Every southern girl worth her salt, can quote a line or two from “Steel Magnolias”. In one particular heartfelt scene of the movie, Shelby looks deep into her mother’s questioning eyes and says, ”I’d rather have a thirty minutes of wonderful, than a lifetime of nothing special”. Traditionally, on this blog this is the point I’d dive into a life lesson. I’d look for the spiritual meaning in it all. Well, y’all, it’s summer. I mean – it is full-on 100 degree summer already. Seven days in a row of this heat, the sun is searing my brain. When school lets out for summer, so does my brain. I don’t want emotional insights. I don’t want to think. Shelby may have needed 30 minutes of wonderful, I just wanted 90 minutes of nothing.
Last week, I cashed in a spa gift certificate I had been holding onto for quite awhile. This would be the perfect way to spend ninety minutes thinking about ab-so-lute-ly nothing.
I don’t know about you, but I’m not really good at thinking about “nothing”. I’ve never managed to do it. On this day, I was determined.
GOAL: For 90 minutes, I will not think about anything!
SO there I was sitting in the waiting area of the spa, my mind kept whirling? ”Is your goal measurable? How will you know if you thought of nothing? You better take mental notes…just in case”
My name is called. I’m introduced to David. Massage time…
In case you ever wonder, here’s what “absolutely nothing” translates to:
“This masseuse …or is it masseur? … looks a lot like Lenny Kravitz.
How cool would it be if Lenny Kravitz moonlighted as a massage therapist?
You’ve got to LET LOVE RULE (let ….love… ruuu –le)
Quit wasting thought time. I’ve really got to start thinking about nothing…get thee to thy happy place.
Did I just think in Shakespeare?
Ok. happy place. happy place. happy place. deep breath. happy place.
I’ve got it! My dreamy pink cottage. all white interiors. a picket fence and a garden of peonies, roses and lavender. Water view. Sweet ice tea on the back porch at sunset. deep breath. deep breath. I can hear the crickets…I can hear music
What is this music? It reminds me of…The aurora borealis! Note to self: add to bucket list, I want to see the aurora borealis. I’ll need to download this weird music when I do.
You know, I’ve never met a child who dreams of becoming a new age musician… or smooth jazz musician for that matter. Do they get all dreamy-eyed when they walk through Stein Mart or ride an elevator?
And what kind of music does a new age musician or smooth jazz artist listen to when their work stresses them out?
That might be funny to tweet. Then again, I’m a big dork. I’ve been tweeting too much lately.
If Lenny Kravitz masseur was a ninja he could move his elbow a little to the left right now and kill me
It’s surprising how I’ve trusted my care in a state “undressed to the level of my comfort” to a complete stranger for the next 90 minutes…or …. darn it, I bet we’re down to 45 minutes now. I’ve flipped over.
I bet Al Gore wishes he had not trusted his masseuse.
Why are you thinking about Al Gore? He’s gross. Get back to your pink cottage.
If I went back to work, I could buy my pink cottage. I really should get a job.
OWW! Seriously, Ninja Lenny, one good crack and my neck is broken
Oh wait, are you massaging my head now? No, really, are you stroking my hair?
it’s over? Already? Oh, Lenny, don’t you know, it ain’t o-ver til it’s oooo-ver.”
So much for thinking about nothing. Now excuse me, I suddenly realized I need to download some Lenny songs.
by boots
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