Jesse Mullan Fan Club

I think instead of membership cards, we will all have brown thread bracelets, kind of like the Kabalah red ones. Remember when everyone was wearing one? Yeah, well, brown is the new red.

In case you were wondering, yes, this is an homage to how much Jesse likes to poop.

Damn, baby!!!

I booked three massages today. That means I have six massages booked for next week.

Let's review, shall we? My goal was 10 in two weeks. I have six. This is more than I hoped for, deep down in that shadowy region of my soul we call "doubt." I am actually starting to believe I may reach my silly little Massage A Thon goal. And if I don't, six is still rock solid awesome. Things, they are looking better, and I am breathing easier.

Now I need to use my powers for good to start a Jesse Mullan Fan Club. All proceeds go directly to Jesse Mullan, who needs an influx of cash even more than we do. I will arm wrestle Sarah for the presidency.

Jesse Mullan

I'm thinking of starting the membership prices low, for those who want to get in on the ground floor and say they were there at the very beginning.

Something like:

LIFE TIME MEMBERSHIP: $25
Gets you a lifetime supply of Jesse. Every year you get from Jesse: a Christmas and birthday card, one honorary blog post saying how awesome you are and two invitations to a party thrown by Jesse at which you will receive one free Summit beer each time. Jesse will also attend one of your parties or gatherings a year (at which you cover all expenses, if any). Your membership card will be a one of a kind creation from Jesse's little brother Noah.

YEARLY MEMBERSHIP: $10
Gets you a year of Jesse's infrequent attention. You will get a birthday card and an invitation to one of Jesse's parties at which you will receive one free Summit beer. Your membership card will be a one of a kind creation from Jesse's little brother Noah.

HONORARY POSEUR MEMBERSHIP: $5
You can tell people Jesse is your BFF and he won't deny it. You must make your own membership card.

Let's get this thing moving people. The pledge drive starts now!

Masasge A Thon Update

As of today, I am 30% to goal, which means I have three clients next week, and I would like to book 7 more. I would enter a cheerleader type chant here, but I don't have the heart to do that to you good people.

I am handing out my cards more, and keeping up with the "you need massage" telepathy. I am a few inches short of groveling. After all, I have to leave something for the last few minutes of the campaign.

I have moved my website to keathlymassage.wordpress.com. It's still a work in progress, so I will do a grand ol' big post when it's ready. Let me know any topics you would like me to cover, or topics/facts you think prospective clients would like to know about.

I have been applying for massage therapist positions, of which there are very few advertised. I think this is more of a "word of mouth" type of job to find. Yes, I have been sending out SOS signals to the therapists I do know, but so far they have turned up nada.

I have also applied for a serving position at Lexington Grill. I hope I get it because we need an influx of cash to catch us up. A month of working and we would be back on track and could put the credit cards away. So let's all keep our fingers crossed.

Yes, I know, it's not massage, but anything that pays the bills is okay with me. I am an adult. I know where my responsibilities lie, and squabbling over taking any job that does not have to do with massage is not even a thought, let alone an option. Besides, serving can be fun, minus the few and far between assholes. As long as it's not like working at Gardens of Salonica, where the owner is an abusive prick, I will be fine.

Calling all sore and tense people of Minneapolis!

Come to the first annual "Help Lisa Pay Her Bills!" massage extravaganza!!! Guilt trip comes complete with a cute picture of my child.

Please, I don't want Mommy to send me to a sweatshop!

Enjoy my seven years of massage experience for a mere $45 an hour! Working out of my home means a private space for my clients and no over head fees for me. This allows me to make massage affordable for the masses.

I need ten clients in the next two weeks. So let's get cracking, people. All those referrals you've been promising me? Let's make it happen. Been meaning to get a massage or buy a present? Come on over, get a massage and buy a gift certificate!

Tick, tock.

I'm my own Grandpa.

My Grandpa Palmer Hall was a farmer and a laborer. He worked at an electrical plant during the day and ran his farm whenever he wasn't at work. That means chores in the morning, chores in the afternoon, taking care of the crops before and after dinner. Then came the final chores before he turned in for the night and started the whole thing over the next day.

My memories are of the retired Grandpa, the one who ditched the day job and replaced it with being a lawnmower mechanic that worked out of his garage. All the farmers who fixed their own cars and tractors would still take their lawnmowers to my Grandpa to work his magic on. He called it "heart surgery" and we would be his assistants. He always knew how to involve a kid without them getting bored and always made sure we felt important.

He never quit his farm work though and a big part of that was pest control. Canning time meant pouring the old canned slop down a gopher hole and shooting the slime covered gopher that tried to escape the murky sludge - with a BB gun of course. You had to be at least nine before you could start learning how to shoot a real gun. Another good use for the BB gun was thinning the bat population as they flew from the chimney late at night.

There were rabid dogs, pesky cats, sick cows and old horses. Not to mention too many spring kittens. The farmer had to rise to the task and do what had to be done. When we dismantled the old chimney, all the bats were thrown into a 5 gallon bucket and ground up with a shovel. Horses, cows and dogs could be shot. Extra kittens? That same 5 gallon bucket will do the trick. Just add a lid and some water. Don't you dare question my Grandpa's love for his cats though. The same man took a pitchfork to a mean old cat that came on his property and started attacking his cats. Finished him off with a baseball bat.

