The Pooloozi at the Blue Lagoon

The plan was good, just not thoroughly thought through. All we knew is that we were hot as hell. And bored to tears. And we needed something to satiate our thirst for some backyard adventure.

We have been talking about a pool for two summers now. First it was a small plastic one filled with ice right in the middle of the "J". But when they finally got around to redecoratuing, we decided that the cerulean gleam would clash too much with the dull russet, velvet barrel chairs (that perfectly match the terrazo triangle) and the auric and mutedly azure, floral, retro sofas. So we decided Susan's backyard would be the perfect environ for a pool--one that we might just be able to sit in if we postitioned ourselves right.

Fresh off our Independence day holiday, we researched our options, and after being put on hold by the Brent Wal-mart, for what seemed an eternity to our one-track minds, we set off in search of a pool. Money was an object, so we didn't get far. Some cosmic energy told me we should stop at Fred's. EUREKA! We bought their cheapest pool, an 8-foot inflatable blue beauty, and went back to the duplex. After abducting a hose and filling the pool with 530 gallons of Marion's finest tap water, we stepped into pure bliss.

O.K. Maybe it wasn't pure bliss. By this time the gloaming had settled over our quaint hamlet. The water was a smidge on the arctic side. And the mosquitos that descended upon us were the size of blue-faced boobies and more numerous than the Persian army at Thermopylae. We three, much like the 300 Spartans, decided we could not keep the skeeters at bay for more than one night.

The next afternoon we left in search of a screened tent. Much to our dismay, there was no tent to be found in Marion. We braved the chance of bomb threat and found our best option at the Selma Wal-mart, along with a floating cooler (which we lovingly call the party barge) and canine repellant (which we decided we would need to keep the dogs from chewing the tent pegs). After erecting all the tent poles and slipping them into their correct slots, we placed the tent over the pool and settled in for an almost mosquito-free evening.

The next afternoon we realized that we should have sprayed the canine repellant over the whole tent.



The utter destruction that ensued has not discouraged our pool-going. The slime that took over shortly after the destruction set us back a few days, but even that is coming under control thanks to the good Dr. Jones.

We sit. We scheme like children, making big plans for parties and tiki-torches and fitting as many people into the Pooloozi as possible. The way I see it, if we scoot really close to the edge and lay over sideways, we could probably fit a whole bunch of people in there.

So come on over. Bring your beverage of choice and join us for an afternoon in the Blue Lagoon.