Archive for September, 2005
Is it even possible that I’ve been on this earth for over a quarter of a century and yet never experienced a professional massage until today? Yes, indeed… But the nice ladies over at Zen Spa Therapy in Pasadena took care of that problem, and they went all the way to make it a thoroughly relaxing experience.
When you first walk in, you notice the dimmed lighting, serene music, soothing water wall, deep rich wood, and plush fabrics in the reception area. The private massage rooms are all nicely decorated. There’s a meditation room and other amenities that I didn’t explore, but if you’re looking for that sort of thing, it’s all there.
The only thing that got me to make the appointment was a special offer of $30 for a one hour session, otherwise I’d still have no idea what I’ve been missing out on all these years. It turns out this spa is a new business venture started by my dermatologists (as if they need more money) so their patients get a special deal.
About all I can say is… Having a beautiful woman tend to every sore, overworked muscle with warm aromatic oils was not at all unpleasant. Though I expected the massage itself to feel utterly fantastic (and it wasn’t that far off) I found that the big deal is how you feel all day afterwards. It’s like putting on a whole new body.
September 30th, 2005
Oh, the drama! Last night I experienced the displeasure of playing my part in the dispatch of police helicopters and squad cars to our little neighborhood, all thanks to someone who I thought was merely a petty scam artist, but in the end turned out to be something worse.
Heading home from spinning class around 9pm, as I’m pulling into a parking spot on the street next to our house I see a guy standing there in the shadows. He moves, I park and get out of the car, and then he hits me up for “help” with his car that ran out of gas.
Some mechanism in my brain called bullshit.
I fire back innocently, “Sure, I’ll help push your car to the gas station. It’s just a couple blocks away. I’m pretty strong.” Unimpressed with my flexed bicep, he comes back with, “No, you don’t understand.” I ask, “Is it an SUV or something? I can get my husband to help.” After that he suspects that I’m calling him out on his game.
I give him credit for at least coming somewhat clean at that point and saying, “Look, I just want money for gas so I can get home.” Which was basically also a lie, as I was soon to learn there was no car. Maybe if he stopped at the first five words he’d be closer to the truth. I said, “Well, I’m not giving you money, but I’ll help you.”
That last statement pretty much ticked him off. He mumbled something unintelligible, rocked back and forth like he didn’t know which direction to head next, and then shouted to a hidden accomplice, “D-dog! Come here.” And I figured it wasn’t such a good idea for me to wait around to meet a second big angry black guy.
So I walk in the house and quickly tell my husband what’s up, then head next door to my gigantic Viking redneck neighbor and bring this posse outside to ask these punks to get out of our neighborhood. You see, Wednesday night is Bible Study at the adjacent Korean church, and they see easy targets… And that’s just not right.
Next, the guys confront him to ask why he’s harassing people. Deny, deny, deny. But we’ve all seen him around here before. In fact, he even went up and knocked on the Viking’s door asking for money a couple weeks ago. (The plot thickens.) More words back and forth, more of his lies exposed, finally he’s frustrated and takes off cursing me.
We watch him go, but he doesn’t go far. He hides behind a tree a block away. We call the cops. Meanwhile, the groundskeeper from the church comes to talk to us. In very broken English, he informs us that this guy and his pals have broken into their church dozens of times, and that in the last year alone they’ve been robbed ten times.
This morning we speak with a retired police officer up the street and come to learn that this same guy scared his wife by showing up next to her in their own garage, again using the same surprise and intimidation tactics to get money… And they didn’t report it. (Explain that to me?)
Great. I can’t believe that it took my sassy mouth to finally get all this out in the open so that our neighborhood can deal with the problem. This was a good lesson in trusting my intuition about people’s motives. Heaven help that guy if he shows up around here again.
September 29th, 2005
Went up Angeles Crest Highway last night with my neighbor to look up at the stars. It was quite fantastic. The first time I’d ever had the opportunity to notice the white swash of stars known as our Milky Way. Even got to see Andromeda (pictured above in slightly more spectacular detail) through the nifty telescope.
As fascinated as I was by all there was to see, it mostly got me thinking about all the big questions. Science, and God, and about why we’re here, if there’s any reason to it at all, and whether or not this life is our nirvana or just a prison. I think at one point I even blurted out something like, “I hope that some day my spirit will no longer be bound by time and space, and I can really know all those things out there.”
I feel like that every day, and not just in relation to all the stars in the sky, but with the people I love. There is a big part of me that has never accepted the limits imposed by a physical existence. When somebody needs me, I know that it’s right to be there instantly, but I can’t teleport. My heart will never understand being separated from special people; I want them around always, but I’m not omnipresent either.
As much as I’m amazed by physics, I hate that it’s applicable to me.
September 28th, 2005
This Week: Ten of the Stupidest Things I’ve Ever Said
10. There is no way they will re-elect Bill Clinton after all that.
9. Regarding pit toilets: I don’t poo on other people’s poo.
8. I’d like you to meet my long lost
7. I like karate, I just don’t like hitting people.
6. They always chomp the hotties first.
5. All this meat won’t fit in my box.
4. Holy shit, look… It’s a Hobbit!
3. If I get killed I’m gonna die.
2. I just drooled an update.
1. Where is the wall?
September 27th, 2005
Sometimes I wonder if I resulted from a test tube experiment.
Unlike the majority of people, who resemble certain family members more than others, I’m the mystery meat… Completely adrift in the gene pool. I don’t closely resemble anybody in my family. And no, I’m not adopted.
My brother doesn’t have this problem. He’s a combo platter, but with those blue eyes and dark blonde hair, he’s my father’s son all the way. That side of the family liked him more because of the connection. I can’t even blame them. There’s something special about looking alike.
Though sometimes I feel alone, there’s also a part of me that’s glad I’m different. Especially when I look at some of the DNA that might have stuck. God knows I loved my big German grandma on my dad’s side, and she was an amazing woman… But sweet Jesus, she was a battle axe. Remembering her shape makes me want to run a few miles to get farther away from that fate.
My genetic sequence is a frequent topic of family debate and laughter. Nobody can figure out where my nose came from. It’s certainly not from my mom’s clan of hookbills. Neither side wants to take responsibility for this bubble butt either. Who knows, maybe they’re just hiding the fact that I’m secretly related to J-Lo?
Chemistry class, eleventh grade. Football star thinks he’s going to get a good grade by teaming up with me in lab (the joke was on him) and as I’m working on our first project, he exclaims, “Damn girl! You may be white, but you got a black ass!” …and I wore coordinating sweatshirts around my waist for the rest of the semester.
When your family members don’t share your traits, that means there’s nobody around to teach you how to handle them. Almost like having all of the struggles of being bi-racial without any of the beautiful benefits. It’s hard to feel connected when you look so different.
September 26th, 2005