Hey, Puter

Did you catch my Lego Batman reference in the title? I’m nothing if not sophisticated. My movie references are top notch.

The title is really a reference to having gotten my work computer back with just enough time left in the summer to feel like I now need to actually do some planning. I am totally thrilled with this development because I can’t stand posting to the blog through my phone. The editing process is such a pain doing it that way. Not to mention typing. Oh, sweet keyboard, how I adore you.

I have so many things I want to post about! Where to start? None of them are particularly important, but they are all worthy of the blog-as-a-scrapbook-of-my-life thing I have going on.

I’ll just start with my birthday. Yes, I know that I already posted a bit about my birthday. This one is less about me and more about Sergio. I’ve mentioned before that Sergio is way better at gestures than me. First of all, when he and Rolo decided I should have a cake and asked for ideas because I had already gotten my fav strawberry cake while in Arkansas, I gave coconut as one of the suggestions. All the recipes for coconut cake that I know are to buy a Pepperidge Farm frozen one, or to make a sort of poke cake that involves boxed cake mix and sweetened condensed milk and cream of coconut and Cool Whip (both delicious options, by the way). Sergio, however, created this. From scratch!

It was delicious. He even bought us a really pretty bundt pan because we didn’t have one. Bonus gift.

Speaking of gifts, he went overboard. I bought myself some perfume earlier in the summer and called that my birthday in the same way that Sergio bought himself some cologne and called it Father’s Day. Sergio did not buy into that (like I totally did because I suck) and presented me with three books and a spa day. Not a spa treatment. A DAY! So I’ll be collecting any and all gift ideas that any of you might have for the next two months until his birthday. Thanks in advance.

I went for the majority of my spa day yesterday. That’s right. I had to break it into two sessions because I ran out of time to continue spending at the spa. That’s spoiled (I do feel I need to clarify that I didn’t close down the spa or anything. I just had an appointment that I couldn’t miss at lunch). I enjoyed it immensely, of course, but as all three massages that I’ve ever had in my life have now shown me, I have tension in my shoulder/neck area. Or at least that’s what I’m always told. I’m not sure this is true. On the one hand, I am a ball of anxiety at any given time. On the other hand, I am on summer vacation and tend to be pretty chill when not in a social setting. So I came up with some possible options for what is really happening when they abuse my trapezius muscle.

Option one: I am deceptively muscular. When not actively working out, I am pretty nondescript and have a little layer of fluff that disguises that I have minimal muscle tone under there somewhere, and it surprises all massage therapists to find muscle where they expected to find none.

Option two: I am built wrong. I just have knots where other humans don’t for no reason other than I am built wrong. Or maybe I absorbed a twin in the womb and one day we’ll find a tumor up there that turns out to be the absorbed twin? Something like that.

Option three: I actually hold stress there? Seems unlikely.

Option four: Massage therapist always start with shoulders and despite knowing that I will eventually relax, the first response to being laid out on a table, mostly nude, at the mercy of a stranger, is fight or flight. Flight is pretty much out of the question when you take into account the mostly nude part, so it’s all fight. Especially when they haven’t yet found the right amount of pressure (literally attacking you with their freaky strong massage therapist muscles) and so I tense up. Fight, if you will, relaxing for the first five minutes or so which turns the whole shoulder thing into a torture show until I can convince myself to calm down and then miraculously they have worked out the tension in my shoulders. So…I think option four is probably the real explanation.

After that first five minutes, it was pure relaxation. My husband is neat. I’ll probably let him continue to hang around. Just kidding, it’s definitely more of a question of whether he’ll put up with me any longer if I don’t figure out how to step up my own game a little. Or a lot.

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