This morning came my second pedicure and it was as good as the first, several years ago. I gotta get on the regulars list at Polished.
My pedicurist was a young woman named Jade, who is a world-class conversationalist and a professional who did to my feet what god intended to have done to feet, I’d venture. She has blue and yellow hair offset by a golden smile and seven (expensive) tattoos. Colorful, she is.
I’m not walking this afternoon; I’m floating and when I look at my feet (yes, smartass, I can still see them), they look like they belong to somebody else.
Ahhhhhh. That was nice. Thank you, Kara–my daughter-in-law, who gave me the pedi for Christmas. Don’t you love Christmases that last into February?