Pedicure mirth

I love getting pedicures, and Monday night's was no different. My calves were massaged, my toes rubbed, hot rocks held on the soles of my feet. Oh yes, and my toenails painted.

What made this latest one so special though, was the timing. I got there at 6:10; the place closes at 7.

"No problem!" I was assured. "You're not too late!"

Ten minutes later, I realized I was the only customer...client, whatever the proper lingo is.

I must explain here that the place I go employs only Asian women, plus two men (including the owner). The women have names like Heather and Donna and Nancy. They are delightful and friendly and tiny. And, because of the language barrier, they tend to be a bit reserved (except when they're giggling amongst themselves).

Tonight, though, all that changed around 6:30. Suddenly, it seemed, two of them were sharing the chair on my left and a bag of Cheetos. One of the owners produced a fresh deck of cards. He shuffled them and dealt hands to himself, two women, and the other man.

I don't know what they were playing, but it didn't really matter. Whatever the game, they were having an inordinate amount of fun. One would slap his or her hand of cards on the table, face up, and either laugh or make a face. Then someone would reach for an envelope and a pen, and write a score.

I felt as if I were the proverbial fly on the wall, albeit one whose calves were being rubbed and whose toenails were being painted. A rather vibrant shade of pink, I might add. One that I might have changed once I saw it on that very first toenail.

...On any other visit, that is. But I was having such a good time, I didn't really care. And still don't, even in the light of day.