Water aerobics at the Rose Bowl

The Rose Bowl Aquatic Center, Pasadena, Ca, offers water aerobic workouts - early mornings for seniors, evenings for anyone, including seniors. The evening group (almost entirely female) is more I-fit-in than I expected - age range mostly middle and up, sizes from very 'fluffy' to solid and toned (more of the former than the latter) - many proclaim their long-time attendance, year round, even on the coldest days.  Yes, the pool is outdoors and temperatures drop, even in sunny southern California.

The two regular instructors, Alanna and Tracy provide a full hour's workout.
Alanna, Mondays and Wednesdays, a chunky ball of fire and sass - a grandmother, Harley cycle spokesperson, owner of various exotic vehicles including a Corvette, and a luxe camper.
Rock music, lots of fast movement.

Tracy, a retro-look, curly hair in ultra-long pony tail, so thin her shorts threaten to slide down her hips,
entire session from the pool's edge - using  pantomime ala Marcel Marceau to indicate tummy in, head up, back straight, legs straight, toe pointed - a spellbinding routine.  I hear that she is a physical therapist and a dancer.

I have been introduced to websites featuring water wear for cold climes - not quite wetsuits, but designed for year-round outdoor swimmers, and websites featuring every possible shape, color, size and type of swim suit, coverup, sandal, and beach towel.  All sorts of new fibers - micro, poly, bamboo, hemp -

I am determined to continue, on into the cold - providing I can find a suitable,  affordable garment to ease me into goose-bumpy water.

Family swimming begins the minute our group of fifty to sixty aerobicists climb out.  The families often consist of a father who sits and watches, a mother who plunges in with a reluctant infant, siblings shoving and splashing - so many that there is only space to jump up and down - not stretch out and paddle.

A new sign appeared this week  - "Absolutely no boy over age three allowed in Women's Locker Room."  Wish I had seen what prompted this.

After the first day or two of damp floor, damp air, damp hair, damp infants, damp bodies, wet benches,
wet towels, wet howlers, I changed my routine.  Wear swimsuit to Center, towel off poolside, use alternate bathroom to change into dry panties, put suit into plastic bag, don coverup, drive home sitting on additional towel if necessary.  I notice a number of aerobicists with the same plan.

Darby tries to trick me

Wednesday is Farmer's Market day in Sierra Madre.
Although we have only a few faithful vendors, I am addicted.

This afternoon I brought home a crisp round loaf of bread wrapped in cellophane. I also brought a delicious crepe -filled with fresh herbs, tomatoes, ham, chicken, cheese, spices, on  spinach-dough - the aroma heaven-scent (sic).

First, Darby eyed the crepe, under my nose, and his.

Next, he dashed by heading for the stairs -with the loaf of bread in his mouth, snitched from the counter. I no sooner grabbed it than he dashed for the table, and began to gorge on the crepe.  Made a great dinner for both of us - I won.

Television cartoon featuring onset of labor pains - a new trend?

Martha Speaks is a book about a talking dog.  I discovered it at a local library during one of the Barks and Books sessions my labradoodle MaeRose and I conduct on behalf of the Pasadena Humane Society's Companion Animal Program.  Because I have written a book about a cook in an alphabet factory who makes all the letters for alphabet soup, Martha Speaks spoke to me. (groan)

That is, until last week when I viewed a cartoon episode featuring a flashback to the day one of Martha's human family was born.  Martha sat in the back of the car, driven by the father.  In the car were an obviously pregnant woman who spoke with an hispanic accent, and one young child.  The weather was cold.  The mother was stuffed into a puffy down-filled jacket - with her oversized tummy showing.

I am a little fuzzy about all the details of this episode, but the scenes which I found remarkable showed the pregnant woman announcing the onset of labor pains, and the subsequent race to the hospital, with several mishaps, changes of types of transportation, and an arrival at the hospital just in time for the birth.  Martha was responsible for finding each new mode of transport, while the anxious father- and mother-to-be discussed the ensuing labor pains, their frequency, and their urgency.

I am curious about how often this event is portrayed in cartoons for the young.  I don't think I am uptight, just wondering.

In fact, it is not the pregnancy so much as the birthing prelude which seemed a new topic for Saturday morning cartooning.  Or am I way behind?

Give a dog a bone

Yesterday Darby and MaeRose had their annual veterinarian's visit - routine shots, and a discussion about teeth getting tartar scaled (they need attention).  The vet suggested that I purchase beef bones, boil them till they are "powdery white" and give them to the dogs as a stop-gap to expensive teeth cleaning.

