People of France, prepare yourselves! Big Daddy arrived this morning, and something tells me Paris will never be the same. For those of you who don’t know my dad, let me explain. He’s a 6 foot 2 barrel chested man who wears painters pants and polo shirts, exclusively. He’s got a penchant for mirrored wrap-around…
Not to be confused with heartburn, although I did feel a little of that during some of the racier parts of this book that my dad sent me. It’s a funny thing, reading a mobster-POW-sex thriller that has the word “penis” in just about every other paragraph, knowing your own father read it and thought of…
No, that’s not a special champagne cocktail. Although a little hair o’ the dog might not be so bad right now, since I was up rather late sipping a cherry liqueur with a funny Polish name that translates roughly to “Grandma’s Splash.” I now have waves of pain pulsing through my cranium which lead me…
Checking in here from Hostess land, where I have been on a marathon French touring adventure with Husband and his family. We have walked every inch of the city and climbed every tower, steeple and arch. There have been day trips to Versailles (drop-kicked tourists as necessary), hours spent in museums (where my 7 year old niece…
Of all the wondrous things to do in Paris this summer (eat duck fat fries, ride bikes, drink champagne), I keep finding myself back at the fête foraine in the Jardin de Tuileries. Why? Well, it could be the kitschy rides and alluring smell of barbe à papa. It might be that I have a…
Today might be one of the saddest days of my life. Right up there with the last episode of Law and Order and the time my pony died and my dad came home and said, “Yeah, the old girl is headed to the glue factory!” Here’s what happened: Despite drinking a margarita the size of…
I really don’t like feet. Especially other people’s feet. And I also really don’t like toenails. I can’t put a finger (heh, finger!) on exactly why, but other people’s pieds just kinda gross me out. So the gods of love must have had a good, long laugh when they paired me with Husband: Man of…
So it’s almost August, which in most places doesn’t mean much other than hot sticky weather and maybe a trip to the beach. But here in France, it means we’re on the verge of something akin to apocalypse. By all accounts, the city will be deserted, all the restaurants and shops will close and nothing…
So you know when you eat something just so utterly delicious, so extraordinarily drool-worthy, so flipping awesomely good that you really just can’t find the words to describe it? Well, yeah. That’s an American problem apparently. Because here in France they have hands down one of the best sayings on the planet to describe that…
I’ve been really homesick lately. There. I said it. I’m in Paris, watching fireworks over the Tour Eiffel, galavanting on the Cote D’Azur, and all I really want is to be home in the sweltering mid-atlantic of the good old U.S. of A. I feel guilty just typing those words. But it’s true! I’m missing…
Unlikely Diplomat 