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Warning: Distraction TVs & Pedicare Massage Chairs **take 2**

April 1, 2011 By 7 Comments

Pedicure Massage Chairs: Angel Nail Salon, McLean, VA.

They’re there, everywhere you go, except church. Who? What?

Distraction televisions (DTVs). You see them hanging precariously from ceilings in doctor’s offices, sports bars, airports, car washes, anyplace ‘people’ gather… and wait. Suburban ladies gather at the nail salons. Hence, when I pranced in one afternoon to get my nails done, I found all eyes glued to the new DTV hanging from the ceiling. I wasn’t surprised. I knew it was just a matter of time.

As I sat down for my regular nail tune up, I looked up expecting to see Fox News (remember I live in the South) on the screen. NOT. No, my heart skipped a beat when the “selection of the morning” was the Wendy Williams Show. Damn, I knew I should have listened to my sorority sister when she begged me to learn “how to transpose myself to a quiet, serene place.”

I am watching Ms. Williams tango across the stage with her microphone as her dutiful partner. Next up? She promises a special salsa step dedicated to the Dancing with the Stars selection committee. I desperately think of an escape. Bolting out the door is not an option as my nail technician had a death grip on my hand. I concede defeat when moments later my nail tech guided me to the “pedicure chair.” Not only is it positioned to allow optimal viewing on the new TV, the pedicure chair has a ‘massage mode.’ I begin to experience this soothing bonus after my nail technician cranks that baby up to full vibration mode.

To recap my waiting room salon situation:
I am perched on a pedicure massage recliner with wooden rollers hitting my back like the hammers of hell with my feet barely touching the soapy water in the soaking bowl below the chair. I am asked repeatedly to scooch down in the chair (don’t forget I clock in at 5′ tall). Now, not only is my back getting mauled, my head is the recipient of ‘blunt force trauma by pedicure chair roller’. Unable to tolerate the pulverizing rollers a minute longer, I fervently request my nail tech to d/c the soothing action on the chair. Thinking I want ‘more,’ he cranks that baby up full throttle. Desperate, I grab the control out of his hand. After going through the full cycle of available movements, I finally get the thing to stop.

I look up; Wendy is still dancing with the microphone. Will this experience never end? Longtime readers know I’d never suggest giving up these soothing nail salon visits. So? What am I gonna do? I ponder as my feet are scraped with a brillo pad.

  • Arrive early & unplug Pedicare Massage Chair
  • Carry Universal Remote in Vera Bag. The Universal Remote will not only give you a feeling of control over a situation, it will also allow you to zap any said WW-type programs immediately. Ah…, one more plus for the portable remote: you can turn the volume DOWN on an otherwise pleasing program.

I think I am going to write these ideas down.

Damn, I can’t get to my I Phone- It slipped down between the rollers-

 

Most state an apostrophe is used on lower case acronyms for clarity as in p’s and q’s. However no need exists for apostrophes indicating a plural on capitalized letters, numbers, and symbols. Some may take the safe way out: TV sets ;-)  I am brazen- TVs/DTVs

Filed Under: My "reblonding" years Tagged With: , , , , ,

My vehicle was stolen- kind of

August 31, 2010 By 6 Comments

The afternoon started out seemingly uneventful. My agenda included getting my nails done and grocery shopping. As is typical in South Carolina, the temperature hovered in the upper 90′s.

I walked into my nail salon, anxious to get a much needed tune up. My nail attendant (what do I call this person?) hovers nearby- why must I feel pressure when pondering  if You’re a Pisa Work or Pink Flamenco will be the color of the week? The color selection is not mind boggling, it can just become overwhelming looking at 100 bottles of nail polish.

With sparkling, freshly painted nails featuring OPI’s Pink Flamenco, I prance into Publix to pick up a few easy to pick up items without messing up my nails. Making it cleanly through the check-out without smudges, I was delighted.

Walking out of Publix I realized immediately I had not a clue where I parked this morning. I failed LT’s number one rule in a woman’s first line of self defense. Always be aware of your surroundings.

LT’s #1 concern has always been my personal safety. He stresses the importance of women to remain alert at all times: at the gas pumps, the ATM, or as, right now, walking to my car with a grocery cart.

Because of my “training,” I take note of the numerical row I park in, 99% of the time. Subsequently, when I walk out into the sea of vehicles I know where to go.

This is a straightforward, easy-to-remember plan. This morning I forgot.

I push my cart walking confidently  across the lot toward the myriad of black SUV’s in the horizon. My little inner voice  reassuring me, telling me one of them HAS to be mine. NOT.

Casually enough, I take a “what looks like” a planned 45 degree turn. and head toward the Chinese restaurant end of the strip shopping center. I feel the perspiration roll down the center of my chest, yet I remain calm as I see  a black SUV  in the row in front- I breathe a sigh of relief simultaneously zapping the unlock button on my key chain.

