I know where the Daryls are!

Good evening!

I thought I'd be writing about the insanely goofy things that seem to keep happening to me every time I get into the pool at Gold's.  I mean, granted, I should have known no good would come of me trying to replicate the foot stomp the guy in the speedo did a few weeks back. What was I thinking?  I'm old.  I'm fluffy. I have an arthritic toe!  Slapping my feet on the deck of the pool was...in a word...ill-advised.



However, no, I'm not going to tell you how I managed to further cripple myself by giving in to the urge to do that weird foot slap walk the speedo did.  Nope, not gonna tell you.  Not gonna do it.
Instead, I'm going to tell you about the other time in my life when ridiculous things seem to happen to me...without fail.  When I'm standing in line for ANYTHING at Sam's Club.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Sam's club, it's one of those buy in bulk warehouse stores.  They've added a few things since they opened their doors and now you can get big screen TV's, tires, prescription meds, eyes checks, hearing checks, and oh yes, your toilet paper...in gross.  It's the one stop shop for people with unlimited storage space.  (Or with children who can't seem to eat enough peanut butter to satisfy them.  Seriously...you should see how much peanut butter we go through.)

Now I get why people join Sam's.  If you buy in bulk, you get a better price.  We buy fruit there, the milk prices are always good, and face it, with four cats, we have to buy kitty litter by the truckload.  I get it.  I have kids.  We have a ton of cats.  We need to buy in bulk.

And yet...it seems like every time I'm in a line at Sam's club...I'm behind an old guy who is gumming up the works because 1)  He's in self checkout and hasn't a clue what he's doing; 2)  he's at the pharmacy and forgot what his doctor was supposed to order for him...and he forgot his birthday...and he forgot everything; 3)  he's in customer service asking all the question that could possibly be asked about everything because he's an old guy and has no place else to go.

I'd like to make a solemn vow at this point, and I'd like all the retired people to sit up and listen and maybe adopt this as their own policy:  I solemnly swear, when I have retired, and I have NO PLACE ELSE TO GO AND NOTHING ELSE TO DO ALL DAY I will get on with my daily business and be off the streets and out of all lines by 4:30 in the afternoon when the people who are still employed start their shopping and errands.  I will do this because, as a retired person, I have ALL DAMN DAY to get in lines and ask questions and forget things in front of people, and I don't need to be doing it during the time of day when exhausted mothers and fathers are just trying to do ONE LAST THING before they get home and order pizza...again...because they're tired...again...and have to get up and go to work early in the morning.

Now, I'd like all retired people to raise your right hand...I'll wait...because that's what retired people MAKE ME DO EVERY TIME I'M AT SAM'S CLUB!

Today was no exception.  I had four stops to make after work and one of them was to return a pair of pants to Sam's.

Let me stop here for a moment and just say, if Sam's doesn't want people to return clothing, they really should provide a trying on room.  And if pants makers don't start getting some sort of standard for women's pants, I'm going to have some sort of attack.  Seriously, any pair of pants that is in my size and labeled "SUPER STRETCH"  should FREAKING FIT!  I should not have to lie on the bed and suck in my fat if I've purchased a pair of pants in my numeric size that are labeled "super stretch."  There should be a standard.  A 16 should fit no matter what the label.  I should NOT be able to wear a 14 in some pants and a 16 in others and then not be able to even zip up an 18 in another brand.  That's just wrong.

Anyway, back to the standing in line.  So I'm in line waiting to return a pair of pants.  That's all I wanted to do.  Go in, return, leave.  Any other store in the world, this is a four minute transaction tops.  I know.  I've returned a lot of pants.

At Sam's, however, I got behind this retired couple who, I'm guessing, wanted to hear the complete history of Sam's club while trying to take out a home loan at the customer service desk.  I realize Sam's doesn't do home loans.  I'm pretty sure Old Person One and Old Person Two did not.  Not, given the amount of time they spent asking questions of the Sam's club employee.

But this post isn't so much about the retired couple in front of me as it is about the two old guys behind me. 

Back in the 80's there was a very fun show called "The Newhart Show."  If you're not familiar with the plot, it doesn't matter.  The biggest laughs came from a named Larry.  Larry was a derfy looking guy who had a line he said every time he came on screen followed by two derfier looking guys:

"Hi, I'm Larry. This is my Brother Daryl, and this is my other Brother Daryl."

And we laughed every single time.  Every. Single. Time.

Well, for those of you wondering where the Daryls wound up...I can tell you. They were standing behind me in the customer service line at Sam's club this afternoon.  And they were there, and I'm not kidding here, JUST TO STAND IN LINE.

There they were, standing there, sipping Coca Cole out of those gigantic Styrofoam vats Sam's sells.  And they looked just like they did back in the day, just a bit older, but certainly no cleaner!  A female employee of Sam's stopped to see if she could help them, maybe direct them somewhere or point them toward the door where their essence of Coke and old man wouldn't be quite so...sturdy.

"No thanks," they told her.  "We like standing in lines."

And there it is.  The reason I keep getting behind retired people at 4:30 in the afternoon. They have nothing else better to do, so they like to stand in lines...and clearly, none of them is finished doing that until well after 4:30.

Ok Fluffy Folks, time to get out of the pool!

Most of you who have been following this blog for some time know that I'm a devoted listener of the Bob and Brian Show here in Milwaukee.  I'm especially a fan of their sports segment with Steve Czaben.  I may not always agree with Steve when it comes to American Football...or the NHL...or the true importance of professional golf  (There is none)  but I do agree with one thing he says over and over:  "It's time to leave the party when the football team arrives."

While Steve uses it as a caution to college coeds...I'd like to amend his statement a little.

When the Speedo shows up, it's time to get out of the pool.

Recently...yesterday...I started going back to Golds.  I decided, after nearly a year of doctors, lawyers, specialists, appointments, and pills that I needed to do something for me.  So yesterday I started going back to Golds gym.

As a side note, I was going to blog this week on how Tim McGraw and Lumbergh both made darn sure I didn't get to see Rick Springfield at Summerfest last week...but a trip to Golds made most of my rage over that incident melt away.  How?  Well, when I walked in to the gym, a place I hadn't been since November of last year, the first person I saw was KRAM, my some times personal trainer.

Kram saw me come and said, "Sarah Bradley!"  You're back!  You look great!"

I said, "No I don't.  But thanks.  I'm going to start looking great from now on."

And today, Kram again greeted me at the door and said, "Hey, two for two!"

