⪧ We left our life in New York City to make a new one in Provence ⪦

December 24, 2008

On my way home...

I had a significant layover at the Cincinnati airport, of all places. Long wait. Luckily, I came across a dream spot in the terminal: 10 Minute Manicure. At least 10 of my minutes waiting were to be highly productive.

Sitting down to wait for the next available gal, I was exposed to a stream of continual chatter. Her name was Rena: black hair, pageboy hair cut with a twist. Black base, white stripes in front. 50 pounds too heavy, nails bitten to their root and sky-blue eyeshadow. "He is a really special lap bunny. He doesn't even like to leave his cage much, even when I leave it open all night long," she said, comforting herself for all the hours she spends away from him lacquering people's nails. She was painting a deep maroon color on a woman in a fur coat who looked at Rena with suspended condescension and feigned interest, while trying not to widen her eyes too much and only when Rena was looking down at her nails. Sometimes she was caught. Rena didn't catch on too much though.

When it was my turn, she asked me in her country accent (because after all, the Cincinnati apartment is actually in Kentucky - who knew? Rena told me all of this proudly and with a lot of authority),

"You finish all your Christmas shopping?"

I told her that, unfortunately, I had not.

"Ah, well, one year I didn't either and I went to Walmart and there weren't no shopping baskets on wheels left, so I went straight to the laundry aisle and found a basket for myself and kicked it around the store and put all the groceries right in it. At the check out, I just took out the groceries and put it right there underneath."


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