For Valentine's Day Jason got me a gift certificate for a pedicure.
If there's one thing you should know about Jason it's this: he researches everything.
There is no way he would randomly walk into a pedicure place and just buy a gift certificate.
I'm just guessing but he probably walked into 4 or 5 places, and even had a mental checklist:
-it smells funny
-the lighting isn't very good
-they don't have very many customers
-they don't speak English
-how much do they charge and how good is their service
The place he finally chose was a place I had never been to.
And as someone who has had her fair share of pedicures, I'll have to admit I was impressed with his choice.
Not so many days ago, we were stuck in the Salt Lake City airport.
Our flight had been delayed.
After an hour of just sitting there Jason said, "Let's play a game."
"Look at the people walking by and tell me what they do for a living."
That man is a businessman.
That woman is probably a cheerleader.
That guy must be in the mafia.
That guy is a car salesman.
That dude plays basketball.
And so the game went until Jason pointed out an Asian man and said, "He runs a nail salon."
I didn't realize his pedicure research had made such an impact!
* * * * *
Yesterday that little Trouble ran right up to my belly and wrapped her arms around it and asked, "Well, how's your baby feeling today?"
* * * * *
Here's my question of the day:
What is the best home remedy for a sore throat from you know where?
It's only gotten worse since Monday, and I'm to the point where I can't eat.
I gargled warm salt water because Jason told me to and I'm obedient...it didn't help.
This morning I handed Jason a headlamp and said, "In the husband's handbook it says you have to look at your wife's tonsils and tell her that you see white puffy pockets so that she doesn't think she's delusional."
He looked but couldn't see what I saw.
After sitting in an insta-care for thirty minutes...where I was in line waiting to talk only to the admitting nurse...I finally walked out and drove to my mom's house where I cried.
Because I'm mature like that.
I handed her a flashlight and said, "Mom, tell me I'm not crazy."
She agreed, I'm not crazy.
I came to work and handed my brother a bottle of throat spray and said, "In the brother's handbook it says you have to spray this in your sister's throat because she has lousy aim."
I told that husband of mine that I would try hard not to whine...so, tell me oh wise ones, what is the cure?