Dream the Impossible Dream

Ladies and gentlemen. I think I may have done the impossible. I think I may have talked the macho, manly, too cool for school Joe Randazzo into getting a pedicure with me. Why would you want him to do that, you ask. It's simple. Because he refused. There are lots of things I want him to do, not because it would mean anything to me, or because I have any particular reason for it, but simply because he has so adamantly refused to take part that I find myself unable to focus on anything else in life until I have talked him into it. It gives my life meaning. And this pedicure thing? This has taken years. If you know Joe, you will know why the idea of him in a pedicure massage chair, swirling his feet around in the jetted pedicure spa, while being pampered and massaged and luxuriated would give me such delight. And also because I have a sneaking suspicion he's going to love it. Kind of like the time he went to Kiehl's with me, said he didn't want any products, and then after very little encouragement, proceeded to have a 10 minute conversation with the absolutely flaming sales clerk about his sensitive skin. He left with $40 worth of products and a handful of free samples. Now he's a convert. So next weekend, when he comes to visit, we're going for pedis. And he's going to love it. And I'm probably going to take pictures. And use them as blackmail for the next thing I plan to talk him into. Oprah says once one of your dreams comes true, you have to dream a bigger dream. Oh, Joe, I am going to dream so big for you! And it may involve waxing. I'm so, so excited!