According to Seneca the Younger, I am wishy-washy about bathing. If I were into the simple persona of Sheri, I would embrace the lifestyle of Scipio, rinsing in the unadorned outdoor bath after a hard day of sweat. I am reading Philip Lopate's "The Art of the Personal Essay" and having been told in my earlier residency by one of the instructors that he decided to just daily blog, and so decided to do similarly, just write one of those blogs that no one visits unless suddenly discovering some fine wonderful authority in their words, how wonderful they are and follow.
Since this is an appropriate length of time to write before needing to capture the readers attention with a photo, I thought I would add one. This looks like a swimming pool, although the water is somewhat greenish for my tastes in swimming. It's a fountain or pool at the palace and fort of Granada called the Alhambra. The Alhambra was rebuilt by Mohammed ben Al-Ahmar of Granada who added to the fort built in 889.
I must confess that I gardened today and followed that stint of turning drippy from sweat into a dive into my swimming pool. Our bathrooms are unlike the elegant ones complained about by Scipio, most look like they are falling apart after 20 years of use and they are currently the "neediest" place in the house other than the doors damaged by the last hurricane.
My earliest memories of bathing involve playing "alligator", where you hold yourself up with your arms and let your legs float,.
Bathing in old age is fraught with worry--will my inner organs dry out, will I get a bladder infection, why is my skin so dry, will my new dye job burn my scalp when wet in the pool or worse turn green or red. Yet, cooling is needed after working in Florida outdoors with 93F temperature and lots of humidity.
I wonder why humidity and humility are so nearly alike? Is it because, we are all water and all sorrow?
My joke about a few more days of intense humidity on the golf course got a laugh--soon my skin will slide off, my bones turn to shell and flake into the ocean bed and all that will be left is a jelly fish. I wonder if anyone has given a jelly fish an IQ test?
So I did do the Scipio bath--work hard, sweat, rinse off in a pool (but ours is currently clean). I have to admit though I have had my dreams of knocking the walls of my bathroom out, changing my closet to one side of the room, turning the shower to a stand free sort, adding French doors, and installing a hot tub with the idea that come those cold January and February days, I could slip into something warm, relax and look at all the flowers I had planted blooming among the lush tropical greens, ah, sounds so good. Yes, definitely corrupt.
Why not?
I must confess that I gardened today and followed that stint of turning drippy from sweat into a dive into my swimming pool. Our bathrooms are unlike the elegant ones complained about by Scipio, most look like they are falling apart after 20 years of use and they are currently the "neediest" place in the house other than the doors damaged by the last hurricane.
My earliest memories of bathing involve playing "alligator", where you hold yourself up with your arms and let your legs float,.
Bathing in old age is fraught with worry--will my inner organs dry out, will I get a bladder infection, why is my skin so dry, will my new dye job burn my scalp when wet in the pool or worse turn green or red. Yet, cooling is needed after working in Florida outdoors with 93F temperature and lots of humidity.
I wonder why humidity and humility are so nearly alike? Is it because, we are all water and all sorrow?
My joke about a few more days of intense humidity on the golf course got a laugh--soon my skin will slide off, my bones turn to shell and flake into the ocean bed and all that will be left is a jelly fish. I wonder if anyone has given a jelly fish an IQ test?
So I did do the Scipio bath--work hard, sweat, rinse off in a pool (but ours is currently clean). I have to admit though I have had my dreams of knocking the walls of my bathroom out, changing my closet to one side of the room, turning the shower to a stand free sort, adding French doors, and installing a hot tub with the idea that come those cold January and February days, I could slip into something warm, relax and look at all the flowers I had planted blooming among the lush tropical greens, ah, sounds so good. Yes, definitely corrupt.
Why not?