Me Time

Despite the old cliche, I love walking here in L.A. It is something that I find very rewarding and need to be mindful to make time for more often. We got our first rainy day of the season this weekend. I absolutely love rain, and took several opportunities to enjoy the weather. At one point, I found myself in the midst of several things at once,trying to jam pack my weekend with productivity and socializing, which is nothing unusual. I realized I had limited time to go for a good walk. Often, I take the kids on bikes and find myself slowly making our way around the block, arriving home a bit frustrated at our lack of umphh. This time, I decided to take some MeTime, a rare and under utilized treat.

I headed out in the drizzle for the lake. Initially, I felt stiff, doubtful that walking in cool, damp weather was such a great idea. Having to ford gutter rivers of rainwash impeded my pace, causing my enthusiasm to wane a bit. However, this Pisces is forever drawn to water, and I just felt a need to get to the lake. As I crossed into the park I felt much better, eagerly anticipating my destination. Although there were plenty of people there, there weren't nearly the crowds we usually find. For once, I headed to a bench and consciously took a seat to absorb the zen of the water.

As I sat looking at the pewter expanse, I became aware of my senses taking turns influencing my experience. I started to notice finer details about the scene before me. The grass was exceptionally green in contrast to the grey sky, and neutral plumed birds. The water had a gentle ripple, with mostly ducks floating about. As I looked around, the coots (my favorite bird there) seemed to be a single unit of feeding black, but the longer I watched, the more individual birds began to stand out. At first they seemed one blob of bobbing feeding heads, but really they were all at a different pace, some challening others, and some just hanging out on the perimeter. As I watched, I noticed I was hearing more than I was seeing. Those coots don't eat silently, but with a soft persistant pittering as their agile white beaks plucked blades of grass and insects from the ground. It was almost like the earlier whisper of rain. After a few minutes of concerted relaxation at the water, I headed back home at a brisk pace. I noticed a great difference in how I felt. Initially, I had felt stiff and slow,annoyed by my wet feet, burdened by the stress of numerous trivial responsibilities.

Once I headed back home, I could feel that my body posture was straighter, more open. My gait was swift with my hips and shoulders swinging freely with every step. My mind had shed the earlier stress and I felt like I was greeting each new step with a happy, positive thought. Often, I try to spend as much time with the kids to compensate for my time at work all week. I do an amazing job piling on the guilt for wanting a few minutes to myself, for leaving it all to Fillip for my own selfish wants. But, you know what? I truly feel that the refreshed wife and mom who returned to our house from the lake was so much more valuable than the stressed out lady that had left. Maybe I should feel guilty for not finding that inner peace more often. What a difference a walk makes.

Amber Waves of Granite and Steel

So, again, I've joined a gym. Generally, I join a gym that is conveniently located either on my way to, or near work, and am pretty good about exercising regularly once I've established a routine. So, I cancelled my membership at the first gym after we bought this house because I had to backtrack 20 minutes each way to get to the gym before work. With Los Angeles traffic being what it is, I had no desire to add another 40 minutes drive time to my day. The second time, the gym was near my office. Well, getting laid off put a crimp in that plan. Which brings me to Lucky Gym #3. I really have no excuse at this point, as this is located in the next building from my office, my company subsidises half of the monthly dues, and will reimburse me up to $400 per year for whatever I lay out for "health and wellness." Sweet deal, eh? At the beginning of the month I headed over to the gym on my lunch break with all confidence that this fitness program would endure. I took the obligatory tour, awkwardly, yet briefly walked through the locker room feeling like a voyeur, and spent the rest of my lunch break perusing the literature and imagining all the group classes I would be taking. About a week later I signed up. Today, I finally worked out- sorta.

