Monday's Mini Memoir (he's lucky I wasn't sleeping yet)

Trashman caught me, I just wanted to check my blog for comments one more time before napping...


Here are the rules according to Trashman:

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you want.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.
5. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play....

---

1.I love chocolate, and it shows.
2. See my avatar...it's not a cow for nothing!
3. Done, see above.
4. Mauser*Girl, Breda, Phlegm Fatale, of course, Holly, and last but not least, BO Snagley, since he seems to be in a memeish mood anyway
5. Done.

Can I go to sleep now, please?

"Friday" Quickie...

Seeing as it's MY Friday (yay!), I'll just leave you with something quick.

I totally forgot about this, probably the kiss discombobulated me, but I massaged a tough-looking, muscle-bound man yesterday, and when I undraped his back, I saw he had a Calvin&Hobbes tattoo on his left shoulder! I thought that was so funny, I about gave myself a hernia trying not to laugh.

And as I was leaving today, I had to briefly cut through the casino to get to the time-clock, and I noticed a lady playing video poker wearing a black t-shirt with the following phrase in pink on the back:

Friends don't let friends take home ugly men.

*snort*

It's off to bed for me now, must take a nap, since I feel like I'm about to keel over. Later, I promised Silver I'd let her (TRY to) teach me how to play Super Smash Bros. Brawl. Pray for me.

Contrasts

I was kissed today. By a CLIENT. A man, with his wife standing right there. M., the attendant for the women's spa, was holding the door open for the missus and saw the whole thing. She said my face looked "frozen". I'm sure it did! To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I had held out my hand to shake my client's, and he did the one-armed hug thing and leaned in and kissed me right behind my ear. I'm glad I wash behind my ears. Just sayin'.


His wife's sang-froid showed her complete confidence in their relationship. They've been married for almost 26 years, and from what I saw during the massage session (they had a couple's massage), their marriage is going strong.

Her reaction was a marked contrast to that of a client I massaged yesterday. A beautiful, 25-year-old airman from Arizona, she asked for my opinion on a situation she found herself embroiled in. She asked me if I'd be pissed off if my boyfriend received a lap-dance from a stripper at a strip-joint. I told her honestly that, no, it really wouldn't bother me. This is Vegas, if he's at a strip club with a bunch of his buddies, that sort of thing happens. Plus, I'm lacking the jealousy gene. I just can't get my panties in a bunch about stuff like that. Life's too short!

She explained what had happened. Her boyfriend and a bunch of his friends got to Vegas a day before she could get away from work. He told her they were going to a strip club, and she told him it was okay with her. Then, according to the bf, one of his friends bought him the dance, so he felt obligated to go through with it, but felt horrible afterward (yeah, right!). He told her over the phone what had happened, full of remorse and babbling apologies, and she flipped out. Basically she broke up with him and was contemplating flying home early.

*sigh*

People (women) are weird. I don't get this; he apologized, what's the problem? It's not like he let the (potentially skanky and disease-ridden) stripper take him into a private room and give him a *ahem* more intimate pole dance.

I told her, "You know, why don't YOU do a little strip for him and give him a lap-dance?"

She replied, "Oh, no! I'm much too self-conscious. He's never even seen me naked."

There you go...WEIRD. You have a beautiful woman with a fantastic body (trust me, I know), and she's too modest or lacking in self confidence to even let her boyfriend see her naked.

All I can tell you is if I were 25 and had her body...I'd probably BE one of the dancers at the strip-club. And I'd be raking in the dough.

LOLZ

Im in ur websitez, creatin loldogs:


moar funny pictures



moar funny pictures

*drool*

I almost plowed into a row of parked vehicles yesterday, but it wasn't my fault! /whining

I have to drop my daughter off at school every morning, and since she has to be there before 7 AM, and I don't have to be at work until 8, I get to work super early. I usually pull into the employee parking lot around quarter after 7, right around shift-change for the security staff.

