While her parents were busy trying on gear, the little girl at the snorkel rental place was getting bored and so was doing that thing kids do when first they learn to wave: hand open, hand closed, a kind of a shellfish gesture. She practiced on everyone in the small store, and achieved considerable social success. Wave... big people smile. Wave... big people say, "Hello." Wave... they make faces. When she captured my attention, she explained, "We're going swim-MING," with emphasis on the second syllable. "Really?" I responded, being about as original as a royal. There was a lull of the sort you sometimes get at cocktail parties, neither of us knowing quite what to add. She got us out of the difficulty by revealing one more thing she had learned recently, "1,3,6." My turn to be served came, so I have no idea what the sequence meant, but she was very pleased with it indeed. On Monday the jacuzzi man stopped by our house. I've limped along for donkeys' years, improvising like a Boy Scout, holding the old filters in place with bits of nut and wire and dib dib dobs. Finally the rust got too much and everything disintegrated. I decided to spring for new gubbins. Because the tub is so old--it came with the house--the parts had to be ordered from who knows where? Somewhere out by back of beyond. As I said, on Monday they and the man finally came. Like old men discovering a mechanical repair in public, our chickens wandered over, possibly to offer advice. "Oooooh, an electric screwdriver. That's interesting." "Yeeeees." "He's undoing nuts." "Yeeeees. Quite interesting." "Lifting." "Yeeeeees. Don't see much of that hereabouts." "It's a flap." There followed a widespread beating of wings, silence, embarrassed muttering. David Ritchie, Portland, Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html