Bicycles, Pedicures, and the Carpool Lane

When your daughter comes to town for the week, your routine gets a shake-up. Instead of going out to find your fun, you find that it centers around your offspring, at least two of them. There are lunches, dinners, and more lunches. There are shopping trips and tubs of important papers to sort, that turn out to be twelve years of artwork and book reports.

Then another lunch.

Cha- ching! But no matter. How often do you get to take an East Coast daughter out for a meal?

You arrange a day with the relatives, an impromptu salad bar spread from Costco, a look at Iowa relatives on Facebook via the smart TV, and a walk in the park with both dogs simultaneously. I usually walk them separately.

Today started with aerobics, and then we took a bicycle ride (it had been two years for me), ate a deli lunch, and then took a trip to a nail salon (sans my son) where I had my first pedicure in two years, and my daughter had a mani-pedi.

The new salon was spacious, and the pedicurists were friendly. The podiatrist had recommended the place since my last pedicure led to an infection and antibiotics. This salon autoclaves the tools and also lines the foot basins with plastic, unlike the last place. Yes, it was pricier (cha- ching!), but maybe not in the long run with no doctor co-pays.

A wedding party of women came in for pedicures, and as they sat side by side looking at their phones, I realized that I was only non-millennial in a spa seat.  Color number 601 seemed to be the preferred choice, but I forgot to glance over and see what color it turned out to be. Gel or no gel? I am so behind the times I didn’t even know what that meant. We left once our nails were dry and walked to the car in our provided flip flops.

Then a quick visit with my sis, four spins around the backyard (me still in thin pink flip-flops), and then the trip north on the freeway to return my daughter to her father’s house. Because of my Fast Track device, I could get in the express lane and go for free, since I had a passenger.  We went at speeds anywhere from five miles an hour to 39 miles an hour for the eight miles up the road to her dad’s exit.

Now back home, I am recovering from all the socializing, eating, and running around. I have lots of things to get done, but my body says No way, Jose.  My body says, Sit in a chair and watch mindless TV or a movie, or read a book.

Tomorrow her dad gets her all day in exchange for Thursday.  She leaves on Sunday, It has all been too fast.

But it has been fun, fun, fun.

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