Today I found the first baby bird of the season on our deck. We have a nest on our roof. Every year we get babies and eggs on the deck. We were going to remove the nest but obviously weren't fast enough. Last year I took the first baby to the wildlife rescue station in St. Paul. The second baby I hesitated over and after I fed it a worm I accidentally left it out in the sun too long. Stupid, I know, but I was just trying to make sure it was warm.

This year I knew the routine. It probably will die, even at the rescue center. It's just too small and too young. And I didn't want to drive 40 minutes to alleviate my conscience. So I channeled my Grandpa and did what needed to be done. I asked Stan if we should:

1. Squish it.
2. Freeze it to death.

He voted on:

3. Burying it alive.

I couldn't toss the bird in the garbage or bury it alive. Might as well just leave it on the deck to suffer and slowly die. The whole point was to put it out of its misery. That left freezing or squishing. I hate being cold, so I voted for good old number one: squishing.

I didn't want to feel it squish, so I needed something heavy. I found the sledgehammer in the garage. (Really, I think I could end it right here.) I made sure I hit the head first, so it hopefully wouldn't feel much pain, and I did it. I killed the baby bird. And man, did that thing become nothing but liquid with two quick taps of the hammer*.

And me? I actually felt I did the right thing. It was going to die. This way it did it minus the suffering. I just hope I don't have to do it again.

*The bird was wrapped in a few layers of a plastic Target bag. I bet they won't print that on their "ways you can use this bag" ideas.

Four times in one day? I'm amazing!!!

Yes, this is my forth post in one day. The venting mood has hit, and it hit HARD.

Finances are catching up to us. Sucks big time. I hate juggling money, trying to keep food in the house, bills paid in order so nothing gets shut off and late payments (if any) at a minimum.

Then something sneaks up on me and I am no longer treading water. It's over my head and I've forgotten how to swim. Kind of like "Open Water" but not so damn boring.

I need more clients, I need a reliable part time job and I would really like to win the lottery.

Okay?

Dodi the amazing escape artist.

My dog is astounding. So talented. So damn cute. And I want to kill her.

She has ran away 5 times in the last week. 3 of those times was in one day. Even when she gets tons of exercise, she will make a break for it and run, run, run. Those little doggie legs, tiny as a chicken thigh, start moving and don't stop until I chase her a few blocks, through traffic, up and down hills and finally tackle her. Sweaty and covered with grass stains I bring her home and resist twisting her tiny, lovable little neck. Instead I toss her in her kennel and call her a "stupid fucking worthless dog" in a nice voice. Because I buy all the "she won't know what you are yelling at her for" nonsense.

I really wanted a dog. Not just any dog though, I wanted a fairy tale dog. One that obeyed what I said and loved me the best. One that never, ever defecated in the house. While I am Dodi's favorite to sit with and cuddle, she falls short in the other areas. Especially the last one. Why doesn't she bark when she needs to go out? Why does she play passive aggressive and simply look at us, hoping to catch our eye so we will magically know she needs to go out? Because when we are sleeping, that tactic does not go over well.

We desperately need a fenced in yard for this dog. Unfortunately, that is not going to happen. At least not this summer. I guess I will have to depend on the kindness of strangers, like the lady that brought her back to us 20 minutes ago when Dodi managed to open the screen door by herself and ran over to say "hi!" Somehow, she knew it was our dog, but I think I should get an ID tag today.

HELP

I am trying to think of new ways to promote my home business without expensive advertising, since, well, I don't have any money to spend on advertising of any form. One idea I had was to start a blog for my clients. Something with tips on common repetitive injuries, how to prepare yourself for seasonal activities, etc.

So, my questions are:

Should I use blogger or another place for the site?

My business name is "Keathly Massage" what should I call the blog? Something professional or something a little more down home corny like:

• Lisa's Health Tips
• Keathly Corner
  
• Ask The Massage Therapist

Do you have any ideas for subjects I should write about? I need a first post that hooks people in so they keep coming back.

This is step one in offering more services to my clients and expanding my client base. I am visualizing the phone ringing off the hook with clients! My e-mail box overflowing with appointment requests! (Yes, I may be making fun of The Secret . . . or am I?)

It sucks working out of my home so I have to screen clients, but I am determined to work around that obstacle. I love to give massage, I am affordable and good at what I do. I just need to let people know I am here.

Hello, people!!!

Was Jerry Fallwell hateful or just plain stupid?

That's the main conundrum for me, when I was musing on where he is spending his afterlife. Did God just whap him on the side of the head and lead him off for an eye opening heart to heart or did good ol' Jerry get booted out of paradise and sent to a warmer locale?

I also wonder which of his infamous quotes they will use for his eulogy. These are my top three:

"I listen to feminists and all these radical gals. ... These women just need a man in the house. That's all they need. Most of the feminists need a man to tell them what time of day it is and to lead them home. And they blew it and they're mad at all men. Feminists hate men. They're sexist. They hate men; that's their problem."

