Oct. 23: Hey! Hands off the magnificent rack!

There’s a salon near me that I love to go to for pedicures—it’s huge, appointments are almost never necessary, and someone always offers me booze. Yay! I also go to this salon for brow waxes. Although I usually have the same aesthetician, today’s was a different one. I think she might have been new. Most of the employees don’t speak much English, so it’s not like I chit-chat with them, but this one wasn’t that I’ve-seen-you-before kind of friendly.

No, she was a different kind of friendly altogether.

She started out like all of them, spreading the wax along my lower left brow. But this girl, just before she rips the wax off, puts her hand on my boob. I’m a little startled, but then I feel all this unforgiving pain in my forehead and forget I’d just been groped. I feel her line my upper left brow with wax and, again, she puts her hand on my boob before ripping. I open my eyes to see if my glasses, which I’d rested on my chest, have slipped. Maybe she was moving them back?

Nope. My glasses are right where I’d left them.

It is nothing less than super-weird. But it has to be an accident, I think. Right? I mean, she does see that I have boobs, doesn’t she? And that her hands are very near them?

She starts in on my right brow and it’s the same routine: wax, fabric strip, feel me up, rip. Wow—I thought the pedicure chairs got up close and personal! This is just all kinds of crazy, or as Jack says Dina would say, IT’S TOTES CRAY-CRAY. (Jack makes Dina sound like a dork.)

What’s going on, then? Does this poor girl just need leverage? It’s not like I was overdue for a brow wax and it was extra-hard work or anything. Maybe she has terrible depth perception? But no, she shapes my brows beautifully; vision does not appear to be a problem for her. Is she new at this and figuring out what’s appropriate? Was she taught to give full-service procedures? If so, what the hell kind of perv beauty school did she go to back in her home country???

I leave feeling bewildered and violated, albeit with two perfect brows. What’s worse is that, in my confusion, I think I tipped Caligula-san too much. I’ll find out in another three weeks if she read anything into that.

May 10: Hidden Falls

There’s construction going on a few streets over from us. Over the past 15 years there have been a variety of signs in the field that advertised planned development, but it wasn’t until this year that any activity actually started. There are now several large signs that state the area is called “Hidden Falls,” with maps of the houses and a planned park. (For you locals, here’s the park proposal, if you’re interested.)

All of this excites me so much, I can only say meh. I mean, it’s just a new neighborhood.

Then last week my dear friend, Stephanie, who lives a bit south of the new construction, asked if I’d seen the hidden falls in our neighborhood. I was all WHUH? (Cuz she be cray-cray.)

Apparently this new neighborhood, Hidden Falls, was named so for a reason. I know, right?

Stephanie said to take a walk through the new construction, ignore “no trespassing” signs along the grass road (she be cray-cray AND a rule-breaker), wind your way down the canyon, and here’s what you’ll find:

So, again, I say, I know, right?

I took that picture when Victor and I went there a week ago. From above, the view doesn’t quite do the falls justice, so I stole a pic Val put on FB after her visit there, because she and her fam weaved their way down to the very bottom of the canyon:

That waterfall is friggin’ HUGE! And it’s been in my backyard (kinda) for forever (or so). For some perspective:

The next-door neighbor kid is pissed that so many people have found out about the falls because it’s not “his” anymore. Who knew I lived next door to Christopher Columbus?!

MORAL OF THE STORY: If we just keep our eyes open, and trespass through abandoned property, and endanger our lives and safety, beautiful things can be found—even in our boring ol’ neighborhood.

Sep. 18: Woman without a face

I waited until the last minute to renew my driver license, not so I could spend the whole of my birthday at the DMV, but because I am a dolt. I’ve decided that the DMV is a lot like the post office, but-cept people have to stand in line much longer and are therefore angrier by the time they get called. Also, the stink. And the lack of stamps.

I went to the suburbs, thinking the lines would be shorter. I thought wrong; the place was packed. They were calling “#73” when I walked in and my number was 34. I hoped they started over at 100 and not 1,000.

Since I had all my paperwork and identification ready, I was allowed to go straight to the express line, which was supposedly shorter and moved faster. I don’t know what was “express” about my line, because I stood there forever before it ever moved. I knew there was a problem when I heard an old guy 17 spaces in front of me yell, “Since when do you need to see my birth certificate?” and I thought OH LORD, I’M NEVER GOING TO SEE THE FRONT OF THIS LINE AND I’M GOING TO DIE HERE ON MY BIRTHDAY. They would totally cover that up in the obituary, too—that’s how our government agencies conspire against us.

