Life lessons from Jack Handy- Sponsored by KY Touch Massage

Ok- so in writing this blog, it has occurred to me that I should offer the public something. Anything. A service. An education. An opinion. So far my posts have been storytelling, so I hope that some of you have been entertained at the very least, but I could really roll some type of moral or life lesson in while I'm at it, right? I mean- we all learn lessons everyday, but do we necessarily share them with one another? I think that might be why people think I'm borderline crazy. Because I DO share. Sometimes too much. But I do it with your best interests at heart. I have learned many lessons that the general population hasn't thought about. For instance- did you know that the police will find NO logical reasoning for you driving and changing your shirt at the same time? (Even if you were 19 and pretty cute, in my humble opinion!) Or that you should really listen when your doctor tells you to not mix alcohol with your Ambien prescription? (They should also advise against social networking while taking it as well!) Some people may not even realize that when becoming a manager, there is no math test, so don't let your manager do math for you. (Even if she is your friend! There is no shame in checks and balances!) Maybe some of you knew these things, but I'm willing to bet that a few of  you thought about each of those scenarios for a moment, so I've decided that passing along little nuggets of wisdom is really what I should be doing for now. If I can prevent at least one Ambien induced assault, I have done my job.

This evening was much like any other evening in Minnesota, in late April... Oh hell who am I kidding? It was yet another day in the world's longest winter season ever. After a brief thaw, we had yet another 5-6 inches bearing down on us. (Stop snickering, if that's all you have grown accustomed to... well that's another topic.) I was making a valiant attempt to pick my son up from school, but because my husband needed our SUV for some baseball related reason, I was driving his car. (For those of you taking notes- here's lesson number one.) The roads were so bad, heading back to my son's school, that I had to pull over. I literally, couldn't drive another foot, for fear of getting stuck in a ditch somewhere. With my daughter in the back seat, I just couldn't risk it. I'm pretty accustomed to winter driving, but in my husband, Dan's car, I was useless. I pulled over and called him and begged him to come get us. (That's lesson number one- there is NO shame in asking for help. Better to deal with your husband making snarky remarks about how women can't drive than to wind up in the ditch with a 1 year old!)

While I sat in the middle of Nowhere, I realized how incredibly tense I was. I must have been white knuckle driving the whole 15 miles, because as soon as I put the car in park, it was like my entire body turned to jelly. .

After Dan rescued me, I thought it was safe. I told him that my back was still "un-tensing" (Yeah- probably not a real word) and maybe I could get a back massage when I got home? Here's lesson number two. Never ask your husband for TOO much help. You need to properly reward them for each individual task BEFORE moving on to the next one. He unloaded the dishwasher? An emphatic thank you with balloons and streamers falling from the ceiling might be appropriate. He put gas in your car? Plan on sleeping naked. He watched the kids you both created together after he put gas in your car? Well that's going to require a lot of stretching before you can properly thank him. It's all common sense. Failure to adhere to this basic plan can only result in system malfunction... which is what happened tonight.

When we got home, I was ecstatic to find that Dan immediately went upstairs and found the KY Massage oil.

Ok- I'm going to break off here.  I know what you're thinking, "Gee Heather, what do you have THAT for??"  (Sarcasm dripping from every syllable!) But really! We had bought it a little over a year ago- really for massages! I was pregnant and in pain. I needed to get the knots worked out pretty regularly! Admittedly though, it was a pretty awkward purchase, especially when the pharmacist that my mom had worked with, when I was maybe 13 happened upon me in the "naughty" aisle of Target. "Well hello there!" he had said, before realizing where we both stood. I remember awkwardly searching for any kind of conversation. He was too. I blurted out "Hey guess what? I'm pregnant!" He nodded, slowly. I could see in his eyes that he wasn't surprised. That was generally the end result for girls who hung out in this aisle too much. What could he say?  Perhaps- "Well congratulations- and good for you, still keeping things spicy!" No...instead he kicked into professional mode. "Well that's great. Are you finding everything ok?" The moment couldn't have been more awkward. I couldn't say yes, that implied that I knew my way around the condoms, pregnancy tests and lubricants. "Actually- I'm looking for massage oil" He nodded. "Sure sure" (Im still not sure if this was a dead air filler or if he didn't believe me.) He grabbed the KY Touch and handed it to me. "This one's good." Oh god what did THAT mean???  "Tell your mom I said Hi" I am pretty sure he knew that wasn't going to happen. "Oh hey mom- guess who I bumped into while looking for special massage oils?" So that's how I came to be the proud owner of a bottle of KY Touch Bali Moonlight Warming Massage oil. But I digress..

