Toe Troubles

Today is my last official day of summer vacation in Colorado Springs. I'm leaving tomorrow for Aspen and will start school Monday. So, I did what any good Texas girl would do at a time like this...I scheduled a massage and a pedicure. I have a GREAT massage therapist, but only in Colorado would a massage be preceded with the warning, "Let me know if I have any hangnails or pokey things on my hands. I rock climb and play guitar."

Okey Dokey.

After my massage, I headed off in search of a good pedicure. I say this because I have yet to discover a nail salon here in the Springs that offers such a thing. Pedicures? Yes. GOOD pedicures? No. It takes only a few minutes of feet watching in Colorado to realize that pretty toes are not high on the priority list.

Today's nail salon candidate was nestled between Great Harvest Bread Company and Hobby Lobby. This scored points right from the start. However, I say "nestled" because the salon was little more than a glorified hallway. There were two ladies in the salon as I entered, the nail tech and her client...in addition to two young boys who spent the remainder of my visit making shooting noises. It was adorable. As I asked if I could have a pedicure, another nail technician emerged from the "back room". She was visibly angered by the fact that I had pulled her away from what appeared to be a British soap opera.

After choosing my color (Cha-Ching Cherry), I took my place in the massage chair and readied myself for what was sure to be another nail disaster. I don't know when my fears were realized. It might have been when blood began dripping down my big toe, or it could have been when she raised my legs above my head in an attempt to rid my heals of anything less than smooth and silky. Not even a full body massage could have prepared me for such an exercise.

Twenty-five minutes after the fun began (I'm not exaggerating), I was sitting with my toes drying under what was perhaps the first nail dryer ever to be invented. After two or three minutes of dry-time, a young Asian man entered the salon carrying balloons and wearing a sombrero. It was then that I began looking for the cameras (the hidden ones that capture the expressions of "foreigners" like myself who are attempting to assimilate into this strange land). I couldn't find them.

The only bright spot in my pedicure fiasco was the fact that it ended quickly enough for me to rush home in time to catch the end of Little House on the Prairie. After all, a visit to Walnut Grove is sure to be the cure-all for any type of disaster.