Attention:

Everyone, please take a look here:

http://www.ecomuseodecavalleria.com/en/fotosagosto06.asp

Probably the worst picture ever of me is now opening that whole slideshow of the archaeology dig, but look at that blue water! Those happy faces! Those big smiles! Those tans! Those NONEXISTENT EYEBROWS!

Did I ever elaborate on my eyebrows?

No?

Would you like to HEAR what happened with my eyebrows?

Sometime late July, Libby and I decided that we had had enough of feeling ugly. We had had enough of sitting in our own sweat and filth as Rome nearly very literally melted into a pool of tar and pasta sauce under our feet. So we decided to go get our eyebrows waxed, because that solves everything. Someone stole your bike? Get your eyebrows waxed! Someone keyed your car? Get your eyebrows waxed!

That part about it being 3 euros was also a perk, but not the only one. The other one was that extremely attractive Italian men would be administering the wax while softly whispering in your ear that you have the most beautiful eyes and smile he had ever seen.

Ok, so that last part is not really true, but the 3 euros is still something going for it.

So Libby and I go, pay the 3 euros, and I go in. The lady starts gabbling at me in Italian, and I had no idea what she said. But down I sit, and she ran at me with tweezer and wax strips as if she were determined to eradicate all of the Amazon rainforest in the space of 3 minutes. I sat patiently through my right eyebrow while she tsk tsk-ed and ooh-ed and ahh-ed as evidently an entirely new facet of my face was revealed with each missing hair.

Then she gave me a mirror to survey the damage she had wreaked on half of my face.

I couldn't even SEE my eyebrows. Is that small brown running above my eyebrow just a stray head-hair, or is it a militant little row comprised of 3 eyebrow hairs? And, sweet lord, is that a TAN LINE above my eyelid?

However, the damage had already been started, and I had to sit through another agonizing several minutes while the damage was completed. I bet Libby in the reception room, my terrorized face reflected on her own while we both gazed upon each other in abject horror. What had we done in our previous life (or current) to deserve this treatment?

So yeah, enjoy those pictures. I know I am all warmed now from the Chicago chill by looking at those summery days.