I don't know what's going on, but for some reason, a LOT of the security folk have been changing in the parking lot lately. I know they have a locker room, so what's the deal?

Anyhoo, yesterday morning, I was doing my typical "stalking-the-good-parking-space" thing, when I encountered a security guard standing by the open trunk of his car. He was wearing shorts and a wife beater, and was polishing his shoes.

Oh. My. God.

He was built. And how. I have no idea if I know him, since I wasn't exactly looking at his face, but as I was craning my neck to keep him in view, I almost ran into a bunch of parked cars. Luckily, I avoided the collision without the guy noticing. That would have been too, too embarrassing.

Didn't see him today. *sigh*

Two more reasons why I love my daughter.

First, she uses "mischievous" in everyday conversation...and pronounces it correctly!

And second, when 8-year-old neighborhood boys knock on our door and ask for the "Pokemon-Lady", she'll go outside with them and trade Pokemon cards.

I got lucky, I know.

Speaking of weird names...

Phlegm Fatale had an interesting post earlier this week about weird names.

I massaged a lady today who was named after one of the books of the Bible. And as if that wasn't strange enough, when I undraped her back, I noticed she had a tattoo in the prime "tramp stamp" location.
It said "Las Vegas".

Now, I don't know her story. Maybe she's hoped and dreamed all her life of coming to Vegas, maybe coming to Las Vegas is the pinnacle of her ambitions. But, come on! A TATTOO?!

I dream of moving to Denton, Texas in a few years, and you don't see me running out to Absolute Ink and getting it tattooed on my lower back, do ya? Now, a tasteful Lone Star flag on some portion of my anatomy...that's possible, I suppose. Or maybe the phrase "Don't Mess with Texas!".

Speaking of dreams, my daughter shared this gem with me yesterday. Apparently, nominations for Prom King and Queen are in the works. Her school's "tv station" ran the following ad: "Vote for Prom King and Queen, make someone's dream come true!"

Silver told me, "If becoming Prom King or Queen is your dream, you have serious priority issues!"

I gotta love that kid!

Four weeks.

Marko inspired me, and four weeks ago today, I quit drinking Diet Coke cold turkey.

Not only did I stop drinking Diet Coke, I also stopped eating fast food and going to 7-11. I did this for my health, to help me lose weight, and, of high importance, to save money. I never realized how much of my tip money I squandered on fast food and getting "breakfast" at the 7-ll on the way to work, until I saw it start piling up when I stopped patronizing those establishments.

So, thanks Marko, I really owe you one.

Oh, great.

I just got home and discovered I did all my grocery shopping while still wearing my name tag from work. I might as well have pinned a sign that said "DORK!" to my chest.

Take me away!

I've had many offers lately, from clients who wistfully ask if I'd come home with them.

I could go to Scotland (tempting, but brrrrrrrr!), Michigan, New Hampshire, various parts of Canada, or FLORIDA! Florida would also be very tempting, if it weren't for the humidity, bugs, and the occasional hurricane.

I wonder what would happen if I took a client up on his or her offer?

Maybe I'll play along next time, just to see my client back-pedal and try to explain he was only paying a compliment, not making a serious offer. I could have fun!

Hmmmmm.

Whew!

Spring break was over for me today, and of course we had to start class back up with a test. Thank goodness it's over! I was less prepared (I felt) going in to this one than the last, but I still think I did well.

I guess I'll see next Tuesday...

W00T!

Zomg!

I've actually reached 5000 visits since I hooked up to sitemeter!

Of course, I can subtract about 2500 of those as being moi, desperately checking to see if anyone has left a comment. You do know I'm a comment-whore, right?

I believe I might have mentioned it a time or two...

Anyway, thanks to all of you folks out there who stop by for a minute or two, just to see what I'm up to, and thanks to all you other folks out there googling "milky mamas", and "bjork sucks". You guys rock!

Overheard at work today...

What did the egg in the pot of boiling water say to the impatient Easter Bunny?

"You're gonna have to wait! It's gonna take me a while to get hard, I just got laid by a chick."

