In getting ready for the sandals that I have not yet found because they do not sell cute vaguely Grecian/ flat/ pale blue and/or pale pink not satin women's shoes in size 11 (is that too much to ask? Sheesh), I decided to get my feet showworthy. Now, I could have chosen the Ped Egg...
But then I thought, "Rachel, this is your
wedding day, are you really going to prepare for the most specialist pretty pretty princessest perfectest romanticist day of your life with something
sold on TV???" The answer, of course, is no. No, the only place to
truly prepare for bridal bliss is... at Greenville Rentals. For the paltry sum of $40/day you can rent yourself a only slightly less cute drum sander to blast away your callouses and any pesky toes you may not want:
Sure, it's a little awkward to get into position but once you have it laid flat and your scraggly heels against it, it is only slightly more excruciating than having your eyebrows waxed. And, really, you must do anything, I mean ANYTHING, to be a pretty pretty princess. I am that dedicated to having THE MOST PERFECT DAY EVER!!!!
After I swaddled my bloody stumps of feet with gauze and trotted off to try to get into those size 10 Kenneth Cole pumps I bought back into 2001, Woody put the drum sander to other uses:
This is hard work.
Very hard work. This is why Woody looks like he is in a contractor version of Footloose. Woody popped more ibuprofen each night than I saw my rowing roommates down in college. But all the hard work turned up beautiful floors! Take a look at the foreground of that picture -- no clods of drywall spackle, no blue paint, no Dr. Pepper cans ground into the flooring. It looks clean! Really clean! Check out the before (lower half) and after (upper half) difference:
Maddy found herself a sunny spot in the master bedroom and settled in...
The living room looks huge...and at last clean...
Since Woody was breaking his back sanding our floors, I decided the least I could do was put together a casserole of enchiladas. While I tried wearing giant ear protector things like Woody in solidarity, I found an apron worked better in protecting me from molten enchilada sauce:
(Here Madison is wondering why I would ever agree to a photo with a face that greasy or a smile that maniacal. But hell, I had just stood barefoot in our living room for the first time in
two years, you would be maniacally happy too.)
I donned a pair of Woody's socks (smoother than my fancy running socks) and tried a slide down the hallway...no dice. Maybe the second coat will have me gliding from living room to kitchen with nary a snag. Even better, if we polish it extra well maybe Woody and I can treat the hallway like a giant hardwood Slip n Slide. Bellyflopping on pine will probably feel better than the shearing away of tender abdominal skin that resulted from surfing the yellow plastic wave on some gravelly schoolyard lot. Which is the only way I experienced Slip and Slide.
