Remember being told as a kid not to pull faces because the wind might change and leave you like that?
Even though I knew it wasn’t true, it still scared me a bit.
And you know what? That old wives’ tale was kinda true. If you pull a face enough, it does stay like that.
I’ve spent my whole life knitting my eyebrows together into a concerned little frown. And now, at age 48, I have two permanent, deep furrows between my brows.
This is going to make me sound very vain, but they’re ruining my selfies.
I sat at the Justin Hemmes-ified Newport Arms Hotel on Sunday afternoon trying to take a nice photo of myself with my cider for Instagram and it was impossible – I looked like an old hag in every single shot. DD gave it a go, but I wasn’t happy with any of his snaps either. I just looked ooooooooold and wrinkly. So I gave up and took a photo of my cider instead.
First-world problem, I know.
But let that be a warning to you, scowling teens!
Anyways, I was at the Newport Arms because, after 20 days of sickness – I was still sneezing, snotting and snoring yesterday, but I finally seem to be drying up today – I decided I needed an escape from reality (and responsibility).
I booked the dogs into a kennel and drove up to the Northern Beaches.
Reality still found ways to punch me sharply in the solar plexus a few times, but it also let me sleep in until 8am yesterday, have a lovely waterfront lunch and enjoy a gorgeous sunset ferry ride.
All too soon, it’s back to normal life. The youngest arrives soon for pupil-free day entertainment and her little friend gets dropped off soon after. They want to go to the beach. The weather app on my phone is promising a wan 22C …
Here are some pretty pictures from yesterday (and a couple of dodgy ones):
Song of the day: Billy Joel “Tell her about it”