I know, I'm shocked, too.

Anyway, so today I decided to hit the pool.  Last year I got a new swim suit, a really cool one with shorts and a zipper and a snap at the waist that doesn't stay closed no matter what.  I haven't worn it in a year.

I checked the pool for an available lane, and there was one...right on the end next to the fluffy couple who shared a lane and the very nice lady swimmer who was swimming laps quietly and minding her own business.

I got in the pool and started sort of walking/swimming.  I was having a lovely time.  The fluffy couple was having a lovely time.  The very nice lady swimmer was having a lovely time.

Then I emerged from floating underwater and came eye to eye with it.

The SPEEDO. 

At this point I have to apologize.  Normally I have a ton of pictures but I seem to be having technical difficulties and cannot load pictures to the blog.  Sorry, you're going to just have to imagine this blonde, twenty something, tan god in a teeny tiny red speedo.

And there I was, eye level with it.

I tried to ignore him.  We all did.  The fluffy couple kept paddling in their lane, the swimmer lady kept swimming laps, and I kept doing whatever weird mix of swimming and not swimming I was doing.

But, much like Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction"  this dude was NOT GOING TO BE IGNORED!

He set all of his gear at the end of the pool.  He had a kick board  (he brought one from home...couldn't use the millions they have a the pool)  some weird flotation thingy for his feet, two towels, a stopwatch, and a water bottle.

A water bottle.

He set all that down.  Then he started walking up and down the length of the pool on the deck.  Again, we were all minding our own business.  So Speedo started doing something I swear I've never seen before:  He started walking while slapping his feet against the deck.

It's very noisy.  Everyone HAD to look at him.  I mean, what kind of flipper feet do you have to have to be able to make that kind of slapping sound? 

The swimmer lady cracked first.  She got out of the pool.

He kept pacing, slapping his feet on the deck.  Then he added some airplane moves with his arms.  I've seen Olympic swimmers do this.  It's looks just as goofy in real life, especially when you're slapping your feet on the deck.

I got out of the pool.  Hey, I'm an observer.  I had to watch this guy and I couldn't get a very good view without my glasses.

The fluffy couple held on and I give them credit. Speedo then went back to the end of the pool and began what can only be described as HE-MAN STRETCHING!

He pushed, stretched, bent, squatted, and we all held our breath.  That Speedo was being moved in a lot of directions..,and there wasn't much to it.

At some point during the HE-MAN STRETCHES, fluffy couple got out of the pool and joined me at the hot tub.  I thought about asking if we should get popcorn.

As Speedo was about to get into the water...a darling, tiny, older woman tottered herself into the pool and began to swim laps.

This broke Speedo's prep. He started the slap walking all over again.  Little old lady kept swimming.  He did his HE-MAN STRETCHES again.  She kept swimming.  In a sort of petty display, he kicked his pile of gear over in front of a different lane.

Little old lady kept swimming.

Finally, after some twenty minutes of parading and preening like some sort of plucked peacock, Speedo had to get into the water.  And he dove in with a great splash, clearly ignoring all the DO NOT DIVE signs around the pool.  And, just as quickly as he dove in, he leaped up, breaking the surface of the water and arching much like a really graceful dolphin or whale or something and he splashed back into the water all noisy and messy.

And Little old lady kept swimming.

So friends, I'm back at Golds, which means there will be fun blogging.  And I now have two rules to live by:  It's time to leave the party when the football team arrives and it's time for Fluffy Folk to leave the pool when the Speedo arrives.

Sarah's (semi) triumphant return to Gold's!

Good afternoon!

As many of you know I was in a car accident this past July.  Since then, my life has been a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, physical therapy, chiropractor's appointments, and rest.  Well, finally, last week, the physical therapist cleared me to go back to the gym...to swim.

See, the injury to my neck was sort of mysterious for a while, and now that they've figured out I won't die if I exercise  (which blows my theory about exercise) they feel it will be okay if I swim a little.

So, eager to be back at Gold's gym, I packed my bag and headed to the pool after work.

Here's the thing:  It's November.  It's Wisconsin.  It's COLD right now.  So I was cold when I get to the gym.  I was cold when I checked in, cold when I went to the locker room, cold when I changed into my new swim suit which looks fantastic on me  (well, it looks as good as a swim suit can on my body) except it has a snap at the waist band that keeps popping open.  It's not like it's a load bearing snap, it's just there and it pops open all the time.  Annoying.  Anyway, I was cold getting to the pool and really cold looking at the water.

I stood there, telling myself that once I got into the pool I would be okay.  I would swim a few laps and feel really good about myself.  So I stepped down on the first step into the pool. 

I'm not saying the water was cold.  Maybe my foot was already in the first stages of frostbite.  Who can say?  All I know is, sticking one foot in the water was quite enough for one day.  I decided we were going to take this return to Gold's slowly...baby steps...like today a foot in the pool, and maybe next month I'll go in up to my ankles. 

Perfectly satisfied with my progress for the day, I hit the hot tub. 

My time in the hot tub, because I have a weird form of eczema, had to be short as well, but being warm for the first time all day was sort of intoxicating, so I sat in the water a bit.  Two young women (I'm guessing they were young, women over the age of 30 and the dress size of 12 shouldn't wear string bikinis, but I didn't have my glasses on.) entered the pool area.  There was no one else in the entire space, no one in the hot tub, no one else in the pool.  Not wearing my glasses, I had a hard time really making out features and was shocked at first to think that one of the women was bottomless.  Then I realized that her string bikini bottom was the exact same pale pink as her skin.

The two women got into the pool and stood there.  Just stood there, talking.  Now, I've had a lot of conversations with friends, and many of them in the pool.  But I can't think of one time I had a conversation with someone in a pool while I was standing completely still, unless watching children was involved.  So here these two women are, in the tiniest of bikinis, each of them, standing in the pool at Gold's, doing nothing.  (Which, by the way, is completely different from me...I stuck a toe in and moved along.  That's doing nothing, but doing it out of the way of everyone else.)

I don't know if these women got annoyed that I was just sitting there, minding my own business, but I started to feel like they were not pleased that I was encroaching on their chat time.  (Gee, sorry.  Ya know, Starbucks is just across the parking lot, and THEY encourage people to do nothing and chat.)  After a few minutes of trying to just enjoy the hot tub while unable to ignore the fact that both of them were staring in my direction the entire time, (and seriously...it's a big space, you gotta look at me the whole time?)  I finally gave up and got out of the hot tub.

