“Wear” I am in my mind . . .
[No this isn’t me.]
It’s “wear” I wish to be next year . . . at this time. Slimmer . . . they fit much nicer now blue jeans . . . black silky tee . . . top coat and black slings.
Healthier, with home and self, styled simpler . . . ready to ease into retirement in the year to come.
34th street. (Yes, I really do live on 34th street. Not THE 34th Street.) I am ashamed to say . . . I am sometimes negative about how it’s changed. I will politely say it’s shabby, and concerning at times.
Then . . . there is always a beam of light within the fray . . .
The Saturday before last, while Mr D was with the guys on his annual Autumn get-a-way, I booked a pedicure for 9am.
I go to our little neighborhood spa. It’s called “The 8th Day Spa”. Its anything everything but “the classic” spa . . . not Nouveau chic . . . not Zen.
Part of its charm is a full service espresso bar and an over the top presentation of Seattle Seahawks regalia, (GO BLUE!) which always makes me smile. Much of the “regalia” is handmade . . . in support of women with small home-based businesses.
A friendly greeting and an offering of a “gratus” drink from the bar awaits upon arrival. In leu of a latte, this time I chose water.
“Lynne, would you like a drop of lemon essential oil?”
[A neighborly nice touch at its best!]
I arrived as the spa opened and watched as each attendant put on a freshly laundered, handmade, ruffled apron.
While they “donned” their aprons, it “donned on me” . . .
This place is centered for local entrepreneurs.
[The aprons are also for sale . . . in Seahawk colors . . . (no doubt)!]
I feel right – smack – in – the – middle of a montage of American dreams when I am inside The 8th Day Spa.
The spa has a nice playlist. While receiving my much appreciated spa service, I put away my phone, listened to the music, and watched the friendly activity around me. Songs from past to present reached inside me, some made me emotional, most comforted me, and made me smile. Within the songs and the surroundings I was reminded me how blessed I am to have raised our family on 34th street. It’s not a perfect place, but it’s home, and goodness always rises above the fray.
On Friday afternoon . . . in the final fifteen minutes of the workday . . . I grabbed my phone . . . navigated to Pandora and selected “Easy Listening”. (The patients and the doc’s were gone.) [ Enter Bublé . . . Sinatra . . . and Sheeran.] We put the week behind us as we laughed and sang while we finished up. We laughed more and danced our way out the door into the weekend.
Yesterday. . . (can you believe it?) . . . was Cameron’s first birthday party!
. . . another moment in time to close eyes and make a wish.
“There is never a wish better than this . . .”
” I’m 64 for a minute . . .”
[ 100 years]
I also realized I will never be retired . . . unemployed.
Occupation: Aspiring beam of light.
LOL!
“Crazy . . .”
” I’m crazy, crazy for feeling so BLUE!”
Put on a pot roast, kick off my Sunday shoes and #GoHawks!
w / L
:: Most images found here.
dreamson34thstreet.com 
Hello my darling friend, You have such a big heart!! I can relate to so many of your thoughts here. Putting on some music to lighten the mood and celebrate–always works!! You appreciate the little moments and the sentiments…I so appreciate hearing about the neighborhood and spa from your lens. As for retirement, YES–it will be all the things you hope!! It will also be busier than you may expect with new visions and passions sneaking into the space your thoughts now occupy (did you see my latest post;). I am so excited for you to be looking towards your next chapter and savoring this one.
Happy birthday to the little one–and the engagement photo–such a happy time.
Have a lovely week, sweet Lynne!
xx, Heather
Lynne,
Feelings of home…. I’m visiting my brother in the area where I was born, grew up, and attended high school for the first time since selling our late mother’s house. The little town is very small, no red/green signal lights, just stop signs off a larger state highway. The houses are small, many in need of repair, a very few built in the late 1800s, but no grand houses. Still, it’s home.
Judith