Long Live The Dead!

A few years ago, I had two clients in for pedicures. Giving two pedicures at once to friends is definitely more interesting than doing a pedi on a single client because the "professional" boundary between the clients and myself disappears. What I mean is, it usually turns into a party and things get talked about that would never get talked about if it was just one on one. What happens is, the two friends start the party and then inevitably, I, the "outsider" am drawn in. It was on one such occasion that these two clients, who were in the field of this topic, so to speak, were chatting about "the body farm".

I have always kind of been interested in death. Not for myself. Not so much about where we go after we die, either. I guess I'm not interested in "death" so much as I am interested in "dead". What a fascination, I think, it would be to be a mortician. Twenty years ago, I was able to cut and style a friends hair once, after he had died while serving an LDS mission. It was a very special opportunity for me that I still cherish all these years later.

Back to my clients. My interest was definitely piqued with the topic of the body farm, and I had to get involved. They said they were reading a book about death. I really love to read. I don't do it as much as I'd like because I just don't have the time as I'm so busy with work and my bad habit of watching too many movies, blogging, keeping important communications open through Facebook and getting enough healthful sleep, but the book was in my hands and purchased within a few days. It was such a great book that I decided to give you my book review.

This very enjoyable bedtime reading book is called Stiff, written by Mary Roach. This fantastic author writes about cadavers and how science (and others) utilizes them. She writes about crash test dummies (not the music group), doctors practicing face lifts on donated heads, cannibalism, and an extensive chapter about the body farm. The body farm is a 2 1/2 acre plot, in Tennessee, where they "plant" human corpses in different conditions such as in concrete or in water so they can study the decomposition and apply it to forensics. Everything from the maggots and flies to the vegetation is studied. This is an actual photo of a worker at the body farm with one of the less gruesome photos, I'm sure, that is available for showing.

There's also some good reading about the job of a mortician, how and why every orifice is sewed shut, embalming, what eye caps look like and how they secure the eyelids to remain closed. There's also a good chapter on a plane crash, how they figured out the mechanics of the crash and how they used the deceased passengers to help piece it all together. After many other chapters on wonderful morsels, she finishes the book with different ways of burial, cremation and composting.

This book is not at all unnerving except to maybe those with a very weak stomach, but it is worth reading! It is in my top favorite books to read of all time, and I have read it through 3 or 4 times, plus here and there for some "hit the spot" passages. Very well written, no shortage of witty humor, but respectful and very insightful. It's not a very big book and I read it in two days the first time through. I slowed down to savor it the second time around. I encourage everyone to read this book. If you take my recommendation, I want to hear your opinion.

Everyone Needs a Napkin

My boys have an interesting attitude about our beloved pets. I think they enjoy having them around, but maybe for the wrong reasons. For instance, when our cat, Motzie, wants to get in her bed, she has to earn it by walking like a wheelbarrow, while one of my kids holds her back feet up. This is a cat for heavens sake! Well, I got mad at this, and was giving them a stern lecture on having respect for animals. They didn't hear a single word I said as their laughter was too loud watching the wheelbarrow thing. Once they quieted down and could hear me, I tried to instill in them that the worth of a soul, even a cat's soul, was great. They responded by telling me that they felt the worth of a meal was greater, and the only reason to have pets was for food storage. Not only has this poor kitty been a wheelbarrow, but also a broom, a dust rag (how else do you get the dust off the TV screen?), a place to put used tape, crumb catcher (my 16 year old insists that if he eats 'over' the cat, then he doesn't need to use a plate.), and a napkin (same kid).

We've had a lot of outdoor cats come and go, that's how it is when you live in a rural area around orchards. We have briefly felt betrayed when we have seen our cats "eating out" at the neighbors as if we weren't good enough, however, feeding too many kitties can be detrimental to your reputation. Feeding too many cats can be hard on your budget as well, especially if you throw in a raccoon who has cleverly figured out how to take the tight fitting lid off the container, and a skunk, who we see so full, that he has to lay down to eat. Well, who is going to take a turn to go out to take the food away from the skunk, I ask?

