The Power of Suggestion

The dog wrote her own entry this morning. In case you needed to read a dog-written entry. Who doesn’t?

Stupid dog.

My first dog. My last dog.

If my first child had been like my first dog, I’d never had a second child. And if I never had a second child, I wouldn’t laugh so damn hard.

Damn kid.

Cracks me the hell up.

Last night he wanted to drive his girlfriend home. I was worried he’d be a little nervous and I was also worried that he hadn’t driven on busy roads. And the last thing  I needed was him to get in an accident, with his girlfriend in the car, and having to smooth that over with her parents.

But he did great. He has a confidence that amazes me.

“I love driving!” he said, after we’d dropped off his girlfriend.

***

I went and got a pedicure yesterday. Rosie said I had to. Well, she didn’t command me to get a pedicure. She suggested it. And I am such a pushover that I went and got one. My first pedicure of the season.

I walked into a local place and they sat me immediately in one of those massaging chairs with the little bathtub for my feet. And then I sat there for a good 45 minutes because they didn’t have enough staff to keep up with the demand of old broads getting their hoofs painted.

It’s a newer nail salon so the massage chairs are also new, and very nice. I want me one of those. With the little foot tub.

I’d had a good book along so I didn’t mind waiting. I was not thrilled that I got a man to do my pedicure. Not as bad as having a man give you a massage, but still awkward. I made the best out of an awkward situation and kept my face in my book. But really, it’s just weird to have a guy putting nailpolish on your toes.

I survived the horror and walked out with some awfully pretty feet. Thanks for planting that idea in my head, Rosie!

Today’s suggestion by someone else comes from Thing 2, who wants a batch of Velveeta Fudge. I’ve never made Velveeta Fudge in the summer, it’s pretty much a Christmas thing. But hey, homeboy deserves a batch.