Nails and Tags

As I've reported before, I get my nails done at a nail shop down the street. It's espeically nice for me, because I have a helluva time operating those little cuticle nippers with my right hand (since I'm a southpaw), so I leave that to the professionals, lest I lose a fingertip.

The nail shop is called Pola Belle. (And as you can see from the picture, some punk-ass tagger sprayed the brick work.)
It's not exactly a spa environment, but it's clean and I love the woman who does my nails. She's very sweet and gentle with my nails and doesn't try to saw on them with the nail file. She's also given me some Vietnamese cooking tips, which I have yet to try. (I keep thinking if I prepare tofu the right way, I might like it as much as roasted chicken.)

I never thought I'd like manicures, but it's a great way to unwind. And, unlike treating yourself to Krispy Kreme, a manicure won't prevent you from fitting into your capris from last summer. Ahem.