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  • It never fails does it? Fix up the house, or splurge on sOmething for yourself, and some little innocent child or careless teenaged type is right there to put a damper on it. You have to love them anyway!

  • Dear Ann,
    This kind of thing never happens to me. Grooming is just so paramount, I feel. If I’m not perfectly coiffed (natural blond -highlights all a-glimmer and a-glow) and my polish is not dried to a bullet-resistant finish, why, I daren’t leave the house.
    Ann, does the phrase ‘poetic justice’ resonate…at all…right now? ‘Pride goeth before a schmear?’ I’m still remembering how indignant you were about that poor woman at the Opryland Hotel ride last summer. Cru-el.
    Lately I’m kind of fond of the polish-remover wipeys. One wipey takes care of 10 fingers and 10 toes; no drips, no splashes. BTW, have you noticed how every liquid product–for care of person or counter top or bathtub grout–is now sold in convenient wipe format? This brings us back to one of MY favorite topics: The Grave Shortage of Rags In Today’s Household.
    And as a BTW to my BTW, isn’t it just a matter of time before somebody gets their wipeys in the wrong box and grabs a Mr. Clean instead of a Huggy’s? I used to keep a box of Clorox wipes in the bath when Joseph was getting his learner’s permit and sometimes (sometimes?) missed the target. (I am aware that the previous sentence was a Major Over-share.) Then the possibility of just such a mixup occurred to me and I decided it might make sense not to have them quite so handy.
    BTW, I’m shutting up now.
    xox Kay

  • BTW I’m rilly sorry about that woman at Opryland but it wasn’t one woman it was a WHOLE BOATLOAD of women on the indoor boat ride at the Opryland Hotel. It was more than a person could stand. You’d have been out there dispensing Handy Removers yourself. “Uh, ma’am? Here ya go.” Rilly.

  • did someone say pedicure? I must take a photo of my new sparkly jewel encrusted shoes. They can’t be worn w/o a pedicure. I did have to check that it didn’t make me look too like mutton dressed as lamb but the big fellow told me that I would always be his lamb (argh shucks.. no wonder he’s getting a 4 ply jumper.)
    Ann, admit it… you were knitting in the vibromatic chair while your toes were being seen to.. right?

  • The state of my poor swollen feet means I should have a pedicure every other day! – I can’t reach them anymore though!
    My fave local salon is currently undergoing some sort of booking crisis – you can’t get in for love nor money & have to book at least 3 weeks in advance for even an eyebrow wax, at least 4 weeks in advance for anything tthat takes any time!
    Luckily as soon as my grubby paws alighted on a birthday luxury pedicure gift voucher, I was straight on the phone – my feet will be in pampered heaven at the end of next week!
    P.S. I’m not making it up about my swollen feet – there not just a *little bit* swollen – they’re full on, “no-shoes-will-fit” swollen. My feet can now only wear flip-flops (are they otherwise known as thongs? – I get confused – thongs are definitely underwear here, & not to be worn near the ankles!). Flip-flops don’t look good in my feet’s current un-pedicured state or Celt boots that have had to stretch so far that one of the sides has split. Not good. As soon as this babe is out, & my feet have decreased to vaguely normal size, I’m going shoe shopping. Hubbo & his credit card had best beware….

  • Ah, Polly. There I was, chugging away on my sister Buffy’s Woo sweater, thinking that mohair was really not the yarn of choice for knitting in the Vibratron 2000 Massaging Exfoliating Digestive Pedicure Chair. It really should have been something linen, or cotton at least. But you’re right of course. I would have knitted at the dentist too, if I could get that woman to leave me alone for a minute.

  • LOL Polly. I must confess that I have had a couple of balls of yarn land in the pedicure vat. Laura Who Has Seen Everything (including my wedding manicure) didn’t bat an eye; just fished it out and kept on with her mission of foot beauty.
    Poor Jo. Well, that’s pregnancy for ya. It’s not for the faint of heart. Or foot. They do shrink back most of the way (!). xox Kay

  • Never fails, I get my nails done and end up nicking one starting my car!!! and I have to go back in and apologize for my impatience!! I just hate having to wait there to let them dry.

  • Oh Jo ! I so.so empathise.My feet are like that at the mo. and I’m not even preggers,just hormonaly challenged ! Have to say,and you won’t like this,mine have never really deflated since delivery.Sob ! I’m sure yours will though.Treat them to a pair of Birkenstocks – you’re carrying his child,after all ! :0)

  • Oh, I feel for ya, honey. I knit in the vibrating chair Thursday eve while the wee one was home with sitter and not scheduled to touch my toes until she snuck into my bed in the wee hours. Learned my lesson last summer when I took her with me and she made the smudge before we left Red Nails. She got her own blue toes Saturday morning on the front porch, and even then managed to wipe a little blue on my calf!

  • Y’all are cracking me up!
    Remind me never to let you see my toes.

  • MaryB of Richmond: A weird fixation with toe grooming has been discovered. It’s like I was saying to someone who liked my bag today: ‘I still have bags, shoes and scarves. That’s all that’s left to me, fashion-wise.’ I guess I should add: toenails. Simone de Beauvoir wrote that eventually one doesn’t even want to wash one’s hair anymore. Maybe I’m paraphrasing. Maybe it was because her boyfriend was Jean-Paul Sartre. Hard to imagine him paying proper attention to one’s beautification efforts.
    xox Kay

  • Hell is other people’s hairdos.

  • Ann, guess what I’m scheduled to get tomorrow, hmmm?…a pedicure, no less! When exactly did the aliens separate us at birth and then take us on a spin through the space-time continuum to add in the ten year age difference?
    And, Kay, re: the rag situation. One of the biggest fights my husband and I shared was over a rag shortage. He in his anal-retentive engineering mode insisted that I wash the new-to-us car with an old t-shirt no less. Old kitchen towels would never do as terry cloth purportedly scratches the paint job. Hogwash, but you bow to these crazy ideas in the interest of universal harmony. So it sent me frantically searching all over the house looking for t-shirt rags…none existed. ArmorAll wipes. Check. Clorox wipes. Check. Leather cleaner wipes. Check. Face cleaner wipes. Check. Shout spot removal wipes. Check. BUT NO DAMN RAGS!! Oh the insanity. I ended up ripping up one of his pit-stained t-shirts and cursing him the whole time at wasting decent clothing that small children in India could have certainly used, all for the sake of his anal-retentive ways. And again I cursed him when I tried to wash my car a few weeks later and he’d converted the precious car-washing rag into a covered-with-grease-and-gunk rag leaving me to go on another accursed rag-hunting mission. So that leaves us now with our solution and subsequent marital bliss: Prepackaged box of clean rags from Auto Zone. Check.

  • Rachel: You’re young! Marriage is long! Get that man trained!
    Although, personally, and maybe it’s just me, but turning the skanky t-shirts (a man will never throw out a t-shirt) into rags seems just fine to me. But far be it from me to stick my nose in. xox Kay