Hands on.

Sometimes a girl’s gotta take care of herself. No, sometimes a girl’s just gotta touch up her roots. I tried a new place today, figuring what the hell, let’s make a fresh start.

I like a haircut, personally. I take off my glasses — the hair color gets all over them — and the world goes all swimmy. I hold the fashion magazines right up to my nose, so it looks like I’m really, really interested in 10 Fun Looks For Summer. Today, I read Us, which is not a fashion magazine, more like a gossip rag for people who find People too intellectual. I marveled at all the stars who’ve flown under my radar — who the hell is Marc Anthony, besides the new Mr. J-Lo? Could you pick Tara Reid out of a police lineup? I couldn’t. In the midst of all this, a handsome blur appeared to my left, and asked if I’d like a complimentary hand massage.

Why, certainly.

As he got closer, he came into somewhat sharper focus. Young guy, the new massage therapist at the salon. Works on men and women, prefers an eclectic rub style, said he likes to get to work and then “see what I find,” which sounds sort of dirty when I write it down, but really it wasn’t. He squirted some Aveda lotion on my hand and got to work. Of course it felt marvelous. We made small talk, although I noticed my voice was getting softer and quieter, doubtless a side effect of having my palms rubbed and my fingers handled the way a farmer handles the teats on an udder. It’s hard for me to make small talk without slipping into reporter mode: Where did you go to massage school, young man? Las Vegas, really? What was that like? Have you ever been to the Bellagio? And so on.

Asking questions gives you an opportunity to drift away between them, although I learned a bit — Bellagio waitresses wear fitted suits, with short skirts, but otherwise somewhat tasteful. Las Vegas is a strange place to be a permanent resident. It wasn’t so bad for a while, but he’s glad to be back. He worked as a lifeguard while he went to school, at a hotel pool.

He finished up after about 10 minutes, and there was an awkward tip-me moment, which I ignored. My mitts were feeling too good in the immediate afterglow to go diving into my purse for a fiver, and besides, he said “complimentary.” (Relax. I tipped him when I left.)

People should touch one another in a massage-like manner more often. This is something I firmly believe. Ten minutes with this guy, and I was ready to set him up in an apartment. I liked my cut and color, too, so it was a pretty good afternoon.

Alan’s downstairs listening to “After Bathing at Baxter’s.” All that Grace Slick wailing — sometimes our domestic soundtrack is a little strange. Me, I’m old-skool; you’ll never top “Surrealistic Pillow” in my book. When I had my radio show, the engineer sometimes used the long intro to “She Has Funny Cars” for bumper music, at my request.

Linkage: When Jon Carroll is funny, he frequently captures a certain effervescent goofiness that’s as light and delicate as a soap bubble, but still, just right.

Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand nyah nyah nyah nyah nyahs.

“July Surprise” = no surprise.

You have a swell weekend, and I’ll see you after it’s over.

Posted at 9:38 pm in Uncategorized |

11 responses to “Hands on.”

  1. basset said on July 8, 2004 at 11:43 pm

    “After Bathing at Baxter’s,” now that takes me back… the long jam, think it was “Spare Chaynge,” that you could just tell started with someone lolling around stoned and idly stroking a guitar.. “want two heads on your boooooody” and the rest.

    I was, what, eleven or twelve when that came out and had a little Sears Silvertone record player…

    meanwhile, I *really* like the post-Hot Tuna stuff that Jorma’s doing now. fingerpickin’ acoustic blues and old country, just kinda… organic, y’know?

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  2. Dave said on July 9, 2004 at 12:00 am

    Jorma, living down there in Southeastern Ohio, who would’ve thought a survivor from a San Francisco stoned-out hippie band would end up living in Pomeroy-Middleport? Truly, lives take strange turns.

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  3. Nance said on July 9, 2004 at 5:40 am

    Whuh–? Jorma Kaukonen (sp?) lives in…Pomeroy? Tell me more. This cannot be.

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  4. The Other Nance said on July 9, 2004 at 8:18 am

    Appears to be true. Check out jormakaukonen.com and furpeaceranch.com for more info and a chance to buy your very own “got jorma?” t-shirt!

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  5. Carmella said on July 9, 2004 at 12:38 pm

    Just curious Nance (original Nance that is!)…have you ever considered Lasik? I did it after 30+ years of near-sighted-glasses-contact-solutions-messy stuff. I wonder why I didn’t do it sooner!!!

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  6. jcburns said on July 9, 2004 at 2:36 pm

    Hmm…Meigs County Ohio…pot-growing capital of the midwest…

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  7. basset said on July 10, 2004 at 4:03 pm

    I believe Jorma has gone clean, according to the website Fur Peace is a no alcohol, no drugs place…

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  8. anonymous said on July 11, 2004 at 10:19 pm

    jcburns: it’s known as “Meigs County Gold” to the college crowd… perhaps not to Jorma, of course…

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  9. TSO said on July 14, 2004 at 1:21 pm

    Following up Carmella’s comment on Lasik, just wondering if your reporter self knows something we don’t?

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  10. Nance said on July 14, 2004 at 2:40 pm

    No, other than these few things, which always queered me on it:

    1) You still need reading glasses;

    2) I have no problem with contact lenses (and glasses, for that matter);

    3) It’s not covered by insurance, and if I’m going to spend money out of pocket on vanity, it’ll be for liposuction;

    4) It’s not guaranteed. The thought of losing my night vision or suffering some other complication, all in the name of no longer having to push glasses up my nose, doesn’t seem worth even the small risk you take.

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  11. yo said on June 1, 2005 at 11:32 pm

    I was at the fur peace ranch this winter 2005 and Jorma played his acoustic for us. He and his wife are both completely sober now. It’s a nice rural area down there

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