Are You An Intelligent Massage Therapist?

Then You Need To Be Massaging At A Luxury Day Spa

Click for purchase:

From how to get your first massage job, to working in an upscale environment, this book has everything needed for the therapist entering the field. Written to be easily understood, yet thoroughly examining what steps to undertake. 

Massage is a loving, giving line of work. Remember to surround yourself in a peaceful work space so that you can pass on your tranquil mood to a society in want of a calming retreat. Enjoy where you serve others!

Mine Are Better

There is a subject of which I ignore because it will make people miserable. But, it has to be said.

My sons are better than your kids.They have a more intellectual use of sarcasm, have more experience with an often inept mother, understand this new-fangled thing called technology, and can text faster than I can think. Oh, and there's all that sentimental stuff like truly being kind, thoughtful and beautiful human beings. Whomever they marry is going to be blessed with an actual good man.

Look, it's okay to lament and whine on the subject. You may even be protesting that this is an untrue fact. But it will be easier on both of us if you simply acknowledge the truth: mine are better than yours. Get over it.

Other facts you may try to deny like a head-hiding ostrich? That being a writer is the best profession of the universe. As my better-than-your-kid once told me, "Mom, you get to make-up the plot however you want. It's your story." See, told you he was awesome and that I have the preferred career.

What else do I have that's better than what you have? Well, this landed in our backyard this morning: a rainbow. And, to make it better than any neon colored arc that may have grazed through your property, it landed on our nectarine tree. You know, the one that's planted over the burial spot of our dear doggie, Sydney. Bet you never had a rainbow land on your dog's grave.

Please, don't despair. You have much to appreciate. You get to breathe, touch flowers, and live in a world in which cats exist (just ask a cat, they'll let you know what an honor it is for you). You can read, know the outcome of two plus two, and have tasted sea salt, chocolate covered caramels. Ice cream has been invented, fuzzy slippers are a part of life, and moon views change every night.

As we were on the subject of animals (well, kind of, anyway) yesterday was National Penguin Awareness Day. Were you aware of the mind-boggling fact that Emperor penguins can stay underwater for over twenty-two minutes? I can't even run in a circle for that long, can you? Plus, the black and white non-flyers have been spotted over one thousand, seven hundred feet below sea level. So, in my mathologist brain, I have figured out that they must be able to get down there in ten minutes, have two minutes to swim, and then get back to air space in the remaining ten minutes. They do not suffer from the bends (if you have never been SCUBA diving, google what that means), inner ear blow out, or popping eyeballs.

I will concede that the parents of penguins are just about as blessed with prodigies as I am.

In the hopes that you do not suffer self-esteem issues after learning of my superior sons, I will grant you this. Most likely, your house is cleaner than mine, you probably are in possession of matching glassware, and have an inkling of fashion styles of the current decade, unlike myself. If you can balance a checkbook, you have one-upped me to the extreme. Text and talk at the same time? You've left me behind in a trail of binary dust.

If we meet on the streets, don't bring up the secret fact that I am a slob at eating tacos. And I will refrain from gloating about my boys.

It's winter time. Buy this book and read it to your kids:

Scout and Ellie, The Ski Resort 

In all humility,

Heather Leigh

Dog Head Void Brings Bliss

There was an article recently about the lack of thinking that goes through a dog's mind. Although I am a 'cat' person, the dog's way of empty thought ties us together. This morning, as every morning for over fifteen years, I awoke to the much anticipated, overwhelming joy of breakfast smoothie: frozen fruit and lemonade. Fifteen years. Every morning. Still euphoric.

It gets me giddy just contemplating the noise of the blender joining the two into one. Like the sound of dog food hitting the bowl. Does life get any better? Turns out it does. The day ended with a glass of Bordeaux and a sliver of tiramisu. There must have been something that happened between the two events, but after those heavenly blessings--who cares?

And the apple does not fall far from the tree. After several days in ICU, Dad was sent back home today. Not only is he doing better, he's performing in a drumming gig tomorrow night. The sound of beating sticks is too much for my paternal lineage to resist. It may take an ambulance to get him there, but he must beat on drums. Addicted like a golden retriever to a thrown tennis ball. But then, this is rock and roll.

What are your ties to the empty brain of the canine? What overly simplistic hobby, job, or ritual sets your tongue to flop out your mouth? I'm pretty sure if you don't have something, you must live the bleakest of lives. A desert of monotony. Moral decay. Or, gasp, a dog hater of some kind. If this is you, for goodness sake, get help. There must be a group you could join: watching rocks crumble, plucking thorns from roses, curling. Dogs will love you when you get to their level of life enjoyments. You will always have something to bark about with them.