Happy Easter, everyone!

You. Must. Obey.

They are sending their mind-beams into my brain...compelling me to come to bed...must obey...zzzzzzzz...

Duhr!

I had a moment of utter humiliation today, and of course I have nothing better to do than share it with all of you.

The floor the spa is located on is also the location of a host of meeting and conference rooms, most of which are in use daily by various and sundry companies and organizations, all of whom think scheduling a conference in Las Vegas is a great idea.

Wish more of the attendees would get a massage, but I digress...

In order to provide food for these conferences, and also for the wedding chapel also located on our floor, the banquet and catering kitchens are up here, too.

One way for employees to leave the building without having to brave the smoky, too-heavily-populated casino, is to walk through the catering department and take the elevator down to the lower level, where one can exit by the loading docks and never see a slot machine.

Last Monday, I did just that, and stopped just through the door and looked around in shock. The whole place was totally empty. No shelves with pots and pans, no dishes or coffee urns, no people! (I later found out it was empty due to a routine visit from the exterminator.)

Tuesday and Wednesday were my days off, and today, as I was again making my way to the employee elevator, I ran into an employee I'd seen around before, who works for the banquets department. I said, "Hi!" Then I launched into an animated monologue about how creepy it had been a few days ago, like a Twilight Zone episode, with everyone gone and the whole place cleaned out...I babbled on and on, the poor guy a captive audience as we waited for the elevator. Finally, as I stopped to take a breath, he looked me in the eye and said/mouthed, "I can't hear you, I'm deaf."

Duhr.

I'm sorry, but something like this can only happen to me. I can feel myself blushing now as I type this. That's how embarrassed I was. And I had to ride down five floors in the elevator with him, too! At least he was nice about it, and I didn't even get a hint of a "YOU IDIOT!" tacked on to his sentence to me.

I think I've probably already reached my lifetime quota of embarrassing incidents. There's really nowhere to go from here but up! Maybe if I learn to keep my mouth shut...?

Oh, nose!

Why am I cursed?

Twice in the past two days I've been stuck in the left turn lane, in front of disgusting people. I don't go out of my way to stare at them, but they had me mesmerized, simply by their lack of couth.

Yesterday on my way home from work, I was waiting at a light and glanced in my rear-view mirror; to my horror, the man in the car behind me was picking his nose with his pinky, and flicking the boogers onto his dashboard. Gross!

Then, on my way to work this morning, again I was waiting to turn, and the gal behind me had to honk her horn when the light changed because I was too busy watching her pick her nose and EAT HER BOOGERS to pay attention to the signal.

Don't get me wrong, everyone picks his or her nose; yes, even I have been known to delve gently in my nostrils, but there is a time and a place, and such things as tissues and handkerchiefs, for God's sake!

Hopefully my commute will be booger-free tomorrow.

Spring Cleaning

I just had two glorious days off. My weekend, which should have been relaxing and restoring, enabling me to go back to work rested and energized.

NOT!

Instead, I spent most of yesterday shoveling out my daughter's room. No, I didn't take any pictures, it would have been too embarrassing. She's a total slob, a small failing I've been trying to combat since she's been mobile; considering how remarkable and wonderful she is in general, I think I'll take her slobbishness!

That took up all of Tuesday afternoon and evening. Today I spent six hours clearing out my walk-in closet. You see, my puppies are enamored of paper. They love shredding it and playing with it and eating it. Since I pay all of my bills on-line, I tend to be lazy when it comes to opening my mail. I obviously can't leave it sitting out, or the dogs would get it, so, since the infernal hounds haven't yet figured out how to turn door-knobs, I've been chucking the mail into my closet, along with anything else I didn't want them to destroy (which was quite a lot). Out of sight, out of mind...until now.



Almost all of the above, plus a lot of half-chewed decorative pillows, ended up below.

I think I must have emptied my shredder six times.



All that was left was this:



Which has now been filed away in the appropriate file-folders in the fire safe.

Whew.

