You've probably seen
the AtlanticMagazine article "Why Women Still Can't Have it All" that "went viral" and became the most read article on Atlantic's website, ever.It came right on the heals of a quote I read
that was in the same vein.
Once agian, my vanity has prevailed. So what's new?
I bought a Clairsonic. You know one of those things that you eye for months and then you finally just say, "Yes, yes you are that vain. Just do it."
So I did it.
After a tortured relationship for 29 years (I'm not exaggerating when I say my skin was so senstive when I was born I reacted with a rash when in contact with water.) I am happy to report we have called a truce.
It was a bit touch and go at first when my skin freaked out for the first week. I had buyers and skin care remorse. I then read that this was normal and to not get discouraged. So I kept at it.
Now, my skin loves me. I love my skin. It's an all around lovefest.
In conjuction I've bought a new skin care line that is proving to be quite remarkable. Physican Formula Anti-aging serum, redness reducing cream and ultra hydrating cream. A trifecta triple threat.
Also in a moment of weakness and hunger I bought this lotion. The box even says "Goodness. Me." which I'm pretty sure were the same words I uttered. It smells like, "the aroma of moist layer cake & white velvet cream. A little joy for every day." How could you not?
As I'm approaching 30 I am trying my damnest to look as far away from it as possible. And if I can't, I'll at least smell like I just ate a butter cream cake...by myself...which may or may not happen. I'll never tell.
There comes a point
in your life when you realize you've lost your marbles.All of them.
Sit back relax and
enjoy this story that not only demonstrates my questionable judgment but
absence of marbles and incredible luck.
It's a regular
Wednesday.80 degrees and beautiful in
Seattle.I'm wearing a favorite outfit,
hair done, make up dramatic and sultry and the compliments and flowing like the
Nile in monsoon season.I'm totally
digging it.I'm unstoppable.
I had received an
email from a former co-worker early Wednesday morning who I REALLY wanted to
make the effort to spend time with.It
had been a while since we had hung out and I REALLY enjoy spending time with
him.(Maybe too much but that's a whole
The problem was is
that I had my aesthetician appointment at 4:00 pm, in downtown Seattle and
foolishly thought I could make it somewhere by 6:00 pm.
At 3:30 I go to my
appointment, RUN the mile back to the office to pick up my things, race out the
door to haul my ass up Queen Anne.
Half way up the hill
a truck pulled over and a kind grandfatherly figure asked for directions .He was hopelessly lost and would never get to
his destination without assistance.So
in a moment of questionable judgment I offered to navigate him there and hopped
into a stranger's car.He turns out to
be a cab dispatcherfor Bainbridge
island so while we are navigating our way up to his destination he is also
dispatching calls on Bainbridge Island. Trust me, I regularly asked myself,
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"
I guided him to his
location which happened to be on the OTHER side of Queen Anne at which point I
hopped out and walked UP the back side of Queen Anne.He was very kind an appreciative which was
noted and appreciated.But,the clock is ticking, I am sweating profusely
from the run up the hill and the general warmness of the day.I get to my door and go pull out my keys.
Keys…keys…keys…(commence body pat down) WHERE
THE EFF ARE MY EFFING KEYS!EFFF!
Then it dawns on
me….those super helpful keys that get me into my apartment and start my car are
in my blazer pocket draped gracefully over the back seat of my chair... at the
I am no longer unstoppable. In fact, I'm very stoppable. Right in my tracks standing outside my apartment with my locked car parked just across the street. Commence freak
I call 4 co-workers
and the landlord with no avail.With no
further options, I start walking BACK to work.I opted to take a longer but higher traffic road in the hopes luck would befall
me and a bus or cab would cross my path, thus reducing my travel time to
minutes instead of an hour.
Alas! A struck of
luck.The inner/former New Yorker hailed
an empty cab like a pro and hopped in.I
begged for him to wait for me at the building because the odds ofme getting that lucky again were slimmer than
none.I raced through the lobby, across
the courtyard through a very fancy reception, up the elevator, reverse order
back out the front. The cab driver so kindly waited and graciously returned me
home, with keys in hand.
Now remember how I
really loved my outfit and had my shit put together that day.Well, a frantic 3 hours in the heat of the
day quickly undid that into a drenched, dishevled, fire engine red discoloredshit show.So, now that I'm 30 minutes late and a hot shit mess, I towel down, redo
the face and hair and change into a less heart-palpating outfit and head on
out.Bless his heart the whole time he
was calmly assuring me that it was all fine and to take my time and that there
was no rush.
