abilouise

I have a theory that the universe only sends me as much business as I can actually handle, in spite of the fact that I think that this theory may be a load of hooey. Since last Saturday, there have been a few well-timed epic snowstorms and client illnesses and reschedulings such that I haven't seen any clients in almost a week. It's been a nice break, quite frankly, even though I love my work and have fun doing massage. My hands have not noticeably improved with the break, furthering my conclusion that massage doesn't hurt my hands, life hurts my hands, regardless of what I do, thought taking better care of them couldn't hurt. Today was the last day of my IAP class, speaking of hand care, and i taught all the fun self-care that I know. We adjourned to the women's bathroom for the part where we alternated heat with cold to increase circulation, and it was fun. It also reinforced the fact that I need to practice what I preach. Also, I'm a bit creaky at it, but teaching was fun, and I want to check out the mysterious teaching track at MTI and see what it would take to get a teaching assistant gig there. It would be combining massage with being more out in the world, interacting with more than one person at a time. I seem to have dropped my doula certification training right now for a little while, but that's ok because I don't have a time limit to finish it in, and it seems like the last thing I need right now is to devote more energy to being professionally nice to one person for pay. I need to branch out some I think. But maybe it's just cabin fever and winter getting to me, making me want to do desperate things to get out of the house. Tonight I sang (and danced to) a chunk of the "Cabin Fever" song from Muppet Treasure Island (ps - only good musical number in the movie) in the kitchen because I knew that Megan was the only one who would get it. I love my house.
Reading the recent bio of Abigail Adams, finding all sorts of similarities in our way of thinking and approach to life and our misplaced feelings of intellectual inferiority compared to the people that we surround ourselves with. I love how people are good at seeing ourselves in any mirror-like object that we find ourselves faced with. I have also made minor life decisions based on horoscopes, which is really more Nancy Reagan. But back to Abigail, when I was in 6th grade, our music teacher picked "Dear Abby" as our 6th grade play that we would act in, and all these people felt the need to say that I should be cast as Abby. I got the very thrilling role of "mail boy" and was the only girl who got to dress in drag, which had advantages because I got to stand on the boy's side during all the musical numbers and schmooze with the boy I had a crush on, all while upsetting our little 6th grade gender binary in a pair of rather cunning britches.
I've been thinking about activities that I used to enjoy but somewhere along the way stopped doing, like swimming and playing music and dancing and most recently I've been thinking about cross country skiing, which my family used to do every winter for a chunk of my life mostly consisting of pre through early adolescence and then abruptly stopped when I hit high school for no particular reason. All of the people skiing down the street this past week have made me jealous -- I'd like to ski down the street! I HATE slogging through snow with my little stump legs; I swear it takes me more energy than it takes other people to walk through the snow, but perhaps I am just more exquisitely lazy than most people. Anyway, my memories of skiing it was so EASY and felt elegant - the opposite of slogging, and I want to do it again. Fortunately, I've been talking about this enough that I seem to be forming concrete plans to head out this weekend and try it. Jake is not used to this version of me that makes plans to go on an outdoor athletic outing and doesn't need to be motivated or anything by him. I just hope I enjoy it as much as I remember.

Today I woke up at 9:30 for no apparent reason except that I was SOOO excited and scared because today for the first time ever I was TEACHING, even if it was a dinky stupid IAP class (I am not even going to say how few people were there). I choked for about 15 painful painful minutes and then the guy who seemed to only be there so he could plug *HIS* RSI support organization left and suddenly my sense of humor and improvisation returned and I got semi-dynamic in my presentation and suddenly knew what I wanted to put up on the board. Today was the boring day, where I wanked about injury and anatomy for too long. Tomorrow is the field trip to the clusters! I think that day 3, where I will be most in my groove and teaching yummy self-care hands-on stuff will be the best, if anyone is thinking about coming. Teaching is a lot of fun, and I think it's prying me out of my semi-burnt-out funk that made me identify WAY too much with the January 16th Dilbert. I thought I got into this career so that I would never HAVE to identify with Dilbert. It's a dirty trick, making massage therapy Dilberts.

