Bone Dry

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Just as my head was sinking into the pillow I thought “Ahhhhhhh” with a contented sigh.

Immediately the alarm went off. 
(Or so it seemed)

I dragged my sorry *ss out of bed by the short hairs and got ready for my swim.

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At the pool I was treated to a surprise when the hairpiece lady showed up and slipped quietly into the pool. 

She was clad in a tasteful swimsuit that was completely covered by a full body floatation device. 

I don’t think her head ever came within a foot of the water. No way was that hair coming loose again. 

Watching her swim was a treat! 

If you’ve ever watched a turtle on its back trying to flip itself back over you’ll have a pretty good vision of what was going on atop the water only she was right side up. 

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The smile on her face was faaaaantastic!!!

I laughed to myself and immediately choked because my face was under water. (Don’t try this at home folks)

Samantha L. Jackson

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I have a weakness for ice cream.

It’s the kryptonite to my Superman.

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I’ve never met an ice cream I didn’t like, or one that didn’t like me. 
One might say I’m an ice cream whisperer.

Today, working off last nights ice cream binge, I met Samuel L. Jacksons older sister.
The were made from the same cloth, only this woman was taken from the dirty side.

When I said good morning she responded with “Yeah, it’s a good m*&%$@#f*&%$n’ mornin’! The sun is up and I’m at the m*&^%$f*&^%n’ gym again. Breathin’ in & out though, so it’s pretty good!” with a smile on her face.

I guessed that in the early years in the KCMO school district m*&^%$#f*&^%n’ was taught as an adjective.
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When I asked what her plans for the day were, she replied “I got a long m*&^%$#f*&^%$n’ day ahead of me. Dr.s appointment at nine where I gotta get some more prescriptions and I don’t like that sh*t. M*&^%$f*&^%rs tell me I have to take this and I have to take that. I’m like, 197 years old and I’ve made it this long without all that m*&^%$f*&^%$n’ sh*t. I’m leaving that office and headed right to the store for some ice cream!”

If I were like, 70 years older, she would be mine.

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Coffee & Donuts

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I’m omnomnomnivorous. 

One might say I’m like the Marines of the dinner table. You know “no morsel left behind”.

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As the exercise routine deepens, I find myself making the occasional “good decision” and I find it a bit disconcerting. 

What happened to the days of “Hey, where are we going tonight?” followed by the 3am carb loading at Denny’s (I miss you Rose, my favorite Denny’s waitress. Thanks for putting up with so much of our bs!) or the Village Inn and then passing out at the house with the music blaring out the latest grunge tunes?

Getting up at 5am is for the birds (No, seriously. You should hear them. It’s like fowlapalooza & the feathered freaks are belting out the top forty.)

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But, here I am, eating some fruit (FRUIT!!!!! WTF happened to my Grand Slam breakfast?) and seriously looking forward to some coffee. 

That I made. 

At 5 am. 

Although there may be some donuts next to the coffee maker. 

Decisions, decisions…

The 147 Legged Spider

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They say that the early bird gets the worm. 

Well, I say that’s disgusting. 

This early bird wants the donut. 
Or a cheeseburger. 
Or some foie gras. 

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Anything that is the antithesis of healthy eating and/or exercising. 

On another note, we had a new (and I think one time) visitor in the semi turbulent and imaginative waters of the pool today. 

I’ve noticed over the years the propensity of the brown ladies I’ve known to enjoy wearing wigs or a hair piece. 

Some wear it with pride, not trying to disguise it as their own while others do their best to look and act as if they were born with those amazing ringlets and perfectly manicured tresses. 

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Today, a fairly young lady entered the pool area and of course we all looked and normally we’ll wave at anyone we know or greet a newcomer if they look friendly. 

This one was only looking straight forward with blinders on and grim determination painted on her face. 

She was there on a mission and would be damned if she was going to be distracted. 