Now, pay attention here, because this is where Sarah starts to believe in Karma a tiny little bit.  See, I was feeling all superior to these women because, hey, I came, I did something, and I was going.  They were just standing there, doing nothing.  So I had a rare moment of feeling superior to someone in a bikini.  That doesn't happen often.

And it didn't last long.  Did I mention I was NOT wearing my glasses?  Oh, and if you have ever been to a gym pool, you know the doors to the men's and the women's locker rooms look waaaaaaaaaaay too much alike. 

Do I really need to tell you more?

Okay, so there I was, feeling superior to the two do nothings who were STILL STARING AT ME.  And, as I made the turn for the locker room, they burst into laughter. 

You guessed it.  I'd headed through the door to the men's locker room. 

Yes, baby steps back to the gym. Like maybe next time I get the courage to go in there, I DON'T go to the men's locker room.  That would be a magnificent next step.

Cold water stops the flow...NOT!

Good morning!

In the interest of "Sleeping in" a bit, I'm blogging earlier this am.  Maybe if i sleep past 2 PM I won't feel like the walking dead at 2 AM.  It's an attempt anyway!

WARNING:  Today's topic is VERY female...male readers might just get grossed out.  You've BEEN WARNED!





Today I was driving to Gold's, listening to Bob and Brian read their "Gym class horror stories"  (Seriously, if you haven't listened to these guys read their listeners' horror stories, you are missing out!)  and I was reminded of a few general horrors I lived through, simply because my mother passed on "Wisdom" to me...wisdom that held, in the final analysis, little truth.  I could do a serious Laundry List Friday on things my mother passed on as truth that turned out to be old wives' tales, but not today.  Today I want to talk about the one big myth that came to mind:  Cold water stops the flow.

Those of you who have been a young teen girl, or those of you who are parenting young teen girls have undoubtedly either heard this line, or said it yourself.  I won't embarrass Peaches, who reads this blog from time to time, and use direct conversations we've had.  Instead, I'll focus on the conversations my mother (who never reads this blog) and I have had.

For the young teen girl, using a tampon can be daunting and a little scary.  Certainly ridiculously embarrassing.  I recall my own attempts, at the age of 15, when I desperately wanted to go swimming one summer day, and my monthly punctuation showed up.  Mom was outside the door coaching me  (and this was in the early 80's....long before tampons came in slim teen sizes.  No, the only tampons in the house were the SUPER JUMBO sizes that typically are capable of holding up the Hoover Dam if need be.  Seriously, stick a couple of those puppies in the levy system down in New Orleans and we will NEVER have to fear another hurricane.  Those in the Mississippi flood plain are wasting their time with sand bags.  SUPER tampons are just as good as about a dozen sand bags.)

Wait, where was I?  Oh, yeah, right.

So Mom was on one side of the bathroom door...I was on the other, fumbling around like a blind woman trying to field strip a rifle for the first time.  After several sweaty, uncomfortable moments, I opened the door and announced that I'd accomplished it...I had the tampon placed in the proper place.  (Probably lost my virginity to it, too.) 

Well, my mother, bless her, checked.  I know....I KNOW!  And no, I didn't have it in right.  That's when she uttered these words:

Don't worry.  Go ahead and swim.  The cold water stops the flow.

I was stunned.  Really?  That's all I needed?  Cold water?  BRING IT ON!  I spent the whole summer in the city pool, blissfully believing my mother's wisdom.

Over the years, I've come to realize that maybe this was true for my mother...though how she'd know it I didn't know since I can count on one hand the number of times my mother has been in a swim suit...but it CERTAINLY wasn't true for me.

Without being gross....too late, I know...let me just say if I held to this delightful old wives' tale, that shark from JAWS could follow me for miles.

We're going to need a bigger boat.  The sharks are NOT going to miss this trail!

The idea that the cold water of a pool will suddenly stop a menstrual flow seems...silly.  And I felt equally silly saying it out loud to Peaches a couple years ago.  We now just look at each other and laugh and laugh and laugh.

I'm not sure who came up with the idea, certainly NOT someone who's had a period...and certainly NOT someone who designs tampons.  Maybe deep sea fishermen...hoping that swimming women would attract trophy fish. 

A rumor like this started by men for the advantage of men that also happens to make women look a little silly.  Yep...that sounds about right!

Chlorine poisoning is NOT the worst option in this scenario!

Good evening!

I have a couple of days off of 3rd shift.  Yes, it took me all of yesterday for my feet to stop throbbing and yes, I'd almost need three days off to feel like I'm not just wandering around like the dead.  As my mother always said, "This too, shall pass."

I'm hoping it passes tonight.  I had Hubby buy some lottery tickets.  I never do that.  He asked if I was feeling lucky.  Not so much lucky as really, really not excited about working 8 nights in a row.

But I digress.

So lately I've taken to going to Gold's right after I get home in the morning.  This is nice because, even though my feet ache like crazy, there are generally no people in the pool and I can swim and float to my heart's content.

On Friday morn, however, the pool room was FREEZING.  You know how it is, walking into the room where there's pool. The air is typically tropical and heavy.  Such is almost always the case at Gold's pool.  Yes, the water is chilly, but once you're in, the room is so humid it's actually nice to be in the pool.

Friday...not so much.  Ladies, you know that feeling when you get into a swimming pool and you spend quite a lot of time trying to avoid getting your chest into the water because you're not ready for your "lady buttons"  (as we used to call them when Peaches was very young) to get so cold they actually rupture?  Well, most of the time that feeling goes away after that initial dunking.  Not in this case.  Ruptured nipples was a very real possibility. After about ten minutes of flesh freezing swimming, I abandoned all hope and escaped to the hot tub.  

I love the hot tub at Gold's.  I don't know if I've mentioned that recently.  I love hot tubs generally, but I really love the hot tub at Gold's. There's something so nice about sinking into steamy swirling water after a good workout or just because you're FREAKING FREEZING!

So there I am, regaining the feeling in my skin, when a gent joins me.  As we all know, I can't hear without my glasses on, and it's very echoey in the pool room, so I typically do not strike up conversations with strangers in the hot tub.

A few moments later, a Gold's employee walked in, under the guise of tidying up.  He seemed to know the gent in the hot tub.  They chatted over me...something that typically annoys me, but in this case, since I was really only catching every other word, it was okay.

"Cold in here this morning."  Gent says.

"Is it?"  Worker says.

"Yeah.  Cold in here. Normally it's steamy."

