Oh haiiii there. It's me. You're on-again, off-again blogfriend. Lets not get into the gritty details of my extended absence, oui? Suffice to say the truth is always less exciting than the imagination so imagine away! (imagine me on a sailboat in the Mediterranean, big sunglasses and buckets of champagne)
Why don't we start with today. Here's a topic: the benefits of nursing a fat lip and a wounded eyebrow.
Perhaps we should take a few steps back, which I will now do very gingerly from now on. Frankly, every step will be taken with caution from here on in because this past weekend, I fell on my face. I don't mean I flopped, sucked, stank up the joint with a bad comedy routine. I literally fell. On. My. Face. My arms were busy holding very important things so as I tripped up my driveway Saturday evening (or was it early Sunday morning?) the only thing to brace my fall was my right eyebrow and my bottom lip.
Fast forward through the terrifying days to follow where I looked like a gargoyle, the swelling has now gone down but I still can't quite do solid food. Welcome to the soup diet! The hidden benefit of falling on your face is that since I can't eat solid food, my 674th attempt at sticking to a diet has begun a week early. And it's just in time, too.
This weekend is Labour Day, the last long weekend of the summer where tradition dictates that you gorge yourself on all the delights of the warm weather: bottles of chilled prosecco, exotic cheeses and dips, barbequed everything, bottles of chilled Kim Crawford, bowls of ice cream, peach cobblers, berry crumbles, and pitchers of delicious sangria. And then there's dinner...
Luckily, me and my fat lip can hang out, slurping soups and practice saying "no thanks, I'm not hungry..."
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