"There are trees in the desert since you moved out."

Excerpted from my other diary, tucked neatly into Corazon's, guestbook.

OH MAH GAHD, run to your nearest massage therapy school, and SOOOO treat yourself.

DO IT.

I was so energized after words, in a "My aura isn't bumpy any more." way. I felt I had slept a long, peaceful, undisturbed slumber. My masuse was named Guadalupe, and she exuded good vibes from every pore. I so wanted to give her a hug of thanks, rather then a handshake. And the hour long massage was actually an hour and half. I figure with her help, and 3-5 times a week of the elliptical machine, I can get this knot out from under my right shoulder blade that has plagued me since the 8th grade. Now, I am desperate to learn massage too, I mean I know I'm rather good at it already, and I'm such a tactile sponge, I learn every time someone touches me.

Like cutting hair.

My nephew's stylist asked him who had cut his hair. (all jealous like, as stylists sometimes get, when you have to utilize another, in between their cuts.) When he said, "My uncle frijole.", the guy asked how long I had been a stylist. My sister piped up at that point and said, "Oh, he's a teacher, not a stylist." The guy said I had given my nephew a very professional cut. I'm like "Yeah, I pay attention when people are doing things to me."

I think I'm totally fascinated by anything that is a process. I have this desperate need to know how it is done, and often times, to actually experience doing it, then once I'm told I'm good at it, I drop it for the next little hands on experience.

I'm a process whore, like that, I guess.

I hope that does not happen with metalsmithing. It seems such a complex art, that I would never learn all that I want to learn.

Love to you.