My pedicure guy

My oldest daughter, Emma, is in 8th grade show choir.

You might not know what a big dealio show choir has become. Back in my day, we practiced a handful of times and did one show. We wore royal blue sequined crop tops with elastic-waisted black skirts. We were totally in it just to wear those sequined tops. Nobody got to wear sequined crop tops back then without being in show choir. We had three big moves. Low jazz hands, high jazz hands and the scandalous shoulder shimmy. There's WAY more to it now!

In a borderline-bad-mom move last weekend, I took Emma to a mall between her performance and the awards ceremony. She probably should have hung out with the other kids at the competition, but it's hard to say no when your 14-year-old daughter wants to spend time with you. I had a brilliant idea when we got to the mall. Pedicures! Well, pedicures for Emma and me. 8-year-old Gwen opted for a manicure.

As we waited for our turn, I noticed a young manly man guy come through the back door. I assumed he was there to visit a friend or maybe do some repair work. But much to my surprise, he pulled up a chair and started my pedicure. Here he is giving Gwen her manicure.


I really wish those paper towels weren't in front of my Gwen!

Here are some questions I asked:
- Are you from here? Yes.
- Do you have kids? No, but if I ever have a little girl, she'll have the best nails ever!

That's all I asked because I couldn't stop thinking of questions that might offend him:
- Is this your real job?
- Are you a tattoo artist at night?
- Why are you working here? Are you dating a girl who works here who is making you do this?
- When did you decide you wanted to do nails?
- So what do you want to do when you grow up?

Since I was speechless, the conversation was pretty much up to him. He told me about how he'd been out sledding with his buddies the night before. Sledding and drinking vodka. Oh, ok. As he was massaging my calf muscles, he told me that the ladies usually love that part because he has strong hands. I was speechless again and wondered if I was on some kind of reality show. Evidentally not.