After a great
evening of laughs and conversation, 10:30 pm was creeping up and that 7:30 am
meeting was creeping up real fast.I
rolled on home thinking to myselfthere
are lessons to be learned from this like, take time to help someone out, or
remember your keys, always or hide a spare key or something insightful and
practical.The only one that I can come
up with is to plan for the unexpected , keep your marbles as long as you can,
keep a dress to impress outfit on hand and shave...always.None of which I had.
"spring", a Seattlite reaches a point where the grey and gloom
becomes intolerable.At such a moment,
for the sake of preserving sanity, one makes reservations on the other side of
the mountains and heads east with no plans except basking in the sun.
So that's what we
did.We packed up the car and headed
east to where it was boiling at a comfortable 96 degrees.So we melted, laughed, drank the DC, sweat
through our clothes, tasted some cider, were generally confused about eastern
Washington and slept it overly air conditioned hotel room.
We stopped in
Leavenworth on the way over which was my first time there and I can't help but
wonder if Bavarians are offend by the construct or indifferent or see us
hopelessly failing at the attempt to commercialize a culture (which seems like
the American thing to do).I hope
But to the credit of one Bakery they do a mean twice baked
chocolate croissant.I did have this
conversation with the young man behind the counter, seeking an opinion with much difficulty:
Me: What's your
favorite, like if it were your last meal what would you have.
Him: Oh easy, the
pretzel wrapped Brat.
Me (thinking its
10:00 am and a little early for a brat):Hmmm, maybe something a little less dude-ish...like breakfasty type.
Him:Oh, ummm, hmmm, well….uhhh...maybe…solid
Me:(thinking this isn't a hard question but I've
really stumped this guy)
Him:Maybe the twice baked croissant either the
chocolate or almond
Him: or the apple
Him: or the
blueberry turn over. Him: or the peach cobbler. Him: or the raspberry turn over is really good too.
Me:Well….that's narrows it down.
I opted for the
twice baked croissant because anything with those qualifiers has got to be
good.It just felt like a really hard
conversation to get to that.But look, a
feast for the taste buds!So good I
would add it to the list of things to eat before dying.
Continuing on to
Wenatchee we found a park along the river that was a bit peculiar.We kept hearing murmurings of how high the
river was but it seemed high, and gross.So we plopped down for a bit, stared into space, noshed on strawberries
and fritos until we had enough.
We headed to
Cashmere, an odd, quaint and ghostish town.But it did have a Cider Mill that we had to hit up.So we did, plopped ourselves on some outdoor
chairs and guzzled the juice.At any
point the conversation always revert back to the amount we were sweating and the degree to which our clothes were soaked.It was bliss.At the point we thought we might melt into
the chairs it was time to leave by way of the makeshift art gallery. All adorbs
all the way around.
When the temperature
tip the triple digits nothing says refreshing like MEXICAN FOOD!And lots of it.
Because we weren't
quite overflowing after the Mexican food, we needed Froyo to make the trip
complete, and to feel like true gluttons.In which we spent the whole time discussing stomach issues and bowel
movements which, if you can't talk to your girlfriends about that then what's
the point of girlfriends.I'm pretty
sure we vacated the area a couple times when eavesdroppers were in for a rude
The next morning's
only objective was to soak up as much sun a possible.We went for a quick 3 mile walk in which we
stopped in a Mexican bakery because exercising while eating keeps balance in
this world.A few hours poolside while distracted by my latest literary obsession (Game of Thrones) helped
crisped up my back side until the hotel was ready to kick us out.
While I wouldn't
recommend trying to come home over Highway 2 on a holiday weekend, I would
highly recommend grabbing your best girlfriend and head towards the heat at let
all your worries and cares melt away.
Hope you had a great of fourth. I sure did. There was 30 mile bike ride, farmland, cows, homemade waffles with berries, Logging Rodeoing, sun soaking, tan lines, BBQing, old friends, new friends, and memories made. Did I mention the sun showed up?
We woke up to this
View from the bathroom
"I knew someone would get a flat I just didn't think it would be me." - Classic CA
Asking about the writing of a book, this "conversation" happened over the course of 2 minutes:
Sister: Eh, S desribed it as Sweet Valley high-ish
Sister: which is about right
Sister: and they use british speak
Sister: but it’s set in Vancouver/Portland area
Sister: and Seattle
Me: I love to receive text message 2 – 5 words at a
time.Makes me feel popular.