As you know from my previous post I recently experienced the art of Floating. What is it you ask? Well, it can be described as the best freaking thing since sliced bread by me.
In the beginning, it took me awhile to get comfortable. Naked and alone in pitch black room takes a minute to absorb.
I closed the door but left the low light and music on at first. The water was body temperature warm and soothing. Eventually, I did turn the lights and music off as I slipped into the quiet, peaceful zen. It didn’t take long before I was able to completely let go. Free at last.
The coolest part for me was having no concept of time whatsoever, and not caring about it at all. It feels so good.
Float Spas are popping up in my area, but from what I understand floating is nothing new, however, the experience has certainly changed. Once you add the word Spa it becomes sexy.
Apparently, floating also went by the name Isolation Tank, and are you ready … Sensory Deprivation Tank, as far back as 1954. This sounds scientific, not sexy so there were no appointments needed.
Today isolation tanks are located in beautiful rooms with inviting names like “Oasis” or “Grotto” that are chock full of amenities like fluffy towels, robes, scented soap, and shampoo. Anything to divert you away from the fact that you will soon be naked as a jaybird.
My room was spectacular with its private shower, candles, and a hint of lavender. This is how you get your zen on. The room my husband experienced is best described as a Pink Floyd lap of luxury fusion. Trippy with a dash of zen.
The idea behind the floatation therapy is to provide you with a way to pause the hectic, saturated world and enter a state of deep mental and physical relaxation. It takes you away from the endless sensory experiences that seem to consume us these days. It should be mandatory for teenagers and college students.
Just imagine if you could go into your head and give it a good Spring cleaning, leaving not a single dust bunny to clutter your thoughts, allowing you to focus on whatever you please. It basically brings out the best in your brain. My mind left fresh s a daisy.
As for the physical benefits, whew there is something to be said about feeling like a noodle. My muscles take a beating at the gym at least 4 times a week, so they were very grateful for this treat.
The magnesium from the Epsom salt-infused water brings your muscles back to life. It relieves tension and makes your skin incredible. I left looking like a smooth glow-worm.
All in all, it was peaceful, relaxing, invigorating, enlightening all rolled up into one amazing 90 minutes. This was a first for me and my husband, and we would both do it again, and again, and again. As they say, whatever makes your boat float, or in this case, booty.
Enjoy the Ride!
I recently saw the quote “Alcohol, because no great story ever started with someone eating a salad.” This may be true but something tells me I could get a great story out of eating salad. There’s always a story.
Recently I went to the local mall in search of some fancy shoes to wear to a wedding. My feet have not seen anything fancy in years, so this was not going to be easy. I already ordered and returned two pair. Cinderella I am not.
My first mistake was bypassing Macy’s. The logic, if that’s what you want to call it, was to try stores I never shop in first. Why?
First up: Shoe Carnival. How inviting does that sound? I was in, out and emptied handed in 5 seconds. Carnival is the key word.
Next, I headed down to Boscov’s, where everyone on the planet seems to find amazing merchandise basically for free, except me. As I was browsing the shoe department my intestines began to rumble…oh yes! Glutes tight as I head to the ladies room.
I proceeded to do the shit shuffle from the shoe department, up the escalator, through the furniture department, where I was blocked by a kid throwing a full-blown temper tantrum over the lack of Pokemons. Get the hell out of my way!
This journey seemed 5 miles long through tar at this point. I headed down some godforsaken 1980’s hallway to the turn of the century bathroom where the gates of hell opened. No words.
Now that I was a least 2 pounds lighter I headed back out to the Mall with every intention of heading home. But no.
I made a sharp right and headed to Sears, because who the hell knows. There I was gazing over the shoes when a women dressed in red from head to toe, approached me with this statement. “If you keep smiling I’m going to file a lawsuit against you.” Alrighty then …
As I look for a glimmer of sanity I notice a man looking at me shrugging his shoulders. Seriously! That’s all you have is a shrug?
Ugh, I stood there alone smiling and now fearing a potential lawsuit. I decided home is where I need to go. Nope.
Just as I was about to escape I noticed the smile police browsing books at Barnes & Noble. She appeared very normal in that moment.
