It’s the Kings birthday Sunday.
Turning 60 the old bugger.
Apparently we - the people of Sweden all decided on giving him a portrait of himself.
No matter how hard I’ve tried I can’t recall when we all agreed on this.
Must be I didn’t attend that meeting. If I had I would have argued that we would give him portraits of each one of us instead.
I finally bought new jeans and during a meeting a made a 12 step-program on things to do in the future. (Both work and other. Meetings always inspire me to do stuff.)
After making that list I painted a fairly nice owl and pondered if I had my contact lenses in or not since everything became hazy for a couple of seconds. I took sight on something distant and concluded that they were there alright. And then I got right back into it again.
I got a letter from I. She’s in France. She asked me to come join her. “I’ve got a king-size bed,” she said.
Never been to Paris.
Want to go visit my beautiful model-friend for some party and random strollin’?
And for the record… getting in touch with her actually was on my to-do-list.
Yester night I coloured my hair.
Turned out REALLY red.
I’m waiting for someone to put me out.
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