Then Silver and I tackled her walk-in closet, which is much bigger than mine, but which thankfully wasn't as overflowing with stuff.

Our next project will be folding the huge Mount Everest of clean laundry that has been patiently waiting. We have no dressers, so...we NEED our closets!

But that's for tomorrow, I'm beat.

Fascinating.

My first client yesterday was a 45-year-old widow from London, England. Her much older Greek husband passed away 10 years ago, leaving her their "fancy dress" (i.e. costume) shop/business.
What was so interesting is that she's a Turkish immigrant to England, having lived there for the past 21 years.
I knew many Turkish people growing up, considering I lived in "Little Istanbul", the borough of Kreuzberg in Berlin, Germany.
We had a fascinating conversation ranging in topic from women's rights, sharia law, religion, socialized medicine, to how to relax, de-stress, and the necessity of drinking plenty of water.
The lady is a socialist and an atheist. In her words religion, especially Islam, is "stupid crap". I liked her. :)
Too bad she's working herself to death. She hasn't taken a day off in 10 years, has no hobbies, only spends the evenings watching tv and drinking with her sister. Her entire body was very tense, and she talked during the whole massage, incapable of relaxing, though she did appear a little less stressed by the end of the session. She also needs to lay off the coffee, seeing as how she drinks it morning to night.

*sigh*

She's probably going to be back tomorrow for another massage, and I look forward to seeing her again.

---

I also had a new experience yesterday: I massaged a father and a son. The son was my last client, and he was a talker...I told him up front, "You don't have to tell me anything about you, your Dad took care of that earlier!"

His reply, "Oh, great!"

Both of them were very nice and interesting conversationalists, but neither of them tipped me...hmmmm...wonder if tightfistedness is genetic?

---

My second to last client was my tallest yet, 6'7"! His feet dangled off the edge of the table...
He was from Sweden, so we chatted about my (brief) time in Sweden, back in the day (1987). I didn't tell him that I lost my virginity on that trip...a girl's got to keep some secrets, after all!

---

What I'm reading now: "Where the Heart Leads", by Stephanie Laurens...yes, Phlegmmy, it IS a romance novel (a historical one, with a mystery to boot, set in London in 1835). Hey, I like happy endings, so sue me! Next in my TBR* stack: "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman. Should be good.

Hope you folks are having a great weekend, I still have mine to look forward to (Tuesday/Wednesday).


*TBR=To Be Read

'Nother "Back Home"

I massaged a lady from Michigan today, and she regaled me with stories of her friend back home, who massages her monthly.

Not only is this friend a massage therapist, she's also an acupuncturist and physical therapist.

That upped the intimidation factor quite a bit.

Screw it, it was a Swedish massage, and she enjoyed it, dammit.

That'll teach me!

I got off work early today since we were slow this afternoon, which suits me fine, seeing as I have homework (that I really should be doing NOW, as opposed to blogging!) I found my car on the employee parking lot, hopped in and removed and folded up the sunshade (a true necessity in Vegas). Then, as I turned back toward the wind shield after stashing the shade, I yelped in surprise and horror: There was the biggest, most disgusting pile of bird poop on my windshield I've ever seen in my life. I said "pile" and I meant it. The sucker was as big as my hand, and I have big frickin' hands! My door was still open, and another employee was headed for his car and I shouted out to him, "What the hell kind of bird leaves a poop this big?" He laughed and replied, while looking up at the sky, "I don't know, but I sure hope it's gone!"

That'll teach me to never park under the light. Stupid bird.

Focus

While I walk clients to the treatment room, I quiz them about their health history, how they're doing today, any surgeries or injuries, etc. Then I ask them the question that makes me cringe inwardly in anticipation:

"Any areas you'd like me to focus on today?"

So far, not a single client has gone to the gutter to find an answer to this question, luckily.

The other day however, the following conversation took place (the client was scheduled for a 50-minute deep tissue massage):

Me: Any areas you'd like me to focus on today?

