Monthly Archives: August 2013

The Mounty … Revisited

Having just returned from a spa…

I am still percolating in the memories of pure relaxation.


I tried something called Shiatsu.

Do you know what that is?


In Japanese, it means “finger pressure”.

In English?

It is:

“heel is crotch massage”




My therapist was 6’2”, about 30 and quite handsome.

I really need this sort of massage from an ugly person.

Jis’ sayin’


There are a series of deep breaths.

Smell of lavender…

And then!

Knee in back and snap back the shoulders.




And then a series of stretches so deep and successful?

I expect an invitation from Cirque de Soleil in 24 hours.


I literally know now…

What a chicken bone feels like,

As it is being split in two.



“How does that feel?”

Are you kidding me?

My groin is split in two.

Your heel,

In need of some moisturizer and exfoliation…

Is now one with my “who ha”


50 minutes of this “treatment”.

Treat being the root word…

Meaning candy, flowers, jewelry or something in that genre.



I walked with a limp out…

And remembered my experience two years ago with the Mounty…

And would like to re-share that.


The First Mounty (July 2011)

This time it was Oriental Foot Therapy.

Stephen walks in and he is yummy.  Fine looking young man.



I lie down.  He proceeds to tell me that he will also be doing a little Thai massage as well. ”

“ummmm ok”


I don’t know what this means but am all for something extra in a massage.



“okay Kelly..

.I will need to mount you”




And with that we are one.

United on the massage table.

Me flat on my back…


with his knee in my groin.



OMG.And then?






All the while I am mounted.


I do not recall even getting his last name,

and have almost forgotten his first.

Normally when I am in this proximity of a person…

there has been an expensive meal…

or at least a nice cocktail.


Stephen is straddling me. OMG.  OMG.  OMG.

Is this legal?  Isn’t he violating some massage therapist oath or something?

“Kelly,  I am going to push on your femoral artery.

Don’t worry…

but it will completely cut off the blood flow to your legs.”

Raising my head off the futon:


“No worries, it takes over 2 minutes to cause any sort of permanent paralysis.”




What does cutting off my circulation have to do with my RELAXING foot massage?

His hands are on either side of my…

you know…

va jay jay!

He applies all his bodily force.


And with that I cannot speak…

or move.


I cannot feel my legs. Then WOOSH!!!

He releases and there is a rush to my legs.  So much I thought I has just lost control of my bladder.


I have begun to perspire.


Then we move on to “massaging” my feet…

which I liken to getting caught in a bear trap.

It is as if he is a human vice grip…

And pissed at me!


Rubbing what seems to be brass knuckles across the bottom of my feet.








Next… the pinching.

He takes that back of my ankle and pinches.




I feel a tear forming.

And then?


I kicked him…

quite by accident.  I mean this is reflexology right?  He should understand a little involuntary movement right?

He was not amused. But seriously his nose only bleed a little tiny bit.


Stephen is about done… thank God.

He is finishing up telling me where each precise point on my foot is linked to an organ or system…

sleep and back pain,

then digestion.




He is.


He asks me of any final areas that need work…



I am afraid to mention any part of my body really.


And you know when you travel…

things don’t always flow correctly right?

the natural elimination process that is to say.


So how can I tell this little hottie?


Mama needs to poop.



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Posted by on August 11, 2013 in massage, Parenthood, Parenting, spa


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Two Claps Up

It was Saturday.

Tennyson was cranky.

I mean,

“is linda blair in the house?”



We go to the Nurse PA at Walgreens


Is a service I love,

If you can find one.


Full check up

Strep Throat.




I know what she has

And bubblegum penicillin

Will fix it.


Back to the house.


She naps.

Landon sings

and does gymnastics

ending with a roundoff

in to the TV.


I do my Mommy madness.


Empty dishwasher

Feed cats

Balance my checkbook

And make notes for my business plan review.

All at the same time.

Mommy You Rock!

Mommy You Rock!


5:00 p.m.

I don’t feel fantastic.

My throat feels thick

And my neck has been sore for three days.




It is not possible.

I am NOT sick.

But with my luck?

And the week ahead,

I better check…


Back at the doctor

Second trip in 7 hours.






“Um… ma’am.

You have strep”




No strep ass…duh



Strep throat…

you have strep throat.”



“I can’t believe you don’t feel like crap.”



I haven’t stopped long enough to think about it.”


Lets hear it for the busy mamas.  

Two claps up!

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Posted by on August 8, 2013 in Parenthood, Parenting, Sick, Sick Kids



Sometimes The Best

The girls were not behaving well today.

And that?

Is not uncommon.



Tennyson wanted something,

and I gave it to her.

Too tired to fight.

And it wasn’t like it was a knife or anything.


Elated with her accomplishment,

she squeals:

“Mommy you da best Mommy in da whole Y world.”


To which Landon,

Not one to miss an opportunity



“Well not all of the time.”



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Posted by on August 4, 2013 in Misbehaving, Parenthood, Parenting


No Need To Explain

Our friends Susan and Don are pregnant.

Well Don is not,

Susan is,

That would be a very painful situation for Don.

So they visited us recently,

Just to say hi.

After our chaos,

I think Don hopes the baby will stay “inside”

For a while.

He appeared to need a beer

And a way out.



The girls were very excited.

They know Susan is pregnant,

Her belly does not lie.

And then …


Dat baby in your tummy…

Is it going to be white?”


It was a moment,

when you know what is coming,

but you cannot stop it.


You know what I mean right?

Susan says:

“well yeah”


“It sure better be”

And then he starts to explain…

“You see that is my baby in there…

I put it in there”

“Well, how did  you get it in dere?”

Sweet Jesus!


“You see girls, when a man and woman…”

I cut him a look…

Susan heel stomps his birkenstock.


Susan and I are crying…

hysterical tears.

Don also crying,

because birkenstocks?

are ugly…

and provide little protection from a heel stomp.

The girls still don’t get why it was so funny.

All they know is that they know all kinds of families.

Some are all the same color,

and some are not,

Some have two mommies

some have none.

And they?

don’t care.

And that?

I like.

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Posted by on August 3, 2013 in Misbehaving, Parenthood, Parenting


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