Every year, Max’s school has a Multicultural Fair, where we eat carne asada and watch the kids perform a dance. Last year, he was adorable as a Kindergartener, but he was a little shy and not all about the dance.

This year was different.

He’s been practicing every day, and I can see the enthusiasm in his movements. The dance is more complicated. He’s been excited.

Then the day came, and my little boy brought me to tears, once again.

And one major landmark was that this kid, who has been averse to face painting his whole life allowed the sweet teacher who trained them on the dance to paint African designs on his arms. He didn’t want to take the paint off that night.

I’m so proud of him, and watching him grow up is a joy.

I’ve noticed a difference between the massages I get from my American masseuse and what I’ve gotten from Chinese massage studios. No, not those kind of massage parlors!

When I visit my regular masseuse, we hug and chat about kids. I can’t help it; I’m a talker. She explains what’s going on with my body and asks if anything is bothering me. She’s firm but not rough. I come out feeling relaxed and at peace.

I thought it was a stereotype, but Chinese massage is quite different. First of all, due to the language barrier, there’s not much talking. More hand motions and saying words slowly. That’s fine. I need to shut up anyway.

And it hurts so good! Rather than firmly working out kinks, my massage masochist beats them out. She elbows my butt (ohhhh yeaaaa!) and then climbs on the table and kneads my buttocks like bread dough. And I like it.

I might as well not wear underwear, because she pulls them down to get at the meat. There is pulling of limbs, poking of ears, and scratching of scalps. I come out like a wet, limp noodle, unsure of where I left my car keys or even which car is mine.

If you plan to visit a Chinese massage studio, be forewarned. You may be surprised at the violence that ensues. But you’ll feel like a million bucks the next day.

Photo by USACE Europe District. Creative Commons 2.0.

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but I finally gave my first Kiva loan. For those that don’t know, Kiva provides microloans to people who are trying to start businesses, usually in third world countries.

I liked the idea of finding a woman entrepreneur in a poor country and helping her create something that could sustain her and her family. This is the woman I helped.

Her name is Celsa Gregoria Quiñonez Cuero, and she runs a food stand in Ecuador. She needed money to buy more supplies to sell. I donated $50 (and was one of several people helping her reach her goal of $1,000). She’ll repay me and the other lenders over a year.

I love that I can see her photo and hear her story. It feels really good. So go join Kiva and loan someone money to realize their dreams! You can loan as little as $25, and you’ll get it back.