Things in Erin’s Brain
“If I had a blog, I’d write about how after 25 [ahem, 27] years together, I learned that my wife doesn’t like to measure things [pronounced “may-zure”]. I would tell them you’re the only person I know who got an ‘A’ in calculus and is afraid of rulers.”
The thing is << Test First Name >>, my husband doesn’t *have* a blog. But I do <insert evil grin here>. That means I get to tell only my side of everything (aka: the truth) and Jerry has to suffer in silence.
This is what happened…
We went away for a few days to Vero Beach as a little post book launch, Erin has been working her booty off and needs to leave the house pronto, escape. We did an abundant amount of nothing. We had brunch. We lounged by the pool and I sipped frothy drinks (with no straw because it’s turtle season, so I had to slug down my rum float really, really fast before it flowed over the top of my plastic pool-side cup). When we got too hot we went back to the room and hung out on our shady “dune view” patio until the love-bug mating swarm chased us back into the AC.
I am currently in the middle of a reading / social media / electronic “deprivation” week as part of The Artist’s Way program I’ve undertaken. I had been playing solitaire on the bed with REAL cards when Jerry leaned over to show me an Instagram Reel of a kitten or someone clumsily falling off something. Reels are an evil time suck. If you aren’t familiar, they are short little video clips, typically set to music or some kind of voice-over. Once you start watching, new ones will just keep popping up and you can easily find yourself sitting in a recliner doing nothing else for hours. H.O.U.R.S. Even though my phone was in a drawer to deprive me of specifically this activity, I leaned back against a stack of fluffy pillows and joined Jerry in the Reel-a-thon. At some point we ended up watching a string of videos somehow related to engineering. Gears, bolts, welding… tedious things… things that require precision. The kind of things that if you don’t measure it down to the exact micro millimeter it’s going to wobble and break. So I said,
“Ugh, I hate measuring” [pronounced “më-sure-ing”].
“You WHAT?” Jerry was laying across my legs and tried to turn his head back to look at me.
“Yeahhh, anything that requires me to be that precise I pretty much don’t want to do…”
I could understand his surprise. I’m a girl who always likes things ‘just-so’ and I tried to offer an example, “It’s why I don’t bake a lot,” this is absolutely true guys, “Baking requires scientific precision or it won’t come out right. So I don’t do it.”
This topic was brought up between us repeatedly over the next few days.
The next example I did NOT offer to Jerry (but I’m going to tell you, so shhh) is that my lack of desire to measure is also the reason that behind each picture frame in our house there are at least three holes in the wall. Because I like things to LOOK precise. I just don’t want to DO it.
Where Jerry stretched the truth in his imaginary blog was stating that I’m afraid of rulers. That is incorrect (and downright silly). I’m not tape-measure adverse. In fact, ironically enough, whenever Jerry sees me with my tape measure (I have one that is JUST mine) he gets very, very nervous… I WILL measure things. I will measure a room to make sure the furniture will fit before I rearrange it (lesson learned the hard way). I measured the baby afghan I crocheted last week to make sure my gauge was correct. I WILL measure the wall to see APPROXIMATELY where the nail hole should go so it’s centered, but as for the EXACT location? Bah. I’ll just keep making holes until it looks right.
“Measure twice, cut once,” is stellar life advice. But if I can find a way to avoid anything that generates that tedious level of anxiety, I’ll choose the non-anxiety laden path. Why?
Because it’s all about love…
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In this week’s Massage Minute I’d like to know:
What is your favorite part of a massage?
My intake form asks people both what areas of their body they may want me to avoid. I want people to feel comfortable, non-anxious (heaven forbid they feel like they might have to measure something), and relaxed. At the beginning of every massage appointment I ask my beloved clients what they want me to focus on. Their attention generally turns to what needs to be “fixed.” A sore hip, a stiff neck… but today I’m curious. What’s the part you LOVE?
For me it’s the scalp. I won’t relax until my scalp is massaged. Feet are fine. I greatly appreciate arm work. Having someone work out the kinks in my back is amazing. But the SCALP? That is my jam.
Some people love the feet, some people tell me the work I do on their neck is the best thing I do, and some really love the jaw work (which has been out of my rotation with the mask wearing and whatnot). Maybe you love the smell of a massage room? Hot stones? Hot towels on your feet?
So I’m curious – even if I’m not your massage therapist – what is your favorite part of a massage?