Poolside from Florida

I know it's been some time since last I posted, I've been vacationing hard. But now I have another "by the pool" post because I'm in Florida by the pool. Me and Panama Jack aka the husband are poolside. Those of you who know the husband might find it hard to believe that he's poolside. Let me paint you a picture because he forbids pics. I must tread carefully.

Since my molecular structure allows me to become golden brown with very little effort and just the aid of the sun, it's that big yellow thing in the sky for those of you up North that won't see it until April-ish, packing our beach bag today was a challenge for me and Whitey. He burns, peels and then burns again. We've been at the pool for less than an hour and I think I need to spray him down with SPF 70 again. He walked out of the bedroom with his button up, collared, flowered, tourist shirt and his swim trunks on, completing the look, sunglasses and flip flops.

I asked him where my husband was and what he did with him? Was he okay and who is it that is accompanying me to the pool today. While we've been poolside he's been excellent company and whoever he is I really don't mind sharing my corner of pool space with him.

It's the other people that have become quite annoying. They haven't shut up since we got here and I have no idea what language they are speaking. We pretty much understand none of our neighbors. The ones next store to us speak French, at least I thought it was French. But the husband, who took French in high school and says it's Portuguese. Since I've never heard Portuguese I can't argue with him. We agree on the Germans and the Mexicans. And these loud annoying people at the pool right now, we're guessing some kind of Arabic, because they have a dark molecular structure too. They don't need sunscreen. So really right now the husband is sticking out like a sore thumb. He's as bright as the sun, a ray of sunshine, if it is truly him. Whoever he is I am enjoying his company.

So the Florida Gulf Coast has seemed to become a beacon to the non-English speaking vacationers. With every car that pulls into the parking lot we've made a game of guessing what language comes out of their mouths.

The Leather Ladies

"Mom?"
"Don't stare, play on the swings."

16 years ago we moved into a lake community. Our various amenities included two beaches, two pools, boating docks, a couple playground. The main beach had a pool next to it and one of the playgrounds, a favorite hangout for moms with young children. You could spend the day there and then the kids would fall asleep as soon as their precious little heads hit the pillow. We spent a lot of time there. So did three old ladies. They would sit in their beach chairs at the waters edge for hours. Spreading tanning oil on their wrinkled skin. In their flowered, skirted bathing suits, with bright pink lipstick smeared on their faces. These three had fried themselves to the point beyond return, their skin resembled leather.
I haven't seen The Leather Ladies in years, one would have to assume they succumbed to skin cancer or spontaneous combustion. Raising my boys during those summer months became just a little bit easier because the The Leather Ladies.

"Mooommmm!"
"Stand still so I can put this sun screen on you. You don't want to look like The Leather Ladies do you?"