Him: Well, I always need more work on my back, and my neck and shoulders hurt from the flight here and the crappy bed they gave me. And my feet and legs are sore from walking the convention so much. Oh, and please focus also on my forearms, I went golfing yesterday and I think I overdid it!

Me: *blink blink* So, basically your entire body?

Him: (sheepishly) Yeah, pretty much!

Me: Well, we've only got 50 minutes, but I'll do my best!

And I did.

Okay, now somebody tell me what it means, 'cause I don't have a clue!

I am a: Glock Model 22 in 40 cal

What kind of handgun are YOU?

I know nothing about guns (yet!). I qualified on the M16 in Basic Training back in 1989, that's it.

Harder!

It never ceases to amaze me how much punishment the smallest, skinniest people can take.

If I can feel your ribs creak when I'm doing a deep forearm or elbow stroke up your back, you don't need deeper pressure!

Also, hot stone massage is for relaxation, just the fact that they're radiating heat is therapeutic, the heat penetrates deep into the tissues.

You don't need me to apply deep pressure with the rocks, they can actually chip bone.

Go visit a swami and learn how to walk on coals or lie on a bed of nails, and stop bothering me.

But thanks for the tip, I appreciate it.

Skin assessment

One aspect of massage therapy I don't believe I've touched on (hah! Pun unintended.) is skin assessment. It's the job of the therapist to assess the skin of our clients, and notify them of anything suspicious. Also, it protects US, since we have the right to say, sorry, this rash looks suspicious, I'm going to have to break the massage off (or get gloves, whichever seems best in the situation).
I had a client for a sports massage a few days ago who had a fairly large lesion on his back that he wasn't even aware of. It had an irregular border and sort of a crusty scab-like thing on top. It didn't cause him pain when I touched it, probably the reason he was unaware of it. What made me wonder is that he mentioned he was in Vegas with his wife. Why the heck hadn't she said something to him about it? Anyway, I recommended he see a doctor about it, and reminded him again at the end of the session. Pretty much all I can do.

This actually happens pretty regularly. A lot of my clients are older, and most have some kind of sun damage to their skin. Thankfully awareness is high. Almost every time I point out a suspicious mole, the client is already aware of it, or say they've had it checked out. In one case recently, the client already had a date for removal scheduled. Whew, that's really a relief to me!

If I had a private practice, it would be a little different. I'd keep charts/files on all my clients, and document, document, document (a.k.a. CYA). It would also be a lot easier to keep track of things like changes in moles, etc. if I had regular clients. With the client's permission, I could periodically take photos with a ruler or other measure, then I'd have something to pass on to the client's physician, if necessary.

All part of the job.

Never

I will never have a man in my life. I might find one, but never keep one.

Once he hears me talking to my dogs, the dorkiness of which makes ME cringe in horror, he'll hightail it to the hills before I can finish saying, "Ohhhhh, my precious puppehs! Hi, my sweet puppehs!"

*sigh*

Meh

I don't care what the clock says. 4:30 is way too early to be awake.

Unless it's PM.

Comment card

Here's the comment card from the dude I massaged yesterday...so, he loses a point for the "Christine"...though I get it all the time.

This one's for Breda

I brazenly took this photo this evening, as I stopped by our library on my way home from work:



I wonder if this applies to old ladies who wear much too much perfume...?

Clients

Yesterday, I massaged a very, very large lady who laughed uncontrollably during most of the massage. Thankfully, she warned me about it, or I might have been even more unnerved than I was. It was very infectious laughter to boot!

She told me afterwards that she'd be coming back in two months with a friend; then she took my card. I love repeat clients!

---

My last client today was a very handsome young man who had booked a 90 minute deep tissue massage. He told me upfront he liked a lot of pressure, that he was a bodybuilder and received massage regularly.

I really gave it my all during this massage, I used all my tools (elbows, loose fists, knuckles, etc.) to make sure he got his money's worth. I told him at the beginning not to be macho, to tell me if it was ever too much pressure, but still monitored him closely for any signs I was going too deep. I was working on his lower back and noticed his fingers were twitching. I at first assumed I needed to ease up a little, then I heard a noise...he was SNORING!!

