Sand Tropez. I cut my be-witchly twisted toenails and sawed down the last trinkets of uncool jagged from my fingernails last night. The hour was officially exceedingly past bedtime, and I had deliriously entered into the iamazombiefromsleepdeprevation zone.
I am a woman of color. I love loud and volume. Boisterous flavors and festive spurts of intensity sing melodiously to my soul. And yet, like a ravenous lion in search of its next meal, my prey was this selected color. I did not flinch. I did not waiver. I reached with precise vision for the above palette of neutral. I did. Me. The woman of color.
I like this feeling. This notion of going with your gut. It has an exactness that is undeniable. It requires little thinking for me. Concerns are cast away; correctness is right on; it feels right. I can do this with a nail color. I can. It is a hope that I transfer this autopilotness of on-time into other areas of my life more. If it needs said, say it. If someone needs love, give it. If you have and some one does not, share it. If you did wrong, fix it.
Sand Tropez. Subtle. Streamlined and silky looking too. Present. I need this on my nails and in my heart. The season of busy surrounds me. So many moments are just waiting to be collected in the best way. I am one, and there is so much to be done for k.Mac's holiday season and for my boys' learning. My attitude needs reminding, and my best needs to be given. Go with your gut. Get down to the business of what your innards know matters most.
Sand Tropez. I picked it. My jaggeds are gone. My contorted excesses are too. It's time to play on, playa in the goodness of gettin' after it in my busy but blessed.