Bathing Suits

I was going to save this one for later. I'm sure you are so very tired of hearing about my clothing and my closet purge -- I am even sick of it. But, since the swimsuit story was brought up in a recent comment, I thought I'd go ahead and share.

The visual is just thrown in for comic relief. I don't know these people but they sure remind me of some swimsuits I've owned.

When I came to the swimsuit section of my closet purge, I was once again reminded of every vacation and every summer for the last 20 years. I used to buy one or two suits a year. Some years I would splurge at an end-of-season sale and buy several. I've bought a few on vacation. For someone who does not enjoy shopping or trying on swimsuits, I have always had many and seemed to be on an endless pursuit of new ones. I have worn them all and apparently, I've kept them all.

They even have little categories in my mind:

Two-piece suits. Only to be worn on vacations. Never to be worn on any kind of business trip or to the husband's club.

Comfortable one-piece suits. Usually older and great for lake weekends.

Wild patterns and colors. Usually bought on a whim while vacationing somewhere tropical. Often with matching sarong, which seemed important at the time. Lived at the bottom of the pile until next trip.

Trusted standbys. Love them. Worn them for years. My regulars for cocktail corner. All of my friends have seen them but I will continue to wear them until they are worn out or I am.

Dressy suits. (I am not making this up.) I bought a couple of suits that were shimmery and not anything you would wear off a diving board. These were for ski trips that might end with a dip in the hot tub or other such occasions.

My friend Lynn helped me sort through them. Remember, we only recently reconnected and she had no idea that I had amassed this ridiculous amount of clothing. I think the swimsuit collection put her over the edge.

She made lots of politically-incorrect statements about the women who would line up to get my vibrant and glitzy suits. She made a tough clean-up job a whole lot easier with the laughter we shared.

The majority of the suits are gone now. I will have to make do with my trusted standbys. They were always my favorites anyway and I haven't been in a hot tub in years.

I Double Dog Dare You

I am a weenie and a scaredy cat. Yet, water brings out the rebel in me.

My mother takes some water classes but she's constantly reminding me that she is not a swimmer. Because of her fear of water, she made sure I took swim lessons. (I made sure I had a stomach ache whenever necessary.)

I sat in Cocktail Corner yesterday and watched kids go off the diving board. They gang up on each other, whether the child is two-years old or 17-years old. They scream, "Do a cannonball, do a back flip, do a belly flop." They double dog dare each other and I am transported in time.

How many hours did I spend standing on the side of that pool teaching the baby to dive? How many times did he develop a stomach ache before the swim class? I might be a wuss but there's something about that diving board. Before the summer is over, I will dive, flip and flop.

As we had our first pool-side cocktail yesterday, one of my friends said, "Just get it over with." No. I like the anticipation.

Escaping

Memorial Day weekend ... time to relax and kick back.

In our city, today's focus is the Indianapolis 500 race. Lots of buzz. Lots of people. More eyes than ever are focused on our city since we were awarded the host of the Superbowl in 2012. I don't live close to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway but I live just close enough for the traffic to mess with me.

Sunday is usually my catch-up day: return emails, file papers, pay bills, etc. If I get really wacky, I deep condition my hair and paint my toenails. Middle-age maintenance is exhausting.

A running joke with the husband is that every day is a holiday for me. He finds it very funny. I'm slightly less entertained.

But, today he is correct. The pool is open. I'm headed over to cocktail corner. The water is calling and I'm escaping. The piles of paper and the bills will have to wait until tomorrow.

I can't wait to dive in.

Pod People

When I was a little girl, Friday night was scary movie night. This was a standing date with my dad. If I had the audacity to fall asleep, my dad would poke me. We saw all of the great ones:

Psycho, The Birds, North by Northwest, Rear Window, etc.

My personal favorite was:

Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

They remade this movie in the 70s but nothing tops the creepiness of the original version. It's a little like The Stepford Wives because the humans are being replaced.

There is a point to this story.

We are pod people. My mother coined this phrase about my country club friends. She thinks we're "peas in a pod." She's only partially correct.

Yes, we all spend an inordinate amount of time together. Some play golf, some play cards, some just lounge in Cocktail Corner during the pool season. Yes, we know way too much about each other's marriages, children, oldies, etc. We can get on each other's nerves. Then we turn around and go out to dinner or on vacation together.

The men handle the skirmishes better than the women. They can almost come to blows and then play golf the next day. Women have long memories. Plus, we're protective of our people. Family may come first but many of these people would throw themselves in front of a bus for me. The feeling is mutual.

Some are wealthy; some are scraping by. Some love to flaunt their power and prestigious positions; others love the bargain hunting. Some love to brag; others love to gossip.

On Monday nights, The husband and I meet various pod people. It's a ritual. During the summer, I meet lots of pod people at the pool. My holidays are intertwined with family traditions and pod people parties. I work out with some of my pod people three times a week.

The oldies made a gigantic leap when they moved here from Mississippi. They didn't have a lot of choices. Now that they've been here two years, I see how much they miss friends and some sort of a social life. We've tried but unless people start knocking on the dungeon door, their social circle is not likely to expand.

We're not peas in a pod but on some days we're close.

All of this reminiscing makes me want to watch a scary movie with my dad.

Play Dates

When the children are little, play dates are a way to socialize them and catch up with friends. The children run and romp. They throw sand in each other's faces. You wipe tears and you wipe noses. In a small way, you relive your own childhood.

Then, they grow up. They drive. They go to college. They move to a different city. They are VERY BUSY people who sometimes look at you like you're an idiot. They know it all. And in our smug little way, we enjoy their cockiness. We had a hand in this madness.

Some of us redirect this energy to our pets. My dog had two play dates over the weekend. Unfortunately, every time I put her in the car for more than 10 minutes, she thinks we're going to the lake. Bummer Baby, lake time is over for the season. But, this weekend was filled with play and friends. All of her doggie pals met us at the park and the dogs ran, swam in the creek and romped around. I got to visit with friends and get out of the house for a few hours.

I have adult play dates too. In the summer, Cocktail Corner at the pool is a standing weekend play date. On Monday nights, many of us meet at a local establishment (owned by a friend of ours) and we solve the problems of the world. I don't dread Mondays the way I used to. I look forward to the play date and the laughter.