Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Harris, Mn.

  Biked into town tonight.  A little over a six mile picturesque ride.  Post office, Big Daddy's Bar & Grill (Biker's Welcome!), a tattoo parlor, gas station, one cafe, two churches, and Heartbreakers, the local strip club.  While taking a little biking tour of the town (population 843), I came upon a sign hanging off a residential house that said, "Therapeutic Massage".  Obviously, I quickly turned around after noting the worship time for the First Covenant Church (9am) and circled back to write down a phone number of the masseuse for future reference.  Oddly enough, no phone number, so, as many of you would guess, I went straight to the front door.  Upon turning down the blaring tv, the woman engrossed in the newspaper arose, ajared  the door and kindly asked to come in.  I told her I was inquiring about the sign out front that stated "Therapeutic Massage."  She told me to take a seat.  

  There was a lot to take in.  Beige shag carpet, a couple of easy chairs and recliners, sea shell wind chimes, everything roughly in hues of pastel, two poster size family photos that I was personally directed to, and a pair of Jesus face portraits hanging adjacent to each other, oddly one not resembling the other all.  This is all that I can remember from my brief five minute visit, but certainly not even a percentage of the memorabilia accumulated.

  Philis was the name of the woman who greeted me at the door.  If I had to put a number to it, I'd say she looked to be in her early to mid 70's.  Her hair was short and curly and most definitely dyed to resemble an auburn/reddish color.  She stood about 5'5" in height and appeared somewhat fragile.  The most noticeable of Philis's features, though, was her eye shadow.  It was somewhere between the shades of aqua and teal with a bit of a shimmer/sparkle to it.  It was challenging, actually, to consistently look at her eyes and not not just her lids.  Most shockingly, though, was that Philis was the massage therapist and after talking about the large size of her family and how she knows money can be tight, she dropped the real bomb:  an hour long massages for $16.  Thinking she meant to say sixty but it came out as sixteen, I asked her to repeat the jaw-dropping news.    "Sixteen dollars," she repeated.  

  How can anyone say no to a sixteen dollar massage?  Well, maybe a few would, but I most definitely will not let this opportunity slip by.  Even if for the pure experience of saying that I had a Swedish/Hawaiian massage by a 70 something year old, it will be worth it.

  Look for future updates as I relay my Therapeutic Massage experience by Philis.

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