This morning I awoke with a gripping sense of urgency. Ironically, three cups of coffee later my heartbeat had calmed to close to normal. Slowly it dawned on me: spa season is upon us.

Not “coming.”

“Here.”

This is a very good thing. It is, after all, the business we’re in. Never mind heightened stress, sweat and exhaustion. Bottom line is we are fortunate. People still have hot tubs, hot tubs still need supplies, and we have supplies. Period The hustle and bustle is merely an exercise toward growth; both personal and company-wide. I can live with that.

Three years ago I stood at a career crossroads. I had a small web design “business” that was barely paying the bills, I did some sound engineering / recording on the side to help bring the “ends” slightly closer to meeting. Still, it was hard making them meet. Often, they went unmet…not introduced…strangers passing in the night, so to speak. I was the captain of my own destiny (el capitán de mi destino) and was asleep at the helm. One benefit to having so much time on my hands was that I was able to sharpen a skillset based on what I enjoyed doing.

In the greater scheme of things, not much time has passed. (Seven times the time has passed for my dogs.) I find myself largely drawing on that rudimentary set of skills in order to finitely develop a larger muscle than I could have ever imagined necessary had anyone thought to ask three years ago. Thanks to curiosity, an unfulfilled end (…deficiency? exigency? inadequacy? insufficiency? necessity? obligation? shortage? urgency? want?)…and my divine appointment here at Hot Tub Works, I have happened into an opportunity to learn, to grow, to define my strengths, skills, self.

At this stage of the development, ‘twould have been fairly easy to sit back, sigh, and proclaim arrival. (Almost did, in fact.) Ah, but alas, the fates (and my inability to be completely satiated for long) had a different set of blueprints in mind. As a direct result, I find myself interrupting the website launch of our new spa care kits, daily operations, and general lazy well-being, to compose this blog. If you are reading it, more power to ya. I myself almost didn’t make it to this paragraph.

So folks, keep your eyes peeled for future musings from me: your accidental, universe-ordained infant blogger. I’ll be on the lookout for you, too

days of yore - White Trash Campfire

So it’s 7:00 Monday AM. I am shuffling around in cutoff sweatpants and a battered CAKE t-shirt, hair in disarray. The days first cigarette dangles from my sleep-swollen lips, a too-long ash hangs precariously from the ember as i squint into the monitor, pecking this slowly with my index fingers. I am tragically aware of the lukewarm cup of coffee in front of me. I have added to it only a scoop of non dairy creamer and a short burst of microwave radiation. No sugar. I haven’t had sugar in my coffee (or anything else) in over a month and a half. I don’t miss it like I thought I would. I suppose I miss it in a pseudo-nostalgic way…kind of how I miss elementary school.

I have a small amount of work to do today, it really shouldn’t take too long. Thats what I usually say, though, yet the workload always seemingly multiplies…like libidinous rabbits. Either way, the rest of the day stretches out before me and I have no idea of what it may bring.

My Mom has left her two dogs to stay with us. They are cute as hell, Shi-Tzu’s. They bring the current head-count in our small two-bedroom house to seven. Two humans, four dogs and a cat. It’s a little difficult to find a patch of floor that doesn’t squeal beneath my feet as I shamble over to refill my sugar-free cup. My dogs are acting surprisingly anti-social. It seems they don’t enjoy the company as much as I thought they would. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me…I can only imagine how I’d feel if Mom had dropped off a couple of strangers with bad breath and underbites who kept trying to crawl into bed with me, and ravage all of my favorite things. Luckily, Mom’s dogs are blissfully unaware of the cold reception. I grudgingly admit that I am a little envious of their oblivion…