I'll also have a link to her blog on the left hand side of this page (on my blog) so you can continue appreciate the great geocaching stories and pictures that are posted there.
Did I tell you guys that I've started going to a Saloon - No, I think it's spelled Salon. No? Well, that's the place here in Denver where I get my nails "done". One or two of you might remember the days when my nails were always chewed to the quick and usually fixed up with a band aid or two. Now, I can't 'bite' the acrylic, and my nails look pristine all the time. It's something that's important to me, so I afford that even when I can't afford to pay the electric bill. (Just kidding.)
My nail salon is called Rock Star Nails. Actually, the owner, Darnyl, has several girls, and they have lots of teenage friends that go there. One of the most talented nail techs is Darnel's daughter, Taylor.
I've gotten to know all the Rock Star "family'. Today Mark (a fairly new tech at Rock Star Nails) did my nails a real pretty light pink. Mark is funny, laid back, and knows everything about everything. He knows the words to every song that comes over the radio, and he SINGS along with each one. Can you imagine an hour of being serenaded by your nail tech?Today I mentioned that I was looking for a new person to cut my hair. The lady who has been doing it for almost six months now STILL asks me what my name is. I mean she isn't even apologetic about it.
"What's your name?" she asks as she waits to look up my hair color in her little book. It just irked me the wrong way last week. After all, she expects all the juicy gossip about every little thing in my life AND HER'S while I sit in her chair, and she doesn't even know my name! So, I didn't make a return appointment as I left.
Bless his heart. Mark not only told me the name of a stylist next to the nail salon, but he took me over there and introduced me to "Cindy". All I ask is that she remembers my name - or at least writes it in her book so she can find it and make me believe I'm important enough for her to have remembered my name.
The funny part is that when I first started going to Rock Star Nails, I forgot Mark's name and called him something else. Today he stopped singing for a moment, looked up from working on my nails, and said, "My name is Mark. What's your name, Linda?"
Who doesn't appreciate being remembered? Maybe that's why some of us are so drawn to geocaching, writing, painting, photography, and hobbies where we can leave something of ourselves for others to remember us with. Just a thought...What do you think?
Take Care on the Journey,
Your friend in life