We had a helluva storm here Friday night. The wind blew a large limb from my neighbor’s tulip tree on to our front yard and it rained through every window in the house – north, south, east and west. The power went out, leaves from front yard trees dangled in back yard trees, and it all would have been uber cool to watch if our dogs weren’t glued to our feet.
And speaking of feet……(how’s that for a segue?)
I had my first pedicure ever on the day of the storm. If you haven’t had one I strongly recommend you check one out, despite the condition of your feet. The bubbly soak, the massage, the color – it truly is an hour of heaven.
There are few body parts that make up the whole me that I’m satisfied with, but I happen to have fabulously soft feet. I didn’t need a pumice brush scrub during my pedicure because I’ve applied lotion to my feet night and day for the last five years. Despite my freakishly tiny baby toenail, my feet look sparkly cute and I wish Nike made cross trainers that would expose my $46 toes.
And speaking of “exposure”……
There’s a girl living across the street who just graduated from high school and I’m willing to bet that in her yearbook she was voted most likely to get knocked up in her front yard. Someone turn on the hose! I’m not a prude, but for cryin’ out loud, get a room.
And speaking of knocked up ……
Grandbaby had his first photos on Monday. (Please note: I don’t know the gender of Grandbaby, but I’ve chosen “he” as the pronoun of choice just because I felt like it.) Ultrasound in 1982 was the Pong of medical tests. Boring, black and white, slow, beep, beep, beep. Ultrasound these days is the Wii of obstetrics. When my kids were in utero I literally couldn’t tell their ass from their heads. Now, you can not only see their gender, you can see whose facial features they’ve acquired – mom’s or dad’s. Apparently Grandbaby has a large lower lip like his mom and so far no nose issues. The photos show he’s growing exactly the way he should, and is swimming and kicking and causing his mama great bladder distress. Payback’s a bitch, darling daughter.
Babies are coming out of the woodwork around here. Three more women this week told me they’re on the nest. I’m avoiding public water fountains, just in case.
And speaking of public fountains….
Just kidding. I have no public fountains or water cooler stories, although I did have a conversation today near the water fountain at the gym with the man I referred to as Hot Legs in my last blog and found out his name is Pat. I’m glad to know that because now he’s an actual three-dimensional person with a story and not just a man with nice legs (and I do mean nice legs).
There’s no rain in the forecast, no chance of tulip trees landing in my yard for awhile. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m a grandma with soft feet, a voyeur of things across the street that really need to be brought inside, and a woman who loves pedicures. Oh, and a writer who isn’t blogging as often as she should. For that I apologize. I’m easily distracted these days.