Good morning, Angels...
I have soooo much to say and write and yet I can't. I may have to start a private, old skool, paper-and-pen journal for my innermost thoughts and emotions -- because seriously, who wants to read that dreck online??
So, help me distract myself. What can I bust out for you fine folks........?
I went home for my birthday the week after Memorial Day. Mom's up in Toms River, NJ (the last retiree rest stop before Florida) and I don't get up there often enough. She and the Catholic Church suffer the same outrage -- visits at Christmas only. And at least the church has a shot at Easter.
Anyhoo, I went up for my 40th birthday because after all, Mom's the one who did all the work on that day... I was looking forward to laying out at my beloved Lavallette, but the weather was crappy all week. Mom and I did our usual thing, shopping -- this is a blog unto itself -- and one afternoon she suggested we get pedicures.
She might as well have been asking her 40-year-old son.
We just never did stuff like that. Now, I'm not blaming her for my being a lesbian -- I mean, it's just half of her DNA that made me this way -- but there was a decided lack of 'girly' things going on when I was growing up. I'm pretty confident she's going to lay this on me, but don't believe her. I was just DYING to wear little frilly dresses and play with dolls and sit there all helpless while boys got to play games and sports and be loud and funny. Shyah. OK.
So off we went to the local Asian nail salon. Yes, I know that's redundant, but it made me smile. Mom's a regular there and she actually scored herself a Caucasoid. I'm not questioning the pedicure skills of the races, just that I might have had a better time understanding Mom's chick. We were side-by-side and I got the sweetest, cutest, hottest little Asian girl I've ever seen.
Stop me if this is the way you ladies normally describe your pedicure experience...
So we're sitting there going through the routine and I'm having a little difficulty understanding soft-spoken Asian girl. As is often the case, someone you know handled this situation doing what she does best -- cracking wise and looking cute. My chickie seems to be responding and I think I'm doing pretty well until I realize where I am and am disgusted with myself! Next thing I know, she starts the foot massage. And keeps on climbing. And climbing. Now, I've had pedicures before, but I don't remember the Happy Ending. And my mother's sitting to the left of me and some random woman is to the right of me, and I'm about to lunge over the foot bath and take down little Miss Kim!
And I all kept thinking was, "I'm not like all the other girls..."
I was so frazzled that when I paid for the pedicures, I doubled the amount in my head and tipped both women based on that.
There is more than one way to stimulate the economy..........