The Off Yarn

I had some time off over the weekend. Some much needed time off, I may add. Of course I had all sorts of things planned and knowing that everyone has been waiting impatiently for an account of the festivities, here goes.

Account of the Festivities.

Things didn't go as planned. Quelle suprise. (But everything turned out all right.)

My neighbor inveigled me into accompanying her to the "Y" for a little exercise. Since one of my New Year's, Easter, May Day, Birthday, Fourth of July, and Halloween resolutions was to get in shape, I thought it would be a good time to begin. My neighbor, Lynn, went to the weight room and I went to the pool to do some laps. (There seems to be some discrepancy in the definition of "a lap". Personally, I believe from the shallow end to the deep end is one lap. There are people who believe from the shallow end to the deep end and back to the shallow end is one lap. These people are wrong--it's my blog, my definition.) Since I hadn't lifted anything heavier that a fork in months I decided it would be prudent to use a kickboard so I wouldn't drown if I ran out of gas or caught a cramp, or both. A tribe of little kiddies, the Diving Dolphins, were perched on the bleachers awaiting a lesson. (Diving Dolphins do not dive, they swim--probably named by the wierd lap-definition guy.)

I was glad to get in the water ahead of the DD's because children that age have a tendency to pee in the pool water and I don't care how much chlorine there is in the mix, pee is still pee. It's sort of a phobia of mine. I eased into the water--heated but you couldn't prove it by me--and kickboarded my way to the deep end--one lap. I made my way back to the shallow end--lap two. My goal was six. I was a bit puffy, a nice euphemism for "sucking wind", so my next trip to the deep end was much slower. I decided midway that my next lap to the shallow end would be my last. But, hey, I had made an effort and I felt pretty good about it. When I reached the deep end I was so tired I figured I better quit before I had a heart attack. I was very, very tired. I had reached muscle fatigue. How does one know when one has reached muscle fatigue? Ah, well, when one can't haul one's fat arse out of the pool, that's how one knows.

I was stuck in the deep. My whole body was on strike except my lungs, which graciously continued to take in air. I couldn't get out, couldn't kick to the shallow end where the steps hung out, and I would not call out to the Diving Dolphins to get an adult to help me out. (Half of you are thinking, "I understand completely; I would be too embarassed to ask for help." The other half who are not thinking that go away.)

I don't know if you have had occasion to appear nonchalant while gasping for air as you clutch a kickboard at the deep end of a swimming pool but it's not as easy as you may think. There was not much to look at, no one I could talk to, and no Musak to hum along with. When the DD's got in the water I pretended an interest in them while oh, so slowly scooching my hands along the side of the pool trying to make it to the Other Side before one of the DD's decided to "go" in the pool. The pool at our Y is the olympian-approved size, a mile and a half long I think, but it took forever to get to the 3 1/2 ft. marker. Meantime I was getting cold--heated pool my great aunt fanny--and I had a nearly debilitating cramp in my left pinkie toe.

Time passed. A long time passed and, yes, Virginia, help did come. Lynn came to see what was taking me so long and towed me to the shallow end and helped me up the steps. She refused to haul me out in the contraption they have for people who are unable to walk without assistance--claimed I didn't need it. She did agree to massage my foot because my pinkie toe was killing me. She did agree it was a shame I had been stuck in the water. She did laugh until she got cramps--hah! She did say she would pay for lunch since she had been so entertained, although she said it was because I had had such a hard workout (plus she knew I was too tired to eat).

My new New Year's resolution this time will probably be to get in shape, but I think I'll just buy a girdle.

And a by the way...ya know, sometimes I don't think how odd things must appear to non-knitting non-blogging personnel. While I was off I made a pair of socks (from yarn sent by my wonderful no longer Secret Pal, Lainch). They were stunnin' but I forgot my camera so I asked an in-law if I could borrow his so I could get a cd made at Wally World allowing me to upload them when I returned to work. He said he didn't lend his camera out but he would be glad to come and take the pictures I wanted. **reword that sentence so it makes sense** When he arrived I had my socks artfully arranged atop a cloth-covered patio table awaiting their photo-op. In-law wouldn't take the picture. He thought it was a joke. I cooed and cajoled and told him about the world of knitters and blogging and almost had him convinced until my darling person cracked a joke about it. In-law thought we were setting him up for some horrific Halloween prank and wouldn't be pursuaded otherwise. (Can't say I blamed him, my darling person did put a biggish turtle in his toilet one year.)

Any way, like Yogi Bara sort of said, "It just goes to show ya that three-fourths of the world just doesn't understand what the other half enjoys and a third of them won't try."