I live in Arizona.
You might know this.
You might know this because I have been known to whine about the heat.
Once or twice.
Possibly forty-three thousand and twelve times.
One of the great curses of living in Arizona is that everything is hot.
We touch things and we flinch and/or curse and/or yelp.
Or some combination of all three.
On Saturday I went to get a pedicure with my oldest daughter.
I've had a lot of pedicures before, but this was a fancy place.
After the usual toe stuff they do, the pedicurist-person (what the heck do you call people that do this anyway?) brought two hot towels and put them on my shins and feet.
My regular pedicurist-person never does this.
It was amazing.
It was fabulous.
The pedicurist-person brought back two river rocks.
She had them in a little basket.
She rubbed some oil on my legs and took out one of the hot rocks and started rubbing it up and down my lower leg.
After she did that for a little while she tucked it under the arch of my foot and repeated the process with the other hot rock.
It felt nothing like walking on the hot driveway in flip flips.
Nothing like it at all.
And here's the thing.
Arizona is FULL of dry riverbeds.
And a lot of the dry riverbeds are covered in river stones.
And the sun is really, really hot here.
I wonder how it would feel to go lay down in one of those riverbeds?
If the scorpions and rattlers didn't get you...
...and you didn't die of heat stroke...
...I bet it might feel pretty good.
Hot river rocks.
P.S. They heated up the stones in a crock pot even though it was a Fan. Cee. spa place. I have rocks. I have a crock pot. Hmmmm...