Next thing I know she is heading my way as if my smile was on the list of the 10 most wanted! Suddenly she is inches from me when she gave me another warning. “I told you to stop smiling!!” Good thing I hit the bathroom before this moment.
I found myself hiding in the Hallmark store texting my daughter and sisters about the incident, just in case I went missing. I learned that trick from Law and Order SVU.
At this point a normal person would have been sprinting to the car … not me.
Macy’s was my last stop. Within seconds I had a beautiful pair of sparkly shoes on my hooves. Life was good again for a nano second.
A lovely woman sat down next to me admiring my selection. I loved these shoes! I would have loved them more if I had the 4th toe on my Right foot amputated, but that was not an option. Yet.
We were chatting about the wedding, my need for an emergency amputation, and the fact that my shoes need to be beautiful and comfortable when she began digging down into her bra. I should have known this was not just an adjustment.
Just like a magician she pulls out a pair of dentures, puts them in her mouth and apologizes for talking to me without her teeth. A rabbit would have been less shocking.
My face must have been asking all sorts of questions, because she proceeded to inform me that her 70th birthday was coming up and she no longer cared what people thought. Truth!
At this point of my tale my husband asked “did you finally leave?”
Me: No, I asked her when her birthday was?
Me: I wanted to know.
Me: Because I wanted to know if she was a Leo.
Husband: Why do you care?
Me: Just be glad I do.
Although I left the mall without shoes, I did get this post.
That wedding I was talking about is TODAY!!!!
My nephew Ryan is getting hitched to his beautiful bride Monica. Hurricane Hermine is a no show in PA, and we are about to get this party started!
Enjoy the Ride … I know I will!
I am going to try my hand at something new with my blog. I thought of this incredibly brilliant idea at this very moment, therefore the logistics haven’t been worked out, other than the title … “Say What? I will try my best to compile a group of essays based on information my ears have had to endure over the years. Interesting to say the least!
This idea came to life because lately I’ve wondered if I missed my calling to become a priest, lawyer or therapist. Since complete strangers seem to seek out my ears for free and fill them with all sorts of personal information. Honestly, I don’t know how the professionals do it … I would explode from listening.
Years ago I thought this happened to everyone out in the world, but my assessment was waaaaaaaay off! What I have discovered is that most people don’t stay in the company of crazy long enough to partake in the festivities. So why do I? Probably because I bore easily and find it somewhat entertaining.
Let me begin by telling you about Mildred (not her real name) who was a longtime patient at the Gynecologist office that I worked at years ago. Mildred was a lovely woman, although trapped in the 70’s with her choice of clothing, hairdo, pancake-like makeup and logic when it came down to her vajay-jay. She was from the “I only take it out for baby making and special occasions” era.
Poor Mildred was constantly coming in for an itching issue down in the nether regions. I am NOT a doctor for many reasons, but the number one reason would be crystal clear in this case. One look at her and I would be blurting “Mildred! For god sakes let that kitty loose!” This expert advice would trump a prescription for some sort of anti-itching cream in my practice.
Any who … when she came in for this particular follow-up appointment she decided to lean in close to tell me the horror she endured when she returned home from her last visit. I never said a word, she just poured out her soul to my wide open ears.
Apparently Mildred decided to finally let her kitty cat out of its cage that consisted of several layers of synthetic garments such as the following: underwear, a girdle, pantyhose and slacks. Then she laid on her bed naked with the ceiling fan on high … to you know … “air things out.” Mildred thought that perhaps this would help with the itching. Just imagine a set a wide eyes right about now.
Needless to say this was a shock to her husband, because he made the H U G E mistake of asking “are you waiting for me?” when he entered the room. Poor guy didn’t have a clue that there were reasons, other than his needs, that would cause her to lay on the bed naked with her legs spread eagle.
Mildred went on to explain that she “couldn’t believe” her husband would think she wanted sex in the afternoon. Afternoon? I couldn’t believe he wanted any part of what must resemble a slab of raw meat at this point.
This woman just keep going … letting me know that her ceiling fan extravaganza is now part of her daily routine, with one small change that she revealed in a low whisper … I lock the door.
My hope is that Mildred is going commando under a skirt these days, but something tells me that is not the case and sadly the only thing her husband is mounting is a new ceiling fan.
Enjoy the Ride!