How to Visit a Day Spa (for free)

{image from www.houzz.com}

This past summer (rather unexpectedly) my friend, Laura, gave me the opportunity to visit a day spa and drive a luxury vehicle as often as I liked.  As I was transitioning back into the newborn stage with the birth of our first daughter, this gift came at just the right time.  Trey and I had been discussing for months what was to be done about our car situation.  We were currently driving a Ford Taurus which was already crammed with two car seats in the back, and the only other mode of transportation was an F-150 with a cab door that only opened on one side.  You can imagine the difficulty this posed, never mind that baby #3 was arriving shortly.  The only question, really, was whether we needed to upgrade to a mini-van or an SUV.  We would have to buy used to save money. 

Fortunately, it was around this time that Laura and I reunited (we had met for the first time when I was around 8 or 9 -- but it's been nearly two decades since I had spent any time with her).  Her generosity, at just the right moment in time, truly transformed my standard of living. 

Just last night, I took her up on her open offer to visit the spa.  As I was getting ready to go, I remembered what Laura had shared about her husband Almanzo and his childhood in upstate New York.  He used to collect icicles and snow from his front yard to melt in the wash tub and clean himself with brown, slimy pannikin soap in front of the oven - whatever side of his body faced the stove felt as if it was blistering and the side that faced the door felt frozen solid.  He was always thankful for that good, clean feeling following a bath.

With thankfulness in my heart, I walked into my own personal day spa last night, El baño de Smiths. I easily ran a bath of hot, clean, sparkling water simply by turning a lever -- the scent of Vanilla Citrus body wash far preferable to pannikin soap cakes.  For good measure, I also enjoyed a glass of Pinot Grigio and the 1939 classic "Little Toot" (because I am a 4 year old -- this was not inspired by Laura).

That luxury vehicle that Laura loaned us is parked in our driveway.  It looks a lot like a decade old Ford Taurus and a 15 year old F-150.  When I'm in the truck with 3 car seats wedged in the back, the driver-side window won't roll up, and it starts raining -- I find myself wondering "What would Laura's mother, Ma Ingalls, think of me now?"  She would probably be overcome with envy.  After all, she had to make her way through prairie hailstorms in a tattered covered wagon.  I imagine my opulence is almost off-putting.

So, there it is.  I'm pretty sure my buddy Laura Ingalls is the Ann Voskamp of the 19th century -- filling me with wonder and appreciation for exactly where I am and exactly what I've been given.  Now mind you, if someone invites me to the spa or gifts me with a mini-van, I am in.  If the window rolls up and there's room for car seats galore, I'll feel like the Queen of Sheba.  And you should, too.