A wee bit drowsy, but I've made it to Paris, where David and MJ are serving as my gracious hosts (David being my sister's husband's father, and MJ being my sister's husband's father's wife -- there's got to be a name for that (other than MJ) ... any suggestions?).Trained it down from Amsterdam (a city which failed to cook my brain but succeeded in frying my mp3 player -- damn Welsh... the people, the jam, the old A's pitcher) and did a quick sightseeing primer before the heavy touristing of the next few days.
Walked by the Louvre (didn't see Mary's corpse), the garden thing nearby, the Seine, the Arc de Triomphe (where a ceremony of sorts was taking place), witnessed a minor car accident (old guy decides not to go at green light, young blond girl behind him does), saw some crazy obelisk-type thing and wandered down Champs Elysees. And took the metro a few times. And made breakfast plans for far too early tomorrow.
FUN FACT: The Louvre is quite large. But it would neither confirm nor deny that it also is in charge.
Also ate rabbit on the train. It wasn't being served -- I just brought my own. Was tempted to have duck later. But one cute animal per day is plenty. The actual dish can be seen here. On a happier note, the advertised "potato salad" really was roasted potatoes with some other yummy stuff, not that gross mayo-mixed stuff. Go train!
Too tired to write more and worry about formatting. So I won't.
3 comments:
You should see how many other things you can blame on the Welsh or eat a Welsh rabbit to make yourself feel better.
While in Paris sacred feminine you should also sacred feminine check out the sacred feminine rose line as featured in my sacred feminine novel the Da Vinci sacred Code feminine. So sacred feminine your feminine sacred, sacred feminine. Ron Howard sucks.
I bet some Welshman runs Heathrow!
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