Although Provo can seem like a rather ho-hum place of Fat Katz and Panda Houses there are some dear little places that crop up and give me hope in the creative spirit of people in this town. This weekend Kirby, Jes and I went to The Cocoa Bean, it's a cupcake cafe. See:

It's a raspberry cheescake chocolate cupcake. Now if that doesn't make you happy, I don't know what will. The cupcakes are huge and perfect for sharing (not too expensive if you share, about $2 for a big cupcake) and they have daily flavors they make fresh. But don't take my word for it just listen to these raving and credible reviews:

Well I did it. Something I haven't dramatically done in a long long time. I'll give you a little hinty-poo

That's right. I got myself a hair cut. And boy were my hairs cut! My darling friend Jes agreed to give me a trim, but then I did one of the more impulsive things in my life and decided just on the spot to let her go all out. And when I did this is what started to happen: 

It was just one of the more fun things in my week to have her and Kirby play hairdresser and wingman, we listened to French music and they kept telling me how pretty I looked. Is there anything much better than that? Pas de tout! C'est la meilleure chose! Regarde:

Doesn't it look about as precious as you could get. It's my Paris haircut, because heaven knows I can't do anything in my life without relating it back to Paris. Here's another view (and I let you guess at what hour of the night this beauty was taken)

Doesn't it just look exactly like a Paris haircut. Imaginez. This is a haircut you can walk to the boulangerie with and feel like a local. 

(Well, I was hoping to have a whole new blog look to match my new adventure in 2010 . . .but this secret note is resistant to change. I guess I can't blame it, but oh I wish it would change. Anyway, I wanted to give my note a makeover because something new and exciting is happening and I want it to match. So pardon the disgruntled look on my face)
It's official! The day I've waited for all of my Ginger life is fast approaching. Yes, the day I get a stamp in my passport! Guess who's going to Paris in le printemps? Moi, mais oui! And I'm busting at the seams about it. Everywhere I do, I think: I wonder what it'll be like to do such an one activity in Paris. Every dollar I nearly spend I think: what could I buy in Paris with that (now, I know a dollar won't buy much, but at least the blessed Euro is more forgiving of my puny dollar than the pound). And you best believe that every shoe I covet and every dress I could die for I covet and die for because I imagine myself walking about Paris in them. So far I have a pair of red keds. I call them my Paris shoes, it helps keep it concrete for me. And I've already decided that dresses will be my wardrobe staple as I'm living la vie en rose. So stay tuned for this Ginger's Path to Paris, the first step is the toothless smile and pricey pocket passport. I couldn't be happier about the prospect of having an unattractive picture taken of me than I am right at this very nearly passport moment.