"Well,"  says the worker, " I cleaned out the vent yesterday.  It was all gunked up and I had to clean it out so that some fresh air could get in."

(I have to stop and point out that this week here in Waukesha, we've had a delightful stretch of 50 degree and rainy weather.  I love it, but Peaches is furious because the city pools finally opened and it's too cold to swim outdoors.  FRESH AIR?  I'm wearing a wet swim suit and you want fresh 50 degree air flowing around?)

"Still.  it's cold in here."  Says the gent.

"Well, if I don't clear out those vents, then the bad chlorine won't rise up and out, it'll get pushed back down."

Yeah, I did take a swim in Gold's Pool.  Why do you ask?

I'm not sure how the rest of that conversation went because I was busy pondering which would be worse:  Chlorine poisoning, or my nipples actually rupturing from the frigid temps in the pool.

Had they asked my opinion, I guess I would have sided with poisoning.

Not the sleakest swim suit, but at least this swimmer doesn't worry about cold water or chlorine poisoning!

This might be why people don't typically ask my opinion.

Waiting for Wii-venge.

Good afternoon!

Actually, it's good morning for me.  Since switching to third shift I've spent the last couple weeks trying to figure out how to configure my days.  At this point, since it's summer, I'm thinking sleep right away in the AM, then, when the kids roust out of bed (about noon or so) get up and be conscious in case either of them want to, you know, talk to me.  (I know, I'm surprised I got that out with a straight face too!)

So since I am still looking for a good time to get to Gold's  (and I do like that 7 AM crowd.  Motivated, not that social, and not that big.  I can actually find parking!)  I've dusted off the Wii fit for those mornings when, arriving home from work, my feet and body hurt too much to contemplate a trip on the treadmill.  (Who knew I would have so much trouble being on my feet for 8 hours?  In a row?  Okay, who isn't surprised at all?  Yeah, a bigger show of hands that time.)

Since I do stand a lot, and use my hands quite a bit...oh, and get more than 11000 steps in during the course of a shift  (and why haven't I lost about 10 pounds yet?  I'm not eating on these shifts...come on metabolism, KICK IN ALREADY!)  I am pretty sore.  Moving out of my usual work out on Wii Fit  (you know, about 20 shame filled rounds of Ski Jump followed by a couple of super hulas and then a couple advanced step with an Island bike thrown in if I have time) I thought I'd give the yoga a try.

Admittedly, Yoga is something I've always thought was a good idea, and a lot of fun to think about.  In reality however, I can't get past the giggles when I think of pose names.  "Downward facing dog?"  Who isn't laughing at that?  Bonus, I'm really, REALLY not that steady or flexible.  I'm really built more for staying solidly in one place.  (And thanks to my darling daughter Peaches, you can see a picture of me on Face book.  Believe it or not, I thought black was slimming!)

So I fired up the Wii yoga.  Picked a trainer  (the guy) and started with the first exercise...deep breathing.

Stand and breath deeply.

Really?

This is part of a workout?

OH I CAN DO THIS!

But not for 30 minutes I can't, so I decided to try a couple other things.  I like "cobra" mostly because I can lie down.  Some I'm pretty good at, some not so much.

So today, I decided to hit yoga again, and hit it hard because my back really hurt.  I found a pose that looked like it would stretch out my back, and honestly I forget what it was called, but doesn't matter.  I was, shall we say, fairly unmotivated to participate fully.  Actually my feet were really in pain, so I figured I'd like work on that back stretching pose, you know...sitting down on the Wii board.

After 8 hours on my feet, you expect me to do this pose standing up?  I don't think so!

Well, there's no fooling the Wii.  Okay, it might think I'm 24 one day and 62 the next.  It might even give me credit for the free run when really all I did was shake the handheld controller.  (not that I would ever do THAT.  THAT would be wrong...I would NEVER think about something like THAT)  BUT when it comes to yoga poses, apparently the Wii is right on it.

So I sat down on the board and made sure I leaned on either my right or left butt cheek, depending on which side my virtual trainer told me to be standing.  The Wii noted, loudly, right off that my weight was "significantly different than the last time....do I wish to proceed?"

Sure.  With my legs stretched out in front of me, not weighing in on the board, maybe I'll "Burn" more calories.

So I leaned to the right and I leaned to the left and I tried to keep my balance within that yellow circle.

You know what? 

SITTING DOWN I AM A YOGA MASTER!

Yep, I managed, through my complete lack of standing up, to achieve "yoga master" level.

Now I would celebrate this except for two things:

1)  It's probably wrong to cheat...even on the Wii.

I can see you cheating!  And when the Wii body test tells you you're 90 and you've gained 30 pounds...think of me!

2)  I'm sure my Wii will figure it out and tomorrow, just for revenge, it will say my age is 75.

Maybe I'll hide at Gold's until the Wii settles down.  I like the pool.  The pool is a good place to hide out from something electronic.

You see, Mr. Scott? In the water I'm a very skinny lady. (except in the hot tub)

Good afternoon!

I love water.   I love being in the water.  For as much as I grouse about swim suits, I love, love, LOVE being in the water.

It's worth it because my hair looks AWESOME!

So it's no surprise that I love the pools at Gold's Gym.  I reward myself each week with one day of "water work out" that doesn't count any water aerobics class I might get into.  Nope, my water work out day, generally Thursday, is my favorite day because I get to swim and float and jog in the water on my own.  Generally I'm alone, so it's peaceful, and it's the one place I feel thin.  Sort of like Shelley Winters in The Poseidon Adventure.  (The good one starring Gene Hackman and Shelley Winters, not any of the terrible remakes.)

If you recall, Shelley Winters plays Mrs. Rosen, a heft lady who saves the day with an heroic swim at a key point in the movie.  When she suggests that she do the swim and not any of the fitter folks in the group, she's met with ridicule.  But she's able to convince them all, and she saves them all.  (okay, I hope I didn't spoil it for you....but come on.  That movie is almost 40 years old.  If you haven't seen it, that's not my problem.  Go rent it right now.  You'll love it.)

Well, that's how I feel in the pool at Gold's.  My knees don't hurt, my hands hurt less, I'm graceful, even my hair is flowing and beautiful which is a real trick considering how short it is.

And then, after a good 30-45 minutes of solid work and self esteem building in the pool...I crush everything with a five minute dip in the hot tub.

I can see you're skeptical about this.  How can such a water lover feel fat in the hot tub?

Let's review the make up of  my swim attire, shall we?

