I love the out-of-doors. This does not mean I am physically fit on any level. This means I love SEEING the out-of-doors. I can do that by riding in a car (not driving, please, when I gawking about), walking at my leisure, or even reclining in my back yard. I love clouds, skies, mountains, flowers, trees, birds of all feathers, safe animals, color, air, especially that which moves about me and cools my fevered brow, and water. Oh, how I love water. That rates its own paragraph or two...or six???
Water…I sing an ode to you. I love to drink you when you are NOT chlorinated. I love to wallow in you when you are NOT chlorinated. That means I do NOT like swimming pools. Swimming pools –well, PUBLIC swimming pools—are an invention of the devil. I was soured on those at an early age when my sister Marilyn took me to a VERY public pool in Las Vegas…something called Twin Lakes, I believe. I was cavorting about with abandon and glee when I saw something dark and enticing floating in the water. Two somethings, actually. I picked them up. Guess what it was? Yep. I shrieked and flung the horrors away from me. I exited that pool, showered, and never returned. Twin SOMETHING, but not LAKES! How could anyone DO that in a pool? I really do not want to explore that any further.
Bad things happen at public pools. Bad things like ME being in a swimsuit for all the world to see…bad things like slipping on cement edges and cracking heads open, bad things like wondering how many people have cut loose and peed in the water. Eeyew. Not good. Ask Shauna if good things happen at pools. Ask Elliott if he likes his fake tooth that replaced a perfectly good one that was lost because of a slippery walk-way at a PUBLIC Colorado pool. No, public pools do no one any good.
I might like pools if a) they were filled with pure, oxygenated water that constantly flowed in and out…a fresh supply, NOT recycled; and b) only I swam in them. I know I don’t go to the bathroom in a pool. I trust that about myself. So what I’m getting at here is—personal pools. Yeah. That would be a great idea. BIG, personal pools. Because I DO like flailing about in water—it feels good and it’s fun. But it’s really meant to be a solitary joy. I don’t need to play Marco Polo with anyone, or have anyone pull me under the water by my ankles when I’m least expecting it, or splash chemical-laden water in my face.
Speaking of Marco Polo…I wonder if he, the actual guy Marco Polo…would spin in his grave if he knew how far his star had fallen? I had a 6th grade student once who wrote a piece about Marco Polo because her social studies teacher had given the class a list of famous explorers to write about. She shared it with me. It was my first introduction to the fabulous pool game. That’s all she knew about the guy, and by darn if she didn’t hug her ignorance to herself and roll about in it. She didn’t insult her ignorance by actually looking the guy up! I kept a copy of her crazy essay just for a good belly laugh once in awhile. I need to dig that thing out and share it, keeping her identity secret, of course. All I can remember is that her name was Sarah Somethingburn. Ooops.
Another thing I don’t want in my personal pool is giardia, or anything like unto it. So maybe I need distilled water. Yeah. Distilled water! Genius, Lolene. This pool is getting better by the minute. But I guarantee I will NOT…EVER…add artificial color to my pool. Nothing says Mother Nature like seeing a pool or fountain that is bilious green or bright, azure blue. Why do people tamper with perfection? I like water just like God made it…well...hmmmm. That’s not TOTALLY true, is it! I want it BETTER than that, even. I don’t want to think I am swimming in water that was once flowing down the Nile, or even worse, settled in the bottom of an outhouse in LaVerkin back in the day. That whole water cycle thing is pretty dicey. I’d better stick with distilled.
I would invite you to come swimming with me, but...I’m not even sure I can deal with side-by-side personal pools. Twinner pools? Too close to “Twin Lakes”…and you know what that experience did to me. So go public, dear reader, but do not ask me to go along. I don’t even own a swimming suit!