Actually, I like my part on this new side - it's like a whole new Mel. Hooray! Not that I disliked the old one, but it's too bad that I can't wake up with a new firm neck. Maybe if I slept with my feet over my head that would work because I've tried every other position with failure. Sigh. I don't know how I managed this hair trick.
Now, obviously, I have to check my hair whorl to see if it has also switched direction. Given that water swirls down the drain counter-clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere and clockwise in the Northern, it would be logical that hair whorls everywhere are also shifting madly with the movement of the Poles in a whorly-whirly-gig event.
My whorl goes clockwise - or is it counterclockwise? Gaaa, I've forgotten! Why don't we have bracelets with this vital information? Now I'll have to go digging through old photos to check, but I can't do that because I'll lose my appetite and it's almost time for nibblies.
Or maybe my part reversed because of all those earthquakes on the West Coast and the geographical shifting that happened. Sherry, Petite Over 40, of Seattle has said she's inching toward Vancouver. Whoa, free transportation! Again, hooray: reliable and inexpensive transport is vital for a thriving economy, I always say. And it will be great having Sherry as a neighbour for when I need to borrow baking supplies. ??!!
(Note to self: Check out border real estate to cash in on this phenomenon; not sure how shrinking land mass will work to my benefit yet though.)
I took these photos in Faux France, where everyone is attractive and happy and stylish and I speak fluent French, yet with a touch of an English accent to make me exotic and alluring - although I'm not sure it works that way. Speaking English with a French accent sounds so awesome to my ear but the other way...?
I stay at the Hotel George X (double better than the George V), where everything is fun and free. This morning, for example, I had breakfast with Javier Bardem and Colin Firth. Wow! Croissants with butter and blueberry jam, and avocados on the side, and wine of course. And there were loads and loads of flowers on the table, so many I couldn't even be sure if that was Javier and Colin over there; I just took an educated guess. I'm clever like that. Not a genius though, I admit.
Some people might mistake this location for Vancouver Art Gallery, the steps to nowhere because the doors at the top are permanently sealed. It is also malodorous there. I ask you: Why would I go there when I can skip through the streets of Faux France?
And that, my friends, is my day. I'll be hopping on the Concorde (the good kind that exists and doesn't malfunction) for New York in a few hours. Maybe we can have lunch at the Met? Wear a gown. Toodle-loo. Heh.
Hope you're all having a stellar time being your fabulous selves.
I'll link up to Patti and Catherine at Not Dead Yet Style and Not Dressed as Lamb for Visible Monday and #iwillwearwhatilike. Yup.
