Ten-Finger Exercises

the boxer's in the house

I brought the boxer home today, even though his neutering appointment isn't until Thursday morning at 7. I hated to think of him stuck in a cage, and he seemed glad to see me. He isn't quite as reticent as before, jumping right up on the sofa and settling down when I picked up the computer. He obligingly chased a tennis ball for me a few times, although only picked it up once and brought it half way back. Each time though, he made a fast double circle of the pool and came back looking proud of himself.

Two people now have ruled out Speedo as a name for him, and I guess I agree. I was thinking how fast he was, not of swimsuits. One of the things boxers do best is lick themselves, that and fart, and if he were wearing anything it should definitely be boxers, not Speedos.

Saturday Bill flew me up to Quincy, WA, and my daughter picked me up there on the way to Leavenworth for our weekend out. There are several spas listed in the town, but most are day spas. Two had lodging attached, and the one with the cool picture of a woman getting a massage on a table set up in the creek-- it was full. It was a little difficult to get reservations for the spa package at the other one even, but we did it. Turns out it was really nothing more than a day spa in a couple rooms of the motel, not very special.

Lenore said she enjoyed the facial and hair treatment as well as the massage, but we both agreed the massage was a little fluffy for our taste, no deep tissue work. The therapist did several different things with hot oil, including a towel soaked in it which was applied to our backs before we rolled over. Then there was another hot oil towel wrapped like a scarf around our necks. The whole thing reminded me of current restaurant food: there may be more in the presentation than in the flavor. The massage tables were covered in wine colored sheets with a light quilt of off white and wine on top. It was decorated with a flower, probably a silk rose-- I didn't look too closely-- and a handful of silk petals artfully placed. I didn't watch to see what the therapist did with them, but when I looked through the head cradle, there they were, decorating the floor beneath me. Ah, what a delightful treat! (Or maybe would look more appropriately sarcastic.)

Anyway, the best part of the weekend was not the spa, not the shopping, not the food or Margaritas or the German band, it was having time with my daughter.