Preparing for Christmas in Portland, first year away from home. Making a list of all things that I think they will do wrong, so that I can make sure that I see myself as being as ridiculous as I really am.

1. they will not have a truly disgusting amount of food
2. there will be no Jewish culture in my christmas, because there will be nobody of Jewish descent
3. nobody will know that "shlag" is German for whipped cream
4. nobody will know any German
5. there will be no small children/forces of anarchy being loud and making festiveness
6. there will not be enough angst and strife about cleaning
7. there will be no fruit-nut bread that my mom makes
8. I will not be forced to make coffee for my parents before they will get up to open stockings
9. There will be no Christmas eve service at the UU church with all the people I have known forever
10. The food will be... different. Which will be wrong.
11. We will listen to NPR christmas music rather than college-radio christmas music
12. People will be nice to each other
13. High school friends will be hanging out without me and I will feel silly and left-out

That's all I can think of. Bah.

Today was the last day of the doula training workshop, and it was so sad! I spent all weekend with these excellent women and then after three days of bonding and learning and pelvic examinations and conversation, it's all over. I'm ready to start attending births as part of my certification process. If anyone wants to talk about birth or pregnancy with me, I am now an excellent source of information and have developed a real zest for the subject. I have also learned a) don't touch a woman's belly without her permission, especially if you are a total stranger and you are in the line at the bank or something, b) don't tell a woman how huge her belly as a way of making conversation and c) "light" epidurals actually contain analgesics as well as anesthetics (i.e. narcotics). Also a lot of other stuff. Like my judgment isn't total crap and maybe I can handle this. Anyway, any lay-people, birth veterans, poopsmiths, etc. who want to geek with me would be welcome and it would make me happy.

Because I spent the entire day doing office-y organizational things in my pajamas that I don't actually sleep in but I put on to go use the bathroom without giving anyone too big of a thrill. There was no reason to get dressed today, but I wish I'd gotten more done. I've been feeling highly kick-ass lately and I blame my new shiny oatmeal recipe, which is only for those with time in the morning. I will write it up ala Irma Rombauer

In a pot, combine
3/4 cup rolled oats
3/4 cup milk
3/4 cup water
1 smidge salt
and cook it, stirring so it doesn't burn
put
a handful of almonds
on a pan in the toaster oven and toast at medium. go back to stirring.
when the almonds are done, dump them out onto a cutting board and use a sharp knife to chop them into little bits. Your oatmeal should be getting near done. Add
a spoonful of raspberry jam
to your cooking oatmeal and stir so it gets all mixed in.
Put the oatmeal in your bowl and wash the pan before you even eat it. Otherwise you will regret you even made oatmeal. Go back to your bowl and add the chopped almonds and stir them in.

This is probably more of a pain in the ass than most people I know would bother with on a daily basis but for me it's comforting, and it makes me feel vaguely like I'm MFK Fischer or one of those other great American food writers (my food is all set, I just need to work on the writing now).

My goal for the day is to make a bunch of massage-appropriate CDs for work and also to write up a bio for my new job, something like:
"Andrew brings a background in energy work to his practice at the Therapy Center, and offers a blend of relaxation, deep tissue, and athletic work to a broad clientele. Andrew is also a musician and appreciates the needs of clients who play instruments, use computers, and engage in other forms of repetitive motions. He tailors his sessions to the client's specific needs and goals. Andrew is available for appointments on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays."
Only, you know. About me.

I got offered a job! A job that isn't just desperate for anyone to work for them! They read my resume, they interviewed me, I did a sample massage, I'm gonna be working at MTI! WOOT! Yeah! In translation, I am happy because this is the first tiwe I have been offered a job doing massage that I feel no ambivalence or sketchiness about. I like the head of the Professional Therapy Center (where I will be working) and I like the way that they work things there. I also like earning a living, though this may not be apparent to people who know me, or the Social Security Administration.