My new life has a soundtrack, which I'm not ashamed to admit is 98% Motown. It has a beat, you can dance to it, and if you're like me and constantly getting a contact high from the smell of your own freedom, you belt out those Diana Ross hits like the soul sister you know you are.
Anyway, this post is brought to you by Booker T & The MG's and the following song:
Green Onions Bet you didn't know that song even had a title!
Can I just stop and say something right here, right now? I'm not technically supposed to swear on my blog, but I FUCKING LOVE PORTLAND.
I never really got to know the city until recently and now every time I cross a bridge, I fall in love a little bit harder. I've mostly even stopped getting lost! Just get me to that roundabout in Laurelhurst or that seedy bar on Alberta or Powell's Books and I'm home straight. No GPS required.
I guess my point is, if there was a perfect city in which to wake up at age 34, suddenly single, and in the market for a little fun, Portland, Oregon is a good place to start. I'd certainly recommend it.
Speaking of rugs? Guess what I just crossed off my life list?
THE BRAZILIAN WAX.
I was sick of getting razor burn from my bathing suit! Then there was that one time I cut myself! Boy that was not something I wanted to repeat.
So let's just say that if Brazilian waxing had a Facebook page? I WOULD LIKE IT.
And guess what? IT DOES! If you're local and you want your girly bits to look like a work of ART, go see Valerie at Bare Down There waxing. I'm totally putting her in my next book. She'd make one hell of a character.
Seems I catch a few canaries these days.
And cross this magnificent river more than should be legal.
And good LORD, the breakfasts I've eaten. This one was at Fenouil. Eat there.
I. swear. to. god.
I had no idea how good breakfast could be. Especially when the cook is tall, dark and handsome. And he makes you laugh till your guts split. Seriously. There were CRAB LEGS in that omelet.
Stumptown should start a church. They'd get more donations than the pope.
Call it a mid-life crisis if you want to, but I refuse to apologize. There's nothing on this page I haven't told my own mother, who, incidentally, loves giving me dating advice ("If they're over 40, check the medicine cabinet! You don't want to see a bottle of little blue pills in there!").
Every other week, I get to be my own protagonist. I get to choose my own adventure.
This book is writing itself.