She was wearing a shoulder length wig with perfect rings in every strand that looked like cavatappi pasta (curly que tubes) and as she entered the pool, she submerged completely, then began swimming vigorously to the other end, leaving her beautiful ringlets floating atop the pools surface like a one hundred and forty seven legged spider. 

At the far end, she made the turn and came inexorably back to her starting point. 

As she arrived, her stroke reached its apex and landed squarely on the floating island island of ringlets. 

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She let out an ear piercing shriek (which is amazing since her face was still in the water), grabbed the hair (don’t wanna forget that) and left such a wake that I was sure that Moses had touched the water with his staff and parted the ways in order to hasten her retreat. 

I could see the bottom of the pool. It was bone dry.

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As she rounded the corner to the locker room, her wet feet and the slick tile floor failed her and she ran in place for what seemed like an eternity. 

I’m pretty sure she ran a hundred yard dash in record time without ever moving an inch. 

Finally, rationality took over, she slowed and entered the locker room dragging her pride like a wounded gazelle carried by a lion on the African plains. 

Not sure if we’ll see her again but I’m looking forward to episode two!

Pucker up

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I like kissing. 

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Light, chaste kisses, wet, sloppy ones, French kisses, soul kisses, hungry kisses (I don’t like *ss kissing).

Today, I kissed the pavement. 

I didn’t like it. 

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After a particularly vigorous swim (I was late & time was short) I was a little wobbly and upon exiting the gym I took a header from the parking lot. 

I tripped over the curb and into the grassy median separating the parking spaces. 

I shouldn’t have been dragging my feet since I was already dragging my knuckles.

It was one of those falls where you don’t even get your hands out in time & you wind up with your face buried in the turf, your mouth open and your arms still at your sides. 

As I spat the grass & dirt from my pie hole, I glanced around to see if anyone saw my wonderful humiliation. 

All of the Aqua-ettes were standing at the poolside window. 

I could hear the laughter through the glass from thirty yards away. 

As I rolled over to collect any stray pieces of my dignity, I tried to wipe away the grass stains and chunks of earth clinging to me but after the rain I only succeeded in smearing them together to create some sort of homemade camouflage paste. 

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So, grass sticking in my hair and covered in earth toned war paint, I made my way back to the truck. 

The laughter didn’t fade until I shut the door and started the engine. 

I think I’m missing a tooth…

Cheerios. Mmmmmmmm…

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Cheerios are delicious. Especially The honey nut variety. 

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The first time. 

Later, when you’re in the middle of a swim, head underwater, breath held and mid-stroke, a little bubble makes its way from the murky (and 2% milky) depths and enters the world through your olfactory passage. 

It burns the nostrils. 

The hair that inadvertently grows there curls up in heat seared death (note to self: when nose hair gets too long, have some Cheerios).

I find it difficult to see when my goggles are filled with the salty tears that my eyes have literally projectile squirted into them, filling the little void almost instantly. 

Keeping my eyes open was zero problem but for some reason my mind was screaming “Don’t look!” just in case something escaped my pursed lips. 

I had to re-swallow a hunk of something I swear I never ate in the first place. 

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I could only assume that the mild mannered O’s that I had so lovingly gazed upon in my cereal bowl were tearing me apart from the inside out. 

From now on, it’s back to the smoothies…

Friday Funday

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It’s Friday. 

A day to finish up the work week and possibly relax your way into the weekend. 

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But noooooooo…..

I was in such a foul mood yesterday. Itching for a fight all day long. I was ready to argue against the color of the sky, Eskimos needing ice and the fact that Chuck Norris could in no way beat the living crap out of me. 

I decided that the best course of action was to pour twenty pounds of ice over the beers that were left in the cooler, peruse the selection of cigars and relax in the garage. 

I relaxed. Relaxed some more. After that I relaxed a bit. Then, after all of that relaxing, I decided I need to relax for a while. 