Typically I catch a bus at 6:45am, getting me to my office by 7:30am. I thought I would just take a 5am bus and have plenty of time to walk the extra distance, workout for about an hour, then shower and doll up for my coworkers. When I looked at the bus schedule last night, I realized it doesn't pick up at my stop earlier than 6:30am. Shoot. Along with my health and wellness benefit, my company also sponsers a Rideshare program. So long as we take public transportation at least 60% of the time, they pay for all or most of the fare, and validate parking on the days we do drive in. Due to the recent holidays and Fillip being out of town, I had to drive a couple extra days already. So, I figured I would just drive across the valley to the subway, ride the rails for about half an hour, take a quick jaunt up the hill to the gym, and have plenty of time.

With good intentions I left the house before 5:30am, and grossly underestimated my time and the effort involved. After driving nearly 30 minutes, finding a spot at the back of the subway lot, running down the endless stairs and through the station to jump on the subway, then waiting for it to go back in service- after all that I thought I was good to go. Except I didn't actually get downtown until 6:30am, and somehow exited the station on the wrong side, leaving me further from the gym than I expected to be. Then, I had to trudge up the hill, in the predawn dark (with all sorts of unsavory characters skulking around) with my purse and a backpack that I swear someone must have hidden rocks in. By the time I got my sweaty self to the gym I had 40 minutes total to workout, shower and get ready for work. Let me tell you, I'm not all that low maintenance. I quickly threw my baggage in a locker and hopped on a treadmill to watch dawn break over Bunker Hill. As the sun slowly came up over the horizon, it infused all the buildings in a soft amber light, slowly brightening as if someone were gradually adjusting a dimmer switch to the city. As I watched the sun illuminate the panorama of glass, granite and steel before me, feeling the quick burn of the treadmill, I thought to myself-

This is totally not worth it.

Eleven Steps to Go

Ok, I'll admit it. I have a problem. That's the first step, right?

It started when my neighbor brought it over the first time. I couldn't be rude and refuse, so I had a little. At first, I thought that it was just a minor indulgence, a treat to get me through a rough spot. Once I finished what the neighbor had supplied, it was supposed to be over. Then Fillip gave me more. I found myself craving it, wanting it, sneaking it when nobody would know. Like a glass of wine with dinner I told myself it was just a little something to take the edge off. Unlike the occasional glass of wine, I am consuming all day long. Home alone I have a little after breakfast, tease myself that I need to wait an hour, or that I must have lunch first before going back for more. As soon as my healthy yogurt is finished, I find myself again taking a little before I am fully aware of what I am doing. Before I know it, it is all gone. Yet over the weekend, I bought more supplies, fully aware this time that I needed to just make a clean break.

It's not possible. Those damn Rice Krispy treats are addictive. Regular Krispies, Cocoa Krispies, or the new Cocoa/Nilla Krispies that look so mottled and pretty in the pan. It doesn't matter. I need that sweet gooey crunchy taste. Aaaahhh, there's my serenity.

Sweet Freedom

So, despite the fact that I actually do need to work, I LOVE being home! I haven't had this much time off since the kids were born, and having a newborn is enjoyable, but no picnic. Now? I can have a picnic any day I want. This whole layoff thing? Pretty sweet deal in my book. Fridays now belong to me and the kids, as they go to school Mon-Thurs. My house is the cleanest it has ever been. I take long walks most days. We are eating like royalty as I love to cook, but rarely have time. The pile of boxes on the patio has even dwindled. After a couple "career advancement" seminars last week, this week I plan to start my job search in earnest. However, until I have to actually go to work, I am going to enjoy every second of this time off.

Yet Another Reason I Don't Talk Politics

Some might argue that I am a bit high maintenance. Fillip lovingly calls me Sally, harkening back to one of my favorite movies, When Harry Met Sally. I don't necessarily agree since I just like it the way I like it and consider myself low maintenance due to the fact that I happily leave the hair dryer at home to go camping, but whatever. :) Anyway, I was feeling like my mani/pedi was way overdue after not going to the nail salon for the last several months. This is something I like to do on my lunch hour, feeling like I am sneaking away for a little bit of luxury at the cheap nail place below the Weight Watchers Center after I weigh in. So, even though the Center was closed today, I just didn't want to wait another day. I can get the bad news at my weigh in tomorrow. Maybe my pretty toes will console me so I don't turn to candy. Yeah, right!

