A One-inch Jump

Early morning Barton Springs swim report, 4/4

72 degrees at 5AM: ugh. This morning (per doctor’s instructions) I painted liquid bandage onto the cut on my shin, & thought of my mother dabbing clear nail polish to stop runs in her pantyhose. (Among the long-gone noises of my youth: the soft thwop of a L’Eggs container popping open.) Beside the cut & some impressive bruising (now gone), I also strained a muscle in my tuchis when I did the inadvertent partial vertical splits while boarding a Mexico City bus, so my usual leap in the air (in which I think, it’s too late to turn back now) was halved.

I’ve been trying to add images to these posts. This morning I snapped The Philosophers’ Rock, a more-than-lifesized statue of three guys, including J. Frank Dobie, but for some obscure reason that sculpture has always irked me. Is it that they are always there, & beat me to the pool? That in the half light I mistake them for actual people? Are they just three dudes blocking my view, story of my life?

I'm not sure. Anyhow, here’s this beautiful sign.