You guys! The sun came out this week! If you're not a Pacific Northwesterner, you probably don't have the foggiest clue what that means, but it basically means you end up putting your wool socks in a rubbermaid storage bin and leaving the house like this:Which sometimes also requires having a stern conversation with your step-daughter about how YOU can wear a short-spaghetti-strap dress with platform sandals, but she CAN'T because she's 11 and you're 36. Also, you're working on your tan and she needs to protect her virginal skin from burning.
Aside from our usual Monday, Wednesday, weekend schedule with Liza, we didn't have any kids this week, so it was basically WORK, WORK, WORK. Which was rad, to be honest. I'm not sure I've mentioned it much (ha!), but I love my job. I pretty much want to be BFF's with every one of my clients and unlike nearly every other aspect of being an esthetician (makeup, facials, etc.) waxing is much like vacuuming or mowing the lawn. You know when you're done. It's quite gratifying and I can't tell you how often I want to whip out a mirror when I'm done and be like, SEE HOW PRETTY YOU LOOK!!!
Anyway, the only day I wasn't swamped at work this week was Thursday. So Joel took me (and my bra straps) to the driving range.
I'd never golfed before and I have to say: I LOVED IT. You know, aside from the fashion dilemma. Apparently I own 27 dresses (at last count, which didn't include that blue dress above, which I recently bought at Target for $19), but nary a single pair of shorts. I ended up in a random skort I grabbed at a free clothing swap in Gresham a year ago and had never even tried on.
But the GOLF!!! It was fantastic. We went through over a hundred balls at the driving range and I loved every one of them. I also loved that as a first-time golfer, it's basically one giant dick joke. (Balls, grip, whack, stroke, choke, shaft, swing, drive, etc.) And that doesn't even take into account the whole "let me get behind you and show you how it's done!" part. (Which is hot.) Mostly, though, there is something VERY satisfying about the sound and feel of hitting the ball in the sweet spot. I can't wait to do it again.
(SEE WHAT I MEAN ABOUT THE INNUENDO!!!)
Friday was a rather busy day at work. I think I waxed seven or eight sets of lady bits (and at least one set of manly bits!). But that wasn't the exciting part. The exciting part was when the wheel came off my co-worker's wax cart and the following mayhem ensued:
The sound it made was utterly terrifying, like a possee of insane clown monkeys had crashed through the window thinking our salon was a mosh pit. I raced across the hall and fully prepared myself to see blood when I opened Anna's door. Fortunately, aside from ruining her favorite pair of velvet pants and a cute t-shirt, she was fine. Unfortunately, it was after 6:00 and Joel had already made dinner reservations for 7:00, so I couldn't stay and help with the clean up.
Friday night we had a FANTASTIC dinner at Pizza Fino in North Portland, which is pretty much my favorite restaurant (the LIGER of Italian food). My definition of a good restaurant is anywhere I'm served something and I think, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THEY DID THIS and I have to ask the chef for his/her secrets (which I do, unabashedly). Of course Joel and Liza made it extra special by bringing me flowers and a card and a thoughtful gift of my favorite soaps (all lemon verbena!) (He's LISTENING, you guys. And it rocks my world!) Dinner was amazing, as always:
The next morning, I woke up and went to work while Joel and Liza shopped for a costume for her to wear on Dress Like a Hipster Day at school. I waxed a few clients and then, because Anna was out of town, I made this happen:
Making that happen involved over a gallon of acetone, about six pubes towels and the top layer of skin on both of my shins. Not to mention two hours of my Saturday afternoon.
But it was worth it.
Because after I was all done (and high on acetone fumes), I rewarded myself with PAPUSAS:
I had never tried them before, but papusas are basically really thick pitas made out of corn masa and stuffed with magic. Our friends have all been raving about the various food carts that make them here in Portland and the universe aligned just right so that after leaving work and stopping on my way home to buy purple shampoo to keep my hair from turning yellow, I drove right by a cart pod advertising this South American delicacy. I hadn't eaten all day, so I burned a little bit of rubber in my haste to pull over.
Then I proceeded to send Joel the following series of raunchy text messages along with photos of the food:
Don't hate me for doing this without you.
F*ck me in the *ss sideways with a baseball bat! These are amazing!
Only $2.50 each!
I'm taking them home so I can properly make out with them.
I'll hang a Do Not Disturb sign on the front door so nobody interrupts.
OMG! They came with spicy coleslaw!!
You're lucky I don't have a stomach because I saved half for you!
After a very inappropriate session with the papusas, I made a frittata and we went to a party at a friend's house and let's just say I wasn't the designated driver. We all slept till noon Sunday morning and then made brunch.
We started, as is becoming our regular Sunday ritual, with Mimosas.
[Did you know that ALFRED HITCHCOCK invented the mimosa? Because this is something Joel thinks you should know.]
You should also know EXACTLY how to make one:
Start with about a dozen VALENCIA oranges.
Juice them! Hopefully you have a better juicer than my 50-year-old Kitchen Aid.
Buy a bottle of local ten dollar champagne. Preferably a Brut. We like Domaine St. Michelle and it's usually under $9.
Here's the trick though: you have to fill your champagne flute half-way full with champagne and then pour ONLY A TINY, TINY DROP of fresh-squeezed orange juice into the glass. Otherwise it will overflow with bubbly goodness and you will WASTE champagne! Which is punishable by death.
But AFTER you've added that tiny, TINY drop? You can wait for it to settle down and then easily fill the glass without worrying about spillage.
It only took us a year of Sundays to figure this out.
Also - before you go thinking it's fine to substitute a carton of good orange juice for fresh-squeezed:
It's like the difference between VHS and DVD. Or shaving vs. waxing. It's worth the pain!
Anyway, while Joel was making my favorite Sunday morning beverage (and cleaning the whole. entire. kitchen.) I was making brunch. And it was a doozy. I plan to come back here tomorrow and post my recipe for baked eggs. I've had some questions about it and thought it would be a good one to photograph. Unfortunately, my camera broke, so you'll all have to make do with iPhone pics until I get it fixed.