I wear one of two swim suits.  A lady like top and skirt ensemble that flows like graceful magic in the water of the pool....and floats like dead fish on the surface of the hot tub water.

I also wear a one piece thing with a very sturdy top and a soft, thinner material on the bottom.  Oh, and it has pockets.  Now, in the pool this suit behaves pretty well.  The pockets tend to invert giving me a very weird looking bump on my hips, but everything stays pretty much in place.  Until I hit the hot tub where the legs of the suit and the pockets all fill up with air and actually make it hard for me to sit down.  If I try to force the air of my shorts....well, what do YOU think that looks like?

Yep, I've cleared the hot tub at Gold's more than once because those in there with me think I'm suffering from a hellacious case of gas.  No one wants to be around that, so, in an effort not to offend, I simply force myself down on the bench and allow myself to look....huge.  Really, really, REALLY huge.

I try not to let it get to me of course.  I've made jokes about my swim suits over the years.  Someday, I'd like to think I'll be thin enough that I can wear something that doesn't involve a skirt or shorts, but I know that fat is not the only reason I where suits like that, so it's very likely I'll always be the fat, gassy woman in the hot tub.

I can live with that...because I know the next time I get in the pool, I'll be thin and graceful again, and that IS a feeling I cherish, even if only for a few minutes a week.

If I actually do the splits will I get a GOLDS star?

Good afternoon.

I'm supposed to be working on my new novel, but I'm thinking I'll lock myself in my office at home in about an hour, so I'm catching up on my blogging.

One little thing:  I'm guest blogging on Sunday over at Goddess Fish Party pavilion and Long and Short of It.  They are both having Valentine's Day events going on.  Stop on in, you might win a Nook!   You can get there by clicking on those nifty black boxes there on the right...your right.  Go ahead click.  Well, actually click now, familiarize yourself with the site, then click again on Sunday and read my brilliance. I'm talking about celebrity crushes, brunettes, and first kisses.  How can you miss on that?

Okay, now let's talk about working out.

After taking a week off to nurse my anguished knee I returned to the gym.  Mostly I returned to the gym because, after cancelling my meeting with KRAM on Tuesday because I had the flu   (does it ever end with me?)  I promised him I would be in on Thursday.  I am a woman of my word.  SO I got there.

Now it should NOT be any surprise to anyone that I do not like to be viewed in a swimsuit.  I've got at least 85 pounds to shed before I'm going to be excited about people seeing me in my suit.  SO I generally don't do the pool thing unless the pool is empty or I'm in a class.

So last night after waiting around...I mean working out on other equipment for an hour, the pool finally cleared out and I was safe to swim.  I like being in the water.  I feel thin and graceful.   Maybe I was supposed to be born a dolphin, I don't know.  But I like the water.

What I do not like is the deck around the water.  Seriously, can we somehow develop a material that isn't super slick around pools?  Every pool I've ever gone to has a "don't run" sign hanging up.  But every pool I've been to also has a deck made of the most slippery when wet materials EVER.  How about something the is less like ice when wet?

Or maybe something soft and foamy.  Had there been something soft and foamy around the pool last night, maybe I wouldn't have crippled MY OTHER KNEE.

Yes, this is how I...or it...went down.

I walked slowly into the pool area.  See, there's this little hallway that leads from the women's locker room to the pool. Right next to it is a little hallway that leads from the pool to the men's locker room.  Do I wear my glasses when I swim?  No.  Have I nearly walked into the men's locker room on more than one occasion because the little hallways look exactly alike?

Of course.

So last night I walked slowly from the locker room to the pool.  I picked up a kick board because I like the kick boards.  They are fun.  They are also foamy.  I rounded the far end of the pool and walked toward the stairs.  See, the pool isn't very deep so I can't dive in, and since I'm still dealing with two bad hands and a bum knee, using the ladders isn't the easiest for me.   So I use the stairs and I sort of stride in to the pool like some glorious Egyptian queen or something.

As I'm approaching the stairs, moving at a slow, fat lady in a swim suit pace, I hit a patch of I don't know, WATER on a SLIPPERY  surface and I come very, very, VERY close to doing the splits.  I managed to not fall, which is good.  See I spend a lot of energy NOT falling down.  When a fat woman falls down, first of all it hurts, second of all it's hilarious and I wasn't in a mental space where I felt like being the funny fat woman last night. 

The upside is no one witnessed my graceful movements.  That's a good thing...until you think about the what ifs:

What if I had fallen, hit my head, slipped into the pool and drowned?

What if I had fallen, hit my head, and remained unconscious until they locked up?  Then I'd be in there all night...in my swimsuit.

What if I had fallen, hit my head, was knocked out, in my swimsuit and they had to put me on one of those special stretchers and cut me out of the pool because I'm so big?

What if I'd fallen, but hadn't been knocked out and had to listen to the people outside the pool looking through the windows laughing at me?


So I didn't fall down, I wasn't humiliated, but I did, yes, manage to twist my other knee.  Which means I now have two very tender knees which aren't handling just the basics of walking right now.

Awesome.

The very good news is , however, tomorrow I am spending the day in a gym at Peaches' cheer competition.  My unsteady knees up and down bleachers all day....

Double Awesome!

Maybe someone will videotape the moment one of my knees finally gives up completely and they'll send it in to America's Funniest Home Videos and I'll win some cash.

Which I'll use to replace my knees...and my thumbs...and a stomach stapling...liposuction...an eye lift...professional hair coloring...

THAT'S IT!  I will fall down!  I will fall down and be able to fix everything that's wrong with me!

Well it's good to have a plan anyway.

Meanwhile:  Good luck Peaches and the rest of the team tomorrow!

Wearing the swimsuit backwards and other stuff I managed to do at Gold's this week.

Good morning!

I was in the pool at Gold's last night, sort of pondering the last two weeks.  I've been in the body challenge for four weeks and the first two weeks I managed to lose five pounds.  And then in the last two weeks I gained four of them back.  So I went over my past week, searching for a reason for this unfortunate fluctuation.

This week actually started last week Thursday when my doctor, Dippy Dudley and I believe I will be calling him from now on, informed me that I'm old and my hands are just going to hurt, but here's a prescription for something that hasn't been working, will probably shut down my liver and by the way, I'm probably allergic to...if the heinous rash on my collarbone was any indication.

I didn't work out Thursday.  I did get Skippy signed up for a membership, at his request.  He hasn't actually been there yet, but it's a good start that he asked for it.

