Their own American Gothic
Desperate times call for desperate measures. We've reached that point in the Chinua is in Turkey show when our hostess loses her mind with grief over missing her Superstar Husband. In order to prevent such breakdowns as obsessive compulsive cleaning or skin peeling, she ventures into the wilds of a city known as Vank-oo-fer, determined to treat this great husband vacuum with a little time out in the city.
Yesterday Becca and I drove out with the kids to see my brother and future sister-in-law. We were only able to be there for part of a day, but managed to squeeze in lunch, park time, a pedicure, and dinner.
At the park we sat and talked, in between taking kids on rides on the zipline, a bit hit with Kid A and YaYa. I casually mentioned to my sister and my future sister-in-law that I've been wanting a pedicure for a really long time. "Obviously," I said as I stared glumly at my feet, "I need one." We all agreed. My feet were disgusting, callouses springing out everywhere, cuticles taking over. We ran to the nail salon, callouses forming even more strongly as we ran. [Read: we got in my van and drove to Little Vietnam.)
Uncle Matty (a.k.a. Uncle "Jesus" Matty) took the three kids out for ice cream (read: non-dairy [we hope] sorbet). All of us assumed that it would take, say... forty-five minutes or so. An hour-and-a-half later, we were still waiting to stick our feet in the bubbly water.
Can I just say that I don't think we were their regular type of customers? I mean, that's just what I was picking up, I'm not sure. As soon as we walked into the place I felt right at home, though, because it felt like any random shop in Thailand. The place was just radiating with Asian style. And then the appointment book was radiating with Asian style too, as they had scheduled six people for the same time slot, having only three pedicure chairs. It's like when you ask for directions in India. They feel rude saying they don't know, so they will make something up. I think these Vietnamese ladies would just have felt terrible turning anyone away.
But I stared at the toes of the lady next to me. She honestly looked as though she had come in just yesterday for a pedicure. I wanted to say, LOOK. Who's got more of an emergency situation going on here? She eyed me in return, looking at my hair distrustfully.
Thankfully for us, (and Uncle Jesus Matty) they set us up first. We were bathed and pumiced and sanded and surgically operated on, until our feet looked like baby feet, but with colorful toenails.
We walked on air on our way out, Uncle Matty had some "valuable" experience with taking care of three small children in a city, and all was well.
This wonderful photo is courtesy of a talented girl named Tif who did Matty and Lara's engagement photos.