Not only was  said vehicle not mine,  I hit the panic button instead of the unlock button in my urgency to claim a home. I quickly squelched  the panic alarm. Turning for the third time, I somehow manage to walk, with my head high and my shoulders back, toward from whence I came: Publix.

I now considered the real possibility that my vehicle had been stolen. Digging out my IPhone, I pondered over an opening line to prepare LT for said vehicle theft. Out of the corner of my eye,  I see a large truck going down one lane over.

A flashback to the Dukes of Hazard hits as suddenly, the DoH truck pulls up next to me. A young girl leans out the window of this monster truck 80′ off the ground, and says, “You lost yer car, little lady?” I was tempted to say, no I am running parking lot relays preping for the big event next week, the Publix 500.  Instead, I meekly replied, “yes.” Mr Dukes of Hazard driver leans over and asks the specifics of my vehicle.

In about eight seconds, he leans over and says, “honey, yer car is sitting over there right in front of that foreign nail place.” You know my reaction. I tone down my need for a complete break down of appreciation. I am able to surpress my instinctual southern need for explanation with a simple thank you.

They both smiled, he tipped  his hat and they rode  off into the sunset.

I continued my confident walk, now my fourth time across the lot to my chariot, waiting for me “in front of the foreign nail place.”

photos by dreamstime.com

Filed Under: Safety for women Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hot flashes & OPI nail polish

June 2, 2010 By 8 Comments

A woman is afforded certain luxuries when she reaches middle age. To make up for the hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings and insomnia we endure, we often  treat ourselves with visits to the nail salon.

I get my nails done professionally every 2-3 weeks.  LT would love it if I wore Dolly Parton cherry red nail polish year round. For the summer months I have, however, convinced him fuschia is just as dramatic. He has agreed only if I follow the wear white until Labor Day rule.

My schedule for wearing OPI’s version of fuschia, Shorts Story, falls in line with when it is appropriate to wear white shoes. Very simple really, put up my shorts, my Shorts Story nail polish and my white patent leather pumps the day after Labor Day.

I wish I could schedule my hot flashes as easily as following the white Labor Day rule. My best attack against a mega-hot flash is putting a bag of frozen vegetables under each arm. Thought I might have to grap a bag of peas this am but was false alarm- it’s 92 degrees here- everyone is hot.

Last Saturday I made a trip to my nail salon. Place was packed- feet in water, hands under lights, surgical masks on… serious nail work in session.

All age groups were represented, including a

  • Soccer Mom carrying an O magazine
  • New mother juggling a baby, baby bag and baby carrier
  • Teenager in tank top and flip flops (never looks up as she is texting nonstop)
  • Business woman in Nancy Pelosi suit (I cannot wait to see her walking out to her car with those paper flip flop shoes. I KNOW she is not going to put back on those power 3″ pumps over  her freshly pedicured feet.)

The color of nail polish a woman wears makes a statement about herself. Sitting there I tried to guess what shade of nail polish each of these patrons would select. I have to say I was momentarily tempted to select one of the shades formulated/promoted in conjunction with the Shrek movie: green sparkly Shrek OPI nail polish.  I decided to give LT a break this week.

  • The Soccer Mom will, no doubt, select something practical, yet a little special  so she’s going to go with Isn’t it Romantic?
  • The Young Mother is so excited to be out of the house she will agree to just about any color, yet does not want her mother-in-law to think she pampering herself instead of the new grandbabby, so let’s go with Coney Island Cotton Candy
  • Teenager is into sky blue, so hers is Absolutely Alice, a creamy darkish baby blue
  • Nancy Pelosi look-alike will without question go with a french manicure- impeccable at all times.

My problem is I find a shade I like or one i don’t like, i cannot remember what it was- so i may or may not end up with one i like or don’t like. If you followed that train of thought, i’m impressed- we need to meet.

(on OPI site, click on center hand on bottom of screen to see all hyperlinked colors)

My hands now done, I sit with my hands under the magic light, I daydream. Without warning, ideas for three savor the ride posts enter my train of thought.

Now, if you are a writer, in any medium, you can understand the importance of recording these fleeting thoughts on paper. They do not linger. These yearned for subjects are gone in the bat of an eye. Seven minutes left under the light. Damn, I can feel my pulse rate rising.

As thoughts are racing through my brain, I try to assign an acronym to the ideas. I look next to me, imagining my asking the lady if she could just jot down a few words for me while her pedicure dries. No, I attempted to engage the public when I did not have a pen at the post office. No repeat of that – Back to the mantra in my mind.

Oh soccer mom just sat down on my left, asking questions about my pink pants.  I’m a goner- I hear myself saying, “thank you- I purchased them at Talbot’s” and now we’re off on a girl-girl conversation….

She loves Talbots.

I have a new friend.

What post ideas?

photo courtesy of OPI

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