Forget it, friends. No pictures of icebergs, snowflakes or squirrels beneath the bird feeder.
My life has narrowed to one perspective.
It all started with jumping jacks. Or perhaps leg scissors.
I found myself with Sue and Nancy in the pool jumping up and down, up and down, up and down, c’mon, don’t stop, keep those legs movin’, keep those arms circling around and around and around.
Twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Once again, I fell head-over-heels in love with water aerobics.
It’s a sure-fire way to combat cabin fever, don’t you know?
We seniors (near seniors, far seniors, almost seniors, wanna be seniors) jumped and kicked and splashed and pirouetted, my goodness, we leaped and laughed and told stories and exercised our arms and buttocks and thighs and lost a total of 50 pounds, combined.
We luxuriated in the hot tub. Baked in the sauna. Laughed some more. Jumped back in the pool for another lap or six.
Let’s back up a number of years. I grew up jumping. Up and down. My folks said that before age four I never quit jumping. Then, unexpectedly, around age five, I ceased. Spent the next 40 years trying to fit in with feet upon the ground.
Except in swimming pools. In younger years, I jumped. Bounced. Up and down, up and down. It felt like Heaven. Water supports, envelops, loves, warms, cools, sings…sends you somewhere. Thank goodness four of my parent’s friends owned pools. A shy girl can jump to her heart’s delight. No one even knows you’re jumping.
In recent years–until two weeks ago–I’ve mostly abandoned pools. Ten years ago enjoyed a couple of seasons of breast strokes. Leaped in with some seniors in the condo pool in Florida and boogied to water aerobic songs maybe eight years ago. Still enjoy some sideways laps while visiting Fort Myers Beach, but that’s about it.
Two weeks ago I jumped in again. OK, gingerly tiptoed. The next day, wouldn’t you know it, tiny red bumps. Itch, itch, itch.
Because aerobics proved so darn fun, I ignored the rash caused by (who knows) chlorine or unknown chemicals.
I swam two more times. Itched intermittently, but nothing to write home about. My skin is so darn sensitive anyway. I get sun poisoning in Florida every trip, regular as clockwork, and basically play “itch and ignore”.
Fast-forward until Friday morning. I awake at 5:30 a.m., skin on fire. Itch, itch, itch! There’s some wild scratching going on, let me tell you. I dive into the Benadryl like an addict, praying for relief.
You all know what Benadryl does, don’t you? Excuse me, it’s been a long blog post….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……
It really doesn’t eliminate the itch. It simply makes it appear far, far away. You’re too tired to scratch.
Today is a bit better. I have not swallowed any anti-scratch pills. Yet.
I am blogging to forget.
Anyone else have any itchy stories to share?