The Carver

A whole day of fashion and "personal beauty" (Princess' words, not mine). First to Target for shoes (flip-flops . . . you have to bring them, who knew?) and reading material (Vogue and Marie Claire), then to Coney Island (mmmm . . . coney island), and then to the nail place.

No one speaks English at the nail place, so there is no idle chit-chat . . . at least no chit-chat that I can understand. You have to "pick your color" first, a concept I did not understand but there is a rack of nail polish and you go to pick one. I don't know what happens if someone else has your chosen color, however I'm a novice, so I didn't have one to begin with. I chose "I'm Not Really A Waitress" from O.P.I., which I had coveted at the Target a few days ago. Got a manicure too.("Thank God", says Princess) ("Her cuticles were in rough shape.") So my nails are even . . . and bloody, which I don't think is supposed to happen. Evidently, if I come in every two weeks this will not happen next time. ("Considering that she eats her fingers, it was a wonder that the girl could do anything with them at all." Again, Princess.)

So while "carving out some friend time", as penance I also had my cuticles carved. Serves me right for opening my mouth. Did get some wicked good shoes for book club tonight though. Might be slightly cold and I'll have to read many books to not feel the pain of the heels but well worth the effort.

Have booked Vegas. Someone should warn them to be ready for us.