Babies!

Dang. It is all babies down here at the moment. Good friend just had a baby nearly two weeks late. R's cousin just had her baby seven weeks early. Our baby is toddling around like a madwoman, especially now that we've moved the gate around upstairs so that she can go from the office to the nursery. She kept walking between the two rooms with the biggest grin on her face, hands flung in the air. Oh, and the new fun thing to do is take a big sip of water and then spit it out. Hilarious!

Vacation Post #1

The latter half of August my little family took a driving tour of the Pacific Northwest, hitting such sights as scenic Roseville, CA, the Bavarian village of Leavenworth, WA, and my sister-in-law's wedding. First, however, I've promised my best buddy S a review of Voodoo Doughnut.

When I told S I was heading to Portland, she told me I should try to stop by Voodoo Doughnut. She's seen it on the Food Channel, and apparently it had been haunting her consciousness ever since. Then again, while we were in Washington with my cousin, we were told to go to Voodoo Doughnut while we were in Portland. At that point in time, it became something of an imperative.

We made it into Portland and R immediately had to head out with the guys for the groom's man night (it would be a misnomer to call it a bachelor party, as that would imply excessive drinking and licentious behavior, whereas the man night just had steaks, designated driver levels of drinking, and a long discussion about sausages). R mentioned Voodoo Doughnuts, and apparently his description was so alluring that the party had to make a detour. R's dad suggested that they bring back doughnuts for the ladies, as we had been wanting to go to Voodoo Doughnuts, but R astutely reasoned that a doughnut alone would not be the full Voodoo Doughnut experience (and his dad wonders how we get along so wonderfully).

So, Voodoo Doughnut. Located in a slightly grubby neighborhood of downtown Portland, down the block from a hentai theater. Saturday night (well, Sunday morning, as it was after midnight), the line was around the block, but Monday night the line was merely out the door. If you go, don't let it deter you, as the shop is a tiny hole in the wall, so there really isn't space for people to wait inside. The line moves fairly quickly, though you will be mocked by jaded locals as they pass by.

When you finally make it into the building, there is a giant chalkboard with the names of all the doughnuts divided into their price categories (standard, filled, etc.). They don't have any descriptions, though, and with the sheer size of the menu and the perennial line, it is probably best to check out the menu online beforehand. R got a maple bacon bar on his first visit and a McMinnville cream on his second. As the name implies, the maple bacon bar is a maple bar with a strip of bacon on top. I wasn't there to taste it, but R says the bacon improved the doughnut, but the doughnut didn't improve the bacon. The McMinnville cream is a Bavarian cream-filled doughnut with maple glaze and a curly mustache drawn on top. I got to taste this one, however it was after eating my own doughnut and a large dinner, so I was a bit full and all I noticed was the overwhelming sweetness.

I, on the other hand, had a doughnut far outside of the normal catalog of doughnuts. I had a mango tango, which is a mango jelly-filled doughnut whose vanilla glaze is topped with Tang powder. It was totally awesome. The mango jelly was very mango-y and the Tang added a nice citrus-y bite, the tart element preventing sweetness overload. I think, when I fantasize about doughnuts, from now on it will be about that lovely sweet and tart confection. I've probably ruined myself for doughnuts.

Waxing

In response to a blog friend posting her horrible home waxing story, I thought I'd share mine. I think I was also 15 at the time, as it was over at my dad's first place (what we called the bachelor pad, though it was just him, my sister, and me).

Anyway, I'd gotten one of those home waxing kits with the wax already applied to the strips and ensconced myself in the bathroom. I was doing my bikini line, which was probably not the best area for learning how to wax. I applied the strip, pressed down to firmly attach that sucker to my hair, and pulled with all my might.

I made it about an inch. I think half the hairs came out, but those that did left bloody spots. I could pull no further, but the dang thing was firmly attached to my thigh. I sat for a bit and pondered, then did the only thing I could think of: I put on my bikini bottom and called for my dad, who ripped the strip the rest of the way off in one firm tug. Ouch.