The next thing I knew, the beers were gone and I was two cigars in and it was time to go to the house. 

Of course we all know that after a bit of boozing, fast food is tantamount to the well being of your soul and although I didn’t have Taco Bell, I had visited Mexican Restaurant Row over in KCK earlier in the day and had a twelve pack of tamales
and some carnitas in tow. 

Four tamales and a fist full of carnitas later, my food lust was sated & I immediately fell asleep in front of the tv. 

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On this lovely Friday morning I’m paying the piper. Only this one has a pipe ORGAN. 

For the last forty minutes I’ve been in the pool trying not to hurl my morning juice and doing my best imitation of a dying fur seal trying to escape a killer whale. 

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If you could hear me under water it would sound kind of like
“Huuuuunnnnggghhhh (shallow breath) huuuuuunnngghhhh…”

It’s. Un. Pretty. 

I need to go home and relax…

It’s A Little Chilly

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It was tough getting out of bed today. 

The alarm went off and I desperately wished (in one hand) for a ball peen hammer to silence the dastardly machine forever. 

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One point in the manufacturers favor is that the longer you procrastinate (great way to start the day btw…put it off for a little while) the louder the noise gets. 

I finally dragged my sorry (donkey) across the bed & shut the damned thing off, gave it an especially scathing look (it did NOT melt) and got up. 

Facebook is an excellent way to procrastinate in the morning as well. 

I sat for fifteen minutes just perusing the posts from the night before. Laughing at some, waving away the funk when I laughed too hard at others and some of my turbo slipped out. 

I finally grabbed my keys and walked out of the door into 55 degrees in a skimpy t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. 

My pee pee immediately disappeared. 

WTF happened?!?! 

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It was so nice yesterday! I find it strangely odd that I was craving the relative warmth of the swimming pool to get away from the natural warming (or freaking cooling) of the earth. 

So here I am. Not regretting that I got up and glad that I got to swim another day. 

I drank minimal pool water and am thirsty for something less floatie flavored. 

Mr. Coffee, get ready…

Less Jiggly

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I’m not as jiggly as I was a couple of months ago.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not thin by any stretch of the imagination but when I run (usually away from something) I don’t feel like my body has jiggled twice as far as my legs took me.

I’ve pretty much avoided the scale (BECAUSE THE M*&#$@F!*%ER LIES!!!) for two reasons:
1. I’m exercising more to keep my heart healty than anything else.
2. It’s digital and the batteries are dead.

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I have however, been avoiding the weight room since I threw my back out. We had a really bad argument over who really ran the show and parted ways in a huff.

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We’ve since made up after a few tense phone calls and LOTS of muscle relaxers (and episodes of WTF happened over the last few hours…and why am I sticky?). I’ve been informed that it’ll be performing at the standard pace, holding me upright in just a short while.

The pool (although still huge bikini and mumuit flavored) has really done the trick and my stamina (IN THE POOL…!!!) has increased to the point that the crying has pretty much stopped but the occasional whimper makes it through.

At least the Aqua-ettes find it amusing…

Sabertoothtown

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I’ve heard many stories of couples saving their marriages. 

Today was the first time my marriage saved me. 

My special friend approached me after just one length of the pool and asked the fateful question…

“Are you married? Some of the girls wanted me to ask.”

My first reaction was shock (she’s 87) then relief (she was asking for others) then shock again as I realized the “the girls” were also in their late 70’s. 

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My imagination immediately kicked into high gear & I envisioned a blind date where I watched a beautiful woman walking across a crowded restaurant dining room wearing a slinky dress & an amazing hairdo (moving incredibly slowly due to the four legged walker and trailing the huge oxygen bottle, iv cart & team of nurses)

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I wondered why a blind date required a table for five. 

It was like an episode of Cougartown, or in this case Sabertoothtown. 

I smiled at my friend & replied “Yes” with an almost palpable & heavy sigh of relief. 

I had dodged the bullet…