Can you stop time? Have you ever wanted to? How about for one or two hours a day you just shut the world off and forget that your job sucks, you can’t pay your bills, your house is dirty, your ass is too big, whatever. I’ve got the secret . . . It’s called swimming. You know, you’ve heard of it, right? You did it when you were a kid. No dumbass, not that shit where you put on goggles and a cap and ear plugs and drudge along back in forth in those boring fucking lanes, counting strokes and getting that silly exercise stuff. I’m talking about good old heart-thumpin’, chlorine-stinkin’, swim-suit losin’ swimming. Jumping in with yer knees up to your chest, back-slapping, ass-kicking fun. Actually, I’m not much for jumping, but the other day Jake and I put on our goggles and started exploring the deep end of our neighborhood Brentwood Park pool. Since then, nary a day goes by that we don’t make it there for a quick underwater expedition. I have found that for a couple of hours a day I actually forget that I’m miserable in my life, unable to decipher a single bit of it. For a little while, I’m Joanna, the 8-year-old, swimming underwater, blowing bubbles up to the top and sitting on the bottom of the pool. I can remember showing up at the pool at opening time in Tulia, Texas. I’d ride my blue 10-speed the four or five miles to the pool and stay till closing, everyday, all summer long. Flirting with the cute life-guards and eating lunch at the snack bar, I was a brown bean, just like The Jakey now. Who new about skin cancer? I’m sucking at that whole concept even now. I don’t think I even wore sunscreen back then. These last few days of Jake’s summer I’m showing him the way of the underwater world. Everything beats slower down there, everyone flows. I’m creating this concept of underwater yoga. It’s beautiful. So, if you haven’t made it out to the pools yet, I think you have one more month. Pull out that moldy old swimsuit, slather on some 50 spf, and get some Vitamin D. The sun isn’t all that evil. You’ll find us there, looking like racoons in our goggles, popping up for air. Hit the title for a link and find a free pool near you.
Redtruckbetty Tales
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Yeah!. I’m headed out right now.
You rock. you racoon. Swimming is the poor man’s therapy.
Um….hello. I think I know you…at least, I think I met you long ago, and I thought you were gorgeous, in the way that girls judge girls and all….anyway, my name is Kerri and I know Joel and I live in your neighborhood and I am i a band called the Sexy Finger Champs, maybe you remember me? Nonetheless, you are spot on about the swimming thing, sweetness. I am not lucky enough to have any babies yet to take to pools, but I go alone as often as possible and jump and splash and I probably look like an idiot, I am certain I am the freak that becomes the topic of someone’s dinner conversation, the crazy woman in the raggedy vintage swimsuit, hooting and hollering, jumping in and making big splashes. It is the best thing ever for a weary, overheated, discontented soul!
Keep on splashin’! See you around I hope!–>