to say about Paris. Ok, maybe one or two.
Of course, it would be hard to forget the riveting description of my last, LAST trip to Paris, where my Kir met an untimely end on a hard sidewalk, but remember that cafe?
And what was in the background?
Well, it was always my dream to drink Cognac with H, sitting in that very cafe on a gorgeous night with the Eiffel Tower in the background. Finally, on our last night in Paris, I corralled him down the street and there we sat, Cognac in hand (well, he had a beer, but I didn't care).
Even as the cognac, it was actually Armagnac, burned my throat, and I could feel a hangover headache coming on and my left arm was getting a bit damp from the sprinkle of rain coming down off the side of the awning..still, it was perfect. Hand me the Eiffel tower, strong liquor, Paris, oh, and H...and I'm happy.
I guess that's really not much of a trick. The challenge is to keep that feeling going...while driving on Route One, shopping at a strip mall for discount shoes or drinking diet ginger ale with H in his undershirt. It's hard, but I think I'm getting the hang of it.
Stay tuned for my next post on a sad tale of mustard and a miscreant...