I didn't work out Friday because  I had the weekend free and was writing.  Skippy and I shared pizza and a nice family moment while Peaches and Hubby drove across the state to eat vegetarian fare and smelt.  (That's a fish, for those of you who aren't sure.)

Saturday, I went to Gold's, feeling great and fully intending to work out big time.  As if the gods of Gold's had smiled upon me, they were playing "ROBIN HOOD" in Cardio Cinema!  SCORE! 

Unfortunately for ME, some dingbat female decided that she needed to SHARE her iPod selections with the rest of the group.  Sharing is only good if it involves chocolate, toys, and a bottle of wine.  If you really look at things you shouldn't share, I do believe music from your iPod is one of them.  And how deaf is this woman going to be when she hits 25 if she's got it blaring in her ears so loud that I, sitting ten feet in front of her and focused on the movie in front of me, can only HEAR HER MUSIC? 

Now, I'm not a combative person by nature, I spend a lot of time trying to avoid conflict and keep from falling down.  In this case, I thought perhaps the music was coming from overhead.  So I asked the lovely folks at the front desk to maybe check on that, please, when they had a moment.  It never occurred to me that an actual person in Cardio Cinema would 1)  be using an iPod...after all, there's a MOVIE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!  and 2)  be using an iPod so loudly that not only could we all hear it, but it was actually LOUDER THAN THE MOVIE. 

When I realized it was actually the woman on the elliptical behind me, I knew I wasn't going to say anything to her.  I tried to give her my very best death stare, and then I left.  I left and I went home and I watched Robin Hood on my own TV with a bowl of popcorn and a Vernor's.

Sunday afternoon I was going to go to Gold's, and then I didn't.

Which brings us to Monday.  Monday I actually gathered up enough self esteem to go back to water aerobics class.  By this point I'd been off the Aleve for five days.  My rash was definitely better, so I felt confident that I wasn't going to infect anyone in class with it.  (I still have claw marks on my arms from scratching, but everything else has healed.) 

I don't know who the instructor was.  I don't wear my glasses in the pool, so I can't really see faces.  (I can't hear well, either, but we've covered that.)  Anyway, this was a lady who I hadn't had for class before.  She seemed really nice, but really, really, REALLY focused on a couple of moves that she had us do over and over and over and over and over....

Yes, the suspended jumping jacks.  My nemesis.

To her credit, the instructor did look concerned  (I think so, again, I couldn't actually see her face or hear what she was saying.)  when she realized I wasn't gripping the wall with my hands when we were supposed to kick in the water  (ala every swim lesson you ever took as a little kid.)  and she was relieved when I told her it wasn't her fault.  So I was able to make her feel good, which was nice. 

I will say this:  It was a good work out.  I felt like I'd done something positive, plus, I finally figured out how to do that rocking horse move.  Now if only I could coordinate the suspended ski thing she wanted us to do.  Really I just sort of flail around on that one.

Tuesday I was going to go, but then we started the big giant blizzard which carried over into Wednesday.  Now Wednesday I did spend a couple hours shoveling snow. For those of you who have never shoveled a pile of snow, this is a serious workout.  Especially in our case, since there was so much, we really had few choices of where to put the snow we were moving.  In shoveling out the driveway, we carried the snow across the street to the lane divider in the middle of our boulevard.  So it was scoop, walk, fling, walk, scoop for about 90 minutes.  Solid work out.  Of course, by this point I'd been off the aleve almost a week.  My hands swelled and the pain was so intense by the time I stopped I actually toyed with the idea of drinking my coffee through a straw.  The good news is that since I can't grip much of anything, I can only eat what I can pick up with my fingers.  Very small pieces of food only...

Which brings me to yesterday.  Yesterday Peaches and I went to Gold's.  I was going to get on the bike, but the movie in Cardio Cinema was "Step up 3" and since I hadn't seen 1 or 2, I figured I would be lost in the plot.  So I hit the pool.

Ah, something you should know, if you haven't figured it out, I hate shopping for swim suits.  HATE it.  Almost as bad as shopping for jeans used to be.  The difference is that now I know what jeans fit and I can just go and get them.  Buying a new swimsuit involves hours of humiliation.  So, instead of subjecting myself  to the bad lighting of a fitting room, I get my suits online.  And, since I'm CHEAP  I get them used...on eBay.  (Oh don't get all "EEEEWWWWWW"  The suits are clean.)  I found two really great ones this year.  One's sort of a one piece top and shorts with a tummy control panel.  Nice for water aerobics, but not great for the hot tub because the shorts fills up with air or water and then I just look like I have really unfortunate fat pockets...which would be okay if the air didn't the release...then it just looks like I have horrifying gas.

The second suit, my "ladylike" swim suit, is a two piece tankini deal with a dainty skirt.  Okay, dainty might not be the word for something involving as much material as that suit does, but I feel somewhat dainty in it.  There are no tags in it, since it was second hand, but it's very comfy and I like it.

Since Peaches was with me, I changed from my warm clothes to the suit in a stall.  No need for her to see what time and love of Cheetos has done to me just yet.  Wait til she's my primary caregiver.

Do you know...bathroom stalls really don't have a lot of space for changing clothes. No, I don't use the handicapped stall because that's just rude...unless I really have to and there's no other stall open, of course.  But regular stalls are really sort of tiny.  Hey, I change clothes whilst sitting on the toilet all the time...which you probably didn't know, but whatever.  But changing in a public place where the stalls are little, that's a challenge.  I'm saying this because I'm trying to explain why, when I emerged from the stall, it was abundantly clear to me that I was wear the bottom of my swimsuit backwards. 

In my defense...oh whatever.  The bottoms were on backwards.  In walking back to my locker, I gave myself a delightful spandex wedgie.  I fixed it and went for a swim.

Dee was working last night so it was nice to chat with her for a couple minutes after my swim.  And by chat I mean she gave me a pile of grief for not working out more.  I do love that woman! 

Anyway, in chatting with Dee, (I have a rule about getting naked in front of someone when I'm discussing our kids and their teachers.  I try to avoid it.)  I delayed changing back into my street clothes a few minutes.  Peaches wasn't in the locker room, I figured I had time to get dressed without fighting my way around the stall.

I thought wrong.

Poor Peaches.  She'd rather die than say a word to hurt my feelings or admit she was embarrassed.  But I don't have to think to hard to recall the time I saw my mother's bare fanny....I was seven.  I walked in on her in the bathroom.  The image is burned in my brain.