At least the cats have a way of thinning themselves out for the balance of nature. Sometimes it's by way of the fast moving highway right by our house. We've lost plenty of cats on this road. When my boys were little, we would remove the lost pets from the road before my boys could see them and cry their little eyes out, but as they got older we stopped doing that. We knew our kids were okay with the death of a pet when one day we were in the car going to school and we noticed a dead cat in the middle of the highway. It was Bearsy. Before I could say anything, my youngest who was about 8 at the time, said, "there's Flatsy!" (They have a real habit of changing our pets names.) Because it was winter and because Flatsy was frozen, we left him out on the highway. My kids noticed that everytime the snowplow went past, Flatsy would get pushed a little closer to our house until about two weeks later that frozen, flat cat ended up right in the driveway and one of my kids came into the house announcing "Flatsy's home!"

I don't know how to finish this post except to say I personally love animals. Pets provide companionship and true stress relief at the end of a bad day. Everyone should have a pet, and everyone needs a napkin now and then. Have a happy day, readers.

Hello, My Name Is...

How do you feel about your name. Were you one of those kids who wished you had a different name? Is it so different that you felt like your parents were just using you for their entertainment? Or is it just a regular name that's neither here nor there and you wish it had more pizazz? My name was normal to me, although I hadn't heard of anyone else with the name Sheila. I found it kind of hard accepting my married last name of Hone, though, which was a very unusual name to me, after having the ordinary last name of Johnson. My mom is German. She has three middle names as well as her first, maiden and married names. My dad's name is Richard. When I was young his nickname was Dick. Dick Johnson. I won't get into that one any further. Most of my sisters have unusual names. Not odd, just heard a little less often. My own kids were named with different names, because we wanted them to stand out from a crowd.

But enough about my family, it's the neighbors who reside next to my grandparents who I want to talk about. There is a handful of headstones with the name of "Twelves" on them. Let me mention, my grandparents reside in a cemetery along with these neighbors. Every year for about the last five years, my family and I, have included the Twelves' in our Memorial Day rounds. I figure as long as we're in the neighborhood... We'll stop by and chat about them as if we know them, and comment on their lovely headstones. I'm kind of jealous, because I have taken to the name Twelves as a last name. I really want my last name to be Twelves. And if I had the name Twelves for a last name, I would surely change my first name to Evelyn. I want this so much, in fact, that if you asked my kids what name I would love to be known by, they would surely tell you, "Evelyn Twelves". It has such a lovely, numerical ring to it, don't you think? This has become the name of my alter ego. I'm not sure what an alter ego is, but I do know she wanted to help me write some of these blogs. I'll need to take some flowers to the Twelves' this next Memorial Day, now that we're family.

There is something magical about coveting a name that's not your own. I remember a co-worker telling me about 20 years ago that she was always jealous of her friends name. It was Vicky Trickleson. Say it out loud. See how it dances in your mouth then just trickles (no pun implied) off your tongue? It is so fantastic. I'm not sure Vicky Trickleson loved it as much as we love saying Vicky Trickleson. In the same vein, names aren't always so great to the people who have to respond do them. My son doesn't like his name very much, at his 13 year old time of life. His name is Jance. It's a great name! He thinks it sounds too much like a girls name. (Actually, his birth certificate did come with the name Janice, and we had to send it back.) He told me he wished he had a plain old, regular old name. My other son's name is Kaler. Now there's nothing feminine about that name, and yet, he gets sent an invitation in the mail to participate in the Miss Teenage Utah pageant every single year. When Craig's mom was young, she had a friend named Beverly. Her mother (Craig's grandmother) would get frustrated because she couldn't pronounce it correctly. She would say, "What kind of name is that anyway? Who would ever name their kid Bevelry!"

