"Tecate Tales - Part Two

Though I have visited this spa more than thirty times, I have almost never attended an exercise class. So when I was recently asked how to get to "Pine Tree Gym", the only answer I could give them was,

"I don't know."

To prove this wasn't a fluke, this morning Dr. M and a breakfast companion were discussing taking a "stretch" class at "Montana Gym", to which I responded,

"Where's that?"

Added to that - because I'm not quite finished here - it turns out that "Montana Gym" is located directly opposite our room. And though I don't get the same room each visit, my rooms have been in the same general area,

And "Montana Gym" could be seen from the window of all of them.

Yet I had no idea

Where it was.

Let me add one final element, since I've proceeded way past humiliation, embarrassment and shame.

I have, in fact, been to "Montana Gym" (which is Spanish for mountain, and should really have an "nyeh" thing over the second "n", and be pronounced "Montanya."). I may not have actually gone inside, but once, I was asked to gather out it, so that an old Indian man could impart to us the Secret of Life, but he never showed up, because he dropped a rock on his foot and had to be taken to San Diego for x-rays. So I never got to find out the Secret of Life. Which Chief Silver Raven was going to impart to us outside of "Montanya Gym."

It turns out I had a history with "Montanya Gym."

And I still didn't know where it was.

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By the standards of a person who, by nature or intention, is seriously mishap prone - though I don't know why anybody would deliberately generate mishaps, unless it's so they could have stories to tell - my setting off of the smoke alarm in our room is so inconsequential as to barely makes the "mishap" cut.

However, link that with my placing the rubber mat over the drain in the shower on the very same day...

A fire and a flood on the same day? We are definitely in "Mishap Country."

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Walking into the Dining Room, I notice that the female spa guests outnumber the male spa guests by a ratio of about ten to one. I think of this as a preview of what a Senior Home will be like, if I live.

I hope some of them like baseball.

And on that cheery note..oh, wait. For those of you who entered yesterday's "Nap, hammock, bath" pool, the one whose effort-free pleasures I chose to avail myself of first was...

The hammock.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

It's "the hammock."

Winners may be up their prizes, uh...

Nowhere.

But it was fun to guess, wasn't it?

And now, it's back to the hammock. Which I've noticed over the years has become more and more inviting to get into, but increasingly problematic to get out of. Before I lower myself into it, I have to decide whether I'm willing to humble myself asking a passing stranger to help me out.

As you can see, a spa vacation is not entirely worry free.