Well, I have come down from my vacation high and am back at my job as conductor of the crazy train. So far, Baby Girl hasn't noticed that she is not going to school anymore. It probably helps that I have no intentions of driving past the school for the next six months. We'll see how that goes.
Vacation was an absolute blast. This was the first year in the four years we have gone to the shore that it didn't rain once and it wasn't 300 degrees. The kids had a wonderful time, I got to see my friends' new BEEEYOUTIFUL baby and my husband came out ahead playing poker. I even got some errands done while I was there. For starters, I was in need of a pedicure, so my girlfriends and I went out for an afternoon of pampering. We did the same thing last year and had a wonderful time. What's not to like when one is sitting in the "Princess 2000" Pedicure Lounger with feet soaking in herbal infused warm water and reading magazines?! Ahhhhh. I even had the same woman do my feet as last year (not that she remembered). The reason I remember is that she is a dead ringer for Carmella Soprano--no shit. I have been so tempted over the past two summers to ask her if she is related to Edie Falco, but I am too afraid. I mean, what if she is her sister and is BITTER that she's not making the big bucks instead of sloughing 4 inches of callouses off of my gnarly dogs? It's better not to know.
I am a creature of habit with my pedicures. This means that I only like French Pedicures. So, I handed Carmella the white polish and happily opened my magazine. We shared a few pleasantries here and there, but for the most part, I was enjoying my magazine. It wasn't until she was done that I realized my mistake:
No, those aren't Chicklets glued to my toes. That is the polish. I am so used to going to salons where English is the 3rd or 4th language, that when you hand a person white nail polish, you are going to get a french pedicure. I didn't think I had to actually TELL her that I wanted one. My mistake. However, I didn't have time to have her change it because I had a haircut scheduled upstairs. So I ran upstairs to get a haircut while my girlfriends sat on their "Princess 2000" loungers waiting for their toes to dry.
There is nothing quite like a scalp massage by the shampoo girl at a salon. I have never been able to replicate it on myself, so I always enjoy it when someone else washes my hair. After that was done, I was directed to "Katie's chair." Katie took me by surprise. She was quite loud, messy and wore fake Ugg boots with her too tight denim mini skirt. I have learned to not judge a book by it's cover, so I sat back, preparing to be dazzled.
Instead, I heard "OH MY GOD! DID YOU KNOW YOU HAVE SEVERE PSORIASIS ON YOUR SCALP?!?!?"
At that moment, time stood still in the salon. Sure, I had noticed a couple of flakes here and there over the past few weeks, but I thought it was dandruff and I was using all kinds of fancy products to get rid of it. Because she was combing my scalp off, GOBS and GOBS of flakes were on the top of my head. Everyone around her stopped what they were doing and turned around. I tried to sink lower in my chair, but it didn't matter. The damage was done.
"You need to go see a dermatologist right away to get rid of this!' Oh God, look at it! Look at how it is collecting on my comb. See it? SEE IT?!"
"Wow! It's pretty unusual to have psoriasis on your crown. Usually it is on the back side of your head. WOW!"
I couldn't believe that my friends downstairs couldn't hear her shrieking about my flakes. I wanted to die. Keep in mind, all of this happened before she even asked me what I wanted done. I told her to just cut up to my longest layer, which took her two minutes. What was even worse was that she refused to blow dry my hair because that would make it worse. Hmmm, what's worse, exactly...parading through a very busy salon to get my friends from the first floor with flakes the size of dimes on my wet head or blowing my head dry and letting me deal with my problem later while I still had a shred of dignity? Needless to say, I ran downstairs and said to my friends, "Can we please go NOW?!" Thankfully, we ran to the nearest bar and had drinks and I soon forgot about my hair trauma.
Oh, yeah. Enough about me for a minute. Here are pictures of the girls at the beach.
OK, now back to me! I have a date tomorrow night with my husband!!!! YIPPEE! We have not had an evening without children since the week before Peaches was born 7 months ago. I have secured a sitter and we will be going someplace fabulous.
Here is the problem with going someplace fabulous. I have nothing fabulous to wear. My wardrobe is solely from the Target/Old Navy Spitup Collection and I haven't the ability nor patience to buy something nice. Oh yeah, did I mention that I am a virtual WHALE from living la vida loca while at the beach?! A trip to a store would reduce me to tears for sure! I should probably cancel the reservation and convince my husband that going to Skyline Chili or Denny's will be just the ticket for our romatic night out.
The bigger problem is trying to figure out what we will talk about. We haven't had a meaningful discussion in months that wasn't interrupted by:
"Iwantdinner.Franklin'sonnext. Scoo Mee Mommy, I poopied. Iwantdinner. Iwantagooutsideandslide/swing. Iwantapaint." See my dilemna?
I am taking suggestions for interesting topics for Husband and I to discuss while eating. Please feel free to give me some ideas. I prefer that they not pertain to our children, our finances, sports, Katrina or the food we are eating.
Thanks for your help!!!