We took The Bean to the Ulster County pool with L, T and t. The complex is nice. They have a huge pool for adults and accompanied kids, a 1 foot deep wading pool and a 2 1/2 foot deep toddler pool. The water, except for the wading pool, was testicle shriveling cold, which is why Mom went in and I didn't.

Bean loved it. She'd stand on the steps of the toddler pool, doing a slow-mo arm wave at Mommy and tell her: "go out Mommy, go out", as if setting up for the Immaculate Reception pass a la Bradshaw-Swann in the 1974 AFC Championship. Mom would back off and Bean'd waddle through chin deep water across the pool, grinning all the way. "Look at me Daddy", she'd exclaim.

Interesting crowd at these places. The bulk of the denizens have, well, bulk. They remind me of huge lumbering mastodons surrounded by lilliputian cave men running about with spears trying to bring down the great beast. The feral creature would swing it's mighty trunk and tusks to frighten the early men, but to no avail The boys, were, of course boys. Running around, crashing into each other and jumping in the toddler pool, nearly killing anyone in their path. The life guard wasted no time informing us -- and anyone else -- that flotation devices were verboten but never looked askance at the junior Stukka bombers. Ah well, that's what fathers are for.

I spent most of the time sitting at pools (toddler) edge dangling my numb feet in the water. At some point a little boy, Pablo, came by and glommed on to me like a barnacle; a sweet barnacle though. This has happed before and it's kind of sad. Kids that don't have a man around seem to be drawn to me. Maybe I'm just friendly. I played with him, of course, but it seemed that his mother -- who wasn't in the pool -- just didn't know what to do with him. I asked his age and she said he was three. THREE. This kid must have been 4 feet tall! The mom said she'd tried feeding him less, but it wasn't working. LESS. He's just tall and skinny. Lordy.

There was, and there always is at these places, The Hot Chick. Chomping on gum, and yakking on her cell. Not really a chick, but an objectively smokin' 15 or 16 year old girl with a bikini that probably required shaving to avoid embarrassing disclosure. Unfortunately, the face didn't match the bod (great legs, too bad about her face). I got the vibe that this one had a dim future. She was clearly aware of the effect she could have, (Not on me. To me she's jail bait) but didn't have the looks or moves to get in with the really popular crowd. She'll end up putting out for one too many high school guys, get knocked up by the QB of the local team and spend the rest of her life living in a shack in Modena while Biff or Steve or whoever pumps gas and goes hunting.

Getting Bean out of the pool required some serious hostage negotiations. She'd turn blue, shiver and deny being cold. Eventually she'd climb out, run to the picnic table, drink some water and dash back to the pool for more frosty immersion treatment. I told Babs, if the child doesn't sleep on the way home, we're taking her to the doctor to find which gland is overactive (she did, no worries).

And that was pretty much my day.