Here I was working my ass off, and he was sleeping.

When we were finished and I handed him his water outside of the treatment room, he shook my hand and said, "Christina, you're obviously a professional. I've had many massages, but that was by far the best deep tissue massage I've ever had."

Inside my head I was squeeing, but also thinking, "How do you KNOW, you were sleeping most of the time!" Then again, maybe that's his measure.

He took several business cards (He's visiting with NINE friends), and he also filled out a comment card at the front desk. AND he tipped me $40.00.

The trifecta of awesome.

---

Apropos of nothing, I'm making progress in NOT cussing people out when on the road, yay, me!

Almost forgot...

On Monday when I clocked in at work, the TIME CLOCK wished me a happy birthday, how bizarre and cool is that?!

Well, maybe only to me...

Back Home

There's no phrase I dread hearing more from a client.

As in: "Back home, my therapist does x-y-z."

"Back home, my gal (yes, he said GAL) puts eucalyptus oil on a tissue and lays it over the bridge of my nose, clears my sinuses right up."

"Back home, my masseuse digs right in with her elbows."

"Back home, my massage only costs half what I paid here!"

Okay, enough already!

I understand that you are used to a certain kind of massage, that you are used to a specific therapist, and a (usually) much lower price. BUT, you're NOT BACK HOME, are you?! This is the Las Vegas Strip, where everything is more expensive, and just because you paid more doesn't mean I'm going to do a fan dance with a bunch of feathers, or escort you to the treatment room walking on my hands.

And it would be really nice if you gave me the courtesy of a chance, at least, to show you what I can do. Without being hampered by your expectations.


Thank you, that is all.

Have any "Man" questions?

Well, you've (definitely) come to the wrong spot.

These two gentlemen, however, can answer all your many, manLy questions.

Go. E-mail. Read the answers. Be amused.

Happy Birthday, Harley!

It's my little puppeh's turn today! He's exactly three weeks younger than Tucker, but much, much feistier. Here are some (slightly blurry) pics of him gnawing on his birthday apple.





After a few minutes of this, I took pity on him and cut the apple up. I split it between both dogs, just like I split up Tucker's hamburger on his birthday.

Share and share alike in the motto in my house!

Disconnect

I realized something as I drove to school this evening. I don't have road rage per se, because I'm not really aware of what I'm saying. There's a disconnect between what's going on in my brain and what comes out of my mouth. It's like my mouth is on auto-pilot.

I was stuck behind two cars at a light that had just turned green, and I guess they were too slow for me (I was running a little late).

They finally moved, and as I started forward, I heard the echo of the words I had just said:

"C'mon motherfuckers...I mean...Jesus Christ!"

No wonder my daughter can swear like a sailor denied shore leave.
She learned it (inadvertently) from me!

How do I change this behavior, when most of the time I'm not even aware of it? I shudder to think of giving someone a ride in my car, they'll have a whole new (most likely unfavorable) impression of me.

Any suggestions?

*sigh*

I really, really admire all this man has accomplished in his career(s). All the medals and accolades are certainly impressive. He served his country with honor and distinction, and thousands of soldiers looked up to him and were inspired.

But as a father and grandfather, well, let's just say there's definitely room for improvement. And that's putting it very diplomatically.

Thanks for forgetting my birthday AGAIN, Dad.

---

*UPDATE*
My Dad e-mailed me this morning to wish me a Happy Birthday. He thinks my birthday is March 5th. 03/03/70. You'd think THREE-THREE would be easy to remember. Oh, well, I guess it's the thought that counts.

Woo-hoo!

I got my algebra test back, you know, the one I took last Tuesday...

I got 109 out of a possible score of 110! My prof wrote "very good" at the top of my test, squeeeeeeee!

The only point I got taken off was because on one problem I didn't simplify "2x divided by 6" into "1/3x".

