Living the life

My parents were in town last month so that we could have ourselves a reunion up at Bear Lake like all the real Utahns do. We all had a great time together, but I think my favorite day was the one where I kidnapped my mom and we went out on our Very Own Nemmie/Mommy Date.

First we hit Skinworks Spa in Salt Lake City. If you are cheap like me and have hobbit feet that need to be dealt with (also like me), I recommend this place. But first you should go to CityDeals.com, where right now you can get a $50 Skinworks giftcard for $20. I tell you this because I love you. You're welcome.

Mom and I both signed up for the hot stone facial and the monthly special, a coconut lime pedicure. The hot stone facial lasted an hour, and I've decided that an hour is maybe too long to lie there and have someone do stuff to my face. (Note: I never would have suspected this, as I'm pretty much the same thing as an orangutan and love me some social grooming. Maybe if they'd been doing something awesome like blackhead extraction I would have felt differently.) I think the problem was the fetus, as I got a stitch in my side at the 30-minute mark and could no longer get comfortable on the massage table.

The pedicure was loads of fun, but I think I got a better deal than Mom did. The girl who was doing her feet had an appointment coming up, so she was in more of a hurry. The girl who was doing my feet did not have another appointment, possibly ever, in life, so she spent about 90 minutes on my feet. I think maybe she was supposed to go clean bathrooms afterwards or something and wanted to put it off.

After the pampering, we drove down to Cottonwood for lunch at Cafe Trio, which I had heard of as being a good schmancy Ladies who Lunch spot. And oh, my, was it nice. If you go there, get the rosemary flatbread appetizer. Trust me. And ignore the people who look over at you when you start making The Sounds. After we ate and went back outside, Mom was in raptures over the landscaping and decided to use me as a bit of human interest in her photos of herbs. The result was possibly the most unflattering picture ever taken of me (and yes, I'm including the Homey the Clown years here). I promise I'm not this heinous usually.


It looks like my boobs are trying to make a run for it--in opposite directions. And don't even ask what's going on with my stomach. Just remember that there is a bunch of rosemary flatbread and warm goat cheese in there. And a baby. And possibly a tumor.