Today I fancied a Frappucino.
Not any Frappucino. But a Cookie Crumble Mocha Light (of course) Frappucino. The one that is pretty much listed in every Starbucks country I checked – except for the UK. Which is probably a good thing.
So I fancied a Frappucino.
For a girl whose wardrobe is almost exclusively BBB (Black-Blue-Brown), my absolute crush has always been White.
White is simple, white is sophisticated, white is effortless.
White is universally flattering to any skin tone.
White is chic (well when you exclude those mythical platform sky high Essex stilettos!)
But because white is so perfect, it is also cursed. Stain cursed (blame this metaphore on all that force-fed childhood fairy tales where we are led to believe that anything too perfect comes with a “but”, often an evil witche’s curse).
If I could, I would happily dress exclusively in white.
However every time I do that, I end up being paranoid at the prospect of THE stain curse.
Why would a careful 30 something girl woman live in fear of stains?
Well, according to my own statistics, its a fatality.
Some examples of these stainuations (ie stain situation, don’t you love making up new words!).
There are 2 things I have always had a love/hate relationship with: Jewellery and Vintage.
Against all the odds of my genetical pre-disposition to worship Jewellery (the very expensive kind obviously, being Moroccan and all), I have never been into it. I blame it on my (a tiny bit) rebellious spirit. Hubby exhales and high-fives himself.
As for Vintage, despite all the wonderful fashion promises it holds, I never managed to really buy into it. I blame it on the sizes. I am not a vintage size.
But (there is always a but) when Jewellery and Vintage mix up together, they simply take my breath (and often money) away.
Since I had my son aka The Little Man a little over 3 years ago, I have been discovering a whole new fascinating world: the world of boys!
I have been 1) thrown at the deep end of weekly Football/Rugby practises ( statistical evidence shows those are definitely boy dominated sports!), 2) at the receiving end of many “mock” wrestling sessions (you try and resist getting off the floor once an energetic 16 kilos toddler knocks you down for one of his beloved wrestling gigs), 3) actively re-immersing myself into some science to explain how a TV/Rocket/Car/iPhone works and why we shouldn’t really be opening them up to figure it out (thanking any reminiscent knowledge from my engineering days) and 4) learning to live with endless mini-cars, pirates outfits and other Bob the Builder tools. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
I obviously fully embraced this “energetic” way of life and kind of forgot how boy-ish my world has become really.
Until I got to spend some fabulous quality time with one of my favourite girls in the world. And yes, she is only 2 years old!
This is not the kind of post you would expect on this Blog. And you would be very right.
In fact, I think it’s probably the most misleading headline I have ever written (and I apologise to all of you who actually came to this page to read something really serious about running).
It just rolled perfected off my keyboard and I decided to keep it.
It is kind of about running. Read on!
Recently I have been missing 2 things – the sun and my sister Sara.
Thankfully, the sun has finally agreed to grace us with its presence for the week-end and for that, I, with my fellow Londoners who overtook the city’s gorgeous parks this week-ends, are grateful. And hopeful it might mark the beginning of a much awaited Spring season. I know… gotta love optimism…but what’s the alternative?
As for my sister Sara, getting her to come and hang out with her older sister (I say older but age is just a number right… as I do think we look like twins don’t we? ) is proving to be a much more challenging task.
Hard to believe given she is only 3hours and a £300 flight away.
But true. Sadly.
I have tried every “incentive” known to woman get her to come and visit but still….no Sara!
Au hazard des posts...