Once More Unto the Breach

Before I get into this post, I know someone out there is going to say,”Oh, he made a typo in the title – he wrote ‘unto’ instead of ‘into.'”  Au contraire, mon frere.  In today’s lingo “unto” here actually means into, but Henry V used the word “unto” to spur his minions into the battle once more.

And so, it being two days until beach reunion week, Louise drug me once more unto the breach (the pedicurist) for my annual torture.  It was a Vietnamese shop again, but at least this time they were local Vietnamese, not San Francisco Vietnamese.  I survived this ordeal much better than my last, and I do believe that my pedicurist this time was sympathetic and cut me some slack.  Louise was in the chair right next to me getting her pedicure.  It did strike me as a little intimidating that my pedicurist wore a face mask, but Louise’s did not.  I impressed on him the fact that I have very sensitive and tender feet, and that if he drew blood, we would rumble.  This seemed to register with him as he was much gentler than the witch from San Francisco.  Oh yes, I did in fact have a male pedicurist this time.  The poor guy was obviously in a dilemma as I was threatening him while at the same time Louise was urging him to “cut ’em close.”

Actually, this one wasn’t half bad.  I was doing very well while he was using the clippers.  I had a bit of a setback when he pulled out the gouging tool to scrape the cuticles.  I hate that.  But I managed to grit my way through that.  I was a little taken aback when, like the Mamasan in San Francisco, he whipped out with a Dremel Tool.   This one wasn’t nearly as big as the one in SF, and it had a fine bit on it rather than the coarse bit used in SF.  Very little dust this time.  All bets were off, though, when he went back to the kitchen and came out with the cheese grater.  He started using that on my feet, not the nails; I guess trying to scrape down the calluses.  When he ripped that thing across the bottom of my foot, I started bucking like I was on a bull.  Fortunately, he had a good grip on my foot, or I would have kicked him in the face.

You know, as painful and uncomfortable as these pedicures are for me, that’s not the worst part.  Much worse is the fact that I lose all my dignity and coolness in front of the other people in the shop, who are seemingly in heaven as they get their feet and hands worked on.  Surely they think I’m a first class wimp as I kick and buck and whimper.

I’m going to touch on another topic here and maybe expand on it in a future post.  Louise and I haven’t been sleeping well lately.  She is having back problems and I’m having nightmares.  She thinks the mattress has been the culprit with her back problems, so she ordered a new mattress and box spring.  It arrived yesterday.  I’m sure it’s a fine mattress and box spring, but the damn thing is 2 feet thick.  That on top of our old-fashioned four-poster bed which sits very high, so in order to mount the bed, she has to use a step ladder and I have to get a running start and execute a “Fosbury flop.”  It’s too early to know if it will help with her back problem, but I’m still having the nightmares.  At least last night it wasn’t Mexicans coming after me with knives (two at a time no less); in last night’s dream, I was coaching a football team, but somehow we ended up in a war, trying to scale a cliff against enemy fire.  Maybe that had something to do with the fact that today is the birthday of the US Army.  Hooah!!

Grinding them down with Dremel tool.

The cheese grater.