There is going to be a party at my house tonight. I'm consciously not saying "I'm throwing a party", or even "we're throwing a party" cause that wouldn't be true. The boys are throwing it.
Have I mentioned that this is awesome? We (meaning my sister M and I) are being consulted on all the details - where things should go, attendees, menu, and yet, we have to do nothing.
Note to all y'all - this is much better than having to do it yourself. Yay for the party planning profession. If I could afford to, I'd get people to plan everything, even my grocery trips.
It's also raining today, which is less cool because of the level of coolness of the rain.
Translation? It's chilly outside! And I'm not wearing especially thick shoes, so my toes are shivering (and could probably use a blow dryer) right now. But that's okay. I have my gloves and scarf handy. Thicker socks would be a bonus, but I'm not complaining cause I do have an umbrella.
Remember in middle school and/or high school when no one carried awesome things like umbrellas, so you would do your best to walkrun (move quickly but TRY not to look as awkward as you felt running and balancing purse, book bag, whatever else), head huddled under your hoodless letter jacket or whatever (which smelled AWFUL when it rained. What the heck kind of dye do those companies use???), still getting wet anyway?
So let's all take a moment and be thankful for umbrellas. Wet and cold toes are better than wet and cold everything.
Tomorrow's V-Day. T and I are going to get massages. Makes me remember my first massage experience:
I was 19 years old, and it was during the famous spring break road trip of '03 with my college friend Becky and her golden lab (the most awesome dog ever - you'd really swear he was going to just open his mouth and talk sometimes he was so human-like...sat in the back seat and chilled the whole way up and back from Florida to Maine). This was also the same trip that contained the infamous NYC Statue of Liberty Quest, which is a subject for another blog.
Anyway, Becky's mom had a surprise for her and I - massages! Becky found out that morning, but they wouldn't tell me until Becky and I pulled up at the spa.
It was in March. We were wearing gloves and crunching through snow. I didn't know where we were going. What do all these things equal? Horribly unshaved legs. We'll get back to that later.
So, we went into the adorable and quaint little spa. It was an itty-bitty town, so the fact that they even had a place where you can get a massage was impressive, and a hot tub soak included? As cold as it was outside? Phenomenal.
So, we walk in and fill out whatever sheets you need to fill out and who walks in but one of the most gorgeous creatures I'd ever seen (up to that point). I swear, he was like catch-your-breath-beautiful. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and ... wait for it ... he was French.
I couldn't speak. I was very much in love with my boyfriend at the time (high school/college sweetheart, we're still great friends), but come on. I was 19. And I'm from a small town, hardly anyone looked like that! So, I was very, very, very uncomfortable. I didn't know how to talk to boys. Yikes.
So, we filled out our forms and soaked in the hot tub, all the time talking about Jean-Paul.
I was so uncomfortable I couldn't stand it - awkward adolescence and hormones? Ouch!
...I think you can see where this is going...
Guess who my masseuse ended up being? Gorgeous. And lets just say that that was the LEAST relaxing massage I ever had. I was as stiff as a board the whole time!
...did my mascara smudge in the hot tub? Is my face all oily?...
...oh my gosh what exactly am I supposed to take off?...
...do I talk? Do I not talk?...
...was what I just said stupid? I bet it was. I bet it was stupid. I bet he thinks I'm dumb. - oh lord he's touching my bare back - geez why couldn't I have gotten the woman?...
...this isn't relaxing at all...kinda freaked out right now...how is anyone okay with this?....Oh my gosh he's going to do my legs!
That's right. Remember those legs that hadn't been shaved in weeks?
Man I was such a cool 19-year-old.
And that was embarrassing that.
But it ended up fine. And I've had lots of glorious massages since. And tomorrow, my masseuse is a woman, thank you. And so is T's. (thank goodness! I'm sure he'd feel a little awkward with a dude rubbing him down. That was the first thing he asked me after I booked the massages. He wanted both our masseuses to be female. Obviously he'd heard the story above...)