No, today’s vocab word has nothing to do with my beverage of choice. But it does have everything to do with a certain little soccer tournament that’s about to ruin my life.
You all know how I feel about le football to begin with. So imagine my joy when World Cup creeps around every 4 years, and Husband starts planning out his life in 90 minute increments.
Seriously, it’s getting a little weird over here. I found him a few days ago intently bent over his official World Cup Guide magazine, highlighting which games he could watch and when. He told me with a straight face to cut our vacation short by a day so we could get back to watch the semi-finals. When they announced the US team roster, I think Husband was actually a smidge sad that he didn’t make the cut.
So yes, it looks like my first summer in Paris is going to be a lonely one. If I do decide to suck it up and join Husband on the couch, I can only hold out hope for another head-butt drama or many, many close-ups of this guy with his shirt off. Allez USA!
Ok, time to learn:
Definition: Widow. Plain and simple. As in:
“I’ll be a veuve du football for the next month, but I’ll have these hot soccer players in their underwear to keep me company.”