is there anything I need to be concerned about on the bottom of the pool?” He said, “Oh, I’m just trying to figure out if that’s a hairball or not.” I responded, “Oh, good. I thought it might be a turd.” He exclaimed, “Oh no! Nothing like that.” He didn’t even crack a smile. They take dumping in the pool very seriously. As they should. I’d rather swim with a hairball than a floater any day.
3. One on One. At noon the pool cleared out. It was just me and the lifeguard. Awkward. Kind of like being in an elevator for a really long time with a stranger. For some reason I wouldn’t feel awkward if I was swimming, but to be bobbing around in the deep end water running somehow made me feel like a dork on display.
Picture of the week. Yesterday was my nephew’s sixth birthday party. At a roller rink. Haven't been to one since doing the couple’s skate in fifth grade with Casey. I tore it up. Pretty soon I was flying around the rink on my broken hip doing the fancy cross over turns every chance I got. I was a star, something to behold. See? I’m singing Van Halen. Even that guy behind me is standing back in adoration.
To make up for my ghastly skating, Emma agreed to pose with me for a mom/daughter shot. I love that girl. She’s eating a pixie stick. Remember those?
I have some news to share, but can’t. Hopefully soon. I’m not pregnant. And, I’m not really a man.
Wishing I liked jelly more,