Monday, October 16, 2006
Whenever my life is especially trying I like to reward myself with an imaginary trip to an exclusive spa. Someday, when the girls are 10 and 13 and we have an extra $5000 dollars to spend I WILL go to that exclusive spa in Arizona or Alaska or Alsace. Until then I just adjust my hypothetical itenerary to accommodate the stress in my life. After a full day of negotiating advertising contracts, talking with a disgruntled customer, doing laundry, nursing my baby and discussing the differences between ponies, horses and unicorns over and over with my daughter I will tell my husband that the spa trip just got upgraded. An afternoon of cranky baby is good for an extra hot rock massage. A few days of especially gut-wrenching staff interactions can yield a first class airline ticket to the spa. Tonight I told my husband that I wanted to make sure that the spa trip included yoga at dawn, a walking meditation labyrinth and a staff that would not speak unless spoken to first. You know, they'd just show up with my fresh squeezed carrot juice and put it on the table and leave. No conversation.