After a soggy spring and a fairly rainy early summer, we’ve had a few days in a row of high temperatures soothed by gusty breezes. While I was accustomed to the constant wind when we lived in South Dakota, I always find it surprising here, and yet, it’s because of these breezes that the last two days have been almost idyllic, despite being hot.

The fact that I have a sparkling clean pool in my back yard, one that is not so much kidney shaped as curved like the perfect fantasy lagoon, is also a factor in my enjoyment of the current weather. Yesterday, and again today, I spent a good half hour of my lunchtime splashing about in silky smooth water that was only slightly cooler than my own blood.

I am a Leo, a fire sign, and yet I am in my most creative element when I am in water. It doesn’t matter what the source is – a bubble bath, the shower, the pool, the ocean, rain – it just has to be wet. Well, wet and clean. I grew out of the splashing-through-mud-puddles phase when I was about ten. Also, I’m terrified of what might lurk within Texas puddles. We do seem to have an over-abundance of creepy-crawly creatures.

There is an element of challenge in my current swimming routine, however. You see, pink hair and chlorinated water are not things that should ever be combined for any length of time, and I was unable to find a bathing cap – I’m certain they still make them – so I could protect my hair. I therefore use a polystyrene foam “kick board.” It’s blue, and looks kind of like an alien face, and it gives me just enough lift that I can kick from one end of the pool to the other and never get my hair wet.

Yes, I really am that girly.
But you would be, also, if you spent $250 and three hours having your highlights done.

I am reminded, in my head, of when my grandmother used to take me to visit her friend DotG, when I was a very small girl. DotG – Mrs. G. as we called her, had a lovely above-ground pool. (She also had a porta-potty in her mud room, so that swimmers wouldn’t traipse through her house.) Tuesday – or maybe it was Wednesday – was Salon Day. Any other day of the week, we (me, sometimes a friend, often her grandchildren) would splash like crazy, but on Salon Day, there was a mandatory hour of Splash-Free Swimming. Most times, we all sat on the astro-turf covered deck and watched as the Grandmas took their turn in the water. Sometimes, we stayed in the pool and tried to stay under water for as long as we could, or we’d dive under the big blue floating chair she would sit in.

And if an errant drop of water touched her hair?

Banishment for the rest of the afternoon.

Mrs. G was serious about her hair.

Me? Not so much. I won’t dive without a cap, but I’m not going to refuse to swim, either.

But in the back of my head, I see Grandma and Mrs. G on the deck, whenever I splash.

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