Falsies 'n More

In honor of officially becoming an old lady, Melanie, a very good friend of mine from law school, and I went to San Francisco for the weekend. As I’m sure you know, if you know me at all, I had a lot of fun saying "I went to San Francisco for the weekend. Yes, just the weekend. You know, flew in after work on Friday and then got home before the kiddies were returned by their father on Sunday. . ." because that sounds so very cosmopolitan and fancy. Since I’m neither of those things, I played that angle to the hilt.

Melanie got us a smoking deal (note to Abby: not actual smoking) on the hotel and my dad let us use a buddy pass, so in reality, the whole thing cost less than driving to Provo. And was, obviously, exponentially more enjoyable for me. But to me, going to the OB is more enjoyable than going to Provo. Well, close, anyway.

We got there early enough on Friday to wander through Chinatown and around Union Square a little bit. Melanie is some kind of freaky gift shop lover, so clearly Chinatown was a big hit. Sadly, neither one of us are very adept negotiators. Hmm. We’re also both attorneys. What does this say?I remembered to bring my camera, and proudly announced it to Melanie no less than 30 times, but of course, neglected to actually take it out of the suitcase. Really. I should just give up. Luckily, Melanie brought hers and you’re seeing her handiwork here.
We went on a tour of a beautiful old home that was decorated_as_a_fundraiser for one of the local schools and it was truly fabulous. One of the docents told us that the owner is giving the home to his son after the show, so my plan for the weekend was to find said son and totally seduce him. However, I was completely distracted by the Brow Bar at Macy’s, and so came home without a fiancé and a new house, but with fantastically shaped eyebrows. The supremely not-straight, pocket-sized, twenty-year-old named Ryan who touched up my eye shadow and foundation was so cute and truly a magician with the make-up brush – I asked him if he was at all interested in moving to Utah. Sadly, shockingly, he was not.

I also showed Melanie the bounty of Sephora and we splurged on the most ridiculous and awesome fake eyelashes. Actually, the ones we got were by far the least ridiculous of what was in stock. We made dinner reservations at Puccini_and_Pinetti using Open_Table, and wore our fabulous lashes. By the end, mine were coming off and I decided that I am clearly not cut out for glamour. I know, I know – hello, where have I been? Am I new?

In an attempt to counteract some of the superb food, we walked a lot, looking at houses, exploring the less-touristy neighborhoods on foot. I really enjoyed that part, but realized that I’ve let my exercise program really slide since the marathon. Apparently, I’ve been somewhat in denial. My butt, however, has not.

We ended Saturday with a mad dash up to Coit Tower, just as the sun was setting. I’ve never been there before, even though I’ve been to the city many times. At the very top of the tower, I missed the last step and twisted my ankle quite badly. I have Baldwin ankles, in addition to the Baldwin butt/thighs, and clearly, the design teams on those body parts were not communicating with each other very well. The weight-to-support calculations are way off. End result: eternally painful ankles. I feel quite bad for them actually, it’s not fair to ask so much of them.

Even after my supremely graceful entry, Melanie kindly walked around the top of the tower with me, though I wouldn’t have blamed her at all if she’d acted like didn’t know me and called security because I was following her. Then she pretended I wasn’t slowing her down at all on the hike home, though I know full well that continents move faster than I was. Luckily, it only really hurt going uphill or downhill, not so much on the flat, so it was a totally good thing we were in San Francisco and not Wichita.