Believe in cream

So the new girls are off to Cortona this morning to see the church of Santa Marguerita and Santa Marguerita herself lying by the altar. She is getting a little dusty after all these hundreds of years, but she still draws the admirers. I should be lucky to be looking that good in another ten. I swear to goodness, skin seems to hold up for some unknown number of years, and then all of a sudden, BOOM, I am trying to shove up a part of my face down by my chin, back up to where it belongs somewhere around my cheekbones. I am a believer that a diet rich in heavy cream can be just the answer, and every Sunday at the bakery on Via Nazionale, the main drag in Cortona, they stuff heavy cream whipped up into clouds into massive meringues the size of small cars. You have to believe in something.

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