Posts Tagged ‘spa day’

That Was No Fun

January 23, 2016

No fucking fun at all.

In fact.

That may officially be the worst weather I have ridden my bicycle home in ever.

Not my worst bicycle ride.

I have had a few accidents, though knock on wood, nothing in some time.

I have definitely had colder rides and thank God it was not cold tonight or I might have gotten off my bicycle crying.

Not that it didn’t look like I was crying anyway.

Hello El Nino.

Damn Gina.

That was intense.

I kept thinking of this exact moment.

This one, right here, right now.

Where I am dry, writing my blog, and have a very hot cup of tea in my hand.

Or as close to my hand as my keyboard will allow.

I don’t know how I got home.

I was hoping I would hit the window and not get the dousing.

I managed to this morning, well, it did rain on me, but I got up to 20th before it started and it was light.

The rain did fall and the traffic slowly but surely got worse and yes, I had a wobble on a train track, heart stopping, but no falls, just slick as shit.

But tonight the rain dumped and the wind was high.

It was painful riding home.

That was the worst of it.

Getting blasted in the face by the rain.

Especially when I hit the down hill portion of my ride.

Three miles or so, total of 6.5, half is up and half is down, that was just torrential and driving.

I literally said “ow” out loud at one point.

I fantasized about getting off and waiting for a MUNI, but I was riding through the park by that point and really, what’s the point.

I made it home though.

And I am dry now.

Everything came off in the garage, my shoes so wet they squished, I threw away the socks I was wearing there was so much road dirt in them they were dark grey.

Yuck.

Everything in the wash and my rain coat hanging over the handle bars of my bicycle.

At least I had a rain coat on and my fender, though the fender didn’t do much good, it was just coming down.

My bicycle is grounded for the weekend.

I need a break.

I will call a car tomorrow for the appointment and then MUNI my way back across town.

Sunday I am hoping for some decent weather, anything that is not rain, so I can run errands and go grocery shopping.

The bike can stay nice and parked and dry itself out.

I’m super grateful it’s the weekend.

It was nice to get a few extra bucks for the extra work I put in this week, but after coming off a school weekend it was tough.

I’ll be working a little extra next week too–Friday night for the parents, an extra two hours, but that’s next week.

No thinking about that now.

Get present.

Be here.

Where it is dry and lovely and Coleman Hawkins is playing on my computer.

Jazz always feels appropriate when there is rain and I am cozy inside.

I am cozy and dreaming of blonde hair.

Yup.

Tomorrow is the day.

I finally pull the trigger.

It will take two sittings, so it may not be full on blonde but, it will be heavily highlighted, it’s called a full head highlight, and I am getting a cut, which I haven’t done in a while.

I am looking forward to having my scalp rubbed and my hair washed.

I do love a good hair washing.

It’s one of those experiences that just defy explanation, I just really like having someone wash my hair, rub my scalp, some nice scratching, the lifting of the hair off the back of my neck, so divine.

Mmmmhmmm.

Ah.

I am all relaxed just thinking about it.

The process takes three hours.

I’m not sure what the second round will look like and how far she’ll be able to take down the color of my hair.

I am also wondering, curious really, how short it’s going to go, I expect that I’ll lose some length.

Then.

I am going to try to maintain it for four to six months, depending on how expensive the process is.

I plan on a range of Manic Panic self-home hair excursions after that.

Magenta, lilac, dusty rose.

Then.

I will either go and get it colored back my original color.

Or.

I will just chop it off and start from scratch.

I am looking forward to the fun.

It’s nice to let myself have a little fun, be a little frivolous, be girly.

I love that.

Ooh.

Heh.

I’ll be close to Sephora.

Mwahahahaha.

Mama needs a new lipstick too.

It may just shape up to be a girly kind of day tomorrow.

Fact is I could use it.

I deserve some pampering and it’s going to be fun to check out a new salon and a new hair stylist.

I haven’t been with anyone new in years.

I may even go with a new perfume too.

I’m getting low on my Egoiste by Chanel.

It’s time to pick up a bottle or perhaps a new scent.

I have been wearing it for so long that I realized the other day, one of two things had happened–I am either some immune to the smell of it or the bottle might be turning.

It’s not unusual for a perfume to go bad, but I have only had this particular bottle for about a year and that doesn’t seem the case.

It doesn’t smell the same though, I’ve noticed, recently, and I am tempted to get a new perfume.

New hair.

New year.

New tattoo.

New scent.

Same me.

But I’ll just be turned out a tad different.

I promise, though.

You will still get to see my heart on my sleeve.

There are just some things that never change.

 

Slow Down

February 23, 2015

That was my thematic for this weekend and it was fully achieved today.

I feel rested.

I feel serene.

I feel soothed.