When the boys were little, the grandest joy was the cardboard box. Yes, this is a common one with kids. But these two stepped it up a notch into something dangerous. Again, the apple does not fall far.
Before parenting became my favorite part of life, I never dreamt this would be a needful House Rule:

You Are Not Allowed To Wear A Box On Your Head

At first glance, you may assume that I was a miscreant mother. Out to destroy joy, and childhood laughter. Please, hear me out. When two energetic boys run through the house, unable to see and knocking over everything in their path, things get broken. Many things. Many, many things. Hence, the House Rule. Now, does that remind you of a pack of playful St. Bernard puppies? Did to me too.

You must be wondering about our puppers. Their kind of bliss is more complicated than the average dog. There is the morning trip to the coffee shop where all patrons know them and stop to pet the attention starved mongrels. Breakfast of dog chow and raw hamburger--scrumdidiliumptious. Mid-morning run at the beach. Nap. Bark at passing dogs while peering out the living room window. Nap. Run around backyard, wrestle, argue with neighbor dogs through the fence. Nap. Second walk around farm behind our house. Nap. Dinner, complete with biscuits. Be petted. Sleep. Repeat next day.

Wow, no wonder dogs have no time to think. Too much to do in one day. I'm glad my day is less full. I can barely handle getting a perfect balance of lemonade and berries. 

You know who can accomplish more than a Jack Russell Terrier in a day and still laugh? Ellie, the elephant with attitude living in Scout's backyard. A must read for all who know about mindless giggles.

Click to giddy laughter and joy

Heather Leigh,

Your favorite, empty-headed author 

The Vice and The Somersault

I have a weekly vice  of a glass bottle of Mexican Coca-Cola. It is bottled in Mexico, hence our family  nickname for it. Aren't we intelligent? The taste is better than the plastic one of the States because pressed sand tastes better than oil-produced plastic. The sweetener is cane sugar, not yucky high fructose corn syrup. The glass shape is pretty and easy to grip. It is charming to look at. Inviting. Old School.

When I deposited money at the bank two days ago, I made certain to retain two one dollar bills, so I would be ready to buy my unhealthy addiction on the way home from Wednesday morning Laughter Yoga. I drank the soda with left overs from last night: Mongolian BBQ at Wasaki's restaurant in the south part of Arcata. As this was not quite enough to satiate my hunger, I also fried a stone ground corn tortilla and filled it with Daiya non-dairy cheddar cheese. Then, I sat down and started reading The New York Times Magazine article about art becoming a necessity only if it related to current worldly events, or gave a 'message' that would cram more personal growth down your throat.

This got me thinking about Duncan's Somersault. I keep this scene in my mind's catalogue under 'events that keep me an appreciator of the pleasures of the simple things in life'.

Once a year, at the K-8th grade charter school that my boys attended, there was a wonderful Talent Show. Wonderful in talent, but more so because of the wildly passionate, supportive audience of parents and staff.

Duncan, age six, got up on stage in his new white belt karate uniform. Laying out a yoga mat, he crouched down, tucked his head, and did a somersault. Then, he got up and bowed to the crowd. As we did for every act, we clapped, cheered, and stomped our feet in appreciation. He rolled back up his mat, and left the stage as the noise continued.

He was not Pavarotti's granddaughter wowing us with perfect pitch opera, not a young Michael Jackson belting out ABC 123, nor a twelve year old addressing the UN about Climate Change. He was our Duncan, doing his thing.

While you go about our life dreaming of the big things you are missing out on, remember to:

relish your mini vices

 taste the good food in your mouth 

keep a running list of simple pleasures in your life

   Please share in the comment section below what your good stuff is.

One of the best ways to experience a simple pleasure that is a virtue, not a vice is massage. 

Maximize your relaxation:

Click, purchase and read to relax

Heather Leigh,

Simple Lover of Simple Pleasures

Older Woman Wonder

 I will be fifty years old next month. At the optometrist yesterday, I decided to smash it into a decade of frolic and fun.The eye doctor told me that for a woman in her fifties, I have amazingly good vision. Not only do I not need reading glasses, but I have retained my life-long dedication to 20-20 vision. All I had to do was show up, sit, and read lines of letters. Now I'm amazing. It is official because a doctor said so.

While I'm still in my forties, I have a month to plan what other brilliant feats I can muster until I hit the jackpot of being in my sixties. For the ten years that I will be fifty-something:

I'll still be able to drive, take out the trash, and feed the cats. When I take a Pilates class, others will oohh and aww at my abilities. I can hear them now, "Will you look at that, she can even carry her own mat from the car to the gym. Sure hope I'm as in that good of shape when I'm that old."

Oh, wait! I could be a mentor! Tell people how to run their lives, boss around service personnel, inform house cleaners where the dirty spots are they've missed. Everyone will want my opinion. I'll be an elder, after all. Is there anything you want me to advise you on? Being half-way to one hundred, I pretty much know everything there is to know about everything.

