Just to shock and amaze you...

I have a client that I think is a really swell person. He is in his fifties. He is a father of 4. His wife is a friend of mine and decided to buy her husband the twelve Sessions of Structural Body Work as a birthday gift. She essentially paid for twelve fifty minute sessions. When he called to set up the first appointment he sounded nervous and twitchy. He explained to me that he had never had a massage before and I reassured him that it would be fine. We chatted for about ten minutes and I told him what to expect. He decided that for his first session he really wanted me to work on his pecs and he also decided that he wanted that to be combined with a full body Swedish massage. When I showed up at his house I could tell he was about to lose his mind. I tried to calm his nerves by being very kind and very professional. He suffers from chronic lower back pain and decided that he wanted me to work on his lower back and glutes. This is fairly common for me and I had no problem with it, of course. When I explained that in order for me to work on his glutes, he would need to be completely naked, his head almost exploded.
The massage was uneventful. I did a full body Swedish massage and I spent extra time working on his glutes and also did Structural body work with his pecs. At the end of our session, I felt that it was important to stretch his pecs out so that they wouldn't be sore the next day. This requires having my clients move to the edge of the table. I then hang their arm off the table and do special stretching techniques. We stretched his left side first and had no problem. I told him to scoot to the other side of the table so I could stretch out his right side. He was a little zealous when scooting over and must have misjudged how wide my table was because he fell off the table. Completely naked.

In my second session with him, he decided to keep his shorts on. In this session I was doing some very deep work on his abdomen. Because he suffers from lower back pain, I wanted to take some time and work on his Psoas major. To get to this muscle, I need to go underneath the guts. This is a very uncomfortable maneuver but as I explained it to him on the phone the day before, he sounded excited. He felt like this would really help with the back pain he is having. I told him to not eat breakfast that morning as I was worried that this deep work on such a sensitive area could cause some discomfort. As I was working on his abdomen, I could tell he was uncomfortable. I asked if he needed to take a break and he said yes and then confessed to eating breakfast. I helped him sit up so he could take some deep breathes. I watched as he turned white and then very quickly to green. He threw up all over the front of me as I help his arm, trying to support him and keep him from falling off the table.

This all happened about 3 months ago. I can not get him to call me back or schedule another appointment. Should I keep trying to get in touch with him or should I just refund the money to his wife? Looking forward to your advice.

Phone Call To Jesus

Several weeks ago I was driving in my car to see a client who lives about 20 minutes south of me. I was driving along the 215 here in Las Vegas when I saw a billboard with a picture of Jesus hanging on the cross. This startled me. What on earth could this billboard be advertising? There was some generic catch phrase, something like, Jesus is there for you and a phone number. What are you trying to tell me, Billboard Jesus? That if I call this number, you are going to be on the other end? I doubt it.
I called the number. "Billboard ministries, this is Pastor Joe!" So peppy. So friendly. So not Jesus. I immediately hung up having no desire to chat with Pastor Joe. I am sure he thinks bad things about my religion. Those types usually do. I didn't think much about it until a few days ago.
I have been getting calls regularly from Pastor Joe. I never answer (I've named the number in my phone, Jesus. Which is fun when I am scrolling through my contacts and see Jesus there.) But, he always leaves me a nice little message and then 6 or 7 minutes of gospel music. I want to scream. Please stop. Please. Stop. I understand the motive. I do. But, really Joe. No thank you.

The Rules

Today I went to a movie with a five year old little boy. We were going to see Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince. As we sat in the theater and the lights started to dim, I felt my heart start to race. I was getting so excited to see this movie, I have been eagerly anticipating this for well over a year. I looked at this little man with hope shining in my eyes and gasped, "I am getting so excited! Are you excited?" He looks at me with disappointment and says, "Of course. But, shhh. You are not supposed to talk during the movie."
I didn't know what to say. I quietly apologized and thought to myself, this little boy was raised the right way.

It Was Time.

One, please.

When I moved to Maine almost 4 years ago I decided that I wanted to feel okay about doing things on my own. Going out to eat, going to the movies, just even leaving my house. I used to be the type of gal who wouldn’t do anything by myself and I decided that if I was going to move all the way to the other side of the country, I could go to a darn movie on my own. In Maine I worked as a nanny on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. This left me loads of time to start doing things on my own. I started slowly, a Tuesday matinee. I remember being so nervous as I walked up to the window. I hung my head in shame as I bought one, only ONE ticket to see Employee of the Month. What I realize now is that I should have hung my head in shame in even considering a movie that pairs the worst comedian (Dane Cook) with the worst human (Jessica Simpson). The gal at the ticket window didn’t even bat an eye she handed me my ticket. My confidence soared. I walked through the halls of that theater in Portland, ME a new woman. I could do this. I really could. I took a deep breath as I prepared to walk into the theater, prepared to be judged and ridiculed by all those couples, people who had people to do things with. People who had friends. I really shouldn’t have worried. I was the only one in that entire theater. In fact, not counting a very uncomfortable viewing of the Last Kiss with an old pervert in the back, I never had to share a theater my whole 3 months that I lived in Maine. It’s very easy to be confident of no one judging me when there really never was anyone there to do the judging. After being fired (let go, laid off, call it what you want, it always feels like someone is telling you that they hate you and want you out of their face as soon as possible) and consequently, homeless, my sister was kind enough to take me in. I packed my things and moved the 270 miles down the east coast to Ridgefield, then Danbury, Connecticut. It was in Danbury that I was at the height of my alone movie watching career. If ever a free afternoon presented itself, I was sure to be at the movie theater. It was then that I even started attending movies alone at night. I would walk into a packed theater and think nothing of sitting as close to the middle as I could with my enormous Cherry Coke. I felt great being there with no one but me. Since this started almost 4 years ago, I’ve never looked back. Now, on weekends when everyone wants to go see the latest Zac Efron movie, I am secretly pissed at the idea of attending a movie with friends. Why can’t I lust after Zac on my own? Why do I have to make a decision about the quality of the movie just seconds after the credits start to roll? I love my friends. I am glad to have them. I even like going to movies with them. I just LOVE going by myself. One please.

Guys...

I just really like corndogs.