Mr. Too-Old-To-Be-Driving-Anyway stomped off to find his proof of birth, and the line started to move again. When it was my turn, Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #1 was surprisingly smiley and sweet (prob’ly because I had all the documentation I needed—A+ for Jen!). After looking at my papers, she said HAPPY BIRTHDAY! but I detected a tone of snark in her voice, as though she was chiding me for waiting until the last minute to renew my license and was barely holding in YOU WOULDN’T BE SPENDING YOUR BIRTHDAY IN SUCH A MISERABLE PLACE IF YOU’D PLANNED BETTER.

It didn’t take long, and she told me to go to Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #2’s counter for my photo. Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #2 told me to look into a little square below the camera lens and wait four seconds. It flashed and she said I could stand up. She started pushing a bunch of keys on her keyboard and said, “I’m gonna need to take another picture” and asked me to sit again. This time she told me to put my chin down a little, and four seconds later I got up again. She was chatty about the weather and then interrupted herself and said, “Hang on.” She went to the counter next to her and asked Mr. Nice Guy DMV Person #3 a question. He answered “no,” and directed her to Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #4, who also said “no.” Finally, Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #5 said that YES, she could override the system.

I heard that and was all, WTF?

What’s so wrong with my picture that it requires an override?

Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #5 came down to Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #2’s counter and asked me to sit and look at the square below the camera lens. Then she said LEAN FORWARD. I leaned forward. She said MORE. I leaned more. She said to turn my face a bit to the right. Too much. A little more. Chin up. Down. Down more. Then the camera flashed.

I stood up, thinking that was pa-lenty of DMV photos for Jen for one day! And Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #5 said quietly to Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #2, “Yes, I’ll have to override the system. It doesn’t think she has a face.”

…

…

…

I said, “Wha-a-a-t?” Yep, four syllables. “Wha-a-a-t? It doesn’t think I have a face?”

Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #2 stared at me and waited for Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #5 to answer. AS IF I WASN’T JUST ABOUT TO FA-REAK OUT OVER WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FACE BETWEEN THE MOMENT I WALKED IN THE DMV DOOR AN HOUR EARLIER TO NOW.

Miss Nice Lady DMV Person #5 finally said, “Our facial recognition software is comparing this picture to the one from 2004 and it doesn’t think you’re the same person. We just have to assure it that you are.”

I asked why the software didn’t think I was still me, and she said, “Probably your curls.” (Stoopid cancer.) I think I heard her mutter something after that, and I’m not entirely sure she said AND ALSO THE ZITS AND THE GREY HAIR AND THE WRINKLES AND THE MUSTACHE but I totally bet you she did.

Jul. 19: I met Alex! Again!

Once upon a time, coming up on almost 14 years ago, I met a boy who was adorable and sweet. He was brand new and belonged to my friend Kim F’n. I saw him again a few months later when I got married and he came to my wedding, where he probably cried a little and stole some of my bridal thunder. Then I didn’t see him again for a long time, until Jack was born and Kim brought her boys to the hospital to meet him. And then it was a long time again.

But today I got to see him!

In fact, we even texted beforehand, just to get to re-know each other a little. And I told him a secret that he wasn’t supposed to tell his mom, but I know he totally told her anyway because she would be mean if he kept a secret from her and he knows that. He’s a good boy.

Oh, and I put on a little lipstick in anticipation of his and Kim’s arrival at my house this afternoon:

Meet Alex!

(That’s me in the lipstick. Alex is not wearing lipstick. I would hate for you to get us confused.)

We had a lovely visit and I’m glad to say Alex is just as charming today as he was the day he was born, possibly even more so. Of course, we would expect nothing less of Kim’s offspring, now, would we?

Kim was pretty cool today too. AS USUAL. Kim is always rockin’ awesome, even when she yells at me on Facebook and tries to make me feel bad. I love her even though I’m suspicious she has chickens roaming her house.

But perhaps most important of all, I must explain that the reason my eyes look the way they do in the picture above is because Kim said, “Hang on, I’m gonna take your picture. Now, look directly into the sun for five minutes and then I’ll press the button.”

She is sooo paying for my eye repair. Also, I’m suddenly out of lipstick. Weird, huh?