I spend a lot of time in my minivan. I call it my office. It’s a Honda Odyssey and it can seat eight. It’s the perfect car to move my large family and all our gear and groceries around.
And on a daily basis there’s a lot of moving around – some days I drive nearly 100 miles, going almost nowhere. The kids’ activities are no further than two to five miles from my house, but somehow the up, down and around many times a day adds up. I barely stop the car to let one child out and another in, and don’t forget your backpack, and please don’t eat those crumbly cheese puffs in my car, and I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up so be ready bye!
Daily life might be a non-stop whirlwind of crazy carpooling, but I do slow it down on occasion. As is obvious by my A to Z theme, I love color and I love it on my nails. When I am blowing about in my whirlwind, with my hair unwashed and my shmootzy leggings, it does feel good to have fingers and toes that look somewhat cared for, in colors that make me smile.
“Pick a color, honey,” one of the manicurists calls out as soon as I step through the door of the nail shop. There is not an empty seat in sight but I am assured that in five minutes I’ll be relaxing in one of those big comfy chairs, with my feet in soapy hot water. “Five more minutes,” Tony, the owner, says every five minutes. That’s how he rolls. I roll my eyes.
In four sets of five more minutes I am escorted to my spot. As I sink my tired tushy into the chair, my manicurist and the one next to her start talking in rapid Vietnamese. I know they’re talking about me. About how impatient I am to wait. About the last time I was there, and didn’t like the color and she had to change it. I have no idea if that is in fact what they’re saying – it’s possible and probable they’re not talking about me at all! But there is always that little twinge of insecurity (or self-centeredness) that they are – it’s my “Elaine” moment every time!
I make friends in the nail shop – the mom who has her 3-week old in tow. Their first time leaving the house. It’s her second, her oldest is at Temple Sinai preschool, do I know it? They recently moved from Chicago.
“That’s fishy,” says the woman on my right. She’s having a loud cell phone conversation with… who I wonder? “And that’s fishy… and that’s fishy too. The whole thing is fishy.” What on earth? But she’s not that chatty off the phone, so I’ll never find out what was so fishy. Probably just as well.
I glance over at the woman sitting across from me. Suddenly she grabs her boobs and looks straight at me. “They still there?” I ask innocently. “Just making sure I’ve paid everyone,” she huffs. Okaaay.
It’s like being in a choose-your-own-adventure story, inside that nail shop. A micro-world of plot lines, and characters, and words. Mom-from-Chicago and I exchange email addresses. Fishy Lady tells me she likes my toe color (Fly, of course) and decides to paint hers the same.
My minivan and whirlwind are waiting… but for now, I brake for manicures.
This post was written as part of the April A to Z Challenge. To read more of my A to Z posts click here.