#ReadersWorkouts -- Pampering

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Joy at Joy's Book Blog has built up a community of people who love to read and work out. You know that I enjoy both of those things, so I'm joining in.

Anyone who visits my blog regularly knows that I'm all about exercising. According to my Fitbit weekly report, I walked 102,000 steps last week, more than 44 miles. But if I'm not careful, I can get too obsessed about exercising, which these days consists of running, walking and lifting weights at the gym three days a week.
So to prevent myself from going overboard, I take some time to pamper myself. That's all about wellness too, right?
So today, after a walk with my friend Sheila, and after I reached my 10,000 steps about 10 a.m., I went to a new salon for a facial and a pedicure.
Yes, it can get pricey, but luckily, I had collected enough Pure Privilege points with my Aveda products, so I had a $75 coupon that paid for the facial.
Some people talk about facials being painful. That has never been the focus at Aveda. It's all about the relaxation, the massage and the glorious scents of the Aveda products.
So I put on a wrap that covers my breasts down to mid-thigh and climb onto a massage bed. I told the guy doing the facial that I was congested, so he included a lot of blue mint oil for me to inhale. The entire hour that I received my facial, I had no congestion at all.
As I lay there while he rubbed various oils and cream on my skin, massaged my arms and hands, wrapped hot towels on my face, I found too often that I focused on hoping this wasn't the end.
Isn't that hilarious? I was so worried that the facial would end so I didn't relax and enjoy it as much as I should have.
Don't get me wrong, I definitely enjoyed it, lying for an hour in a darkened room having someone slather my skin with creams. My favorite part is when he used a thick brush, like a small paintbrush, to paint a masque on my skin. That is such a lovely feeling.
All too soon, the lovely facial ended and I walked blinking out of the dark room.
Don't feel too bad for me though, I only moved to soak my feet in a hot tub while a woman scrubbed some of the calluses off my feet. My doctor told me in the past that I needed regular pedicures to keep my feet healthy since I run. So I was only following doctor's orders.

Now my toes are a lovely steely blue-gray and the skin on my face feels soft and young.

My Almost Perfect Birthday

After telling everyone that my almost-perfect husband baked a birthday cake in the middle of the night, I never followed up by telling you how the rest of the day went.
I woke up early to do some writing. I find that since the Writing Group actually complimented my writing, I'm not nearly as inclined to add words to the manuscript. SO that backfired.
I headed out the door for a Tuesday morning run - unheard of with my Tuesday schedule. I put my iPod in and pushed the button. Nothing. What? Dead?
So I plugged it in and ran without it. As I walked out the back door and heard the birds calling above me in the dark, I considered that the dead iPod might be a birthday present in disguise. Next I heard the drip, drip, drip of melting snow by the garage. Then "Aieee!" that was me as I almost fell on the pile of snow that had been slicked down to become ice. So I ran with only my thoughts to keep me company.
A sub was taking my morning classes, so I got the kids to school and had time to relax at home before I went to have a pedicure. My toes are a lovely, sparkly pink. And my feet are smooth without all of those running calluses.
Next I met my husband for lunch at a cozy Italian restaurant. We started with bruschetta - thick wedges of bread with tomatoes and mozzarella. Then I had a salad of romaine with candied walnuts, tomatoes and buttermilk dressing. My main course was chicken ravioli. Hmmm. Since it was my birthday, they brought a sampler for dessert that had small servings of tiramisu, creme brulee and a thick chocolate pots de creme.
Earl gave me my birthday present (what a cake, a pedicure and lunch out weren't present enough?) a beautiful wine-colored Pashmina. The material was paper thin and so soft.
I had to teach that afternoon and Earl headed off to work, but I picked the kids up for a carefully scheduled dinner -- in between basketball, swim and play practice -- at their favorite new burger joint that offers salty fries, thick hamburgers and shakes. I wasn't really hungry but the company was good.
The evening degenerated a bit into fights over homework and I snatched away one child's phone, grounding him simultaneously before I had to go to the high school to work on costumes for the musical.
At nearly 10 o'clock, Tucker called and pointed out we still hadn't cut into that birthday cake.
"Oh, yeah," I exclaimed to Grace. We were trying to put things away so we could make a hasty escape. "We haven't celebrated with cake yet."
"Celebrated what?" the other women asked as we skated out the door.
"My birthday!" I called.
"Happy birthday," their yells echoed as we hurried home in yet another snowfall.
We couldn't find candles or matches, so the kids sang Happy Birthday in French and I sliced into the three layer cake for a bedtime snack.
The next day, I went to the salon for a facial. I fell asleep on the table and woke up with a snort.
"You relaxed well," the technician assured me.
I did. Good thing birthdays only come once a year. Mine was expensive, but satisfying. And almost perfect!