Let us pray . . .

Today I treated myself to a pedicure. My feet were feeling rough, and I had disliked my nail color almost since I had it put on a month ago. I'm really pleased with the result and feel more confident to face the summer now.

While I was sitting in the pedicure chair having my feet pampered, I was reminded of the last time I got a mani/pedi. It was at the nail salon in Henderson last month. I had my pedicure first and then sat down to have my nails manicured. The woman did all the prep work on my fingers (filing, cutting, soaking, etc.) and then leaned over to tell me something. I didn't understand her, so I asked her to repeat herself.

"Will you pray for me?"

Hmm. All these thoughts began to race through my head. Should I pray that she makes my nails look pretty? That she doesn't hurt me with those sharp tools? Or is this something more serious — is she going through some real life issues right now?

As I was sitting there looking very confused, she repeated her question and pointed to my purse.

Oh.

"Would you like to pay me now?"

That made much more sense. I sheepishly took out my wallet and paid her.

You just never know what's going to happen when you get your nails done.

No Bull!

So the subhead for this blog is "Musings of a Texas Girl Living in Massachusetts," which makes it sound like I should be writing about the great cultural differences between Texas and Massachusetts (of which there are many). I feel like I haven't done that so far, but hopefully that will change . . . beginning now.

Today I drove out to the Burlington Mall because it has the closest Chick-fil-A to my home. I ate my lunch in the food court and then took the rest of my drink with me as I shopped. At the Hallmark store, I picked up a birthday card for a friend and walked up to the counter to pay for it. The woman at the register glanced at the Chick-fil-A cup in my hand and then saw my T-shirt (since it's game day, I was wearing my burnt-orange Longhorn shirt).

"They let you eat at Chick-fil-A with a bull shirt on?" she asked with a strange look on her face.

I panicked. Was she a Sooner? A closet Aggie fan?  A, gulp, Tech fan upset at the outcome of last week's game?

No, it turns out she really thought the Longhorn on my t-shirt was a bull. I didn't have time to explain anything and left the store slightly amused.

Thank goodness a man yelled out "Hook 'em, Horns" to me later this afternoon. At least some people up here understand the importance of Texas football.

Postscript to the Last Entry

I thought of something else that I wanted to add to my entry about my Shakespeare adventure a few weekends ago.

After the play let out, I went to my car and grabbed my camera to take a few pictures around the theater. I was taking a picture of a flower when I heard three well-dressed people discussing the play. They didn't like the production and thought it took a lot of liberties with Shakespeare's work. It wasn't humor the way Shakespeare intended, the man said. One woman then asked if a certain line was from Shakespeare: "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em." No, the man said, that was definitely not Shakespeare. Since I had never read Twelfth Night, I figured the man was right.

Well, a few days ago, I decided to look up the quote and see who had originally written the line since it wasn't from Shakespeare. A quick Google search proved that Shakespeare did in fact write the line in Twelfth Night. After I realized that, it made me question the group's assertion that the play wasn't the way Shakespeare would have intended it. After all Shakespeare wrote more for the lower class than the rich and powerful, and his comedies usually were very bawdy. I guess it just goes to show you that you can't trust someone even if they say something with authority.