Project 365 Day 170 through 174

Project 365 Day 169

Project 365 Day 168

Project 365 Day 167

Project 365 Day 165 and 166

Project 365 Day 161 through 164

Porch Plans

So, there we sat on my front porch. My friend and I drinking coffee (or wine coolers...) lamenting the state of our legs and the fact that we wished we didn’t have to shave the darn things. And she says, “Models don’t.” To which I replied, “Whuut?” Let’s talk waxing. And I said, “Let’s JUST DO IT!” Okay...so that all sounds pretty cool at the time, until we call to make an appointment and discover you can’t do this with freshly shaved legs (which were what we had). You have to wait until those pesky little hairs are long enough to be grabbed by hot wax and ripped out by the roots with little strips of linen. So we wait. Did I mention it was summertime? So we wait in sweatpants. For those pesky little hairs to grow. And they don’t grow as fast as you think they do. Fast forward. We can’t go in together, so we make almost back-to-back appointments. I went first. Not too bad! Okay...I measure all pain against natural, unmedicated childbirth (which is what I had). So, on that chart, it’s not too bad. And my legs were smooooooth. Worth all of the time I spent in the heat with sweatpants on. And I wouldn’t have to shave them for SIX WEEKS! So then all I had to do was wait for my friend. I waited, and waited, and waited. And waited. She finally pulled up in front of my house, came around her car and I saw her legs...COVERED IN BANDAGES! As it turns out, her Norwegian hairs were not as fine as my WASPy ones. She described them more as tree trunks. And apparently tree trunks hurt more as they are ripped out by their roots attached to cooling wax and linen. And it was a joke. Her legs really didn’t need bandages. But she hasn’t had them waxed since. I have. But not recently. That was 20 years ago, and the amount of leg I show now in the summertime takes me under 2 minutes to shave. And I don’t have to worry about the backs of my knees. It makes me think, though, that I haven’t been on that kind of new adventure in quite some time. I think we can get so comfortable sometimes in what we do that we become old shoes. I don’t like that idea much. I have old shoes in my closet (some from the 1900’s) and I’m thinking I need to get my friend over here for a wine cooler. Time to make some plans.

Project 365 Day 160

Cage Girl

Not to be confused with basketball in any way. That would be way too athletic. Did you know that they used to call basketball players “cagers” because they actually played in a cage on the court...the cage was to keep the action away from the fans as well as keep the ball in-bounds for faster play. But, to be a cage girl when I was a sophmore in high school was to get out of PE. I hated PE. Hated may not be a strong enough word, but I can’t think of a stronger one right now. I had never been a fan of PE - gym class - call it what you want. They were all horrible. At this school, as a freshman, in PE we had to jog/walk several blocks to a baseball field in the spring. I was in a morning class - like second period. We would jog/walk - okay, walk - to this field on some streets that weren’t paved, they were more like compacted dirt. And the city would oil them. Let me tell you, the smell of that oil defied any description here. And then you would invariably smell someone cooking bacon - it was the morning! I am surprised I can even still eat bacon. Okay. Maybe not so surprised I still love bacon, what with all that fat and crispy deliciousness. I keep waiting to be watching TV some time and an ad will come on with some double attorney names (you know, like Smith and Smith, or Taylor and Taylor...etc.) and they’ll ask if you were ever exposed to oiled streets on the way to early morning baseball fields AND if the smell of bacon was added in you may now be suffering from...something decidedly horrible. But, when I was a cage girl all I had to do was remember half of the girls’ numbered baskets in the PE class. My friend and I would be in the cage, the PE Students would get their gym clothes from us (in their basket) and we would then keep their clothes/purses in their basket during gym class. I could remember all those numbers back then. And then during their gym class it would be my study hall. Except for the time that I had a really bad sunburn, and I sat there and popped all the little blisters through my pants, so when I left for my next class the thighs of my jeans were a little damp. Or the time I spent crawling around on the speckled white (and brown) tile floor because I had dropped my new contact lens (brown, of course). Now they are using those baskets in antique stores. And it’s got me thinking about..bacon.