I shouldn't have been surprised that Dan didn't acknowledge my complaints of back pain, because he didn't hear it. His head was wired to only understand the next logical step, which would be for me to thank him for saving my life. He HEARD the words "back rub, but that was it". All I managed to do was put the idea in his head. With a big grin he held up the massage oil and a towel. "You wanna give me a back rub?" It was a very classy moment.

Realizing that this was really MY fault, I sighed and nodded. "Let me just slice up a mango really quick." I told him. He pulled off his shirt and sat at the counter patiently while I cut up my mango. (We are very hygienic in our house.)

Yes, I know. There was no "fault" here. But I have to give Dan credit. He just recently re-joined a baseball team after a 10 year hiatus. That's a pretty big deal and I'm really proud of him. I don't have any problem bragging about this accomplishment and I take a lot of pride in letting people know that my husband isn't just some outfielder. Oh nay nay, he is a pitcher. And not just any old pitcher. He is a highly coveted, southpaw. I am grinning while I write that.  I know very little about sports and I couldn't tell you much more than the score at any given game, but I can tell you this- there is no uniform like a baseball uniform. Hockey and football? WAAAY too much padding. Basketball? Puh-lease. Thugs who couldn't manage anything more than saggy shorts and a tank. Golf? Gag- hi Grandpa! But Baseball? Not only does the uniform leave little to the imagination, but they send your imagination running wild by ACCENTUATING what you can't help but notice. Why more girls don't take in a good baseball game now and again is beyond me! So when my husband said he needed a good rub down on his shoulder, I happily complied.

It wasn't a big deal really. Billy and Emily were chasing the dogs around the living room while I worked the kinks out. I was very liberal with the oil. It made things so much easier. The air around us was filled with the scent of sandalwood and mandarin...and I guess whatever else Bali smells like in the moonlight. Not thinking, I reached over to the table and haphazardly grabbed a piece of mango. Now, for those of you who have never enjoyed a mango, I need to give one more lesson. Mangoes have a large seed in the middle that likes to surprise you with where it will actually be located. You can't cut through it, down the middle, so you end up cutting all around it and wind up with a couple big pieces and then some random scraps. I personally hate waste on such a delicious fruit, so I oftentimes cut the large pieces, whittle off whatever I can from the seed and if I'm feeling especially motivated, I will even chew the delicious goodness off the seed itself. The problem with that last part is that the further into the Mango you get, the stringier the flesh gets. It can almost get like corn silk, as was the case tonight. While I rubbed the knot in Dan's shoulder out with my right hand, I popped a mango piece in my mouth with the left hand. Unfortunately, it was the seed section. No worries. I just sort of chewed around the seed, until I started to get the hair like pieces in my teeth. The sensation of hair in my mouth, thoroughly disgusts me.(Yeah yeah- insert joke here i know.) I immediately spit the seed out, stopped massaging Dan's shoulder and used both hands to begin foraging for mango hair in my teeth.

Not only did I introduce the flavors of Bali Moonlight to my tongue, but I had apparently rubbed off a couple of Dan's hairs as well. It was awful. I was spitting mandarin, amber and sandalwood into the sink, gagging and pulling hairs, both male and mango out of my teeth. With every attempt at pulling a hair out, I re-introduced more KY. I frantically washed my hands, but as any good KY expert knows, it acts as a sort of water repellent. The water just beaded up on my hands and rolled down my arm. While I choked out broken sentences like "Dear God that one was yours!" and "It's all over my tongue!" Dan calmly walked over to the fridge and started to make a drink. Really? This was too much.

With my tongue hanging out of my mouth like a dog, I scowled at him. "I just got lube all over my tongue and you're making a drink??" (Well- it sounded more like "I jus god oob aww ober my tun and yo magging a dink??")

He shook his head "It's for you. Alcohol cuts the oil."

I was way to grateful to care where he had learned that little lesson... well until now. How did he learn that??? All of a sudden I'm thinking of ex-girlfriends and wondering which one taught him that! Actually, I should thank her, because the end result was me enjoying a black cherry SOCO while I wrote this blog and Dan ended up looking like a hero.

So the moral of the story here? Don't be reckless when using oils and edibles. Read the instructions, be sure you are ok with the possibility of one item getting where the other one should be, and proceed with caution. Tonight, it was I that experienced a foreign country in my mouth, next week it could be you.

G'night!