My feet got some love today, in just about the most fabulous way possible: a foot message followed up by a pedicure at a please-put-on-this-robe day spa. My feet are my love language; a foot rub is worth more than its weight in gold. Knowing this, the boy hired out a professional to do what he does so well and rub my feet as a significant part of my once a year bevy of presents (no complaints...it's just how it is for those of us with birthdays right around Christmas). And boy did the boy pick a good spot for my treat-yo-self morning. At some point, I was lying there thinking "I must write about this...I want to remember this." So in the spirit of my morning, I invite you to light something lavender-y smelling and sip hot tea from a delicate china cup. This was my sensory feast.
Breakfast...alone...at what is probably one of my most very favorite restaurants. French food. Delicious coffee (chocolate fudge with cream...3 cups...wanted more). Broken yolk breakfast sandwich on sourdough with a perfectly smushy avocado and toothsome, meaty bacon. Fresh fruit--not previously frozen. A book and a booth. Ideal.
A perfect winter sunrise. Delicate pinks and frosty blues. Icy white snow. Visually appealing. Bone chillingly cold.
An unassuming storefront in a strip mall for a luxe day spa. But otherwise surrounded by a chi-chi community where even the McDonald's is brick.
Me, dressed as best I can but knowingly unable to compete with aforesaid upscale community. In the end, doesn't matter. What's your shoe size? Wear these spa sandals? Stash your things in this locker. No cell phones. Put on this robe. (Yes, we know you're only here for your feet. Still...) Absolutely, you can take your book with you. (Sarah Winters, The Little Stranger. Wilkie Collins anyone? Nods to Great Expectations.)
Here's the quiet room. Relax on one of our cushy couches, lounges or armchairs. Enjoy hot tea. Would you like some cucumber scented water? Yes. Yes, please.
Reflexology message? Are you sure that's all you want? No. I'm getting a pedicure as well. Ah...good choice. Face mask? Blanket? No, I want to be awake so I can enjoy this. Comfortable? Oh, yes.
What color of polish for your pedicure? This line of square bottles is vegan and practically heals typhoid. The taller bottles are not quite as healthful but will still enable you to run a full marathon after you leave. Either one is a good choice. Yes. Please.
Allow me to explain the innumerable options for the message chair while your feet soak in perfectly warm, jetted water. Enjoy while I sprinkle this pixie dust around the room. Allow me to use the organic sugar scrub because, frankly, I wasn't sure how to tell you this without hurting your feelings, but your feet are in wretched shape. No charge. I will use twinkle magic on them to make them feel like butter. Smooth, melty butter. Be careful when you walk after this. Your feet might still be slippery from my voodoo.
Sparkly blue toenails. Adorb-a-licious.
Here we are back at the quiet room. Stay here as long as you would like. (Does this mean I can move in?) But stay for at least ten minutes to allow your tootsies to properly dry. No problem. More hot tea and snacks. More squashy chairs and amiable solidarity with other women who are also waiting for their various services. No one is talking to me or, even better, scrabbling around like a tipsy toddler...no one is pushing off of me using their elbow in my throat. Let's pretend that my nails need to dry for an hour or two.
What kind of black magic is this that enables my feet to still feel as if they are wrapped in hot towels, as if they are melty smooth and delicious, even after re-entry into the normal, frigid world? Perfect, perfect black magic.
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