It's Poolio!

HH has spent several hours trying to whip Poolio into shape. Poolio has other ideas. About a month ago, a storm blew Poolio's cover. Instead of dragging the cover back over Poolio, who was about 1/3 exposed, HH declared that there was already a bunch of leaves dumped into Poolio, he might as well be completely exposed. Which meant that even more leaves joined the party.

HH planned for the #1 son to get INTO Poolio when he arrived home from church. HH reasoned that there was a bag of sand split open on Poolio's bottom, which needed to be removed. He said that the water was 62 degrees, and it was sunny, and the boys had been swimming last year when the water was 68 degrees, so this little dip should be no problem. The #1 son had another think coming. He refused to take the plunge.

The Pony volunteered to voyage to the bottom of Poolio, but HH said he was a weakling and could not lift the sand. The #1 son defended his position well. "I'm not going in there. It's too cold. Show me the temperature." So HH gave him Poolio's thermometer. It was 48 degrees. So much for the bait and switch plan. Then #1 got to poking around that sand bag with the long arm of the leaf-strainer, and found that it was not sand, but algae growing around the bag. Don't go thinking that we pretend we're at the beach, and leave a bag of sand on Poolio's floor. It was holding the ladder in place.

From there, HH moved to the fake fish pond. The Pony wanted him to catch one of the 13 giant goldfish who started out as regular-size goldfish from The Devil's Playground. HH feeds them twice a day. Probably with protein powder laced with steroids. HH scooped at the bottom of the fake waterfall. Twice, he nearly had a whopper, but they flipped out of the net. Then he tried scooping from the bottom, which netted him a net full of leaves. Which he dumped back in the fake fish pond. I asked why he didn't dump them out. He sighed, like he was speaking to a toddler. "Because they need it. For a bed." Gosh. That makes me feel really bad for that year I made my pet goldfish sleep on a pallet of colored pebbles.

The #1 son and I left HH and The Pony at the fishing well. The Pony was clamoring to fish with the net. We did not want to see him pulled in by Shamu, the largest of the baker's dozen of green-water denizens. About 10 minutes later, The Pony barged into the Mansion. "Guess what Dad found in the fish pond!" We couldn't guess. We didn't have to. "One of his barbecuing utensils! The kind with two points on the end and a long wooden handle. And it was GREEN!" Now there's a surprise. HH's barbecuing area overlooks the fish pond. He had been known to lay his utensils on the porch rail, or the triangular wooden corner where the rails come together. How could he not know when he dropped a BBQ fork into the fish pond?

I'm not eating any more of HH's BBQ until I see him lay that green fork to rest.