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We were given tickets to a wine festival and another couple asked us if we wanted to join them and a few other couples we know. Just so you know, I am not a drinker. I don’t like it and it makes me nauseous just to think about the smell of liquor. The only thing I can tolerate is a small glass of Moscoto. Michael teases me that we live in France and the only one wine I like is from Italy. My first thought when Michael told me about it was that I wasn’t paying money to taste each nasty wine that I’m not going to like, but the tickets we were given pay for everything. I still didn’t want to go. I can’t think of anything more miserable than tasting and swishing and spitting out a bunch of wine. Not to mention the smell of alcohol and all the drunk people bound to be there. It only takes about two sips for me to feel the alcohol in my body. And to sweeten the deal, dinner reservations for all of us would be at 10 o’clock at night! Who eats dinner at 10 o’clock? I would be totally trashed by 10 and would be probably fall asleep at the table. And not to mention we would need a babysitter for 6 hours and our babysitter charges 9 euros an hour. From where I’m sitting, spending 54 euros on a babysitter, sampling disgusting wines, feeling drunk, and having to wait until 10 o’clock for dinner doesn’t sound very fun. How about I stay home and babysit and Michael can pay me the 54 euros and he can go to the wine show. That sounds good to me.

When we moved to France we were excited to leave behind the winds of Greenville. We soon learned, however, that the wind is worse here! On Friday, Michael went to poker night with the boys and I went to a friend’s house with Brooklyn and we ordered a pizza and had some desserts. I decided to take some pyramids and some strawberry tarts for dessert. The pyramid is my absolute favorite dessert from the Patisseries! It has layers of cake with chocolate in between and on the outside. The chocolate is almost like dark chocolate and is kind of like thick fudge. My lovely pyramids have never caused me the grief that the strawberry tarts did this day. I woke up Friday morning to winds rattling the window blinds. I knew it was going to be awful going to the Patisserie, but I was supposed to bring desserts for my girl’s night in. So Brooklyn and I got ready and started making our way up the hill. The wind is screaming and so is Brooklyn. She is not happy and does not like the wind in her face. I press on determined to just go to the bakery and quickly go back home. I make it to the first Patisserie and get my pyramids and they fit nicely in my purse. I have to go to another Patisserie a few stores down to get a strawberry tarts and that is when my troubles begin. When I walked in I noticed the smell of something burning. I order two strawberry tarts and they put them in a small box without a top, wrapped in a type of wax paper, and in a bag. I hang the bag on the handle of the stroller and head towards home. Halfway home the wind blows so hard that it pushes me back a step. I’m thinking a tornado is fixing to rip through the town! I keep going and that is when my hat flies off and goes blowing down the sidewalk. So I’m trying to chase my favorite French hat while maintaining control of the stroller. I’m convinced if I wasn’t holding onto the stroller it would have blown it over. I get my hat before it goes in the road and keep walking. My hair is flying all around and is in my face and I can barely see. I can’t let go of the stroller to tuck my hair behind my ears because it is hard enough to walk and I’m trying to control the stroller and hold onto my hat that I can’t put back on. The bag of strawberry tarts were flying around in the wind and I couldn’t stop to do anything about it. Brooklyn is whining to go home and we make our way as fast as I can. I have a hard time walking because of how strong the wind is and my hair is still in my face. I can barely see out between all my hair in my face. People must think I’m a homeless person, crazy, or both! We finally make it home and I check out the damage to the tarts. Somehow the box flipped over and all the strawberries were thrown around the box. The paper that they wrapped the box in is torn and wet and wrinkled. I manage to salvage the tarts and put all the strawberries back so all is well, so I thought. Later that night when we ate our desserts, the pyramid was amazing of course, and the tarts…….they were burnt! No wonder it smelled like burnt food in that Patisserie. I braved all that wind for burnt strawberry tarts, but all least the pyramids made it better. I wish I had taken a picture of the strawberry tarts but I was too cold, windblown, and ticked off to find the humor in it then. I told Michael my story that day and he looked up the weather and said the winds were 50 mph that day! 50! If we have to brave winds like that we should be living on oceanfront property. Seriously.

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