Prettyful Piggies

I admit I was warned, but I didn't believe it.

"You'll get addicted", they said.

"No, I won't. It can't be that spectacular", was my reply.

"Just wait, you'll see", was their reply.

They won. I lost. I had my first pedicure today and I loved it. After initially getting past the overwhelming fumes of nail polish and nail polish remover, I was hooked. On second thought, maybe I was hooked BECAUSE of the overwhelming fumes. Hmmmm. Anyway, I loved it fumes or not. Here are some photos to help commemorate the experience.



This is the obligatory "before" shot. Yes, my feet are bony and perhaps there is some hair visible. I don't care.



And they are rather "vein-y" too. I still don't care. This is during the relaxing experience that is a pedicure.



Naturally, the after shot. The color was not really my numero uno choice, but it matches a dress I intend on wearing to my friend's wedding. In Vegas. Which is the reason for this, my first but definitely not last, pedicure.

My only regret is that I didn't splurge on a manicure as well. It was only $10 more, but I declined. Just the other day I cut all my finger nails short. Plus I hate my hands, and having them painted all pretty just draws unwanted attention to them. So I'll settle for pretty toe toes and call it good.

Better get busy. I have a lot to get done before heading to Sin City.

Minnesota Lawn Mower Massacre

Generally I enjoy mowing the lawn. In fact, I mow my own lawn, plus I mow my parents' lawn just for the fun of it. This time of year, mowing the grass leaves me feeling very guilty.

At my parents' house in particular, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of little crickets hopping around the backyard. When I mow the lawn, they are bouncing all over the place. I hate mowing over those little critters, but it really is unavoidable. I did hesitate when I encountered a little frog and a mature grasshopper. They barely escaped with their lives and they probably would not have been so lucky if another person was behind that scary machine.

When I see those little crickets frantically hopping to save their precious lives, I try to send them telepathic messages to hop on over to the newly mowed portion. Since that part of the lawn was just cut, it's a safe bet that the lawn mower will not pass that way again. Alas, they don't seem to get it and continue jumping into the longer unmowed sections; the sections I am about to cut with the twirling blade of terror. If I happen to spot one or two hopping to the already mowed areas, I will pause and let them hop on over, but most go for the longer blades of grass.

When all is said and done, I have visions of the crickets settling down to dinner around their cricket TVs watching their cricket evening news with the devastating bulletin about the deaths of so many of their kind from this not-so-natural disaster. Forgive me crickets of the world. I really am sorry.