Saturday morning pedicures

"GGGAhhhhhh", Consuela sighs as her little fat arms flop on either side of her massaging pedicure chair. The Korean woman diligently scrapes away at her horrendous callouses.

I've dragged her here as a treat. My own feet needed some sprucing up after a hard night of dancing -- and I wanted to stay true to my promise to be nicer to Consuela. My hangover is setting in pretty bad; I have a full bottle of Advil beside me, and am nursing my headache with a cold compress. It's harder to party in your thirties.

"Miiiiaaa," Consuela purrs. I lift one corner of my compress to look at her. Her copper bracelets carve into the folds of flesh around her chubby wrists. "Dis izzzzzzzz sooooooo gooooooooood," she utters while entering into a state of bliss; "dis.....izzzzz.....gooooood...." she whispers. I put the compress back over my eyes and lean back into my own massaging chair.

This is good I think to myself. I'm glad she is liking it. I've always taken Consuela for granted so, while I have the time and the energy, I want to invest in her happiness a little.

I think about Consuela and the hard life she's had -- lugging buckets of water up and down the foothills of Bolivia. Living in a hut. Subsisting off larva. I'm so glad she didn't fall off the boat on her way here...

So what if she can't make the beds before noon if her life depended on it? There are a lot of amazing things about Consuela -- like her love of music, her good heart, her crazy dance moves. I'm glad I'm able to celebrate a little bit of Consuela today.

"I'm glad you like it," I say. I have to utter my words slowly and carefully. The wrong movement of my head could cause a wave of nausea to take over.

"Itz soooo gooooood," she coos back.

We've been here over 20 minutes and the Korean lady is still scraping away at Conseula's callouses. My own feet are three or four stages ahead -- I'm at the exfoliating rub. I factor in that I might have to sit around and wait for her a bit longer. It's no matter. I'm not in a rush. The world can wait today. It's Saturday and I have a hangover.

I think about last night...dancing with my friends. Just like the good old days when we were in our 20s and had the energy to go out every night of the week. No wonder I was so skinny back then -- I was dancing off all the calories.

The good ol' days...when you could suck back 10 to 15 vodka cranberries and still have a spring in your step the next morning.

The good ol' days...when life wasn't so complicated. When our worst problems were not being able to bypass a line at a certain club. When loneliness ceased to be able to enter into our pride.

I never used to be susceptible to loneliness -- probably because I was never alone. Even when I was single I was always surrounded by swarms of friends; ready, willing and able to go out and have fun at a moment's notice. It was a time when staying in was not an option.

But, like all things -- the tide eventually changes. And, one by one they got preoccupied with the business of their own lives: jobs that turned into careers; romances that turned into marriage -- then children.

Sigh.

One by one, they all faded away. The phone would ring less and less; and eventually -- entire months would go by before we would be able to get together. I'd see their children at day one, then week three, then four months, then 3 years -- and I would have an inevitable marker as to just how much time has passed since we last saw each other.

The pride disbanded. Not in spirit -- but in practicality. Their lives became more secular. And I became alone.

But not last night, last night was a rare occurrence -- like blue moons; sales at Tiffany's; and men with a conscience. Last night the pride used all the fury of a lioness' roar to band together for a night of drinks, dancing, and fun. Too much fun.

Children were left at home with their fathers or grandparents. Milk was pumped. And, come hell, high water, or sudden ear infection -- we were together, the way we used to be. The way I wish it could be all the time.

But the wave of time never stops moving -- the sands always shift and change sucks you in like a dangerous undertow; you tumble and roll under water -- not knowing which way is up. When you finally kick your way to the surface there is no horizon in sight. You are much farther than you ever intended to be.

I think I'm still caught in the undertow -- I'm not really sure. But last night was fun. And as I pop another Advil; I listen to Consuela coo and enjoy the moment for what it is. Because, like everything else, I know that this too will change at some point.