I feel tasty.

I mean, really I do.

I smell like a dream.

I was given a pot of organic chocolate and honey face mask.

It was a fright to put on and I dare say I was tempted to lick my own face, I can’t remember the last time I had that much chocolate around my mouth (although not literally in it), and I don’t think I wanted any one to see me after doing it, but yeah.

I had a spa day.

Loads of tea.

Outdoor meditation in the back yard sitting in the sun.

Hour long walk on the beach.

I waded in the waves and was pleased to wipe salt off my skin later in the day.

I was tempted to post photographs of my toes, golden brown, basking in the sand, the sun, the surf.

But I didn’t actually take any photographs of myself today or of my doings, even when I was tempted to Instagram my lunch, I mean really it was bucolic today.

I sat in the big white-painted wood Adirondack chair in the back yard, I padded about in flip-flops all day long, I put on sunscreen, I ate strawberries warmed by the sun.

I bought myself flowers last night and they opened this morning, I feel like that, an opening flower.

I remember once being told to let myself blossom, to let myself bloom, to not force the growth, that there is beauty in the unfolding and opening of the petals.

I have a tendency towards urgency.

I want to have it all right now and right away and more, faster, more, did you hear what I said?

I want to rip the petals away from the bud and force the bloom.

I was watering my orchids today, they are in a dormant stage and not flowering and there were some parts that I thought about pruning of the plants and then I thought, nope, don’t force nature, let her do her thing.

I watered them and tended to my gigantic spider plant and lazed about my studio enjoying the golden creamy light that falls through the back door.

I wasn’t slothful today.

I was just slow.

I was present and open and allowed myself to be tender and breathe.

I also sat and bore witness to another woman for three hours this afternoon after my walk down by the sea and my lunch out in the pack patio.

I knew I need to be grounded and serene and still.

“You are so serene,” she said to me last Sunday in awe of how far I have come, “it was the most zen like share I have ever heard.”

I don’t know so much about zen.

But I have allowed myself to be slower at times, to not run so fast, to not be that moving target.

Allowing myself to be hit with love, to have emotions, to experience life, to have bittersweet moments wrapped up in the glory of the day and wanting to share it with someone, but also knowing that I was sharing it with someone.

Myself.

I am a pretty good date.

Flowers, lunch al fresco, long walks on the beach, a day at the “spa,” I mean really, what woman doesn’t want those things.

Or man for what it’s worth.

I will have a full week.

I will work an extra hour for the family, I will be going to my graduate school interview, I will be doing the deal, meeting people, speaking at a workshop, writing, blogging, living, moving, shaking.

I tell myself it’s ok to take the down time, to soften and reflect and relax.

Hell.

I read a book today and a magazine.

I lay in the long slanting sun of late afternoon and watched the sun kiss the tops of the houses behind the back yard fence and lounged with my book.

I didn’t even really cook today.

That’s something I like to do on a Sunday, but I wasn’t sure how long I would be listening, so I just kept my food simple, lots of raw veggies and homemade humus, organic hard-boiled eggs with fresh pepper and sea salt, and left over beans and rice with chicken I made the last week.

I did roast some vegetables too.

But that was the extent of my cooking.

One cast iron pan with cauliflower, garlic, sea salt, pepper, olive oil, and parsnips, roasted off in the oven while I caught up with my housemate and drank tea in her kitchen.

I can feel a slight kiss of morose as the weekend winds down and I wish to berate myself for being in my pajamas before 8 p.m.

But that’s what I do after taking a long hot shower and washing off raw cocoa organic mud mask from my face.

Douse myself in coconut butter body lotion and put on the pajamas.

Write my blog.

And yes.

I will be going to bed early.

10:30p.m.

Who is this person?

Aside from someone who likes to get 8 hours of sleep, I will be up at 6:30 a.m. to do my deal before work.

I even let myself off the hook around dating this weekend.

I feel it’s sufficient what I did over the weekend to compel someone to ask me out.

I am going to be a glowing ball of gorgeousness after all the pampering, my skin a little tan from all the sunshine, and super hydrated from all the tea.

My smile happy and big.

I took good care of myself this weekend.

So that I can take good care of those that I care for this week.

It all comes around.

But it starts with me.

It may make for a less than dramatic blog post.

However, it gives me the jazz to do all the things that do make my blog, my life, me, interesting.

Even a superhero needs a nap once in a while.

And me.

Well, I’m just a worker amongst workers.

I hung up my cape next to my beach towel and wore flip-flops all day.

I think I’m going to go put some coconut hair mousse on my curls.

And call it a day.

My super sensory spa Sunday.

Now concludes.

 

BANG

March 17, 2013

Fuck me.

That hurt.

It also effectively cut short me doing anything other than lounging around the rest of the day.  I gave myself a little sabbatical, here on the sabbath.

