…."Judy, we are ALL getting pedicures.  It’s my birthday!"
Thus it came to pass that Happy Hour was delayed an hour while we sat in massage chairs and had our feet done… Two things I hate.  Three, if you count answering to my sister’s name.

"Judy," Trixie whispered top volume at me, "There’s something going up my butt!"

"It’s the message thing, Grandma," Cienna said, looking at me and my clawed hands nervously, "You can change it…"

"No…I like it."

The name of the salon is Spa Hop.  We were the only customers, plus a yellow lab who lay in a corner looking at us sadly. Occasional wag, as if it were his last happy thought squeezing to the surface. He cheered me up.  I felt we understood eachother.

"Where in Vietnam do you come from?" Trixie screamed at the girl sanding her bunion. "Do you miss it? I’ll bet you do, I hear its a beautiful country…."

People love The Trix.   They do. Always have.  She is the most optimistic, people-loving, open-minded old addlehead you will ever meet.  I’m such a social freak, I have always been fascinated by her ability to connect, easily, with anyone anywhere.  Where ever we go she engages wait-staff and counter clerks, homeless men on the street…bus drivers.  Age is only slightly hurting her repertoire.  She can’t hear shit and sort of randomly interprets answers.

"Yes, this is a beautiful country, too.  What? Me? No, honey, I’m Scotch-Irish…"

The girl looks puzzled for a minute and looks at me.

"She wants the pink polish. And a tartan."

Tilth was, as advertised, amazing. I did eat food I would normally have run from. Mini-duck burgers, goat cheese and fennel somethingerother… Sweet Corn Sorbet on a bacon biscuit…. white wine.  Yipe.

My toenails are bright blue and my eyebrows are no longer an indicator of a long cold winter.   

In a few hours we fly to Vegas to try the Old Lady Luck on video poker. 

I miss my dogs. 

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