This name thing applies to our beloved pets as well. We spend hours coming up with just the right name. We have two rabbits. One's name was Bunbun. My boys did not agree, so after a couple of years they changed his name to Mr. Ostenvinsit. Sometimes he is known as Senor Ostenvinsit, but mostly just Osten, for short. Our other bun used to be known by the name of Cappucino. Well, it makes sense that this name didn't stick, he's not even the right color. My boys instantly gave this bun a complex by renaming him Stew Meat. Sometimes he is called Sewer Rat. Shameful. It doesn't stop there. I took a hand-me-down cat from one of my students to save her (the cat's) life. We've had her for quite a few months now. Her name was Sky. Not now. My boys saw to it that she had a better name. They call her Nitzen Motzen. That went to Nitty Mote, but now they call her Motzen or Mote for short. Poor thing. Who would call a beautiful cat Mote. Not Evelyn Twelves.

Cherish your names. It's a gift our parents gave us. It's our tag. It's our title. It's a factor which makes us who we are. As life's little influences change us a bit at a time, our name remains what it is. Besides we need names. How else would we greet each other?

But I Saw You!

Don't you hate it when someone catches you doing something stupid, but don't you love it when you catch someone doing something inappropriate? I saw something so funny about 2 weeks ago. I was stopped at a red light at an intersection. The light had turned green for the other guys. An old Yugoslavian woman, my best guess, with teeth that seemed a little large for her head pulled into the intersection to turn. She was turning across traffic and onto the road I was on, so she had to wait until all the oncoming cars had passed. Well, the driver, a young man, maybe 17 years old, across the intersection, who was the leader of the long line of cars behind him, was looking down and didn't notice the green light. The Yugoslavian woman, waiting to turn became furious! I could see her just screaming at him and shaking her fist. She was so animated! It was only then, that the young man finally noticed the green light, and proceeded but not before he got a little taste of her wrath with a few more obscenities and gestures. All of this happened in only about 5 or 6 seconds, and no one that was waiting behind this kid felt the need to honk. She gunned her car through the intersection, putting an exclamation point on her rage, and as she turned the corner our eyes met. I'm not going to lie, I would have been so disappointed if she drove past without looking at me. In the couple of seconds it took her to drive past me, a whole conversation took place just with our eyes. Her eyes said "crap, someone just saw me make a total ass of myself", and my eyes said to her, "shame on you". She knew I did not approve. In my rear view mirror I noticed her car had it's tail between it's legs.

My sister has a good story about catching people doing shameful things. Since she won't write her own blog, I'll steal her story. She was at the grocery store with another sister of mine. They noticed a woman sneak a handful of Hershey's kisses out of a bulk candy container. They continued shopping just a few paces behind her. Every once in awhile, she would unwrap a kiss and sneak it into her mouth. Then she would wad up the foil, and stick it on a shelf as she didn't want stolen evidence on her person. After they saw her do this a few times, Ursula, my sister, went back to the candy bin and took a single kiss out. She slid a quarter underneath it, walked up to the woman, and handed it to her and said, "here, this one's on me". Ha ha, caught! And it all went down in the meat aisle. I love that story.

I've always wanted to have a party at my house where I've filled my upstairs bathroom medicine cabinet with marbles. There's always someone who likes to snoop into other peoples personal stuff. I can imagine it now, the sound of all those marbles falling out of the cabinet, hitting the countertop and floor and making an awful racket. All the guests looking upwards wondering what that noise was? Can you imagine the "oh crap!" thought going through the snooping person's head? Very funny! Well, this will not happen, mostly because I don't have an upstairs, let alone an upstairs bathroom, let alone enough friends to make a party. But, feel free to try this at your own party with your own friends!

I am not a mean spirited type of person. But I do get irritated by people always trying to "get away" with things as if it's owed to them, and I do get a little enjoyment out of people getting caught. I look at it as "reminding their conscience", and whenever I catch someone doing something stupid, it is a great reminder to me to not do stupid things in public.

Has Anyone Seen My Landing Strip?

