Way back in 2006, my mom took me to Paris.
These are the photos my husband saw and the first thing he said was “dude, your face is like…fat.”
If you know DH, you’ll know how terribly out of character this is–he is always complimentary.
I just laughed. Because, yes, it does look like I just ate a cupcake. Or twelve. Whatever.
So these photos have been sitting on my computer. But Paris (not my face) deserves some time on my blog. I haven’t been back to Paris, but I have great memories of the Renaissance Vendome (still one of my favorite hotels, ever), the catacombs (something I would obviously love…I mean…find interesting), the refusal of the Parisians to speak to me in French even when I tried (I tried, I did), and the beauty of Versailles.
I would love to go back to Paris, now that I’m, well, old (and with an apparently thinner face but same love for plain white t-shirts, it seems). I’m much more into food now then I was then, and I also have a new macaron habit that needs to be fed. Frequently.
The parks in Paris are just incredible, and I also love watching the well-behaved French children that pilot their little boats in all of the fountains. It would be a great place to do some long runs–to explore–and of course to eat afterwards.
Unfortunately my French has thoroughly deteriorated since then. Fortunately I can still read directions and menus but there will little progress beyond bonjour et merci beacoup.
And those gargoyles. They just never get old.
Paris, we’ll be back.
