Happy Toes

For my birthday, my beautiful, elegant, mature 21 year old daughter took her mama out to get our toesies "done"!  Squeeeeal! For any who've not had this luxury (and it's kind of a cross-cultural experience too), you get to sit in massive massage chairs with foot baths.

They soak and rub and scrub and scrape and trim and massage your feet and calves. I had to tell the girl once to back off a bit because my leg hurt. What thumbs she had! And I don't think my legs and feet are as as blotchy and mottled as all that -- I'm blaming it on my camera phone.

Did you hear me just say the two words: Camera Phone? Yes, indeed! I took photos with my phone and successfully transferred them to my laptop! Will wonders never cease? Of course, Philip had to reteach me how to do it. Poor fella.
Anyway, Anna picked a purple and I picked a dark red/burgundy. Our toes happily drowsed under the warming lamp, cozied up in toe-separaters and fake flip-flops.

It was a luxury. I've only had my toes done twice before, I believe. The first time was after a 2-week mission trip in Mexico working with concrete, and we girls had horrific feet and hands. Evidently, getting fingers and toes done is now a common thing, something akin to how we used to go get a coffee. Having a stressful day? Sit down with a 25¢ coffee at the local diner. That was a few decades ago! Now coffee is $5, but the preferred mode of relaxation is an hour in the spa chair getting a new color on the toes and listening to conversations in Chinese. That's $25.
And we came home on the ferry, of course. I admired my toes out the window.

 

 Thank you, dear Anna!