Black Cherry ChutneyDoesn't that sound like a yummy yarn?
I went for a manicure today, a gift from a parishioner to a local salon. The nail tech sent me to the wall of nail polish to select my color. I have charmingly red toes at the moment, a nice dark red color that was applied at the pre-Maundy Thursday footwashing pedicure the women of St. C's engaged in on Holy Wednesday. (Don't tell me that's theologically suspect--it was fun).
I was looking for the matching nail polish at the salon, when my eyes were drawn to a display of a particularly au courant set of colors. "Black Cherry Chutney," read one. It was a deep, dark purple. How fun, a part of my brain insisted. Too out there, the other part responded. I set it down and went back to the red.
As the pre-polish portions of the manicure went on, administered by the charming Amanda, I kept thinking about the dark purple of the "Black Cherry Chutney." How it would be fun to have that on my nails. What would people think? that little voice inside my head continued to say.
I'm 41. I think it's time to wear the nail color I want.
When Amanda got up to get some lotion, I asked to switch colors.
I have Black Cherry Chutney nails. They make me happy.