Made it home in one piece. Thurston and Steve were very happy to see me and I them.
I am fucking freezing. This is bullshit.
by John Cole| 48 Comments
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Made it home in one piece. Thurston and Steve were very happy to see me and I them.
I am fucking freezing. This is bullshit.
This post is in: John Cole Presents "This Fucking Old House"
Made it to the folks place in South Carolina for a pit stop.
by John Cole| 58 Comments
This post is in: John Cole Presents "This Fucking Old House"
When I first got down here and settled in, I really needed a massage from months of pent up stress, the drive, etc. So I asked Joelle to do her google-fu and find the right place because I didn’t want to choose the wrong place and end up in a jail cell next to Patriots owner Robert Kraft. So she found as place called the Natural Wellness Massage Therapy, and there our story begins.
I went to the place, and the massage was scheduled for 6 pm, and it was a strip mall sort of place with nothing but office spaces. I went to the door, and it was locked, and there was no sign for Natural Wellness, so I was confused, but I called and she came out and opened the door. We went through a labyrinth of little offices for other businesses until we got to her room, and we were the ONLY ones in the building, so of course I naturally thought I was going to get hit over the head and robbed.
My nerves were calmed when I saw a massage table, so we chatted for a little bit (as much as we could, she is a citizen but her english is about 60/40, and I could tell at times she did not understand me), and then she told me to get ready. She’s a very pleasant Chinese American, rail thin, and only about 5’3 if that. Now at other massage places, the masseuse leaves the room and I strip down to my drawers and get on the table. This did not happen here. She just sat there and watched me, and when I got down to my boxers, she gestured to take them off- “I have towel.”
So I said fuck it, yolo, yanked off my knickers, and hopped up on the table as only a morbidly obese man in his 50’s with a bad shoulder can- visual reference:
And she was not lying. She did have a towel. A tea towel, which covered about I’d estimate about 3-4% of my body mass. So there I am, naked as the day I was born in a back room of a strip mall in a strange city with an unknown, blind because it is dark and my glasses are off. And then the pain started.
Before I knew it, she was on the table with me, positioning me and in my lower back with hands of fucking titanium with the body strength of some freakish X-Men spinoff. “Relax,” she said, slapping the body part that would tense up (this including my man ass, I will note). “Breathe deep will hurt less,” she lied. But breathing deeply did allow me to focus on my breathing and not the excruciating pain. It hurt so good that I even forgot about my testicles, allegedly covered by a towel, flapping around in the breeze.
I have never had a massage like this before. I was almost in tears, at one point. I got dizzy and had to stop. At one point I begged for a break, and she gave me a minute to compose myself.
And I am here to tell you that this was the best fucking massage I have ever had in my entire life. I made her work on my bad shoulder and lower back the most, and I am not kidding when I could hear and feel the scar tissue in my shoulder breaking up with this crunching like sound. It was amazing.
The next day, on the other hand, I could not walk and was hunched over for two days, but I had a range of motion in my shoulder that I have not had since before my surgery in 2010 from the accident. It’s unbelievable. I called my regular massage lady and she said I just had delayed muscle pain, and to just stretch and it will be gone soon. And it did indeed go away.
So you all know where this is going, right? Of course you do. I went back two more times the past two weeks, giving myself five days in between, and today I had my last one. The range of movement in my arm is so dramatically different and better than it was before that I can now actually lift my right arm over my head. She gave me stretching exercises and showed me where to massage myself, and Nancy Hao is now basically my personal saviour. The massages still hurt when I go, but the aftermath is bliss. Today she beat up my arm so bad that she said “feel how hot” and made me feel my upper arm near my shoulder and said “blood flowing now this is good” and then iced it down.
I’m telling you, this woman is a miracle worker. She’s so good that I didn’t do a couple things I wanted to do down here because I would rather pay for another session (this town is fucking expensive and I’ll be paying for this trip for months), and man is it worth it. And I look like I have been mugged when the sessions are over:
Beard going every direction, hair standing up, glasses all akimbo, can barely keep my eyes open.
But I am telling you. If you have pain and are within a couple hundred miles of West Palm Beach, go here. It’s amazing.
by John Cole| 32 Comments
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Watergirl texted me today asking for proof of life and I realized I have been lacking on the updates. Time has just been flying by. I’ve eaten a remarkable amount of thai food and Mexican, and every night I treat myself to a gelato.
Other than that, just living the good life. Feeling better.
by John Cole| 39 Comments
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We spent a bunch of time at the beach then I had to drive the ladies to two different airports and I am pooped. And as and soon as I am texted that they are both wheels down in their respective cities, I am crashing. I’ll fill y’all in tomorrow.
by John Cole| 74 Comments
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Another delightful day in West Palm Beach, where everyone is so wealthy or totally checked out on vacation that they don’t realize what a fecal sore their governor and congressmen are, with low humidity, lots of sunshine, and temps in the upper 70’s and low 80’s. We started our day with a jaunt to the Jupiter lighthouse. I informed the ladies that I was not that interested in seeing a lighthouse, having seen a bunch of super impressive ones in Maine and elsewhere and being terrified of heights, so I dropped them off to go get a coffee. Got almost out of the parking lot when Joelle called to inform that the place was full and they could not get in, so turned around the car. They took some selfies of the lighthouse that go photobombed by someone’s shitty plague carrying kid, so the only picture worth posting is this:
There. Now you have seen a lighthouse. I am sure you are as thrilled as I was. Loaded up the family truckster and it was off to stop number two, that Panther Ridge Conservation Center to see some danger kitties, and that was the highlight of the trip for me so far (EXCEPT FOR THE DELIGHTFUL COMPANY OF JOELLE AND KRISTEN AND I AM WRITING THIS BECAUSE SHE NOW READS THE BLOG AND WILL THROW SOMETHING AT MY PLANETARY SIZED HEAD IF I DO NOT INCLUDE THIS).