So...

So in the car on the way home I took the bull by the horns.  "I'm sorry you say my bare fanny."

"It's okay."

"I didn't realize you were coming in so soon."

"It's okay."

Then we went home, made grilled cheese sandwiches, and watched episodes of "Quantum Leap" on Netflix.

So in review of my week at Gold's.  I managed to get Skippy a membership.  I shot a death stare at a rude iPod user.  I lived through a really hard water aerobics class.  I put on my swimsuit on backwards.  I let my daughter see my regal rump.

The only thing I didn't manage was to lose five pounds.

Will I be there tonight?  Well no, and here's why:

After a really good swim last night, hubby asked if I would join him in a futile search for a roof rake.  (Again, for those of you who don't get snow, this is a tool you use to get heavy snow off your roof before it crushes you in your sleep.)  I say futile, because if Vicki  (her real name) at the Home Depot is to be believed, there were no roof rakes available all day and shame on us for being too stupid to buy a roof rake BEFORE we needed one.  "I tell you people to come in before the storm or during the storm because we aren't going to have these after the storm.  Why would you wait until after the storm to buy this?"

Well, after that stellar customer service, we walked back to the car and, in getting into the car, I managed to twist my good knee.  Today, I cannot bend it at all.  I think that having two hands I can't bend and a knee I can't bend is God's way of telling me to stay home and watch a movie tonight.  (and we bought a roof rake at Menard's across the street.  sure it was the last one, but a very nice lady whose name I did not catch helped us find it.)

So KRAM, if you're reading this, I want you to know...I gave it my very best this week, I really did.

Oh, and I'm going to need to change my appointment next week to a later time.

(Maybe an extra hour or two will give me enough time to hit that weight loss goal!)

FOR THE RECORD: A few rumors and whatnot I'd like to clear up!

Good morning!

So I've been to Gold's twice this week, just walking in minding my own business.  One Tuesday the GM Mark, the one guy in the place NOT fearful of me after my "Screw you fee" rant back in August, accused me of something.  Yesterday the same GM suggested some alternative exercises for me.

That got me to thinking:  I bet there are a lot of misconceptions going around about me, and maybe there are a few things I should update.  So let me take a moment to set the record straight on a few things:

1)  I DID NOT SHUT DOWN THE POOL AT GOLD'S

Yes, I was there last week Thursday, the night the newspaper was tossed into the pool, thereby upsetting the delicate balance of the ounces of water to gallons of chlorine in the pool.  The pool was then closed for several days while it was cleaned and refilled.  However, contrary to what MARK the GM would have you believe...I DID NOT THROW THE PAPER INTO THE POOL.  Everyone knows I don't read when I work out. I watch movies.

2)  I AM NOT HIDING FROM MY Wii.

I realize it's been a few weeks since I last stepped on the Wii fit and got my hula hoop groove on.  I am NOT hiding from it.  I know I'll get a scolding because it's been a while...that's not why I ignored it this week.  I've been busy.  Really.  No, seriously.  I've been busy.  I'm not afraid of my Wii.  I'm NOT!

3)  I HAVE ACTUALLY LOST SOME WEIGHT

In spite of what you may think after reading this blog, I have lost 14 pounds since the early part of October.    Not earth shattering, but most of that weight loss has come since the week before Thanksgiving...weight loss during the holidays, a real trick!

4)  I AM A VERY NICE PERSON AND NOT SCARY AT ALL
It was recently admitted to me that...well I shouldn't call him by his real name, so I'll call him BRYAN...over at Gold's was, indeed, afraid to meet with me and with Dee after the "Screw you fee" incident.  In spite of what he may think, and what my Gold's membership picture may look like, I am a VERY nice person and I do NOT bite the heads of small children off by the light of the full moon.

5)  YES, DEE HAS LOST WAY MORE WEIGHT THAN I HAVE...AND I'M NOT JEALOUS.

Dee has worked with her stalker...I mean her personal trainer...very hard since August and I'm really proud of her...she's lost 34 pounds!  Now, while I think the amount of time her personal stalker...I mean trainer...spends watching for her at Gold's is very unhealthy, and in spite of the fact that he ignores the injuries she sustains during sessions with him and continues to inflict injury to her, I have to admit, the results are fantastic. And I'm not jealous...not really.  Honest!

6)  THE STORIES I TELL ARE MINE AND THEY ARE TRUE.

Believe it or not...I may seem like a completely normal person with a boring life, but my stories are mine.  While I may exaggerate a tiny bit for humor, the stories are real, the people are real (the names are not).  Believe me, I can't make this stuff up.

7)  I AM SARAH THE AUTHOR, I AM NOT FLO

Penny, a friend of mine from church, told me the other day that I'd make a great Flo from the Progressive Insurance commercials.  I had to agree with her.  I would love to be Flo.  That or a movie critic.  However, the closest I've come to actual celebrity is that I am Sarah the Author, and you may have hear me on the Bob and Brian morning show on  1029 The Hog.  My love for obscure trivia and for touting Dream in Color has lead me to a few shameless moments on the radio in Milwaukee.

8)  FINALLY

No, Rick Springfield has NOT filed a restraining order against me.  I know, some of you may have heard that...mostly because I said I was expecting one, having given him a copy of Dream in Color last spring.  One of my newest friends asked me if I thought it was a little creepy that perhaps Rick didn't read the book, but maybe his wife did...Not creepy, exactly.  More like...okay, a little creepy.

On the same note, I bumped into a darling older lady from my church while working the school open house the other night.  She introduced me to her friend, another little older lady.  Then she said, "Oh, and this nice lady wrote a book." 

There was some oohing and aaaahing, and then she said, "Yes, you wouldn't know this was a little church lady with what she wrote.  Whoo hooo....."  (picture an older woman fanning herself.)

Soooo.....I guess that's a positive review, right?

So there you have it, my friends.  A few things cleared up.  And again...I DID NOT THROW THE NEWSPAPER IN THE POOL.

Just wanted to be very clear on that one! 

How to flirt with a fluffy girl!

Good afternoon!

I've just spent two lovely days doing nothing much, and yet, since I wasn't at work, I got a lot done! 

Yesterday was going to write a post about how a very fit 20 something tried to flirt with me at the pool at Gold's.  The tentative title was going to be "Wow, my new swimsuit is MAGICAL."

However, since procrastination is the sign of a good two day vacation, I waited until today to write it, and now the post has a lovely chocolaty ending!

