As avid blog readers know (well, my avid blog readers of course), I'm going to be embarking soon on one of my major loves in a major way over the next couple months: Travel, capital T. I leave on Saturday for Idaho for starters, where I'll revel in northern Idaho October WITH MY DOGS!!!! I HAVEN'T SEEN THEM SINCE AUGUST!!!! and my blaze orange "I'm not a deer!" vest, for almost two weeks. I'll be returning to Seattle on 13 October, dropping the dogs at Mom and Marsh's DHOE I (Doggy Heaven on Earth One for less avid readers), and rendezvousing at home for one night with Ian before we both take off for the Seychelles morning of the 14th. We get back the 29th.
Now, to prepare for two weeks in a tropical paradise I did a couple things. First, I bought two new bikinis at J Crew's end of season final sale, and had Nordstrom sew faux-boob pockets into the right-hand cups of both tops. I was expecting to pay for this service, as the bikinis were not purchased at Nordstrom, but in an example of their fine, fine customer service, they stitched in the pockets for free. This did work in their favor, of course, because I'm going to be traveling with a girl friend, but not a girlfriend—I think Ian would object—as well as MS, probably—and, well, me too (sorry, MS, it's not that you're not attractive)—in November, and (little secret here) I generally don't wear pajamas, and I thought it only appropriate that I have some when sharing hotel rooms on a platonic vacation. Anyway, when I was there yesterday picking up my free alterations, the lovely young salesgirl in the lingerie department was only too happy to help me find truly the perfect nightgown, for only 99 smackeroos.
The other thing I did yesterday, with a bit of the spirit of experimentation buoying me along, was to get not just my bikini line sugared (like waxing but nominally less painful—so they say), but get my two whole legs sugared AS WELL. You may have caught the parenthetical statement encased in the last sentence about waxing and pain. All I can say is that I never had my legs waxed, but this. was. a. pile. of. hurt. For ONE HOUR I lay on a table under bright lights with my pants off and PAID SOMEONE to rip my body hair out by the roots. At one point, the sugarer eagerly encouraged me to sit up and look at all the short dark hairs, complete with follicles, in the wad of sticky sugary stuff she was holding in her gloved hand. Yep, ew. Periodic ripples of anxiety washed through me with some of the more violent yanks—as they would any person, I'm assuming. Although maybe that's supposed to be part of the fun. Anyway, my next appointment is in November, just before my trip Down Under.
I've ordered pills or made plans to order them from Idaho (and Ian can pick them up); I have a packing list for horseriding in the mountains and for swimming around the only granite oceanic islands on the planet, both of which I intend to fill by tomorrow night; I have baby-bottom-smooth legs; I've got a list of addresses for postcards, all ready to print on mailing labels for easy sending. If you'd like a postcard, send me your address. If you don't get one, it's because of African postal services. I'm pretty much ready to take off and see the world!