I went to our local butcher - with real over-the-counter butchers, and meat which is fresh, not packaged,  and asked if they had beef bones, expecting to be told they were scarce, or not available at all.
Instead, off the butcher went to the freezer - returning with a cardboard box filled with humongous
bones - I had no idea they were going to be so big.  He asked what size I wanted.  My baffled look was enough to have him disappear to the back room where he sawed one of the two-foot long, four inch thick bones into seven or eight formidable chunks.

They never actually turned powder white after boiling for hours, but seemed properly tooth-gnawing ready.  This morning I gave each dog one of chunks. (I planned to do some sweaty gardening, and did not want to be interrupted.)  MaeRose began immediately to suck, gnaw, nibble, gnash, savor her bone. 

Darby, on the other hand, went into a frenzy of pacing back and forth, up and down the garden stairs, round and round the flower beds, right and left, over and under.  River rocks, flagstone slabs, potted plants, and bushes made excavation almost impossible.  He plowed out a pile of dirt from an empty pot, and uprooted a kefir lily. And still he kept pacing.  Once he even let me take the bone from his mouth, reluctantly, but with grace.  By this time it was covered with mud from all the aborted digging.  I scraped off as much as I could, and gave it back to him.  Finally, after at least 45 minutes he decided it was time to sample his prize.  And so he began a lengthy munching.

Meantime, MaeRose had cleaned her bone inside and out - turning it into a beautiful white napkin-ring
size trophy.

When I finished in the garden I wangled the bones from each dog, and put them in the freezer (the bones, not the dogs).

This evening Darby explored the entire garden, nose to the ground, looking for any possible remnants from his morning promenade.  No luck. Tomorrow I will let each dog have his/her leftover bone.
And, then I will boil two more.

Earthquake and Afghanistan

I went to Radio Shack in Hastings Ranch, Pasadena, today, to get batteries for one of my portable radios, and purchase another.  The gentleman who helped me is from Bulgaria.  He has a son in the midst of the action in Afghanistan, a marine in the Medical Corps.  Another son is finishing studies at West Point.
We got on the subject of Texas (headquarters of Radio Shack) - and he went on to say that
his wife had given him a copy of a book by a Navy Seal from Texas.  He said the book was terrific, included something about the Seal's hometown residents turning out in large numbers to greet him on his return. Later I tried to find it on Amazon, only to discover that there are several books by and about Seals -

Had to return to Radio Shack to get my inexpensive little radio programmed, and had another chat with the gentleman from Bulgaria.  One of my chosen stations was KUSC 91.5, causing him to comment that classical music kept him sane on a long ride to work.  A jovial encounter.

Writers chat and schmooze

Today was my last day as coordinator for the West San Gabriel Valley SCWI schmoozes, which have met six times yearly.  Purpose to network, share experiences, encourage writers of books for children. My first schmooze was at Gay Kinman's home six or more years ago. Then Peggy Spears was our master-mind at her lovely home in Altadena, until she was lured away to Claremont.
Our next locale has been the Hastings Branch of the Pasadena Library, not as comfortable as a home perhaps, but accessible (not only for us, but in the path of the occasional homeless person who wanders through on the way to his weekly/monthly? ablutions)

We have had as many as a dozen attendees, as few as two - each event a success - with a surprise speaker - Joe Cepeda (professional award-winning illustrator) - or a planned guest, Erika Oller (illustrator and creator of greeting cards and peripheral items) - Susan Lendroth and Ann Garrett, terrific tag-team about writing picture books - Gay Kinman on query letter writing - Ann Garrett on best websites - Elana Blum, Education Director of the Pasadena Humane Society along with a mini demo of Barks and Books, plus the pros and cons of what makes a good picture book.

Participants have met, spun off, returned, and always shared terrific feedback. Even tho' we are not on the heavily populated "west side" we have fun - and merit.

Losing my earthquake touch and more on Fluffy

Took a nap this afternoon with the doodles - we had a great long walk this Easter morning -
and discovered via the internet that there had been an earthquake in Baja California, felt in Los Angeles, and reportedly as far away as Phoenix, AZ.  Neither the dogs nor I felt a thing - for the second time recently -
surprising, since I used to be uber sensitive to the slightest tremor.

As for Fluffy, the poor neglected dog, I wonder if an intervention is in order.  This morning there he was again, shabbily moping around his yard - so lonesome.  I wonder if he even has a water bowl anywhere.