Massaged

You can tell you're a newcomer when you're still racking up firsts. Today I had my first massage in North Carolina. I have to say, I was pretty resistant to even trying, given how well I was taken care of in Davis (a shout out to BE Murray the best in Yolo county!) but I finally hazarded myself when a crick appeared in my neck last week, especially given that I will be flying to Europe this Sunday. So I made an appointment with Bill Marcella whom met at the French club social last December (see archives).
Whew! What a relief! Now I can once again feel the full height of my 5 feet and 10 inches, the view is good from up here. It was so nice! Bill, of course, hails from California, and so we speak the same language, which helps. I was wondering how one says "myofascial release" with a Southern accent. Pretty funny to imagine, though, huh?
One interesting aspect about leaving all that is old hat and fully living in a new place is the inevitable conversation one carries on in one's head about familiarity and novelty. Oh, I know this! Oh, this is different! Bill's office had the requisite charts of the skeletal and muscular systems, the clothes hooks and the CD player. But there are thousands of signals from a new touch, and Bill uses hot rocks and little rubber balls filled with hot gel, which wow really felt good too. Anyway, now next time, it won't be new anymore. Just like that, one less thing to establish.
Still the siren song of nostalgia and homesickness rings.