Everything started off perfectly. I was nice and relaxed as my toes were trimmed, my feel scrubbed and massaged, and the nice lady doing all this asked me superficial questions about my life. When she was almost done, another lady came over to do my manicure to save time. Well, I really wish I had not been left "alone" with her. The first thing she asked me was who I voted for. Not. Cool. I told her I'd rather not say. Instead of seeing the red flag and changing the subject, she proceeds to tell me that she likes Hillary, but doesn't like Obama because, you know, he's black. Yes...she really did say that. No, I didn't stand up then and there and demand another non-racist manicurist, but I should have because she was just getting started. She ignored the fact that by now I literally had my head turned 180 degrees the other direction and was no longer responding as she spewed on about the fact that only blacks like blacks and that if he is elected, being black and all, the economy would end up in bad shape. Hello!!! Has she noticed our less than booming economy? Has she ever heard of something called the Civil Rights Movement? I finally had to tell her that whatever my opinion of Barack Obama is, that opinion is most definitely NOT based on race, but on the issues that matter to me. Finally, I turned it around to see who she voted for which is when she told me she can't vote because she isn't a citizen. So, I guess since she can't rock the vote, she is waging a grassroots campaign of hate via people who just wanted a stolen hour of cheap pampering. Just to make sure the experience ended on a bad note, when she gave me my change, she made sure to comment on the tip I left that was to be shared among the girls who had helped me. I slapped down two more dollars to make it even and told her she was lucky to get anything. I also made sure to let one of the ladies who runs the shop know about that conversation and said she should really let that awful manicurist know to keep her opinions to herself. The whole incident really shook me as I am rarely exposed to that kind of hateful attitude.

Honestly, had she brought up the subject of candidates and told me she was backing someone I don't like because of how she feels about certain issues, I would have felt it was not the appropriate forum, but not been offended. Difference of opinion is what our system is all about. However, it was just so irritating to listen to a woman who has come to this diverse country to have a better life go off about an entire race of people, as if she is somehow superior. Clearly, Barack Obama has been significantly more successful than either of us, and has my respect for what he is achieving in his life. Whether I vote for him or not, I recognize that he has a lot of great qualities in a human being. That lady who did my nails could learn a lot from that black man.

An Overly Long Description of a Fantastic Couple Hours

It's not often that I enjoy complete relaxation. At night I usually try to read a bit before bed, but am watching the clock, overly aware that I will need to be bright eyed and bushy tailed at dawn. Often I lay awake at night with my mind racing about all the things I need to do, only to get up too tired to accomplish any of them. Before the time change, I would briskly walk around the block to get a few minutes of exercise by myself, knowing that I would shortly be returning to the chaos of home. Work isn't terribly stressful, but they wouldn't exactly appreciate me sitting around here in my sweats, watching The Food Network. I have a great life, but with marriage, kids and full-time job, it isn't easy to relieve all the stress. On Tuesday, I took a stand. Several months ago I had been given a gift certificate to a local spa. It was high time I used that. It's not that I had forgotten. Oh, no.. I would periodically take it out and look at it, reviewing the "menu of services" and fantasizing about that perfect day when I would finally get there. After traveling for a few days I just took that extra day off. Working in a financial market that is dying a slow death, it's not like my presence is so critical at the office right now.

