I was at work today and had just finished a massage when the receptionist told me that we had a walk-in that I needed to get to right away. I asked the woman what she wanted worked on and how deep she liked, but that was pretty much the end of our conversation. I figured she was one of the silent processors who doesn't talk during massage so that she can concentrate on the work.
So I did fairly deep work, occasionally asking how she was. Each time
she responded with a giggle and "I'm OK." I thought she must
just really be enjoying her massage. But when she got up, as I handed
her her water, I noticed she looked a bit wobbly. So I advised her to
sit for a moment before going out to drive. "Oh no", she
replied. "I've got to go. I'm getting married in two
By now, she's Mrs. Somebody-or-other. And I have a feeling she'll have a great marriage. After all, she already knows how to get take care of her needs while calmly getting what she wants out of life.
I was just over at The
Mother of All Blogs today and found an interesting post about the newest
Well, actually, not so much. Not really at all, once you think about it. Ann Douglass and her commenters focused quite a bit on copy write laws, the inherent value of one’s contribution, and the ilk. Most of them appear to be writers, so they immediately went in that direction with their feedback. It’s a thought provoking post/discussion. I thoroughly encourage you to go check it out.
And while I enjoyed reading all of their thoughts, I still had this niggling concern that just kept buzzing around the back of my brain. After washing a few dishes and making up Kajsa’s meds, I finally pinned it down. It was this: We as moms have finally been recognized as a rather desperate population. And once that acknowledgment was made, did corporations stop to find a way to truly try to unite and uplift us? Of course not. Why would they? What they did do, though, was find a fairly effective way to exploit our isolation, our feelings of invisibility, and, yes, our “I haven’t slept well in five years. It’s a good thing I don’t have to think about how to make a peanut butter sandwich” boredom.
“Come on down!” they say. “We’ll give you an outlet. We’ll let you talk to other grown ups. Just give us (give us!) all your original ides and stories. Then you can watch us make over your life with prettier people who are bound to have more sex appeal than you. But that’s OK, ‘cause you, and you alone, can bask in the knowledge that it was your life to which you’ve now given away the rights. You are the funny, inspirational, touching lady beneath Leah Remini’s skin.”
I just don’t buy it. I won’t contribute. I don’t really want you to either. If you want to have online friends and recognition, start a blog. Write posts. Visit other moms’ blogs and tell them how great you really think they are. That’s where the real empowerment lies. Not in some artificial environment brought to you by people who will never see your brilliance as anything but another faceless dollar sign.
I get to have purple hair! Isn’t it wild? I’ve never done anything so, um, outrageous with my lovely locks before. The fun part is, not only is it OK with my bosses, but they were actually thrilled to have me model one of the newest Aveda formulas.
It feels great! Life has been much too serious lately.
Well, I'm into my second week at the Salon, now. And it's going fairly well. Slow, of course. That's always the case when you start somewhere new.
So far, I've only had three clients, including a freebie to one of the stylists. But that's OK. It's been long enough since I last worked, that I'm super sore from the hour and a half of deep tissue I did yesterday. Best part though is that she loved it & will be back next week for another. Oh, and as an added bonus, she owns a local nail salon which may help out with the old word of mouth.
The other gals at the salon are starting to warm up to me a little. Some of them, I'm sure, never will. But that's alright by me. As long as no one's mean, I'll get by.
The hardest part of working there is the down time. I've looked at a lot of hair magazines this week. Enough, in fact, that I'm thinking of doing something radically different with my hair. I'm sure Chris just loves this.
I had such long hair when we met. But it was always getting stuck in my armpit or rolled up in car windows. So it's just been getting shorter as the years go by. He says it doesn't matter, but I think it might.
Anyway, back to the salon. I do a lot of sitting around when I'm not doing massage. Enough that I've completed my very first knit sock. That's it up there at the top of the post. Isn't she a beauty?
I can hardly wait to finish the second one so that I can wear them out somewhere to celebrate. Gads, I just re-read that sentence and truly wonder what my life has come to. But, you know what? I really enjoy my knitting.
Plus, I think I look like enough of a bizarre dork that the other employees know I must not care about pecking order and am therefore semi-approachable.
Speaking of all things hair and, um, weird:
Check out the noodle eater's hair guard at the bottom of this page.
Well today was my first day at the salon. And I had a truly delightful client. She’d only had two massages before today, and both of them had been from one of my coworkers. So she was a bit hesitant to receive one from me.
But the massage went really well. In fact, upon leaving, she said that she wanted to come back to see me. That felt really good. And right about then, I really needed to feel better.
You see, I am working with a bunch of really unfriendly women. I smile at them and say, “hi.” But each time I do so it’s met with such a look of disgust you’d think I’d slapped their mothers and slept with their boyfriends. I just don’t know what to make of it.
I’m so used to working around massage therapists – who truly are some of the friendliest people you’ll ever meet. So to be surrounded by these distant women simply confuses the heck out of me.
My only consolation today was to be found in the fact that I am very good at my job – and that I am here for the benefit of my clients and myself, not my coworkers.
But you know what?
It sure wouldn’t hurt to be liked, too.
I don’t know what I was so worried about. I hardly slept last night and was anxious for
the whole drive to Phoenix.
However, I passed my test with flying colors.
I don’t have the exact breakdown of the scores, yet. But, the general evaluation stated that my test level for each section was “high”.
Now I can go
buy apply for my state license.
As many of you know, I was hired last summer, to work at a
salon about one block from my home. Having just moved to Arizona;
however, my licensure was not local and needed to be transferred. I checked into the process and found out that
the only way for this to occur would be to sit for the National Certification
Board for Therapeutic Massage and Bodywork (NCBTMB).
Happily, I sent away my stuffed packet of documents and a couple of hundred dollars. My expected wait was 6-8 weeks. Well, as would happen, that time came and went. No letter from the NCBTMB.
At three months I called and was told that they’d moved
their headquarters from North Carolina to Chicago, so everything was
taking longer than usual. I called back
in three weeks. At that time I was
informed that they had no record of my former call, but that they would have a
supervisor call me back in 3-7 days.
Ten days passed with no call & no message on the machine. So I called again, and was told that it is, in fact, not 3-7 days, but rather 7-10 days. I got angry. I informed the woman on the other end of the line that I had now lost my job because of their ineptitude. I asked to speak to a supervisor, RIGHT NOW. She asked me to hold. A few minutes later she returned to inform me that there was a document in question. But when I asked which one she said she didn’t know. So there I sat trying to convince this person to find out, so that I could resolve the issue. Her response...“I’m not authorized to tell you, but we’ll have a supervisor contact you.”
So I waited some more. A couple of weeks later I called, and emailed, this company to tell them that if I didn’t get either my letter of approval or an explanation of why it had taken six months, I would be contacting the Attorney General.
One week later my paperwork arrived. It consisted of a single piece of paper - the same piece of paper that everyone receives. It told me that I had been approved to sit for my boards, and told me who to call to schedule my examination. That’s it. There was no further letter of explanation. Un-friggin-believable!
So, I’m taking my exam this Friday. And you know what? After all of that, I’m actually nervous. I wasn’t nervous a month ago. But as soon as that slip of paper arrived, I swear I forgot all I know about anatomy, physiology, and of course, kinesiology. So, off I go to study. I’ll be posting a snippet tomorrow, but mostly I’m going to sit around here staring at muscles for a few days.