We're going to Paris, biz-natches! In the sunny, sunny summer months we will be heading to Paris for a college friend's wedding. I'm so fucking excited it's ridiculous. Let the trip obsessing begin!
The last time we went to Paris we were there for a week and there was fighting. My memory of strolling down the Champs-Elysees involves a fight that began at one end, paused during the Arc de Triomphe and continued on the return trip. That was just one of the fights. We sorted it out, but with only a week at our disposal, we lost precious time. We always said we wanted to redo that trip and now we will.
Making it even sweeter, my friend's wedding will be at a freakin' estate in the French countryside. My friend is, you know, classy and shit, so this will be well above our pay grade and I can't wait! I've promised to refrain from my initial idea of bringing America to her by dressing up like I'm going to a football game -- think that foam cheese slice thing people wear on their heads and a giant "We're #1!" foam finger. Husband-cat was going to dress up like a cowboy and talk like John Wayne the whole time. He hasn't actually seen any John Wayne movies so the result would have interesting to say the least.
I love Paris. Most of my childhood travels were to Mexico or the Pacific Rim so Europe is new and exciting to me. It has many of the things I love: excessive ornamentation, castle-y bits everywhere, espresso, endless pastries, high-grade food, and the best chocolate in the world. The. Best. Chocolate. Ever. Anywhere. South America invented chocolate, Britain imported it, the French perfected it. Honestly, France could be a dust bowl and as long as they had the best chocolate I would be find a way to get there.
Baby Flails-a-lot has been self-weaning so I may even be able to drink. Champagne for everyone!
I'm going to be traveling with a toddler. A walking toddler.
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