Worth The Frostbite

May and Jessie and I went to get our toes painted and our feet made beautiful today. May only has Sundays and Mondays off and many nail salons are not open on Sundays so today was the day. And it was SO cold that the prospect of wearing flip flops in order not to ruin the polish was daunting but those two would not let me wimp out and so off to town I went. 
It really was fun and worth every bit of having cold feet for awhile. I'd never been to this salon before and it was nice. I had a unique experience there today and I will not soon forget it. Except of course, that I probably will because you know- memory loss. But for now the memory is firmly lodged in the drawer left slightly open in my mind closet for easy access. 
Both Jessie and May had older men salon techs and I had an older woman. And when I say "older" I do not mean as old as me. They just weren't spring chickens. There was a woman there who sat across from us with her shoes on the floor beside her, lying in a massage chair, looking at her phone. She had a towel draped over her because yes, it was, as I said, it was cold. For us. I had no idea who this lady was but she was Asian, seemed to work there, and was absolutely beautiful. She appeared to be in her late twenties, if that, but later May told us that she is the boss lady which explains her lounging about while keeping an eye on things. So she may have been fifty, who knows? Whatever, she was truly beautiful. 

Nail salon techs can vary from the extremely talkative to the almost silent. I am sure a lot of the variation comes with degrees in confidence of speaking English. My lady did not talk much at all but I absolutely understood that she called me "Mama." This is a thing I've noticed about people from some Asian backgrounds- as I've aged, they have become so respectful and almost tender towards me. I remember the nurse I had when I was in the hospital to get my kidney stone lasered. I believe she was from the Philippines and she could not have been more attentive and honestly, really loving towards me in her care. I know I must have reminded her of her grandmother and in that situation, I took it as a huge compliment. 
And perhaps today's lady also saw me as a grandmother, as of course I am. So she called me "Mama" but as I said, did not say much else except to ask me questions about what she was doing, if the water was too hot, if I liked the color of the nail polish, and so forth. When she was rubbing my calves, she looked up at me and I mouthed, "Thank you," and she smiled.
So my girls and I chatted and laughed and talked about husbands and all the secret things that women chat about at times (or, at least husbands think we do and which yeah, we do) and it was a pleasant experience and we all loved the way our feet looked at the end of the pedicure. I paid for all of us because that's what mamas do, right? When I put the tips on to the bill, the lady who had done my care looked at me as if I'd tipped each of them a hundred dollars (uh, nope) and seemed so, so happy, at which point, she opened her arms to me, brought me in for a hug, and said, "Thank you, Mama! I love you!" and what could I say but, "Thank YOU! I love you too."
And at that moment, I certainly did. I mean...I live for hugs and she gave me a good one. 
Boss Lady, from her chair, said, "Thank you, Mama!" and then there was a chorus of "Merry Christmas!" from seemingly all the employees. 
Dang. 

After that sweetness, we went to our favorite Mediterranean restaurant and my veggie platter was so damn pretty I had to take a picture of it. 

Pita, falafel, hummus, dolmades, Greek salad and some other thing hiding under the pita which I forget the name of. At least 2/3's of it is now in my refrigerator. No way I could eat all that food. 
And while we ate we talked some more, and it was wonderful to have May there too. She works so hard and so many hours that we don't get to spend a lot of time with her which means that when we do, it's a joy. Well, it would be a joy anyway but it's even more special. 

I had completely forgotten to take a picture of us so Jessie took a selfie in the parking lot which, I mean- uh, yeah! We were freezing! Can you tell? The temperature was not that low but it was so breezy that the cold air rushed through our clothes and flip-flops. There were hugs and more hugs, kisses and more kisses. 
You know- the way we do it. 

Oh my way home I passed by a yard which for well over a year now has had giant Trump signs. Not just his profane name but also things like, "Hispanics for Trump!" and other signs proclaiming big lies about what he was going to do for the economy and so on and so forth but guess what? 
They are gone. 
Gone without a trace. For the first time in forever I passed that part of the road without having to display a middle finger which I generally do not do because (I know this sounds funny), I consider that gesture so profane that only the very worst of the worst inspires me to do it. 

One wonders...

I have so much more I could say about how that man has responded to tragedies in the last few days but you already know. He is beneath contempt. I suppose we could blame it all on the ever-encroaching final states of dementia but my god, my god. 

The way Trump spoke on his fucking Truth Social account about the incredibly senseless and horrible deaths of the students at Brown University, and of Carl Reiner and his wife are, for me, reason enough to have Congress invoke the 25th Amendment, Section 4. 

Yeah, yeah. I know. J.D. Vance. 
Well, one down, more to go. 

For today's Keith Richard tribute, I advise you to go and read this article from 2016. 

And then, for a bit of a bite of what rock and roll was at one time, I give you this which I have probably posted at least five times. Possibly more. 

This is from 1981. A crazed fan had rushed the stage and before security had subdued him, dear Keith took care of the problem. 
He has said that when he strapped the guitar back on, it was still in tune. He has also said that although he bailed the guy out of jail, he'd do it again. No one was going to get to HIS lead singer. 

There you go. 

Love...Ms. Moon