I am blogging from a pedispa, where some poor woman is removing a winter’s worth of callousness from my feet. She has no way of knowing that I am going to tip her well. God bless. Whenever I think I might like to do nails, I remember my own groddy feet and reconsider.
I take pretty good care of myself and my feet still produce spaghetti noodles of dead skin. I don’t even want to consider what else might walk in a door. That, and I just hate touching other people’s meat.
Isn’t technology amazing? A few years ago, I had just heard of blogs. (In fact, it was mid-January of 2002. I started a LiveJournal as a means of seducing my latest crush with my brain. I’m not sure if it was the blog or my great smile, but something worked. He married me.) And now I am blogging from a telephone while some stranger massages my calves with sea salt. Amazing.
Speaking of my husband, I was thinking the other day how funny it is that I still get tongue-tied around him. See, I still have a crush on him, and especially on his brain. I still think he’s the smartest man I’ve ever met, and I respect his thought process, and his opinion, and desperately desire his intellectual approval. Makes me smile goofily just thinking about it.
The Outside Lane 