Catch Up

It's been a while again. Most recently, I caught a case of the stomach bug that was ailing Pat last week. It started with some cramps that came in waves Tuesday night. They started to get worse but Pat assured me it was the same thing he had and that it would be fine. The pain was bad enough to give me labor flashbacks - I thought to myself, "The contractions were even worse than this," and quickly remembered why I'd gotten the epidural. Maybe this will keep me from wondering if I could have done it without drugs for a while. Anyway, after about 10 hours of wondering if I had some sort of bowl obstruction, I learned there was no obstruction at all and stopped worrying. Yes, I'm the queen of TMI. It's Thursday and I'm still trying to work this thing out of my system. Our maid helped with Sawyer so much yesterday allowing me to get in a little extra sleep. Get ready for a spoiled little family to come home in a few years. Since my bodily functions probably aren't what you check this site for, I'll get on with other news...
Spa Downstairs:
There is a spa downstairs and I tried it out on Monday when Pat got home from playing golf. First, I should tell you that my experience at the spa across the street a few months ago was interesting. I had a mostly Thai style massage. Some highlights:
- The masseuse was pretty old, not that that's a big deal, but it was interesting.
- I was sent to the couple's suit.
- I hoped for some relaxing (while admittedly flaky) spa music, instead I got Kenny G.
- Just about the time "By the Time This Night is Over" came on, I realized the old lady was on the massage table straddling over top of me in order to have a better angle. I opened my eyes and one of her feet was in front of my face
- Thais think it's relaxing to have someone pop your knuckles for you and run their thumbs up your spine bouncing along each vertebra.
Well downstairs was a mostly good experience. The lady at the desk knew I was Khun Pat's wife with baby and I let her talk me into the white sesame scrub along with the massage. I was given a shower cap and some disposable mesh underwear wrapped in plastic and had to strip down. The massage covers pretty much everything the underwear doesn't. It's weird, I know. The music was typical instrumental spa music. Sometimes the music reminded me of field trips to the planetarium as a kid, same stuff. Other times it reminded me of the music they play while you're waiting in line at Space Mountain in Disney World. The rest of the time I didn't notice it, which was good. I think getting a massage or other spa treatment can be like a golf game. I'm awful at golf, but I do know that once you try to stop thinking about your golf game, it's already too late. The initial thinking causes your game to slip, then you wonder why it's slipping and you're thinking again... I tend to think too much at the spa and that can ruin the experience. If my eyes are open, will she think she's not doing a good job? If I close my eyes, will she think I'm asleep and try to steal my purse? Do I have more arm hair than Thai people? Is this real sesame paste? Would peanut butter have the same affect on my skin? Why did she just say "sexy lady"? Sexy WHAT? She said, "You sexy lady..." and trailed off in Thai. Then something about "baby." In the Nana part of town we live, I thought sexy lady meant "lady of the night." Surely she couldn't be suggesting I'm a... Pat later told me to take it as a compliment. After she said it I mentioned the baby was upstairs and tried to steer the conversation toward the baby (not that I knew where it was at in the first place). She was quiet again after that. I did, however, take a quick look at her biceps. Thankfully, and though they were big, her biceps didn't have the distinct definition of a dude.
Happy Hour:
Friday Pat and I went to happy hour at Bully's. Arlyn watched Sawyer and I actually wasn't completely paranoid. I walked all the way to Bully's to meet Pat and felt like a real live grown up girl the whole way. Some ladies on the street were getting started early and made me stick out like a sore thumb with my blond hair, covered thighs, and less than 9 inch heels. It was fun to meet Pat's work friends. I even won a game of pool, a first! We called Arlyn and she had magically put the baby to bed, so we didn't have to rush home. Pat took me through Nana Square. Whoa. It was a blur of red lights, ladies holding signs offering a good time, white guys who look very lost but know exactly where they are, and tourists. I saw a cart with a dozen types of bugs, all fried but still recognizable. Pat said he saw mealworms. I saw some grasshoppers. The highlight was the elephant. He was at the gas station coming out of the square area. It was a small elephant and you could buy a banana to feed him. We didn't buy one, but it was amazing to see an elephant at a gas station. Supposedly Thais take pretty good care of their elephants, but I did wonder where he lives since he was in the middle of the city. We had a lot of fun together. Getting out of the house every once and a while will be crucial to our sanity and our marriage!
Mishaps:
My first mishap in the last week was my little fire. I tried to bake sweet potato chips. I dipped the potato slices in melted butter and placed them on a foil-covered cookie sheet just like Paula Deen told me to. There must have been too much butter. It dripped off the cookie sheet and started a fire in the oven. Sawyer and I were hanging out in the living room when I heard the smoke detector (thinking it was the timer). Light gray smoke covered the ceiling and there was a small fire on the bottom of the oven. Shaking, I turned off the oven and grabbed the fire extinguisher. I had to read the directions twice because I was so nervous. I opened the oven and stood half of the 12 feet back instructed on the extinguisher. One little tug on the trigger and the fire was out. It took a very long time to clean up the dust left on every single surface in our kitchen from the extinguisher. Pat calls me Fire Marshal Bill, now. My other mishap happened Tuesday. I accidentally plugged the printer into the wrong outlet, the one without the converter. The printer made an ominous poof-fizzle sound and I knew it was too late. It was an expensive printer, a gift for Pat for Christmas. In lieu of flowers, please send donations so that I can buy a new printer. Or not.