Notes From New Mexico - Day Two

Hi, me again with the continuing saga of my trek across New Mexico and Colorado. Do you have a minute? I need to talk about my massage at Ten Thousand Waves Spa.

Before I get into that though, I have to tell you about cucumber water. Just take a cucumber and slice it into some ice water. Ten Thousand Waves Spa, which is designed to look like a Japanese garden, has beautiful glass tankards of this cucumber water strategically placed all around the spa, and I couldn't stop drinking it today. I seriously considered sneaking in my Thermos and ripping off some for our afternoon drive to Pagosa Springs, Colorado. Try it. You'll love it. The cucumber flavor is very subtle and divinely
refreshing.


About my massage - half way through, I had an epiphany. Massages are all about the back. Once they flip you over, it's basically over. They may slather a little oil on your shins, listlessly mess with your fingers, and if you're really lucky, give you face a little this and that, but I always feel such a big letdown when they finish my back. Do massage schools find the front part of the body irrelevant to the art? Do all of the masseuses skip class the day they cover "massaging the front?" Are they just tired or bored after they finish working your back over with the enthusiasm of a Russian wrestler. What is it?

And what's the deal with the knots in my shoulders? When a masseuse feels a knot in my shoulder you can sense the change in their attitude - as if they've found the enemy. "Kill the knots, kill the knots! They attack with elbows and thumbs, kneading them to jelly as I grit my teeth. One of these days I'm going to say, "Hey, those are my knots, I worked hard for them, we're friends and I told them they could stay there, so move on!"

Same thing with the pain reaction. I think they must have an axiom in massage school that says, "If you do something to a client that makes them jump 3 inches off the table, do it a lot more and harder."

I feel better now that I got that off my chest, which reminds me. When I got my car washed in Austin Friday before leaving for my trip, I got a chair massage, and the release I signed assured me that the massage would not include the massaging of my breast! I asked the masseuse what that was about and she said that TX state law now requires that language in the massage release. Seems to me the release should say that the massage would not include a "hand job."

As I drove through Abiquiu, New Mexico, with its towering rock walls of vivid colors that inspired Georgia O'Keeffe, and then crossed over the iridescent green pastures, and purple craggy mountain borderlands between Chama, New Mexico and Pagosa Spring Colorado, I daydreamed of swapping my Austin home during the summer for a mountain chalet. All I have to do is find someone living in this lush high meadow, who is freezing in this 72 degree daily high, and craving 107 degree heat and 98% humidity.

Off to Creede, Colorado tomorrow, an historic and charming little mining town wedged into a mountain crevice, where we will no doubt purchase stupid things we will eventually give to Goodwill. Ahhhh, vacation!

Tootles!

SueAnn