September 28, 2017 by Judith Liebaert
I live north, way up north, bordering Canada north. The summers here are absolutely gorgeous, but short lived. Every day after the last of August that the sun shines and the temperature approaches something over 70-degrees I’m counting my lucky sunbeams.
We’re doing pretty good this year. I was in the pool (above ground, not heated) on September 25th. I think that might be a record. You must understand, I’m conditioned to cold water swimming. I grew up swimming in Lake Superior—the largest and coldest of the Great Lakes. Average summer water temperature is about 65-degrees on the surface. My pool mimics this to a T; it was 64-degrees the last time I was in it.
I’m thinking this might be healthy? I know it’s pretty dang refreshing.
Penguins only live about 20 years. But they live in harsh conditions most other creatures cannot survive. I wouldn’t live a day in the Antartic, so I’m figuring I can get by with saying they are healthy old birds under the circumstances. Me too. I’m sure it’s the cold water swims—just let me have this one.
Sometimes, we (hubby and I) go to Florida in the winter. The people there are like, “The water in the pool is so cold. They need to turn the heater up.”
I get in and I’m thinking it’s just a big bathtub at 84-degrees. It makes me all sleepy and wrinkly skinned like one of those cute-pathetic puppies that hasn’t grown into its skin-suit yet.
Come to think of it, everybody in those Florida pools looks that way.
I stayed at an RV park in Picayune Mississippi once, in February. They had an olympic sized swimming pool just sitting there, filled but not open for the season yet. I told them if they started the filter and opened the pool, I’d go swimming. So they did.
First day in it took me almost five minutes to ease my whole body into the frigid water, but once I did and then didn’t have a stroke, it was kind of a rush—like what I imagine taking speed must be like. I just felt alive and electric all over. Or maybe that was the tingle before going completely numb.
Anyway, I was blissfully swimming my laps, completely unaware that a crowd had gathered behind the two sets of double patio doors in the clubhouse, overlooking the pool.
After that I was the crazy lady from Wisconsin.
“Hey, Wisconsin, you going swimming today?” any of a number of residents would call out as I rode my bike through the park.
“You betcha, as soon as that sun peeks out from behind those there clouds.”
There was a thee-foot tall monkey living in that park. Her human kept her on a leash and dressed her in very feminine little shirts and skirts—size 2-T. She sat in a highchair and ate with the rest of the residents at the monthly potlucks.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve really lived this life, or if I did decide to take that speed way back when in high school, when my friends offered it, and all of this has just been one wild trip.
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I’ve been blogging all month long with the wildy talented Effy Wild! It’s been a blast and
I can’t thank her enough for putting the challenge out there. The MADGoddess has her mojo back again!