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Mid-January, Rain - January 13, 2012
Almost Midwinter - December 14, 2011
Saturday, Noonish, Sunny - November 05, 2011
October, White - October 31, 2011
October, 2011 - October 04, 2011


June 21, 2004

11:39 a.m.

Not a Girly-Girl

...and neither was Rose, except one of her best friends (Cathy) is one, so in the last couple of years Rose has taken to having her nails enhanced and her feet pampered and every now and then going to a spa for horribly expensive and luxurious treatments involving steam, mud, stones, rose petals and lots of oil. At dinner last night Cathy wanted to know what the story was about Will. For anyone who hasn't been reading this continuing saga, I told her in a nutshell about how I met him when he played bass on my albums a few years ago, and then he got heart disease, while in a dysfunctional relationship that was destroying him emotionally, and how I fell into L-something with him and started writing songs and pining away and how he came over for lunch a few times and something almost happened but he wasn't ready to extricate himself from the Snow Queen... and how I detached myself for one horrible depressing year and a half, writing songs and poetry and trying Prozac and basically not doing my best, and finally last summer he broke up with the Amazon Harpy from Hell and then he got critical and went into the hospital for a while, and we got back in touch because I couldn't stand it if he died and we'd never spoken again. And then he visited me here a couple of times and things were going rather beautifully (albeit platonically) but his health was failing and in February he went in for real to wait for a new heart.

On March 26 it arrived, and he went home on his birthday in April and is doing very well indeed. I saw him earlier this month and right now am hoping he'll be able to make our July 3 fete, because it's really important to me that he meet my family -- I use the term loosely, as it consists of my sister, her husband and an inner circle of friends.

So I am not a girly-girl, not like Cathy, but I'm a little nervous about the prospect of the 3rd. I suddenly felt I should DO something about myself. So I said, "Okay, let's talk pedicure." Cathy, of course, was enthusiastic. I asked Rose if she was available that morning to go with me. I confessed I'd never had one, and Cathy immediately went to fill large bowls with sudsy water to soak my feet in. "I'll give you a mini-pedicure!" she announced. "You'll love it!" After soaking my feet til the water was tepid, she ran a slightly intimidating metal file thingy over any callussed parts (only a few times actually filing my skin til it hurt -- she'd had a bit of wine) and then choosing nail polish colors from Rose's arsenal. The end result was only slightly imprecise, with not too many missed spots. She kept exclaiming over what cute little feet I have. "Toe ring!" she cried. "Rose, get her a toe ring!" I said I had toe rings at home.

I can just see myself going overboard with this nervousness thing -- shall I get a major pedicure with little sparkly designs on my big toes, and wear my new three-inch platform Japanese flipflops, in which I damn near fell down the stairs getting out of my building yesterday? (Will is exactly my height already. No flashbacks to his tall ex-girlfriend, please.) Shall I wear something slinky and utterly unlike me? Hope for a nipple erection? Or shall I dress down in cargo pants as usual, and hope he finds the grunge look appealing? O Oracle, what outfit will give me the best chances for future happiness and sexual fulfillment? Because we know that's all it takes. If we can only find the right combo.

I swear, if he doesn't come around this year, I'm moving to Canada.

********

Anyway it was fun to have someone play with my feet, and to be initiated into the Girlygirl club. It reminded me of Legally Blonde, and we had to do the "Bend and Snap" any number of times.

Cathy is a very interesting woman, and I feel I'm only beginning to glimpse her. She's a hospice nurse, works way too many hours a week, has a dog and three cats and a garden, and my sister calls her a stick in the mud. She almost never dates -- I think she's more afraid than I am -- and makes up for loneliness by giving, by feeding people, by spending a lot of time with her animals and flowers. And working way too much. Last night Rose was trying to sell her on the idea of a late summer girly trip to New Orleans, with a couple of other friends -- and me if I can make it, but I think I'm booked through November -- and telling her she NEVER goes on vacation, and would she go if her friends went too? It seemed like a possibility. But seeing how she continually tried to protest as Rose was outlining the plan -- trying to defend her homebody ways, smiling but the conflict showing in her eyes -- I'd never seen that before. It's like she was in the corner a little bit.

So I hope they go and tear up the town.

And I know a good Buddhist wouldn't pray for specifics, but I really really want Will to come to our party. Dammit.

It's time for a ride, and to shake off all this angst. I'll slip my painted feet into my butchgirl sneaks and go.


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