In Phoenix, the temperature is apparently in the 25-30 C range. Tank tops, capri pants, and flip flops weather. So yesterday, I had to dig out my summer wardrobe, see whether any of it fit (winter, as we all know, is the time to add extra fat cells for insulation), wash and iron those articles of clothing that passed not only the "does it still fit" test but also the "can I wear this anywhere fancier than cleaning the oven" test. It's amazing the number of stains and holes that have appeared since I last wore those clothes.
But I now have a suitable wardrobe selected, washed, and piled on the ironing board. The suitcase lies open on the bed, half packed, waiting for those freshly ironed clothes. And I remember. Toenails! That's part of the summer fashion statement. All winter long the toenails are rarely seen, buried beneath socks and fur-lined moccasins, or stuffed into giant, clunky boots. Now they will be on full display! I love the freedom of sandals and flip flops. I love the sexy, flirty feeling of red-tipped toes. But I have a lot of work before these sorry-looking specimens are going to flirt with anyone!
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| Ta-dah! |
I was just figuring out my timeline for the evening. Ironing, packing, showering, blow-drying, painting toenails... And then I remembered this blog. My schedule is shot to hell. So I apologize for this frivolous, fashionista-style rant. It will have to do for tonight. I promise that the serious writer will return next time, and report on all the important and profound things I learned at the mystery conference. But for now, red toenails await!
And if you're in Phoenix for Left Coast Crime, look me up to say hi, and I will show you the shallower, sillier side of being a writer! But what's a ying without a yang?
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