Birthday massage~

I had my birthday massage this afternoon.

My husband had given me a gift certificate back in March to the Maha Yoga Center, a local New Age-y place in town.

It's kind of pathetic when life gets so busy that it takes three months to schedule some pleasure. Sometimes I find myself too busy to even want pleasure.

"A party? I can't, thanks. I have plans." (A nap)

Scheduling the massage took a while. Then I made an appointment with a massage therapist I'd had before, but had to cancel to cover a story for the paper.

When I called to reschedule I asked for a specific date and time. The receptionist said, "We have an opening with Tom. Do you mind a male?"

Of course I didn't mind getting a massage from a man. Why would I? Why should I?

"You know," I said, "this might seem weird, but I'd really rather have a woman."

Where did that come from?

She told me it wasn't weird at all, and that's why she'd asked; most women feel that way she said.

But I'd surprised myself with my response.

My first gynecological exam at 18 was with my old family doctor, the silver-haired gentleman who'd given me my polio shots and taken out my tonsils.

In those days, I didn't even know that there could be women doctors. All of my doctors had been male. I never felt embarrassed. They were doctors after all.

I jumped ship when I became pregnant and heard of a woman Gyn/Ob who was recommended with much praise. She'd been through childbirth. She'd understand, I thought.

Her partner, also a woman, delivered my second child. When it was David's turn, I saw another doctor, a man this time. Both women had dropped obstetrics because of malpractice insurance costs.

The red flag flew when this doctor finished an office exam to determine how close to delivery I was, and held a conversation with me through the V of my legs that were still in stirrups. He didn't understand. He was arrogant. I'd struggled to sit up, my belly a hindrance. He didn't help. I thought of saying something about his disrespect. I'll always wish I had.

So today I had my massage with Susanne. I lay there and knew she'd understand legs that needed to be shaved, and soft flesh at the waist. I could settle in and relax in her understanding hands.

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We&#

This retirement thing~

This retirement thing . . . it seems like it should be so easy, so effortless, so thrilling, to stop the daily grind. It is thrilling; at least I think it will be come September when I'm not following the school buses to work. But it's not easy. I had a plan book on my desk for 35 years, one I filled in weekly, scheduling new lessons at 45-minute intervals, meetings, parent conferences, and field trips. I knew what needed to be done and when. I got up at the same time everyday (5:45 a.m.), ate lunch at the same time (12:06 p.m.) and watched the kids pack their bags for home everyday at 2:15 p.m. I'm not sorry to give up that regimentation. But three weeks into the summer, I find myself making lists of things I need to do, and there is so much to do that I can't imagine how I managed while I was working eight hours on top of it all. There are the household chores, gardening, exercise (aren't retirees supposed to get fitter?), freelance writing, book reviewing, readin

Lesson from a Weed~

If dandelions could talk, here’s what I think they might say: " Bloom where you’re planted, sink your roots deep. Smile in the sun, soak up the rain, and let the wind take you to new places." Dandelions are an early spring food for bees. They are often the first flower a young child picks for his mother and they provide a sweet moment for a mother to teach her child to make a wish and blow away the seeds. They speckle landscapes with lemon-colored glory. Common, and often disliked by those in favor of perfect lawns, we trample over them with hardly a thought. All this crossed my mind as I stood in this field of dandelions, most having gone to seed. I had an hour to myself at a retreat at a beautiful family farm on this day of unexpected sunshine and warmth. I was looking for a moment of stillness. I’d watched two swans, visited the alpacas, chatted with the chickens, tried to coax a kitty closer...

~Upstream and Down~

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