The Best Things In Life Are Filthy Dirty Hunks Of ...

Tish B'av / Fast of Ab (Jewish)
Birthday - Martha Stewart (Domestic Goddess)  (Amelia sez: They actually bill her that way on here?  Somebody got a sense of humor)
Independence Day (Niger)

 

Well, yesterday was a much more inviting day than Tuesday was, so Mom, 妹, and I struck out from Brighton ski resort* to Lake Mary, about a mile path and an 800 foot climb, though I’ve always suspected people of making distances up. 妹 took a bunch of photos of wildflowers and panoramas, and a few of Mom and me looking cute in our matching dorky hats. Mom got a few of 妹 being, well, 妹—a lot of silly poses and some really good ones. And we spent a lovely time in the cool mountain air, relaxing for a little while next to a lovely lake and wondering why we didn’t do this more often.

 

Then we came back and got pedicures.

 

Okay, so that was the next day. Still an interesting juxtaposition: from a pair of great big clomping hiking boots to getting your feet pampered by strangers in a fancy massager chair with a tub for the stuff you soak your feet in to, I don’t know, dye them blue or something. We did this partially because when I took my shoes off by the lake, Mom noticed with alarm that my feet tend to turn purple quickly if I’ve been sitting and if it’s at all chilly. This led to a generalized scrutiny of my feet just on principles of general interest, which finished with a suggestion that we all get pedicures. I had never had one before, so I went for it.

 

Turns out it’s kinda fun. The people doing it were cheerful, even if they didn’t speak good English, and I got along with them even though I felt weird making them handle my feet. But they were very nice and seemed to mean it when they said we should come back sometime, and told me a few things about how they got to this place. I did have to ask them to not lotion my legs, which are no longer looking like hamburger but which are still vulnerable to it, and they seemed quite accommodating. So I relaxed and got this bright gold color that looks like a prop from Paint Your Wagon, which when I decided on the manicure was applied to my hands as well. My hands feel weird now, and I can’t stop rubbing my nails because they’re so, well, polished. I shimmer with gold all over; it’s not long before I get tackled by a prospector.

 

Granted, I felt like a prospector myself in there next to all those polished ladies—ladies whose clothing and accessory style my family would describe as “Republican.”** They had their pedal pushers on and read about celebrity fashion faux pas; I rolled up my jeans and either chatted with the pedicurists or read Tales from Jabba the Hutt’s Palace. It was an interesting experience.

 

And I feel somehow accomplished, in the sense of having had new experiences. Now if only I could get to writing, I’d be good and accomplished.

 

 

*I much prefer ski resorts in the summer, even though the shaved slopes are weird. I like the flowers and the sunlight and the greenness, and the chance to see chipmunks. I’m fascinated by chipmunks. They seem wilder and weirder than the other small furry McNuggets of the animal world. I think it’s the stripe.

 

**This has very little to do with their actual political inclinations and is a 100% stereotype. In my mind, “dressing Republican” means makeup over a facelift, hair dyed platinum-blonde, fancy outfits with jewelry and accessories to match, and the purse, the shoes, or both sporting a gaudy metallic color. On the other hand, “dressing Democrat” usually means little makeup, natural colored hair and face, and probably a long, loose skirt or jeans and sandals or sneakers. We all realize this is nothing but perpetuation of silly stereotypes. We don’t care.