Wow, and think what I can do with my diet and exercise regime. For years now, I've suffered through cardio classes, healthy organic foods, vitamins. All to look good for a woman in her forties. But fifties? If I stay within a hundred pound radius of my target weight, I'll be under the category of hot bod for an old lady. I can taste those chocolate caramels now. Hello ice cream, good bye tofu.

I've heard it's an insult to say that someone looks good for their age. People have their head screwed on wrong. What it really is is an invitation to look drab, frumpy, and completely out of style. Wear thirty year old purple sweat pants, and be a classic. Ugly shoes, and you're practical. Gray hair, and you're natural. Prints, solids and striped clothing combinations, and you're eccentric. When you are an old woman, fashion follows you no matter what you throw on your body every morning.

My older brother, once again has the advantage over me. As he recently turned fifty-five, he gets a senior discount. Everywhere he goes, clerks will be tossing him free money. You'd think I'd get over the sibling rivalry thing. But every time I try, there it is again. He gets ten percent off, I get nothing. Good thing I love that guy. Otherwise, the five year difference could bring down my decade of  wanton wildness.

Hmmm, wonder if I could get the neighbor kid to mow my lawn and take out the trash? I mean, I am old enough to be his aunt by now.

Cheerio, I'm off to eat an extra cheese pizza and guzzle a jug of soda. Maybe I could get my brother to go. We can use his discount at the restaurant.

Older women always know about spiritual matters. Click and learn.

Heather Leigh,
The mysterious older woman

Don't Mock The Turtle

The reason to avoid animal cliches goes beyond simply using unimaginative, non-creative communication. They are actually dangerous, perhaps disastrous for healthy human-animal interactions. The following examples will make you change your risky, villainous, horrid behavior.

It's cruel to say mock turtleneck. It pokes fun at people with turtle necks. You know, the one who have a severe upper body slouch and a neck that juts out, like a turtle. And in turn, this causes severe self-esteem issues for the real turtle. How would you like your biological stature to be a running joke linked to poorly postured people? Stand up straight and reflect on that for awhile.

Other sayings to avoid? Well, there's the obvious: More than one way to skin a cat. Now, some people may tell you that this refers to catfish, but that is not the way it's being said. Think of the sensitive cat. No wonder cats don't come when you call them. They think you're skulking around with a butcher knife, waiting for the chance to pry their gorgeous fur straight off their body.

Which leads me to: raining cats and dogs. Could mean a heavy rain pour. Or, could be some sick-o dumping our companion animals off a bridge onto a highway. Poor things. They would be skedaddling around speeding cars to safety. One of them might even trip and break a paw nail.

We need to talk about the elephant in the room. Okay, now that saying could ruin furniture. Suppose a guest didn't know it was only a saying. The next time she showed up, she could bring her elephant. How do you politely let a guest know that her pet will break your kitchen chairs when it sits down for dinner? That little creature would feel simply awful. And, the elephant would never forget what she had done.

    **One of the only true cliches--an elephant never forgets**

What's good for the goose is good for the gander. This implies that females should be mimicking males. That they ought to be male groupies. That they automatically want manliness. Well, ganders are where it's at. If you ever go to a pond and study the geese, you will definitely find that ganders have a louder honk, whiter feathers, and cuter beaks. The male goose drools, farts, and when they bite human ankles they are much less fierce than the females. Scientific facts.

Takes two to tango. This obviously means geckos. It is a subliminal, animalist statement. Picture a gecko, with their lithe body and round, suction cup fingers. Can't you just see them doing the cheek to cheek on the dance floor? Standing on hind legs, chests pressed against one another, faces so close they can feel the smoothness of their reptilian skins lightly touching. The eyes with peripheral vision able to watch where they are going, and gaze at one another in sensual passion. Tails dragging behind, looped together. Now do you see how this cliche simply must be about the gecko?
But, it is biased and potentially cruel. Anytime we assume that because most geckos would make fabulous dancers, all of them must possess the talent, we are ostracizing the clumsy ones. Serious self-esteem issues naturally arise. We humans need to be better than that. Don't plaster geckos with 'two to tango' labeling. Goodness knows they have enough troubles trying to keep up with all of that car insurance quoting.

When the cows come home. What if the cows don't want to come home? What if they desire nothing more than to hit the bars for Margarita Mondays? Do they even get a chance to play Bingo on a Friday evening? Bowling night? No, cows get none of this. Because some stupid cliche regulates their night time prowls to the barn. Every night of the week! Those cows work hard chewing grass all day long. Shouldn't they get at least a monthly break? Yearly vacation? Day off for Christmas, or whatever holiday they are in to?

