I sighed.
Yes.
It was Erin's foot.
I honestly do not know how these things happen.
In the summer, I go off the grid--socially and emotionally. I dissipate. Recuperate. Hibernate. Vacillate. Perseverate. Caffeinate. Hydrate. Chlorinate. Decelerate.
I do NOT collaborate. Radiate. Invigorate. Ebulliate. Titillate. Initiate. Or venerate.
I do not need a workmate. Teammate. Classmate. Playmate.
But here we were.
Either she has an intuitive sixth sense or had me darted and tagged at some point, but Erin always seems to know when I'm about to peer cautiously out of my reclusive den to reluctantly embark on a small adventure.
And then she blows it up.
Katriel and I were going to get our nails done. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nails, by itself, is about all I can handle.
In my life, Jesus takes the wheel but, over the last few years, He hands it over to Erin who then careens us directly towards a cliff where Katriel, map in hand, guides us to a miraculously-placed ramp where we fly, Bo and Luke Duke-style, over the ravine, landing lopsidedly, engine smoking, hearts racing, and laughing.
I was going to write about how Erin shanghaied my trip...my lexical leanings originating from an episode of "Bonanza" that I watched as a child where Hoss was kidnapped to crew a sailing vessel for China while visiting San Francisco. Once I wrote the word "shanghaied" though, I worried that maybe it was inappropriate. So, down the rabbit hole I tumbled in my resolve not to offend anyone.
SKIP THIS PART: Irrelevant and unnecessary
First of all, the episode of "Bonanza" was much more unnecessarily involved than I remembered but the chair on the trap door in the bar was just as I had pictured AND hysterically historically accurate.
More or less, from the United States' end, the term "shanghaied" evolved during a brief window of history book-ended by the California Gold Rush that lured sailors that harbored on the West Coast to abandon ship to try their luck, leaving rudderless vessels in perpetual port so...rather than offer a livable wage and benefits package (Sound familiar, anyone?), captains organized a crew by tricking, drugging, and kidnapping their victims on the return trip across the Pacific AND the introduction of the steam-powered ship which required a higher level of skilled labor than a sailing vessel rendering the forced-on-board-labor moot.
I also did a deep dive on the miles-long lengths of tunnels connecting hotels and bars to the harbor that lurk beneath Portland's streets that derived from this era. Color me intrigued!
So...two hours later, I still don't know if the term is universally inappropriate. I can only apply the advice that I offer my 4th graders when they are uncertain if what they are about to say or do will get them in trouble. Follow your gut. If your tummy feels funny...it's probably wrong. If it makes you hesitate...head the other way. I would never want to intentionally hurt someone's feelings (aside from Erin's) so I decided to abstain from casual use of this term in my blog. But I also believe that a small group of the easily offended should not have the right to censure language when no offence is intended. I just wanted to write about my pretty nails but, instead, ended up exhausted because a few people have terrorized the rule-abiding part of the population to question every word and to curb their tongues at every turn. We've got to learn to relax a little. Planned ignoring is a great teaching and parenting technique. Walking away (sometimes in a huff) is another strategy. Or earnestly (not dramatically) sharing how those words affect you personally WITHOUT the lecture and condemnation is also another way to go.
YOU MAY RETURN TO YOUR REGULARLY-SCHEDULED READING
What on EARTH was I talking about?
Oh yeah...Erin commandeered my and Katriel's little outing.
I was ready to go home when, during our first, off-course, stop for fancy coffee drinks, Erin began planning for the NEXT nail salon venture.
"But we haven't even had our nails done yet today," I growled as I wrestled my way with the infinite options of drink possibilities. Katriel's choice was the best...some chocolatey-minty concoction. I spent the bulk of my counter time beseeching the staff to quit changing the menu. Apparently, I have a fondness of limited time offers.
We arrived at the packed salon and settled in, sipping our drinks. A nail salon, for good or bad, is a magical place where, if you pose a question out loud, EVERYONE will provide an opinionated answer and then have an invested interest in the outcome. A big fan of the look and durability of gel, I wondered how dipping compared.
And...we were off and running.
My newfound nail family advised me up until my name was called.
Erin and Katriel handle my anxiety in equally effective but very different ways. I have trouble with someone I am not familiar with touching me. I am plagued with both tunnel vision AND hearing so accents send me spinning out of control. Noise is a bear. Close quarters...get me out of here.
Amy. Why on earth would you even GO to a nail salon then?
Number one: I do not want my fear to dictate my life.
Number two: I love pretty nails.
Erin distracts me by talking CONSTANTLY. She is aware that if she can get me engaged in conversation, I can fake my way through my fear. When we get separated at the salon, she keeps a not-so-subtle eye on me, yelling and waving at me from her pedicure pod where the staff flutters around her like little bees attending to a flower.
Katriel is the clean-up crew...where is Amy's drink, her bag, her sanity as I am moved (pried) from location to location. It is Katriel who, when I look at her in a panic, makes the quick and quiet assessment of the trigger and either alters the environment or gently reassures me in the moment. If she's not within eyesight, Katriel will check in regularly so I know that I'm not alone.
Whew. We did it. We were done.
Nope.
Before I could even take a deep, cleansing breath from that experience, I was being pulled into a clothing
store. I unfortunately made the mistake of acting too happy when greeted by the staff so Erin and Katriel alternated as intermittent missiles, attempting to re-route the salesperson from being locked onto me.
I am obsessed with waffle fabric right now and to combine that with a romper was like hitting the jackpot so I couldn't be (too) mad at Erin. She honed in on a glitter tank and a star-patterned light sweater. I honed in on the star-pattered tank she was currently wearing. Eye roll.
Now we were done.
Except, of course, for the obligatory picture. As we held hands (and feet?), I silently gave thanks for my dear friends who put up with my quirks so that we can delight in our time spent together. I am grateful.
Now. We were done.
Nailed it.
No comments:
Post a Comment