Ah, the old "has anyone seen my landing strip" line. I'm kidding! I don't have a landing strip? Where would I keep it? But this is a good time to bring up Brazilian waxing, right? After all, it's what I do in my job. It's a bold and interesting subject which can go in many directions, including wrong. I have many waxing stories, but on this blog I have decided to make it more of a Q&A entry, for those who have Q and want A. I will try to keep this subject gentle and try not to cross the line. It's one of those those things that maybe I should have kept my wide mouth blog shut.

Q: Does it hurt?

A: I doubt it. About 100-150 hairs are being ripped out of the follicles per strip. Depending on how bare you want to go, there are anywhere from 6-30+ strips used during a wax. You do the math, because I don't want to. Of course it hurts!! I honestly don't know why this question gets asked, but it's the #1 question that I hear besides price.

Q: Have I ever had a dirty, stinky client ever come in?

A: I want to say the answer is no. Women are way too self conscious. No woman is going to have her cookie waxed without totally cleaning up first. I did have a woman come in straight from camping for 2 days once, though. Enough said. I can also tell you about a client who surprised me when she came in to get her precious lady parts waxed. She was about 5'2" and weighed maybe 340 pounds. Don't get me wrong, I am not judging her! In fact, she was one of my most enjoyable clients and I always looked forward to chatting with her when she came in. She had to pick up her whole belly and move it out of the way for me. Have you ever smelled mildew on a person? She was clean, but she had mildew.

Q: Do we laugh during the entire process?

A: Yeah, we have to, for the client's sake. Otherwise, they would die of embarrassment with some of those positions they need to get in to, as seen below.

Q: Do I wax men?

A: Nope, never wanted to, but I'm never saying never. The man in the image above can totally take care of that himself if he so desired. I did have an older man come into the spa about a year ago. He was a rancher or farmer, I think, he dressed like one, anyway. He was wearing a light straw cowboy hat, a button down, long sleeve cowboy shirt, Levis, and worn cowboy boots. Maybe he was a truck driver. He was in his early 70's. He had grey-white hair and a paunch. I asked him what I could help him with, and he asked me if I did Brazilians. I immediately answered "yes". Then mostly on accident, I blurted out "on you?" He said yes, and I'm not exaggerating when my mouth dropped open. I gathered up my wits, and informed him I did not do male Brazilians, also known as manzililans. He seemed a little frustrated, like he'd been looking for years for someone around here to do that. Look, I don't care what anyone does with their treasured bits and pieces, but it did make me wonder how does a 70 year old man even know what that is, let alone want that done. Later that day, as I was telling Craig about all my wonderful stories of my day, he said he'd heard of an older cowboy that was in this area,who was gay (not that there's anything wrong with that), and did gay rodeos, and maybe that was him. How would Craig know this? I DID do a partial Brazilian on a male, but I don't dare print that story.

Q: What is a "landing strip"?

A: The answer is self explanatory. It is a strip of hair that varies in width and length according to what the client wants and planes land there. There is also the "postage stamp" self adhesive, I'm sure. There are also shapes you can get such as "heart", just in case yours is in the wrong place, "four-leaf clover", you "lucky" son of a gun, "downward arrow" in case you forget where your Brazilian is, "money sign" hmmm.... (they're not charging to see it, are they?) What do I do the most of, you ask? Full Monty, all hair gone.

Well, there you go, maybe too much info, maybe not enough. I would have written more as I am not shy, however, I think this forum is. If anyone thinks I have crossed the line here, please let me know. I have much more to blog about on this topic, but don't want the blog police to come and take out the legs.

