Jolly Days

Hi everyone, sorry for my long silence. We have finally returned to Canada and I was so tired at the end of each day in Seattle to even think of blogging. Between three bouncing children, two travel challenged parents and one nutty sister in a pear tree, I did not have a moment.

It turns out my mystery appointment was not with a doctor as I has feared. Regardless, when my sister drove me to it, I went to it with one hand on the seatbelt release button and one on the door handle to make a quick escape just in case  (Lanes was being supervised by her father and the rest of the clan so I did not need an escape plan for her—in general she appears to prefer my sister’s company to mine though).

My appointment was for a facial, a Christmas present from my parents. That really was a treat (because I got babysitting with the deal). I had been longing to tame my eyebrows (and some pampering sweetened the deal). Eyebrow taming was something I did almost religiously in Sri Lanka. 

The esthetician (that’s what you call a person who does facials—I had to look it up) tsked at me and said she really hates to be rude but she can’t stand when women, especially Indian women, come in with eyebrows that are too thin. I felt like I was three years old getting told off by a kindergarten teacher.

I was also slightly annoyed that several times she referred to me as Indian even though she knows I am Sri Lankan on account of my mom being a long standing client of hers. No offense to India, mostly I was just aggrevated that the esthetician was borderline rude--considering I was supposed to have a relaxing experience and all.

I wanted to retort that my pet peeve was culturally insensitive folks who don’t know geography, but she came at me with hot wax and I figured furrowing my brow at that moment might prove fatal to my apparently already flawed eyebrows. After that, a huge interrogation room style lamp was flashed into my face and I braced myself for more comments as I heard her taking some sharp intakes of breath.

However, she complimented my skin and said I obviously didn’t eat fried and fatty foods. I had to do a quick wiggle to see if I had left my behind outside the door, because anyone sane who took a good look at me would know that those foods are certainly friends of mine!!

I wanted to say ‘have you seen the rest of me lady?’ but I thought it best not to annoy someone who has easy access to tiny sharp instruments while I was strapped on a plank in a skimpy outfit. Any old how, after that she made disapproving noises about my beauty regimen, or rather, the lack of one thereof, and she strongly urged me to buy beauty products from the salon (only $78 etc.) instead of the local grocery store.

Seems to me that the grocery store products were serving me just fine, according to her assessment, but I didn't point that out either (out of respect for my mom--or fear that I would be told off for being argumentative with her esthetist).

The rest of the facial was pleasant, although it felt weird sometimes when I felt her plastic gloves my on my face. I enjoyed the cheesy relaxing music and being snug, and delighted in the fact that my eyebrows no longer looked like they belonged to a mad scientist. Most of all, I treasured the 'me' time.

My long suffering brother-in-law picked me up and when we got home P and the three girls (Lanes and her cousins) were screeching with delight while decorating a gingerbread house. Lanes discovered she loves the icing and P discovered he rather loves being the foreman when it comes to constructing cookie houses.

The rest of the holiday was spent hanging out together. It was really nice to spend time with my nutty sister. She left for college when I was ten  and after that we never really had time to spend together. Lanes thoroughly enjoyed playing with her cousins 24/7. Her bedtime was pushed back more and more each day. P was not job hunting, and I discovered giving him a whiskey at 7pm really made him jolly.

We left on the 1st, so that Lanes has a few days to get back into the scheme of things and P can start anew on his job search. So it turns out you can indeed come back to Canada with no PR card if you drive up in a private car. It’s a good thing we went because Lanes’ PR card still has not arrived!! This is like a bad joke.

I’m feeling rather exhausted after this weekend, Lanes was packed off to her first day in her new school, and P is back to the job hunt. No news on that front either. I had gone a little insane cleaning the bathroom two days ago (at 1am no less) and I think I inhaled too much bleach. Been dizzy since (not in a good way). So that’s about it for this week…catch up soon!!