At any rate, we had a delightful young lady named Hannah who was about 5’5″ and not very big and absolutely fearless as our tour guide, and she so clearly loved her job that it was a real pleasure having her take us around to all the different animals. She was just beaming like a proud mom at every enclosure and her joy was infectious. I really enjoyed meeting her- I like it when I see young happy people who love what they do.
There were a lot of different cats, but here were some of my favorites. First up were the Jaguars, Onyx and Mateo, a mated couple:
Onyx is the one featured prominently, in the background you can see her man, Mateo. FYI- panther is a generic term, and there is no species of panther. The two of them got along swell, and they are separated at night because the breeding is highly controlled, but Hannah was quick to note that by the end of the day Mateo is tired of Onyx’s shit. Just as she said that, Onyx went and started fucking with Mateo.
I’m skipping the Servals and the Caracels, although I will note that Karl the male caracel has to be in a separate cage from the female caracel because Hannah informed us he would repopulate the entire continent if allowed. They do share a fenceline so they can interact, though. All the men in the tour gave Karl a head nod “atta boy” and a fist bump as we moved on to the fishing cat.
The fishing cat we spent the most time with was Minnow, and he was super amazing. The handlers can not go into the cage with them because this animal can not fully retract its claws, and those is walking around with fish hooks. He loved diving into the pool, and she through fish into the pool and he would leap and do belly flops. He was extraordinarily agile. This is Finley, another fishing cat that I got a better picture of:
Up next was the Cheetahs, and they are VERY impressive. Just walking up to the cage and watching their long, effortless, but slow stride as they loped along you could tell they were the Ferrari’s of the cats. Learned a few things, first of which was that we all know they can reach amazing speeds of 50-80 mph, but they can do it in 2.3 seconds. Car people will understand what a BFD that is. Also, they can only sustain that for a brief while, and then they have to shut down for 20 minutes to get rid of the lactic acid buildup in their muscles. Additionally, they have very long tails, which normally is found in the tree dwelling cats (for balance- jumping cats have short tails), that they can use with all four feet off the ground as a sort of air rudder, and can even turn 180 degrees while in the air using just their tail. They also have the most docile (around humans, temperament), and she just walked right into the cage and played with them:
Up next is an exceedingly rare cat, Mischa, a melanistic (black) Amur Leopard. I don’t remember much of what was said because I thought she was so beautiful:
Finally, we saw a puma named Mika, who was just fucking amazing. They can apparently jump 20 feet straight up, and I don’t know if this picture will do it justice, but look at the size of those paws:
I even blurted out “look at those paws” and Hannah laughed and said “yes, we call her murder mittens.”
So that was the cat sanctuary. If you are ever around here, I highly recommend it. I really liked this place because the staff was great, the animals were clearly in absolutely perfect condition and well cared for and loved, they were given tons of stimulation and attention and fed the right amount of the right foods, receive scent stimulation every day, etc. The cages were immaculate, the water was clean, there was not an overbearing stench of spray or urine, and I just really felt this was a well run operation. Some places I have been I have felt guilty- “I can’t believe I just spent money to help keep these animals caged,” but not here. They were leading happy, fulfilled, good lives, and it showed.
The three of us went home, freshened up, and hit an early reservation at an upscale pizza joint named Grato. In a day full of wild animals, there was a rare sighting of a grizzly bear and a cougar in close proximity:
The ladies were all dressed up:
We shared a large beet, rocket, and goat cheese appetizer, then ordered three pizzas- a mushroom beschemel with truffle oil, a margherita with pepperoni, and I ordered a four cheese pizza with pickled tomatoes and spinach:
Very rich-we only finished 1/3 to a half of what we ordered and got the rest to go. I’m pooped. I’ve spent more time in the last three days in social settings than I like to in a half a year, but it has been fun. Beach tomorrow.
by John Cole| 51 Comments
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No post last night because we had to hit the airport to pick up Joelle’s friend Kristen, who is here until Sunday night. Started off with the afternoon with a lunch at Frigates, where I had a delicious conch chowder and a beet salad with shrimp.
The ladies had grilled mahi mahi and fish and chips. We then headed to the lagoon to see the manatees:
There were a lot more of them than I expected, and while adorable, they don’t really do much. I supposed if I had to eat a 100 lbs of seagrass every day I’d be a little bloated, gassy, and lethargic. Hell, I am some days without eating that:
Breyana wanted some refrigerator magnets, so I got her a manatee magnet form the gift shop. After that, we headed to a fancy ice cream joint named Sloan’s and picked up a couple of pints (vanilla bean, pistachio, and strawberry). It has a very pink interior and Joelle snapped a photo of our daughter:
Kristen is much younger than us, so the running joke is that she is our daughter home for the weekend from college. There’s a running wager between me and Joelle whether someone is going to ask me if Kristen is my daughter or granddaughter. I’m less than amused with this wager and might throw my cane at her. After all that, we went home and I made some shrimp and chilled it for our salads later, since we thought we should eat light because a pint of ice cream is in our immediate future. The ladies lounged on the porch swing:
We have a pretty solid division of labors- Joelle picks the itinerary, I set the timetable and make sure we are on schedule, and neither of us is allowed to bitch. This keeps me from having to make decisions, and keeps Joelle from falling into what I call “Joelle Time,” which is not tethered to time as we know it and a vague amorphous concept where hours can be lost on the most mundane of activities.
I have been informed the agenda for tomorrow includes a lighthouse visit, visiting Panthers, and dinner at Gratos.