About Me

My photo


Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ ToeTails

My 93-year- old grandmother discovered that she kind of likes a good pedicure. So. For the combination birthday and Mother's Day gift for both Grandma and my Mom, I treated the ladies to a pedicure. (I have to admit that I had one too. And 24 joined the party. Ahhh. So nice. The amazing massage chair, an extended time soaking and relaxing, I'm telling you, it's better than a pan of brownies to rearrange my mood...whoa, what if I took a Mocha Soy Latte and some of those amazing brownies I blogged about a few weeks ago to my next pedicure? They might not ever get me out of there.) (The cat and toe pictures are my cute little orangey toe with the lovely white flower, Feral feigned indifference and made a nice background, but then he turned on me.)

Sorry. I digress.


The ladies who treated our toes so fabulously wanted to add a little sass so we all got nail art. Pictured are my 93-year-old Grandma's toes in all
their kick-hiney passion pink glory. Ha. 24 took a picture so she could send it to my dad who could blow it up big enough for Grandma to actually see.

She doesn't see wel
l...but she remembers everything I've ever said or done. Which she re
minded me of on the way out the door when she threatened to spank me because I gave her hand cream for a gift.

At one point she looked over at me and said..."Is that gray in your hair?" I laughed out loud, would have rolled on the floor laughing, but thought it would be rude. "Well, Grandma, yes, been going that direction for quite awhile. I prefer silver." My mom looked at me. " I guess it's official." The consensus is that when a blind grandmother notices the gray in your hair, you are officially gray....errrr silver.