My Favorite Day

It's my favorite time of the year. You'll hear me say that at various times throughout the year, but this one is really my favorite. I love fall. In fact, THE favorite day of the year for me is not even a holiday. It's when the days have been getting chilly in the mornings, and cool in the evenings, but still nice and warm during the days, then that one day comes. The one where someone finally breaks down and builds a fire in their fireplace or wood stove and you can smell the smoke in the crisp air. It has a different smell to it, when it's mixed with the smell of cold. It's true. And it only smells just like that for a little while. It's wonderful. If fills my little heart with energy and excitement. I get excited to put the yard away for the winter, and to drag out down filled comforters, to snuggle up with my family earlier in the evening than usual to watch favorite movies that we've set aside specifically for fall and winter viewing. All of a sudden my desire to bake kicks in and I long to take a sabbatical, mostly so I can hibernate. Mornings filled with home cooked breakfasts like sweet potato waffles and dinners that include rolls or cornbread made from scratch, and we actually set the table, and eat together as a family. Everyone gets along and loves each other. We start projects. Maybe leather working or salvaging components from an electronic piece of junk that I've threatened to throw away because it doesn't work. Picking apples and canning applesauce. Perhaps we begin a season long tournament of chess or Killer Bunnies. Does this really happen? No, it doesn't. I am practiced at the art of deception and I have fooled myself into thinking it ever might. Our days in the fall are filled with the same chaos as the rest of the year. There is very little home cooking, and definitely no hibernating. But the feelings are there just the same and that's good enough for me since I prefer to live in Fantasyland instead of reality. That one favorite day, that first smell of woodsmoke on a cold morning, well, that's real, and it has yet to come this year for me.

If You Think It, It Will Come

I learned a very valuable lesson today regarding the power of the Law of Attraction and bad attitude. I have had a negative attitude all week. It seemed like daggers from all directions were coming at me, including from people I would never have guessed. I took offense at things that maybe weren’t written to be offensive, things were said, that I took personally, that I’m sure were just general out loud thoughts, and I second guessed myself and lost confidence in my teaching, and work and in myself in general. All these things added up to create one, surly girl with a bad attitude. I became moody and defensive. All of this was internal and I wore my happy face throughout the week. Today I woke up, was tired and in no mood to do services I had scheduled including 2 pedicures. Pedicures are hard work, and I just couldn’t face doing them today. So, I took off my happy face, and I wrote on Facebook that I wasn’t feeling well and wished I didn’t have to do these pedicures today. There it was, sent out to the universe out loud.

I had to get to the spa early because I had to do some light cleaning. My appointment ran late last night, so I didn’t clean up so I could get home. This also made me upset because not only did I have to go, but I had to go early. I got set up for my appointment and was complaining to our massage therapist how I just didn’t want to be there today. The massage therapist started in a good mood, but pretty soon I rubbed off on her and she said she had too much to do today than to have to work. Well, 9:00 am came and left. Two no-show appointments at the same time. Hers and mine. I called the massage appointment, who apologized and said they couldn’t come. I was happy she wasn‘t coming. Well, she called twenty minutes later, and said she was still coming. I tried to talk her out of coming. I think I treated her kind of harsh. I was mad because she had an appointment in the first place, then I was mad because she no-showed, then mad again because she was still coming. There was no pleasing me. When she didn't show up within the time I figured it would take to get there, I was relieved. She did finally show up. Fifty minutes late. But she made it in time for her two other services, I did get out of the pedi. As I was giving her a facial, I realized how much I needed this client in my life at this time.

Moving on with my day, guess what happened with my next appointment? That’s right, a no-show. Mad, but fine at the same time. Since I had an hour and a half until my last appointment came in I picked up a book that had just come in the mail. There was a lot about being a kind person, taking care of yourself, living a simple life and doing good in the world. I could actually feel my bad attitude melting away and be a nicer person today. That's when there was a shift in the rest of my day.

My last appointment not only came, but she was early! She was the most lovely person. She was a person that has dealt with severe pain since she was 8 years old. She kept saying how grateful she was to be there and how she really needed to be at our spa for some intense healing. It’s a great thing to be a part of a wellness center and to be there for people in their time of need, that was the whole point of owning a wellness center. It felt really good and it finished turning my bad day into a thoughtful and peaceful day.

So that was my day, and that was my lesson. I hope I learned it well enough that I wont have to learn it again, at least not the negative stuff. I am ready to accept money and slimness, though.