Saturday, August 21, 2010

Massage Envy

This is what my husband Alex is doing this lovely Saturday afternoon.

This is not a picture of Alex, but of some white guy getting a massage. Alex is a brown guy, but he's getting a massage too, right now in fact.

At the little mall in our town, a place called "Massage Envy" has opened recently. Alex wanted to check it out a few weeks ago so I went with him. There is a long reception counter with a lot of gorgeous women behind it, in low-cut nurses uniform-type clothes. or maybe it was tight jeans and bustiers, something like that anyway. Okay, maybe it just looked like that to me.

One of the pretty young ladies offered to help us, so I backed up, stood aside, and let Alex explain what he wanted. They made an appointment for Alex later that same day with "Babette", the therapist who would do a deep tissue massage for him. (No, they did not have photos to help in choosing the massage therapist.)

When he got home after his first massage, Alex was very happy and relaxed. He said that Babette had given him a great massage. (Better her than me because Alex's body is so hard it feels like you are trying to massage a tire.) He also told me he had made a standing appointment with Babette every Saturday afternoon at 3 PM.

I'm glad he's pampering himself a little. Alex works hard and he has a lot of stress. Getting it worked out is a good thing.

So now I'm at home alone on a Saturday afternoon waiting for my happy and relaxed husband to come back after his $50 hour-long deep tissue massage. I figure he will leave a 20% tip because that is customary, right?

Ooops! I accidentally took his credit cards, and his ATM card out of his wallet before he left. I also took a couple of $20 bills. Silly me. I did leave him with exactly $60 in his wallet. I hope he doesn't want to buy a candy bar after his massage because if he does, he will be out of luck.

Implicit trust is a wonderful thing in a marriage, don't you think?

Friday, August 20, 2010

Otto and the Kruggerands

I had a boyfriend named Otto. For birthdays and other occasions he gifted me with German gold coins.

I thought he was being very impersonal with his gifts, and I stuck the coins in a drawer and forgot about them for several years. I had about ten coins from the year Otto and I kept company.

Otto was an interesting but strange man who was born in Germany. He moved to America after the war, and worked as a mechanical engineer. I liked his accent and his big hands and his cold eyes. I didn't really like listening to him complain about how hard it was for him to be in the "Hitler Youth" movement when he was 16.

I finally took the coins to a dealer when someone told me I should have them appraised. Much to my astonishment, the coins were very valuable, ranging in price from $250 all the way up to $400 for a couple of them. Who knew?

I sold the coins and bought shoes. And I remembered Otto with more fondness than I had before.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

The Episcoplian Minister and Me

Max was a great guy and an Episcopalian Minister. He let me bring my son to the pre-school at his church for free. That was very kind, to my way of thinking.

Max knew I was a "lapsed" Catholic, never went to church, and not really even much of a Christian; but he didn't care. We became pretty good friends when I was in my late twenties, divorced with 2 kids, and living in the City. I guess Max was in his mid-40's at the time.

Max would drop by my apartment a couple of evenings a week, to bring me books, and stayed for a glass of wine, and conversation. He had black hair and the bluest eyes.

We talked about faith and sin and redemption. We compared Eastern religions to Western religions. We talked about books and music. He laughed at my jokes and I laughed at his.

Our hands never once as much as touched in two years. I pretended I didn't see what was in his eyes, and he pretended he didn't see what was in mine.

It was better that way.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Ransacked? Ransacked!

This morning began rather in a peculiar fashion.

First of all, Alex and I slept downstairs for a change. Why we did this, I'm not really sure. Oh, wait, it's because we can! That's right.

I got up a little before six to freshen up before getting Alex his coffee and cereal so I could be sure he got off to work all right. (Does anyone actually believe that?) Okay, I rolled over so he could kiss me goodbye and went right back to sleep.

Although he knows better, Alex telephoned me about 8:30 AM. (I don't get up before 9 because I read that most people die early in the morning. I'm not afraid of dying, but I would much rather do it in bed than on the kitchen floor.) In any case, my feeling at the phone ringing early is always one of "Oh my God! Who died?"

Well, it turns out that Alex went out to the car this morning and saw that the front passenger door was not closed. His immediate reaction was "oh shit, the battery", followed by "What the hell?"

The car had been ransacked. A GPS unit was gone, a flashlight, and about $10 in change. The glove box was emptied on the floor, and the owner's manual and service record paperwork was strewn all over the floor in the back.

I asked Alex if he called the police and he said he had just gotten off the phone with them. "What did they say?", I inquired. He said the cop he talked to was young and he said "No worries, we'll just file a report." What do you mean, he said "No worries?"

I was hoping for a little more action out of this than that! I was actually expecting something like this!

We pay taxes! Why aren't the police here taking fingerprints and looking for clues? I particularly would have liked to talk to that silver haired gorgeous police woman with the crew cut.

Another question, why didn't our dogs bark. The car was in the driveway. Shouldn't they be doing their duty? No, they were cuddled up on the bed with us sleeping away.

My neighbor Mary telephoned about 9 this morning to ask me to come to a Mary Kay party on Friday. Mary Kay is a cosmetics firm and they have "parties" to sell their stuff. I don't like Mary Kay. I don't like Mary that much either. Come to think of it, she may not like me or she wouldn't have invited me to this party. I said no thanks.

And since Alex had already taken the car to work, why wouldn't he just wait till 9 AM to tell me this stuff.

Some days are just more disappointing than others.