Oh, my apologies for the lack of updates. I’ve been on some exciting adventures, and along the way, I’ve managed to lose a bit of stuff. In fact, it seems that no matter how much I travel, I never quite perfect the art of repacking. Regardless of the length of the trip, my clothing and personal effects seem to expand during the time between the unzipping and re-zipping of the suitcase. This time, I seem to have lost the following:

• a screw + one leg of a pair of sunglasses
• vanilla cupcake bubble bath (I’m not good at travelling light, it seems)
• my beloved Equalizer foundation
• Fructis deep conditioner
• 2 claw clips – my hair is now a complete mess
• one sock

And that’s only the stuff I know I’ve left behind.

Hopefully in the next few days, instead of maintaining inventory, I’ll take the time to talk a bit about what’s been going on. Now if only I could access Picasaweb…

Hello! Guess what! I’m writing from the land of Roger Federer. Actually, I even went to Roger’s hometown, looking for some kind of festivities after his historic win, but could find anything. Apparently, Basel, unlike LA, doesn’t believe in bankrupting their government in search of a party after their sports win. But anyway, I’m not the only person writing about Roger. I’ve been seeing his name everywhere in the media. So far, my favorite has been this one, comparing the Fed to a robot from the matrix.

During the final, I couldn’t help focusing on … the button on Federer’s Nike shirt. Through more than four hours of punishing tennis, sun-baked by British standards, it remained buttoned up. I mean, come on!

Yet, despite days of Swiss brainwashing, I’m still feeling sorry for Roddick.