Island Eve

It's officially Vacation Eve. And I am completely and utterly unglued.

Besides running around like a crazy woman who needs a vacation (and an eyebrow wax, but that's beside the point)last night was my monthly meeting. Oy. I know I complain of this, which begs the question, why Trace, why do you do it? Well, it's complicated. In a Machivellian sort of way. I feel like I need to pay my dues here so that my other really fun and fulfilling gigs will continue. Because I really, really like writing the other stuff.

So I was hoping this month would be easy--they'd have not a lot to say so I could just write out the article in between laundry loads and trips to the car. Not so much. It was a long, convoluted and particularly contentious 3 hours in which to write about.

So that seriously put a damper in my Olympic training for events like the beer luge, the 100 yard dash across hot sand and how many items I can pack in a Rubbermaid bin. So I am kind of scrambling tonight, but much calmer than I was this morning.

Because when Amy and I went to the grocery store, I decided to get a pedicure at this place Val told me about next door. She literally salivates when she speaks of it, and I'm thinking, I've had pedicures before, really, how good could be?

Oh. My. God. She did things that shouldn't be legal or at least require a luxury tax, a permit and a pact with the devil. There was parafin and salts and then this hot rock thing that was A.MAZ.ING. I didn't understand a word she said, but she spoke the language of love with those rocks, and I think I want to date her seriously. She had me at, "You want deluxe for $28?"

Menwhile, Amy sits next to me and they paint her nails and toes. Pink. WIth flowers. She is mesmorized and has not taken her eyes from her fingers since. It was wonderful.

So I still have an incredible amount to get done tonight, but somehow I do not care as much as I did 6 hours ago.

I cannot wait to squish my newly-beautified toes in that sand tomorrow.