Why does it rain in France? To wash away the doggie doo-doo. Even so, after a roof-pounding rain, the poo-poo remained AND I stepped in it–all sloshy and icky. Grrr.
On the way home, Julia said, “Mommy, I don’t want to go to school on Fridays.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because on Fridays, all the kids make fun of me.”
“They do? Why?”
“Well, they make fun of Americans. They say we’re stupid.”
“Mom,” Aidan said.
“I hate to tell you this, but Americans polute the world. Big time.”
“Well, what can YOU do about it, Aidan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither,” I said.
If you click on the little flags on the right, you can get a crude translation of this website in French, Spanish and German. The funny thing is if you look at my profile in French, it says “Je suis Jesus,” which sometimes means “I follow Jesus,” but at first glance means, “I am Jesus.” I want to assure my French readers that I am NOT Jesus.
The dryer wants to kill me. It dries my clothes for hours and hours, spinning them in futility. I check on them only to find soggy wetness. Grrrrrr.
Frozen cool stuff in France:
- herbs. You can get fresh basil, parsley, ginger, garlic, shallots, dill, coriander flash frozen. It’s very, very fun.
- Anything from Picard, a store of only frozen food. The other day we popped in these baby chocolate fondant cakes. Yum doesn’t begin to describe it.
- Chopped onions. No more slicing and crying.
- Frozen pizza that tastes truly homemade.
- Fruits de mer (frozen squid, shrimp, crab, mussels, clams). I threw the whole bag into a yummy seafood chowder last night.
I hope you enjoyed the mini-tour of doggy doo and frozen food and everything interesting in between.