Does a bear make bowel movements in the woods? Do I talk about you in this offensive way? Discuss your toiletries as if they were frivolous and non-deserving of respect? What a bear chooses to do with their colon discharge should be a private matter. It is none of my business what you think of me, and none of any bodies business where a bear conducts his business. So there.

Don't kiss a dog who eats poop. Okay, yeah, so I made this one up. But it is the only cliche that should ever be used. It rolls off the tongue smoothly, is honest and direct, and needs to be adhered to with urgency. If a dog is offended with this cliche, then perhaps it is time for him to do a bit of soul searching. Know thyself, thy dog, and what is obnoxious to your human friends.

With all of the hideous things that come out of animal cliches, it is a wonder they still put up with us humans. Please, be kind. Watch what comes out of your mouth. One cliche has the potential to seriously harm the other sentient beings on our planet. As they are more tactful than we'll ever be, they won't tell you how painful your words are. It is up to us to end the oral violence that is being imposed upon them.

Be kind to animals, don't cliche them.

The best way to give back to our faithful friends

 is to buy a book that celebrates a strong, attitude-prone elephant:

Scout and Ellie

Heather Leigh,
Appreciator of mindful sentences regarding animals.

Realistic Dating Questionnaire

Moderation in all relationships, for a lifetime of joy.

For that one percent of you singles who have never partaken in on-line dating, I'll give you the low down on how it works. Most give a questionnaire to determine your personality. Then they match you with potential companions with similar interests, desires, goals and ambitions. Compatibility for a happy relationship. But the questions mask what we really need to know. They are not enough. For a long-term, happy partnership, I suggest the following;

What is the home temperature gap that you can tolerate? I bring forth the evidence of my grandparents. Grandma was constantly cold. When Grandpa was in the backyard working on his infinite number of wood projects, she would sneak over to the heater dial and inch it up to sixty (Fahrenheit. If you operate in the Celcius World, you will have to do your own calculations). Then, when she left the room, Grandpa would tip toe in, and push the dial to sixty. Who did they think they were fooling? It's not like there was a heat dial mouse pushing the knob back and forth when no one was looking.

A temp range of ten degrees was what they could maneuver around, and stay happily married for over fifty years. Much over that, who knows what could have happened. I picture Grandma throwing her marble rolling pin at her husband if the difference marched to eleven degrees.

Wall Pictures. What defines ludicrous, horrid, or I can stand to look at it. And what room, height, and which wall? Can you come to some sort of agreement? Warning, photos are often covered in glass. If there is a battle, someone could smash the picture and attack with a glass shard. Be ready to take your stand, for or against, wall decorations, but keep the mood peaceful.

You may both like jazz, but can you listen to a blaring trumpet at midnight? Does the genre that gets you going in the morning, make your partner want to listen to nails on a chalkboard? Can you compromise with ear buds for the unshared musical tastes?

Kitchen: dishes done all day long, or once at night. Does the sight of dishes in the sink leave your blood curdling in the vein? If you agree on a cleanliness level in theory, will both parties keep up with what they say they will? Will there be one slacker, and one person scrubbing everything? If so, resentment will build quicker than a scared rat on meth. Pots and pans may be flying before dinner ever gets eaten.

The supposed romantic sanctuary: the bedroom. No, this is not about how often to have sex, or the best pleasure positions, it's about something even more important. Are you a cover hog, unconsciously stealing warmth away from the partner who likens heat to the need to breath. Further, can you abide to endure a partner who sleeps until two in the afternoon every Sunday. Snoring? Think about consistency, noise level, and how sound of a sleeper you are. Will it be so bad, that separate rooms may have to be considered?

Bathroom: Do you let the shampoo spill over the bottle, forget to close the cap, steal the expensive spa shampoo? Toilet seat up or down, bathroom door open or closed when unoccupied, do you wipe the steamy medicine cabinet mirror with a towel? Have you been trained to use a plunger? How stinky is your stink?

Outside:Do traditional sex roles become the assumption? I waited for weeks for my then husband to mow the lawn of our first house. When the grass reached mid-thigh, I deduced that the job was falling to me, or a lawn maintenance service. If I wanted a partnership marriage, tackling the lawn was not to be done automatically by the male. Darn it.

And of course, is there accountability, honesty, respect? You may always love someone, but not want to live with him/her.

Ask the hard questions by the third date. No need to wait, only to find out years later that the doilies you think are adorable on the sofa, make your partner want to puke by the cuteness of the throwback decoration. Know thyself, and what you can put up with for a lifetime.

An elephant and giraffe dating?
If they can pull it off, you can endure anything in a relationship.

Scout and Ellie chapter book series

Heather Leigh,

Tolerant of 9 degree temperature variance