"I think Mohammed was a terrorist. I read enough of the history of his life, written by both Muslims and non-Muslims, that he was a violent man, a man of war."

(On 9/11) "The abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked. And when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad. I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way—all of them who have tried to secularize America—I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.' "

Yet another "Christian" man who bastardizes religion to spew hate. Come to think of it, God might give him more than a little whap on the back of the head. I'm thinking more along the lines of a right hook, and you know God would have a good one.

Noah's Preschool Graduation

Noah's last day of preschool was May 10th. A day that will live in infamy and all that jazz. Really, it was hell. I had no idea that his leaving preschool behind would reduce me to an emotional, wriggling pile of jell-o but that is exactly what happened.

It hit me during their program: wham!!! He is going to be at kindergarten 30 hours a week in September. Add to that extra curricular activities, play dates and visits to Grandma Reade and Nemy's houses and I am soon to be regulated from a main event to a dorky side show. I'll wake up tomorrow and he'll be sneaking cigarettes and stealing the car after I go to bed to meet up with his hoodlum friends.

I know, I know, I'm freaking out about him leaving me in the dust when he can't even ride a bike yet, let alone a car. I'm having flashes of missing him like crazy while he is right in front of me, singing educational songs set to "The Addams Family" theme song and the macarena. I know how ridiculous this all sounds, but reality does not always make sense, especially when it comes to female emotion, to a mother's emotions for Christ's sake.

Preschool is over and I'm already freaking out about losing him. God, what will I do when he goes to college? I don't know if I'll even be functional at that point. To Noah, however, it was no big thing. Observe:

Smirky Noah in between his two best friends Hannah (L) and Lauren (R)

Noah and his teachers: L to R: Brenda, Karissa and Sandy.

The belated birthday present which, when mixed with ice and fresh grapefruit juice, helped me get through the day.
Thank you Renee, Dean and UPS.

Bastardizing the Italian Culture

I was Sarah's personal shopper last night. Because all girls need a pep squad when trying on clothes. Rule number one: if something doesn't fit or look good, it's ALWAYS the clothes fault.
We agreed that men believe we love shopping simply because it takes so long to find one freaking thing that looks decent. They picture us running in a meadow of flowers towards the perfect outfit, giggling in glee at the multitudes of wonder we try on in the dressing room when, really, we are trying not to cry and worry that we will be stuck buying the mumu, and it isn't even on sale!

Finally we hit the jackpot at J. Jill and Coldwater Creek. The same stores that panned out for me last time I played personal shopper. Why didn't I remember that to begin with?

For my company, I was rewarded with dinner at Romano's Macaroni Grill. It is the bastard child of Sidney's and The Olive Garden. Really good, but slightly homogenized for the masses. And good god in heaven, the server referred to olive oil as "Italian butter" we should dip our bread in. Wow. I wonder how many people really think that's what it is called, thanks to their creative labeling.

I capped off the evening with hard cider and LOST. The episode was interesting, but not riveting. LOST certainly is lukewarm this season. I sure hope the finale next week is a good one.

REVISED: What I want for my birthday.

First and foremost, get a karaoke game for our X Box. The only one we have is Karaoke Revolution Party (Volume 4). If you go somewhere like Game Stop, they may even have used ones. I think there are 4 total.

Next, a backpack to take to the park would be nice, or a messenger bag. Don't care what one, just make sure it has some sort of street cred. Good enough for a styling city mom like me, that is.

Although this collapsible rolling wine cooler (above) might be more useful at a park full of screaming kids (Just kidding here, this is the last thing I need!).

How about the new Anne Lamott book?

Or you can pre-order the new Harry Potter book.

I still want this T-shirt. Size L.

For my handy friends:

• Who wants to finish my wood floor for me? I have been waiting 3 years for this. Finishing it would be an AWESOME present.
  

For my poor friends:

• Strongbow Hard Apple Cider 4 pack cans or 6 pack bottles.
• $3 chuck - pino grigio or merlot.
  

For those who want to break the bank on me:

• A hot stone massage class complete with professional stones.
• A replacement for the birthday laptop from last year I stepped on. I promise this time I will be more careful.
  
• Speaking of broken things, a new digital camera would also be the bee's knees.
  
• Or you can purchase a surround sound system for my basement. I would even invite you over to watch TV or sing karaoke and share it with you!
• Can we say "kitchen and/or bathroom" remodel"? If that isn't enough, I would settle for a new house. How about this one?
  
• Cash always is appreciated. The larger the bills, the better.

Noah can't watch R rated films because of all that damn classical music.

We were returning a movie to the video store and Noah was absolutely scandalized that he hadn't been able to watch it. After all, if he watches Daddy play the Riddik video game, why not the movie?

I told him it was because it contained too much violence and then asked him if he knew what violence was.

"Yeah, I do" he replied.

"What is it?' I asked.

"It's this" he said and mimicked playing a violin, complete with sound effects.

Kid knows everything.