Oh, well. Who cares? I GOT AN A.

Here's to hoping I can continue in this fashion.

Job Satisfaction

I know I bitch about stingy tips, complain when business is slow, etc., etc.

However, the reason I went into massage therapy still guides me: I want to help people and make them feel better.

Whenever I can alleviate a client's pain, when a client exits the treatment room beaming, saying he feels fantastic, like a million bucks, outstanding, any monetary considerations are immaterial.

I massaged an elderly lady last week who'd had rotator cuff surgery a few months ago. She was in a lot of pain, and still didn't have full range of motion of that arm. Even though she was booked for a Swedish massage, NOT a deep tissue, I still went ahead and did deep/injury work on her arm and shoulder. She told me, "You don't know how good this feels. Bless your hands! You better take care of those hands, they're gonna help a lot of people!"

I felt such a burst of joy when she said that, it was like an explosion of sunshine in my chest. I had to hold back tears.

She went on to have a facial after our session, and I ran into her later while I was between other services as she was getting dressed to leave; she smiled at me and told me again how good I'd made her feel.

That evening, as I collected my tips from the tip-box, I saw she'd left myself and the aesthetician who had done her facial $2.00 each. As my colleague groused, I just smiled and walked away.

Cool Tattoos

I massaged a client a few days ago who had tattoos that made me laugh out loud. Which, by the way, is completely unprofessional, but the client was very understanding.

He had a tattoo of HIMSELF on each shoulder, one as an angel in a contemplative pose, and one as a devil looking angry with a fist raised. He pointed out to me that the devil was slightly smaller than the angel, indicating that his conscience was stronger than his "evil" side.

Clever.

Honestly, unless the client mentions them, I make no comments during the massage about any tattoos or other body art, this just took me by surprise!

Another year older...

but any wiser? Don't know.

So today I'm officially two years away from the big 4-0.

But I'm only getting better.

FIVE years ago I had an amusing birthday. Why? Because I was born on 3/3/70; it means that on 3/3/03, a.k.a. the third day of the third month of the third year of the third millennium I turned thirty three!
Everyone I worked with at that time told me to head over to California and buy some lottery tickets, or to go to a local casino and play the big slots. I said no.

'Cause it doesn't really mean anything, seeing as our calendar is pretty arbitrary.

Shake up

I haven't posted about this, since I almost felt I'd jinx myself if I mentioned it.

For the past two weeks or so, I've had the sword of Damocles dangling above my head, ready to slice and dice at any time without warning. There had been (confirmed) rumors going around about layoffs, company-wide. As the therapist with the least seniority, I thought I'd better get my resume ready, I was going to be out of a job. Anytime my boss called me into the office, I braced myself, ready to hear the unwelcome news, telling myself to get through it with dignity, and without tears.

Yesterday the layoffs happened, but I dodged the bullet. Apparently HR went by performance reports, evaluations, and disciplinary actions (or rather, the lack thereof), instead of relying merely on seniority. As a result, J.A., the therapist who'd been there the longest (13 years!), and my friend K. were let go.

I was very upset on K.'s behalf, but on the other hand, I'm human. I definitely am not getting any enjoyment from her pain, as a matter of fact, the only time I've ever felt Schadenfreude that in any way was appropriate was when I found out my ex-husband's new wife had gone from a size 2 to a size 12 since they married...but I digress.

Of COURSE I am relieved that I didn't get the axe. I'm the sole provider for my little family, and I struggle enough on what I make to get by. Even though I didn't know for sure it was going to be me who got tossed out, I've still been obsessing about it constantly, worrying and fretting non-stop.

Thankfully, that's over with now. However, my schedule at work has changed and I'm working Thursdays-Mondays now, so Silver will have to get used to not seeing me on the weekends very much. I'm just happy to still have a job to go to, so I'm certainly not complaining about my new hours!

I'm so glad I have this blog, it forces me to clarify my thoughts and emotions; any readers out there...I'm very thankful for you, too.