A time to soak

In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. and his oh-so-not-at-all-mocky life goal of racial equality, I spent the holiday yesterday surrounded by diversity ... in a stew of humanity, the Glenwood Hot Springs. The picture to the left shows what the springs look like in winter ... heavenly (but I'll go in the summer, too).

I love soaking my sorry ass in hot, mineral-laden water. And that, my friends, is an understatement, soaking my sorry ass in hot, mineral-laden water is almost a necessity. I am so lucky to live near several hot springs and can avail myself to their healing powers on a semi-regular basis.

We stayed in the hotel associated with the springs. Sunday evening we drove through a mild, winter snowstorm and arrived in time to have a nighttime soak while it snowed on us. Wonderful. Truly.

As we sat in the very hot, therapy pool, each snowflake pierced our exposed skin like a tiny, icy pin prick and contrasted delightfully with the steamy water that seemed to liquify our bones.

After we were good and over-heated, we quickly hiked back up the hill to our hotel room. The remarkable thing was that despite the fact that it was snowing, we were soaked head to toe and were wearing only bathing suits, the two-minute walk was really refreshing.

I thought we'd be ice cubes by the time we got back to our room, but instead we were ready to snuggle in our beds and watch a silly family movie.


The whole trip, while quick, was wonderfully fun (I'm omitting the fact that when not in the water, I suffered a tad from menstrual maladies that affected my mood — but only slightly).

This is a picture of Wee One on our way down yesterday morning. After breakfast, we again donned our suits and schlepped our way down to the pool.

We soaked for almost three hours. Three hours!

When we finally did get out, it wasn't because I was ready, but because it seemed like we should.

I was in a total zen state of mind. The last hour saw my bloated carcass being floated around the pool like a human-shaped air mattress.

I floated blissfully on my back, only a small oval of my face exposed to the air. Uber-husband guided me around like a cargo raft being led down the Colorado River.

Occassionally, my content grin would crack and I'd laugh, never opening my eyes. I'd laugh at the absurdity of me being lead around like some horrible pool toy.

Only I can be absolutely relaxed in both mind and body, but still have the need to laugh at myself.