Who's Your Daddy?

Back at the pool, it appears the fearsome foursome have gone missing!

At least for the past week.

When I made my way over to the deep end last Thursday, I started slowly swimming from one end of the pool to the rope, and back again. I kept that up for several minutes, but with my radar in place, scanning the horizon and pool side for a glimpse of silver hair. One lap, quick peek, nothing. A couple more laps, a nonchalant tossing of the head, and still nada. Except for a stiff neck. (You have to suffer from back woes to understand how the mundane become the PAIN).

Not a gray to be had, unless you consider the gray in cognito in most of the over-forty heads of hair. Sure they appear to be fire-engine red, majestic auburn, mocca brown, or sun-kissed blond, but only that little plastic bottle paid for at the cashier or our colourists know the trueness of the gray underneath.

The silver, though, at least in the quad formation of the fearsome foursome, was no where to be seen at Glen Abbey Pool. In the water, on the deck, in the change rooms, nor in the showers. And to think, all it took was some vigorous splashing to stake out some territory.

Fearsome Foursome. Where for art thou? Stay tuned.