I went out and did my normal Sunday morning routine out to the 7th.

I had coffee with a darling gal after.

Then I came back to the house to have a late lunch around three this afternoon.

A cup of tea, a sliced up persimmon, and an e-mail query for agency.

I also followed up on a job lead, for babysitting, and I e-mailed the Creative Writing Director at the American University in Paris.  My friend had suggested he may be someone to contact, do some fact-finding and fact gathering.

I did express to her I had no money for tuition and she said it was like magic how things happen with him, so maybe, and why not throw it out there to the Universe.

She also does not want me to go.

She and I as well.

I do not know what will happen, but it does seem more and more likely that a return trip to the states is happening.  Something is going to happen, I can only be in this apartment until the end of May.

We talked about the artist residency I applied for, that is not until July and August, however, what would I do for May and June?

I tell myself, as I told her, that if I am supposed to be here, it will be made very obvious.

If I am not, it will be made very obvious as well.

I noticed myself not wanting to do any sort of searching for work today, not wanting to reach out, not wanting to go out, wanting to do some isolating, in effect.

That certainly is not going to turn the trick.

So, after I had sent out an e-mail to the director and sent out an e-mail to a literary agent, I decided I would pop over  to the pool and go for a swim.  Vacance (vacation) for the pool was over and it had re-opened.  I grabbed my gear and went over to the pool, which for a Sunday was not too busy, and got in a nice swim.

Returning to the house I figured I would take a shower and head over to the cafe and do some writing and maybe a little reading.

I threw my wet things in the laundry, hit the shower, and hit my leg, hard.

HARD.

I slipped getting into the tub, it’s a much higher lip than most tubs, I caught myself going down, but I smashed down on my leg.  Instantaneously a welt rose up.  I actually double banged it, I hit hard the first time, caught myself and hit it again a little higher up on the shin.

I feel lucky I did not break my leg.

I am flat serious, the welt is a good inch raised and ugly.

Ugly.

Sometimes the Universe tells me to slow down.

Sometimes I actually listen.

I decided then and there to slow down.

I took a seriously hot, leisurely shower, deep conditioned the hair, shaved, all the jazz.

I pulled on my Hello Kitty pjs and said, spa day here I come.

Manicure, pedicure, deep condition lotion on my feet, hot tea, and a book.

I am currently reading Irvine Welsh’s “Skag Boys”.

Farking amaze baws.

So good.

It is the prequel to “Trainspotting”.

I sat and read and let myself just be still.

I had gone to the pool with a head full of questions and should I do this or should I do that and what do I do next and do I keep trying to stay here and how is it all going to work out?

It took me about 400 yards of swimming for the voice to literally get drowned out.

I also attribute that to getting water in my ear.

What is worse than getting water in an ear?

Getting it in both ears.

Fahk.

Shaking the head to get it out of the left side, while the right side just gets it knocked in further.  I wonder if that is how I might have lost my balance, I was trying to get the water out of my ear.

Does not matter.

Just grateful that I did not hurt myself worse.

The swimming took my out of my head and the hurt leg took me out of my head and then, I thought, you know, when was the last time you let yourself have a little Sunday afternoon girl day?

It’s been a while.

Waxed, plucked, shaved, lotion, groom, then I let myself get all snuggly in my pjs, soft and cozy.

I made a cup of tea and lost myself in Welsh landia.

Gah.

He is a fucking fantastic writer.

The tits.

Some one, from Ireland, asked me, how in the hell I could read his work.

I remember the first time I tried to read Welsh and it was really hard, I think I was reading “Porno” or “E” I don’t think it was “Trainspotting”  probably “Porno” I remember the jacket of the book, and at first it was just pure gibberish, another language entirely.

I put down the book in frustration, then a little while later picked it up again as I had nothing else around to read.  I do not know why it occurred to me to read it out loud, but saying the words out loud was the key to the magic.

I could hear the vernacular.

I was suddenly in Scotland, Leith.

I heard it.

I have never had a problem since.

I got in a good hour and a half of solid relaxed no distraction reading.

What a gift to give to myself.

This experience here in Paris, too a gift, and one that I wish I knew which way it was going to go.  Whether I stay or go.  Now or then, come back, or go elsewhere.

“It took me four tries to get it together to make it here,” he said to me this morning, as I was putting away the coffee supplies and wiping up the spills from the table in the basement.

“Four times,” he repeated, “it’ll happen for you, if it’s supposed to, and you never know how or why, you just ask for clear-cut directions and trust you are being taken care of.”

He gave me a big hug, “I am rootin’ for ya.”

Me too.

I don’t believe I was brought all this way to be dropped.

Fact is, I never have been.

I have always been carried, even when I fall.


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