8 Thoughts I Have Whilst Getting a Pedicure

1. Why is it that there's always a leader man of the pack working the nail salon? Why is there a whole den of she-manicurists but only one he-manicurist and he's the only one who talks to customers? I'm not trying to disrespect hierarchy here, but I've entered my fair share of nail salons and there is always Just One Guy and so many women working there, and The Guy is Always the One Who Talks to Customers First. Who decides this and what would happen if there were more than One Guy? 2. Did I tell someone that I needed a pedicure? Because I didn't mean to say I need. I meant want. Children in The Sudan need food and water. I just kinda want not to have the toenails of a pegasaurus.

3. Do pedicurists always tell you that you picked out a "nice color"? Like they work 40+ hours a week in the nail salon but they needed you, you super sleuth of the OPI rainbow, to pick out such a nice color. Because this happens to me every time and I'm all high-fiving myself for being such an outstanding color curator and then I think, Nawwww! They say that to all the girls!

4. When the pedicurist pulls out the scraper that is most likely a cheese grater and starts rubbing it against your foot, why does it feel so crazy ticklingly good?

5. Why does someone like I (who lives a pretty sedentary life), who does not work in a factory or run across hot coals on the regular, need to have her feet scraped with a cheese grater?

6. What would happen if the Department of Motor Vehicles and a nail salon teamed up and while you waited in the interminable line to get your driver's license renewed, you could be getting a spa pedicure???

7. Would it be reasonable to vote for someone whose campaign platform included access to affordable, clean pedicures for all?

8. Is it okay to tip 10% for a pedicure? Someone just took a cheese grater to my foot--I feel like the tip could go either way?

Would you like to donate a dollar to the...

Is it just my particular geography or singular luck that for the past month, EVERY transaction (with the exception of a self-check-out) is punctuated with a twinkly-eyed 17 year-old asking me if I'd like to tack on a dollar for the Good Samaritan Charity?  Surely I am not alone in this? Is it National Non-Profit Passive Fundraising Month everywhere? Because it's starting to give me a complex. And I am pretty pro-philanthropy, as much as someone who is probably a philanthropic cause herself can be. This add-a-dollar-on is starting to add up, however. The teenage cashier is all, I have this script, and I'm all, Yeah, I know it's a script, but it's the Children's Miracle Network. Who says NO to making a miracle happen for a child that only costs a dollar? Teenager is like, Oh, thank you SO much, like I just helped her make a donation quota and now she doesn't have to clean out the McNugget crumbs from the Playland tonight because she met her quota, and I'm all, You're so welcome. 

But then I'm at Bi-Lo on the very same day, and the disaffected teenager cashier is asking me if I want to donate to the Safe Harbor House, and then suddenly this is not even a question of economy or philanthropy, this is a test of gravity where the once disaffected teenager is peering into my soul, knowing full well that I just spent $.99 on an iTune mp3 of "Build me up, Buttercup" by The Foundations when I could have just listened to it ad infinitum on YouTube, but noooo, I just had to possess it for my very own, and now this teen is looking at me and waiting for me to say YES or NO I WILL NOT GIVE ONE WHOLE DOLLAR to the Safe Harbor House BECAUSE I'M A WRETCHED PERSON who spends her money frivolously on iTunes. And the teen is like, Okay, then your total comes to $14.39.

But what I really want to say back to this teen who can't wait to bag my root vegetables and go on his government-mandated 30 minute break is that the thirties are very hard, especially when you thought you were going to get a big payoff from your "investment property" and then you learn about what a real estate bubble really is, and you don't end up making a profit but actually running a total deficit, and that the real irony of all of this is that I'M ALSO LOOKING for a Safe Harbor House.  The teen cashier is already on his break reading a back issue of USWeekly in the break room as I grab my groceries and I want to bawl for all the people who are looking for their Safe Harbor.

*** Later I find a dollar in a compartment of our car and buy my daughter a cherry slush from Sonic. As I'm rejoicing that I found this gratuitous Benjamin in our vehicle, the drive-through cashier asks me if I'd like to add a dollar for the Children of Hope Fund.

Anything better

In a more recent episode of "Mad Men," Betty Draper pauses before carving into her Weight Watchers Thanksgiving dinner. Her son reminds her to say what she is thankful for. She says, "I'm thankful that I have everything I want...and that no one else has anything better."

It's a reflection of her character, a grown-up princess, and perhaps of America at the time. It is not enough to be grateful just for what we have, but the benchmark of gratitude is drawn in comparison to what others have. At least what we know that they have.

True, in the mid-1960s there aren't Facebook albums humblebragging about homeplate seats or wide acreage for us to be sure that our possessions are superior to that of others. But based on the propaganda of prosperity, perhaps Betty Draper had reason to believe she had not only what she wanted, but what everyone else wanted, too.

***

The last two nights I've fallen asleep tired. We'd had visitors for a week and I was exhausted. But last night was different. I fell asleep tired from such a wonderful day, just hanging with my family and enjoying what felt like the first true day of summer. Summer, what a great idea. As all the best fruits ripen in the garden, the fruits of our labors during the rest of the year become ready for harvest, and we are given a season to be a little more leisurely, to flip-flop a little more freely through the stacks of books and projects that lay dormant under the frost of winter.

I found myself smiling just as I fell asleep. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have to check myself. I didn't have to remind myself to just be grateful, or to stop coveting the time with children or time without children, or the yoga classes or the cute yoga figure that the gal to my right has.

Unqualified gratitude is sincere gratitude. Thankfulness just because I know I *should* be thankful does not make a beautiful character. Thankfulness in light of what others do or don't have is not even touching the real issues in my heart. Cultivating thankfulness is daily work for me. Even though I know I am living far better than a huge swell of the world's population is living. My heart wants to know who's got it better. Easier. Safer. Prettier. Thinner. Smarter. Richer. Better.

Even though my greed heart and my thankful heart beat with one rhythm, I can tell you they are both trying to beat louder than the other. Type Greed blood must be thinner than Type Thanks blood because when it's easier for my heart to pump it. I get so irritated when the kids complain about the wrong flavor popsicle--but I am no better, just letting my greed heart pump its toxins all through my system.

I am thankful in my life right now for a million blessings. Each one little in light of my thanks for Jesus, each one big in its job of building up my thankful heart.