Pre High School Conversations


ME: It’s time for you to drive. This is bullshit.

JANE: [grinning] What kind of car are you going to buy me?

ME: I’m sorry for cussing

ME & JANE [in chorus]: Cussing doesn’t count in bad traffic.

ME: I don’t know. We want you in something safe.

JANE: Jerry said he’s never cut a dead body out of a BMW or a Mercedes. [Jerry is our firefighter neighbor]

ME: That’s a very real possibility but it won’t be anywhere near new.

JANE: [smiling and nodding] I know

And then we see two guys pushing their dead car down the street.

JANE: What about a Hyundai, Kia or a Ford? That could be new, right?

ME: Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. Maybe something that no one else has driven.

Of course at dinner I bitch and moan about the amount of driving I’ve done this week. You see Jane has volleyball tryouts all week long and there’s no bus service until school starts. The school she’s attending is a 25 minute drive from here and I am not at all interested in being her chauffeur. I mean I am for 5 minutes, it’s the 20 after that which does me in. I’m thinking of a fake ID and maybe a car…

So after I’ve had the Mercedes/Ford/Hyundai/Kia conversation with her we sit at dinner and talk about what’s on tap for Friday. There’s some back to school shopping as she needs a dark suit for assembly days (every Thursday) and then a massage. The massage is for aching muscles and hyperextending joints. She’s played 2-3 hours of volleyball a day plus weight room training all week. If ever a kid earned a massage this is the week for it.

As we’re discussing the day Mr. G says, “A massage? Aren’t you spoiling her?”

And I was about to say, “Yes, I am.” I was going to give him the lecture I give myself about how he and I both make more money when we perform better at work and her currency comes in the form of things like massages and manicures and when she performs well she gets more perks but then Jane beat me to the punch.

“Yes Daddy, I’m a little spoiled but insurance covers it so it’s okay.”

So tomorrow’s a massage day. We’ll have to negotiate the car another time.



Amateur Day at the Spa


After a walk in the hills with a friend and dumping dropping kids off various places I headed to the spa for a massage.

Not just any massage, the 80 minute deep muscle massage. I scheduled a bunch of free time before and after so that I could move through the steam, sauna and whirlpool.

Apparently I forgot the first rule of the spa. Never go to the spa on a weekend or a holiday week. It was unbelievable. I was clearly surrounded by women who were using their holiday gift cards. There was chatting in the sauna and swimsuits in the whirlpool. When I went into the steam room one woman was splayed out on the bench, legs spread wide and taking up space for three women while two others kept opening the door (to get cold wash cloths?) all the while checking their dangly earrings. Dangly earrings do not belong at the spa, they get in the way of massages, salt scrubs and facials. Furthermore they heat up in the sauna.

Who are these women and how did they make it to adulthood without understanding spa etiquette?

Why do I know that one of the ladies in the whirlpool has a middle child who is an overeater? Why did the publeless bench stealer in the steam room have to continually stand up to press the steam button after swimsuit clad women left the door propped open? Why did I know she had no pubic hair? Because the steam room door was open. The sauna should have been silent, it was not, women were asking each other why it was so hot. Because I’ve evolved they all lived to see another day.

If you got a spa gift card this month do me a favor please, use it this week because I’m headed back there mid January and I expect to see only experienced spa goers who schvitz in silence.