A blonde moment.

I realized this morning I must have been seriously confused last week and can now blame either all the rain or too much yoga for the sogginess of my brain. Organized little me booked all train tickets in Germany in advance, but only with a gentle nudge from my friend Nele discovered that I booked half of them for the wrong month. So the week is starting off a bit on the wrong foot, but since the mistakes were done last week, I try not to have my mood too affected by it.

My weekend was a mishmash of emotions with two important discoveries:

a) I think my tolerance to red wine is getting lower, which is very, very concerning.
b) I must get one of those do-not-drunk-text applications on my phone immediately.

The highlight of my Saturday was this:

I know that sounds a bit sad, but I was hibernating and if you were to eat this, you would know there is nothing sad about it. That’s the aforementioned Twilight by the way. Have I said how much I adore Malibu? Can’t say it enough.

The highlight of my Sunday was lunch in honour of my two wonderful cousins’ birthdays. In particular a conversation with Cuma, who is my cousin’s foster son, 10 years old and too sharp for his own good.
Sitting outside, chilling after lunch in the sun, Cuma comes up behind be and looks down on my head.

Cuma: Is that grey or blonde hair?
Me (without hesitation): Blonde of course.
Cuma (very doubtful, told you he was sharp): Reeeeally? It doesn’t look too blonde.
Me: No, no it is. You know that very light, silvery blonde. The one that Paris Hilton has.
Cuma: Aaah. Okay.
Off he goes.
Me (murmuring) : Puh, close call.

Good to know I can still fool a 10 year old, if not myself.

First on my Monday to do list: re-do my roots.