In honor of all things summer and savoring time with my seesters before moving, we treated ourselves last night to some wonderfully delicious pedicures.
They massaged my legs.
And wrapped them in steaming towels.
And rubbed my toes.
And scraped off all the dead skin from my heels (gag).
And painted my nails a wonderful shade of peach (Tye chose it).
I cannot even describe to you how wonderful it felt to have somebody rub my feet. I had no idea what I was missing out on all this time! As I sat in the plush pedicure chair that massaged my lower back, feet dangling in the hot water bath, I contemplated where I'd gone wrong in my life.
Why the heck haven't I been getting these every day?!
As my sisters and I contemplated this, we decided that the difference between feeling like a hairy ogre and a beautiful beach-ready princess relied completely on two things:
1. Shaving your legs, and
2. Having your toes painted
Serious. Luxury. My friends.
And knowing how much time we'll be spending at the beach this summer, I think having pretty toes is very important – you know, for all those sexy strappy sandals I'll be wearing.
Oh wait. I don't have any of those. Hmm. Note to self: get some pretty shoes to show off those peach toes!
Now would probably be a good time to point out that the town we're moving to in four short weeks is on the beach. And I don't even have a bathing suit.
Oh well. At least I'll have a pedicure.
Oh a different note, I was thankful we weren't getting manicures last night. Because an hour before our appointment, I decided to hack off the side of my middle finger while slicing peppers for our cajun shrimp pasta.
You guys – I actually had to pick the chunk of finger off the counter and throw it away.
I came within inches of vomiting. It was horrible and scary and painful and I almost died.
By the way, you're welcome for sharing that beautiful photograph. I thought you'd like it.
Oh, and while we're at it, this is my other hand. See that dark spot on my finger? That's my giant burn I got from touching the broiler on accident while I was heating up some corn tortillas. My finger sizzles just like chicken skin when it hit that – again, I came very close to death that day. It hurt like…you know.
All this to say, washing dishes is quite the challenge at the moment. I have to try and keep the injured finger on each hand out of the hot water. It's quite funny, actually.
And that's good stuff, Maynard (as my Mom often says).
The good news is, despite my injuries, when I look down and see those pretty toes, I am happy once again. In fact, we enjoyed our time together so much, we decided to get manicures for Brynn's birthday in a few weeks.
After all, if one must leave at 2:45 a.m. to get to the airport in time for her 6:50 flight to Mobile, all the while caring for her sweet and festive young daughter who is somehow going to have to sit on her lap for seven hours and miss her naptime, one might as well have pretty nails to look at.
Yes, I'm sure pretty nails will make it all better.
you are flying to AL? Instead of driving? Seven hours on a plane is still better than the two days in a hot moving van like you were worried about! Life on the beach in the south=heaven in my book. I cannot wait to read about your new life down there. Please keep us posted!
O gracious! I would blame it all on pregnant-moving across the country brain if I were you. You poor thing! There is nothing like painted toes fer sher. I wiggle mine beguilingly whenever I get them done (not often enough). I will be praying for you as you take this step of faith. And the title of the your post is something my dad used to say all the time. I don’t even know where it came from but it takes me back!
I am new to your blog and really enjoy it!! You’ve got a great sense of humor. 🙂 I think the Maynard line comes from an old tv show called Dobie Gillis. He had a friend called Maynard G. Krebbs (sp?) I love sayings like that!!!