I went with two very dear friends yesterday to indulge in some serious estrogen enhancement. We left our respective children with our respective husbands (and Willem really deserves a prize for this, because he took the kids to the Home Depot craft in the morning AND to a birthday party - at Chuck E. Cheese - in the evening, all by himself), and we went out to lunch and then got massages, manicures and pedicures. The lunch part is not unusual; we try to get together at least once a month on our own. But the fondling by strangers, that was in honor of Carolyn's birthday.

It was blissful.

Though, admittedly, odd. My masseuse was named Therese, and she is from Ireland. That is all that I know about her. She knows quite a bit more about me, though not demographics or verbal details. There's just something off about walking up to a stranger and saying, "Hi, rub me."

I discovered that manicurists can have a sense of humor, or at least they wait a while before reporting you to Child Protective Services. When I sat down with my hands in this woman's face, she said, "Oh, you have nice nails already. How do you keep them nice with kids around?" (Bearing in mind, I have not used nail polish on my fingernails since... hmm. My wedding, maybe?) And without thinking, I said, "Oh, I just make sure to put gloves on before I beat them." Ha, ha, wink, wink, don't call the authorities, I'm kidding.

Now I'm crashing back to reality, trying to get my kids to leave each other's eyeballs in their heads because they have just as nasty a case of cabin fever as I have. We could go out somewhere, but it would just be a case of going from one indoors to another indoors, and what I really want is to be outside. Soon... I hope.