Category: Swimming suits

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A Dip In The Deep End

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are on our way over to take a dip in the swimming pool. I would snap photos of our swimming exploits, but I know better than to take my phone anywhere near a swimming pool. My age-related, intermittent hand shakiness would likely send the phone right into the pool if I attempted to shoot an aquatic selfie. You’ll have to make do with a photo of me in my old timey swimsuit, before I get to the pool. The swimming pool belongs to the HOA, but this week every year, it’s almost exclusively mine. The neighborhood kids are back in school, and their parents are so relieved the kids are out from underfoot that I think they are staying home to recuperate from their child-filled, hectic summer. I’m glad the kids are back in school, and I’m equally glad the parents seem to have no desire to visit the pool right now—because the pool is once again almost mine-all-mine. It closes for the season after Labor Day. But during this week—and before the Labor Day weekend—it is usually deserted during the day except for me and Bow Tie. The pool might as well be in our back yard, which I guess it already sort of is because there’s only one house between us and it. The only thing I’m sad about when I’m alone in the pool is that there is no one to witness my spot-on, dead Rasputin pose, which I feel compelled to re-create every single time I am playing in water. (I am convinced I was Rasputin in a former life.)

You have no idea how acutely I am tempted to let Skitter play in the pool with me. I fight the temptation every year, and so far, I’ve been able to resist its lure. But I know who I am, and if I were you, I would bet bigly money on it that one of these coming summers I will sneak Skitter into the swimming pool—infuriating the HOA and incurring a hefty fine for me to pay. It will be so worth it to me to do it. It will be a phenomenal tale to tell y’all when it finally happens. I’m just not up to the hassle it could stir up this year. There’s currently too much contention in the American air already. I don’t want to add to its pollution. Maybe next summer I’ll be bad. 🏊‍♀️ 🐶

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Swimming In Snow. Not.

I mix-matched my old-timey striped swimming suits for this post photo, to add more red-and-green Christmas effect. It was kinda cold in the house though, so I added my Halloween stockings—for equal parts warmth and garish clash. Note that I make the obligatory dive pose in one of the pix. It’s required to do that if you are wearing a swimming suit in a dry-land snapshot. My five Ties o’ the Day and the one Bow Tie o’ the Day have a bubbly drinking theme. Even Face Mask o’ the Day has a sandy Santa ready to imbibe some boat drinks while going over his list. Two of the ties are almost alike, but I can still count them both in my tie tally because one has a blinking red nose. Thus, they are lightyears (pun intended) different.

People, my swimming suit and I are in dire need of a beach right now! Every time I drag it out, I secretly hope someone will take pity on me and buy me a ticket to warm sand and surf.

Holiday Tie Tally: 134 Neckties. 56 Bow Ties.

Holiday Face Mask Tally: 8.

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Summer Waits For No-one

My Klimt-inspired Bow Tie o’ the Day is a perfect cherry-on-top selection for my green-and-white, old-timey swimming suit. I found a green-and-white striped Face Mask o’ the Day which almost matches. I’m good with almost matches on rare occasions.

It’s pool time folks. I’m wearing my cowboy boots here in the photo just cuz I like to wear my cowboy boots. They make an especially bold statement, but I won’t be swimming in them. I swam in my cowboy boots at the Reservoir near Delta once when I was a kid, and I got stuck in the sand at the bottom. No matter how hard I tugged and pulled, I could not budge my boots from the muck. I got stucker and stucker. I stood out in the water, calling for help for what felt to me like hours, but it was probably more like 10 minutes. There was no way in heck I was gonna just pull my feet out of my stuck boots and swim to shore. No way in heck was I going to leave my cowboy boots out there to drown without me. I waved my arms, again and again, and yelled for assistance. Even then, people knew I was eccentric, so they just thought I was waving hello and putting on a show for those on shore.

Finally, some drunk hippie I didn’t even know suddenly realized I was in a predicament. He swam out to save me, and he patiently dove beneath the water to release me and my boots. He carried my boots to shore for me.

I learned two lessons that day: 1. Don’t swim in your cowboy boots, no matter how much you love wearing them. 2. Sometimes the drunk stranger will be the first one to save you from yourself.