WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Christy, this is a post about F**t. The dreaded F word. So you're going to want to skip this post.
Is she gone?
I don't actually have anything to say, except that Chase gave me a toe-paint job yesterday. I've been wanting a fun, summery pedicure. But I'm such a cheapskate. I have a VERY hard time convincing myself to pay for one. I actually never have. I've gotten them as birthday presents or when I got married.
So anyway, I knew I could still sort of reach my feet, so I was guaranteed at least some decent red toes. But I really wanted flowers. So I found a tutorial online, showed it to Chase and appointed him toe artist. And he came through, per the usual. I have yet to find something that guy can't do. He cooks, he can clean when motivated by my evil eye, he can whip out a spreadsheet and now he can paint rockin' flowers on my toes! How well rounded is that?