Any sightseeing plans I had for Thursday were thwarted by the rain. Somehow the other members of this travelling party convinced me a worthy substitute activity would be to get pedicures. Deborah and Myra found what they describe as a lovely little one-woman skin care salon. For three hours they had their feet soaked, exfoliated, sanded, massaged and, I think, polyurethaned. Their cuticles were trimmed and their nails were cut and polished. Deborah’s feet were in such a sorry state from months of living in sandals that the poor salon owner nearly dislocated her shoulder trying to sand them to a reasonable texture. There was a hazy cloud of Deborah’s skin filings floating in the air, landing on the retail display. The resulting feet were admittedly pretty, but I’m not sure I would ever have the patience for such an extensive operation.
In other grooming news, Deborah decided to take advantage of Myra’s presence to get a much shorter haircut, one more in keeping with the warm, humid climate in which we currently find ourselves. This occurred in a couple of stages of increasingly shorter results, as Deborah grew braver. She now looks gorgeous and about 12 years old. I guess that makes me look like a pedophile.
Guess which one of us didn't have a pedicure.