A peeve and a plan

My great niece is getting married Thursday evening 

at the Conservatory in St. Louis.

I am so excited.

She is like a daughter to me. 

She spent countless hours at our house
 when she was little

and her daddy feels like he is mine too.

Adore is too little of a word 

for the way I love them.

But the point of this story

is my pedicure in preparation

for the big event.
A new nail place has opened up in our town.

Hip hip hooray.

Everyone who likes a pedi

is donning party hats

and riding ponies.

Well, I know I would if I could.

I visited it this afternoon.

The place is nice,

the chairs are awesome.

My best sister-in-law and favorite goof,

who makes me cackle showed up.

I was delighted.

I hadn't seen her in months.

No, I haven't seen anyone in months.

Just before I went to the nail place

I ran to Wal mart to get a gift card.

I saw some dear friends in the store

and had to hug them and gab.

I was there an hour.

AN hour!
Man, I miss my friends.

However, I am off my subject

the pedicure...

It was nice and my toes look great.

I even had my nails painted.

But I have one pet peeve.

The salon workers spoke

Vietnamese the whole time.

Please people, I am insecure.

Why are you making fun of my little toes

in a language I cannot understand?

I have been insulted in English before

concerning my hooves.

Please let me privy to your mockery.

I don't like your secret language.

My imagination runs amok

on topics I think you are discussing about me.

How is a woman supposed to relax

in a vibrating chair 
that shakes every amount 
of loose flesh she has

 like it is a jello mold

with the suspicion that she is possibly 
being ridiculed

 for just that? 

I object right here and now.

I wish I would have talked to my sis-in-law

in Pig Latin and

 gave then a taste of their own medicine.
Extnay imetay Iay illway!
Boom.