Every now and again I like to check out from reality. You see, there are times when I have too much reality. One way I cope is with one of my little get away's. Lucky for me I know a lot of massage therapists to assist me in my quest for sanity.
Today's get away is a hot stone massage given to me by my friend Tatyana. The method of hot stone she is learning comes from the native Americans. She gets the room set up complete with Native American music. Right now I am ready for 80 minutes of no worries, lower blood pressure and maybe some spiritual guidance. My muscles will benefit no matter what. Honestly, I'll take what I get.
While laying there I try to make my mind go blank while I enjoy this lazy and luxurious pampering. I am ready to check out and try to find my animal spirit guide. That's another story. The only problem is I think my Russian therapist's roots are coming through. My mind turns to everything Russian. The Russia I know anyway.
The music on the stereo is replaced by music in my mind, compliments of Tchaikovsky. It's so dramatic and vibrant that I just let go and enjoy the ride. It seems my tour guide this time is a very hot Russian wearing the traditional Russian hat. It's made of rabbit fur and called, the Ushanka. I am dripping in diamonds, cause if you are going to be wearing diamonds you might as well be dripping in them. My gown is red, Kremlin red. I have a tiara on, diamond of course, laced with rubies.
Vlaidimir is his name. Yeah, I named him. He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. The ballroom is covered in gold and velvet. Yet ironically there are no velvet paintings. Not even the dogs playing poker or the real king, Elvis. Hmm, this really is a Russian fantasy.
Once on the floor he breaks into the traditional Russian dance where he is up and down, up and down, up and down. No really, this is the dance nothing else. He then starts circling me and engages me in a waltz and stares into my eyes the whole time. I am Cinderella. Who knew?
After dancing for hours he leads me to a table which is fit for an imperial Russian princess, me. The table is decorated with Faberge eggs and filled with great food. There are potato latke's with sour cream, caviar and vodka. While we are eating we are entertained by Mikail Baryshnikov and Olga Korbut, dancing and flipping. It's an imaginary Circue Du Soleil.
After dinner we strolled hand in hand through the town. It was a dark and snowy night. The architecture was magnificent and I felt like I was part of the Romanov dynasty. This place had a feel of power and strength. All the makings of a romance scene. Vladimir slowed his pace while I walked on admiring the city. He then came up behind me whispered in my ear and was tapping me on the shoulder. Kelly, Kelly...then the whispering got louder.
Kelly, wake up. We're done.
Dang, it was Tatyana. My massage was finished. The dream was gone, but not forgotten, for 80 minutes I escaped and was dancing with the Czars. Now, it's back to my own hunk and kids. I'm ready to tackle some more reality, until next time.
Today's get away is a hot stone massage given to me by my friend Tatyana. The method of hot stone she is learning comes from the native Americans. She gets the room set up complete with Native American music. Right now I am ready for 80 minutes of no worries, lower blood pressure and maybe some spiritual guidance. My muscles will benefit no matter what. Honestly, I'll take what I get.
While laying there I try to make my mind go blank while I enjoy this lazy and luxurious pampering. I am ready to check out and try to find my animal spirit guide. That's another story. The only problem is I think my Russian therapist's roots are coming through. My mind turns to everything Russian. The Russia I know anyway.
The music on the stereo is replaced by music in my mind, compliments of Tchaikovsky. It's so dramatic and vibrant that I just let go and enjoy the ride. It seems my tour guide this time is a very hot Russian wearing the traditional Russian hat. It's made of rabbit fur and called, the Ushanka. I am dripping in diamonds, cause if you are going to be wearing diamonds you might as well be dripping in them. My gown is red, Kremlin red. I have a tiara on, diamond of course, laced with rubies.
Vlaidimir is his name. Yeah, I named him. He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. The ballroom is covered in gold and velvet. Yet ironically there are no velvet paintings. Not even the dogs playing poker or the real king, Elvis. Hmm, this really is a Russian fantasy.
Once on the floor he breaks into the traditional Russian dance where he is up and down, up and down, up and down. No really, this is the dance nothing else. He then starts circling me and engages me in a waltz and stares into my eyes the whole time. I am Cinderella. Who knew?
After dancing for hours he leads me to a table which is fit for an imperial Russian princess, me. The table is decorated with Faberge eggs and filled with great food. There are potato latke's with sour cream, caviar and vodka. While we are eating we are entertained by Mikail Baryshnikov and Olga Korbut, dancing and flipping. It's an imaginary Circue Du Soleil.
After dinner we strolled hand in hand through the town. It was a dark and snowy night. The architecture was magnificent and I felt like I was part of the Romanov dynasty. This place had a feel of power and strength. All the makings of a romance scene. Vladimir slowed his pace while I walked on admiring the city. He then came up behind me whispered in my ear and was tapping me on the shoulder. Kelly, Kelly...then the whispering got louder.
Kelly, wake up. We're done.
Dang, it was Tatyana. My massage was finished. The dream was gone, but not forgotten, for 80 minutes I escaped and was dancing with the Czars. Now, it's back to my own hunk and kids. I'm ready to tackle some more reality, until next time.
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