So yesterday I was at Gold's pool with Peaches.  She's off of school, because it's state Teacher's-Get-Away-From-These-Children-for-two-days-and-call-it-conference.  She decided not to join me in the pool, mostly because the last time she did a water Zumba class broke out and she has yet to shut out the images of a dozen elderly fluffy women shaking their maracas in the water.  She opted for the bikes and weights.

So I swam laps...but not alone.  The one other person in the pool was a younger gent, very fit, and very tan, and very, very into doing his laps.  I figured we'd swim side by side, (well, I was in one lane and he was in another one and there was a lane between us and he was swimming roughly three laps to my one, but still there were moments when we were sort of side by side, so it counts) and not speak to each other. This has been my experience the other times I've gone swimming at Gold's.

I was also sort of breaking in my new fabulous swim suit.  I can't stress enough how comfortable I feel in it and how much coverage it gives me.  I'm not self conscious at all about fat or...ahem...unshaven areas (Hey, it's practically winter...you think I'm shaving my legs when I'm wearing pants 23.5 hours a day?  Think again!) because this suit is so great. 

What I didn't realize was just how great the suit was!  After several laps  (his, not mine.)  Fit Boy started a conversation with me.  I assume he was talking to me, there was no one else in the room.

Fit Boy:  "You like the salt water in this pool?"

ME:  I didn't realize it was salt water.

FB:  Oh yeah.

ME:  Well, that would explain my dry skin when I get out of the pool.  (I haven't flirted in eons, apparently.)

FB:  Yeah, I like swimming in the ocean better.

ME:  Well, they have pictures of beaches on the wall, so you can pretend.

FB:  Yeah, it's not real though.

After this sexually charged conversation, we resumed swimming.  About ten minutes later, he started in again.

FB:  Do you like swimming laps?

ME:  Sure.

FB:  Yeah, I like swimming laps.  It's good.

ME:  (Getting a little creeped out.)  Sure.

We again resume swimming.  You could cut the sexual tension with a knife...

About ten minutes later, (can you believe I was actually swimming laps for ten solid minutes?  I was quite impressed!)  Fit Boy stopped swimming and started just staring at the water.   Just staring at it....


Just staring....

About the time I felt I should start looking for sharks, since we were, after all, swimming in salt water  (I have my doubts on that.)  FB started talking again. This time, however, we were on opposite corners of the pool so the joke was on him.  I didn't have my glasses on an therefore could not hear him.  All I made out was, "Underwater...."

I paddled a bit closer and realized he was talking about swimming underwater.  And I also realized he was looking right at me.  (Not, I don't know what his face looked like...no glasses.  I know he was fit and he was tan, and he wasn't all that tall.)  so I thought, to be polite, I should respond.

ME:  You want me to swim underwater?

FB:  No, I'm going to swim underwater. 

ME:  Oh.  Okay.

FB:  It's not dangerous.  I've done it before.

ME:  (Wondering why he's sharing this bit of information with me.)  Okay.

FB:  But if I don't surface for a while...

ME:  (surface?  We're in 36 inches of water.)  Oh, if you don't come up for air in like five minutes I should call someone?

FB:  (Obviously hoping I would suggest mouth to mouth)  um...yeah.

ME:  Okay.

So Fit Boy takes several deep breathes and then plunges...into 36 inches of water.  I paddle back and forth, and he swims under water for a very impressive....half a length.

Call the paramedics!  He was under water for twelves seconds!

He tried a few more times to extend his distance underwater, and he was getting better.  Then a couple of folks showed up to soak themselves in the hot tub, so our private time was over.  That didn't deter this soggy Romeo from wooing his modestly suited Juliet!

FB:  Okay, do you think I can go out and back underwater?

ME:  (you do realize, we've known each other about 30 minutes, I have no idea what your face looks like and honestly, in the entire time we've know each other you haven't swum more than half a length underwater.)  Sure...go for it!

FB:  Okay, I will! 

He took several deep, and very dramatic breaths, and then dove down deep...probably 34 inches at least.  I continued paddling back and forth, keeping a motherly eye out for him. 

He made it a length and one body length.  I cheered for him when he surfaced.  Hey, you have to encourage the youngsters!

He got out of the pool shortly thereafter, but not before he spoke one last time to me.

FB:  I'm giving it up today.

ME:  You'll do it next time!

FB:  You think?

ME:  Sure, why not?

He then popped out of the pool...had I known I was speaking to someone in a SPEEDO  I probably would have kept quiet....and then he left.  And my world was dark.  Mostly because I decided to swim underwater for a bit.  I made it half a length.  Of course, I didn't take the big dramatic breaths....

But that's not where this story ends.  It was where I was going to end it, but then I went cheese and bread shopping with Hubby to Brennan's.  For those of you familiar with Brennan's, you know it's impossible to get out of there for under $50.  I generally have lunch there with all the samples and then even the score by buying tons of fruit and cheese.  So we were getting bread and cheese when I texted Skippy about something.  An older gent saw me texting and said, "If you're texting my wife, tell her I'm not here."

We all shared a good laugh.

Later, while I was shopping for cheese, Hubby joined a group of men loitering between the beer case and the butcher's counter.  Because that's where men are men.  I heard them discussing Hubby's sister's bar in Lake City, CO.  (The Packer Bar, if you're that way.  Tell Lynn and Gavin I sent ya!)  I picked my cheese and ambled over to them.

The older guy asked me what I got and I showed him.  Then he said, "Do you like chocolate?"

ME:  Yes.

OG:  Just a minute.

ME:  Okay.

OG:  Here ya go.

He handed me a cupcake from his package of half a dozen.  It was a lovely cupcake...thick sour cream chocolate frosting.....yum!  I carried it like the Holy Grail while we finished our shopping.  Older  Guy sort of stalked us around the store.

OG:  You gonna eat that or watch it?

ME:  Well, I'm sort of messy, if I eat it, I'll get frosting all over my face.

OG:  Well, this is the place for that kind of thing! 

ME:  Okay.

So I stuck my finger the in frosting and then licked my finger...much to his delight. 

OG:  I told you it was yummy!

See, my friends, THAT is how you flirt with a fluffy girl!  Maybe it's because he gave me chocolate. Maybe it's because he wasn't wearing a speedo and trying to impress me with his lack of swimming prowess.  Or maybe it's because I was wearing my glasses...but I'll never forget that older man.  He was a darling, and I hope he makes his way to Colorado.  He says he was once a professional ice sculptor.  I'd like to see his work!