When I first arrived for my afternoon of pampering, I was actually a bit stressed. I wanted everything to be just perfect, but there was a crowd at the front desk, delaying my entry. For appearances sake I looked patient, but when it was my turn I did nicely mention that there was very little time left until my appointment, leaving no time to enjoy the extra spa features. No problem! They simply moved my appointment 30 minutes later. Oh, I love being catered to! I was given a brief tour, shown to my locker and entrusted with my giant spa robe and sandals. Let the disrobing commence. Into a robe. Hmm.... Anyway, I did make a bit of a disturbing self discovery. Although rationally I understand that I am fairly lucky, I was so self conscious about my body that I had to wear a bathing suit. On the beach, I feel like this bikini is too revealing relevant to the shape I am in, yet at the spa I may as well have been dressed from neck to ankle. Almost all the other women seemed perfectly comfortable using the jacuzzi, steam room, etc.. completely nude, yet I just couldn't do it. I have never considered myself a prude, wasn't disturbed by the other women being undressed. They were simply average, all different body types, perfectly comfortable in their own skin. Here I was, unable to let go of my insecurities with my own body- a petite body at a healthy weight. Really, no room for complaint. I find that a bit sad, yet also compelling because only I can tone up the problem areas. Despite knowing it was ridiculous, I was glad to be in my bathing suit, preferring to be comfortable for my own sake, rather than self-conscious in the name of solidarity with strangers.

My first stop was the jacuzzi. I went in completely prepared with my little cup of cucumber water and an iced washcloth. It. Felt. So. Good. The only other times I have been there were when I was pregnant. The spa kindly prepares a warm milkbath to accompany the pregnancy massage, but I had never had the opportunity to use the steaming hot jacuzzi. It took a few minutes to find my perfect spot. First, I was on the far end so I could see all that was going on, but the bench is too deep causing me to sink to my eyes. This short girl needed a shallower seat! I moved over to the third step and leaned back, only to realize that the sensation of roaring and something trying to suck the hair off my head was the drain pulling at me. Finally, I laid on the third step on the other side, where little Goldilocks found it to be Just Right. Despite using the iced washcloth, I did get overheated after awhile, so I decided to try out the cool mist room. I've never seen this before, but let me tell you how great that is!! I hate saunas and steam rooms, feeling like I am suffocating from that heat. However, after getting all warmed up in the jacuzzi, the cool mist room was like a fresh breeze. The fogginess provides a muted hushed feeling with the only sound that of the mist being gently pumped out. The light is dim, and everything is a soft haze. Although I wasn't being directly sprayed, the moisture would collect on my skin, then gently roll down in little streams. It was like being massaged by tiny ladybugs. The pleasure of all these sensations was such a wonderful surprise. I waited until I got really chilled, then hopped right back into the jacuzzi, sinking into the water like I would a warm blanket. Now, it may not be so great for my immune system to go from hot to cold to hot- again and again- but that is exactly what I did.

Despite my immersement in all these temperate sensual pleasures, I still needed to watch the clock. Even having that extra time, it passed quickly. I dried off, ditched the bathing suit, donned the giant robe and sandals then headed out to the Meditation Room to wait for my Massage Therapist. She actually met me right outside the door, and we headed down endless hushed halls, passed a hundred closed doors to the place where I would spend nearly an hour letting a stranger rub me in all the right ways. For once, I was actually brave enough to request more pressure. I usually feel completely mute, as if it would be rude to criticize the technique, when the reality is that I am paying good money to this person who likely just wants to do her best to make it a good experience. Throughout the entire massage I had the opportunity to let go of all the things that normally crowd my mind, and just concentrate on feeling. I can't easily accompish this, and found myself with an inner dialogue that was actively clearing out all the mental noise. By the time the Massage Therapist finished, I had dozed off. Although most people think this is a good thing, indicating complete relaxation, I always feel like I missed out on those last few minutes. However, I was in a happy, sleepy state and feeling like a lump of wet cotton. I re-robed, accepted the proffered cup of cucumber water, and headed back to the locker room. Despite already being later than anticipated, I took my time showering in the spa shower that has 3 shower heads spraying me, used all their fancy shower products, then took the time to blow dry my hair into complete submission. I arrived home a new, relaxed woman.

I can't tell you how much I needed that.