“It’s been a while”, I say to myself when something reminds me about blogging.
Most gargantuan understatement of the YEAR.
I guess I realized the hard way, that when life throws you off the horse, it takes like four months to even look at the horse again without whimpering like a child, another two weeks to shamefully amble toward the foul-smelling thing, freaking out and running away every time it makes that weird sound and shows you its creepy horse teeth, then another solid week and a half to lift your sorry arse up n’ over and consider riding it. Ugh *shudder*
Now, I’m finally at that point… where I can think of no freaking reasons (read: excuses) to not blog… and I have a major hankering for some written words. And food. As if I needed to write that. Food (eventually). I’ma do this.
So, what happened to me for forever?
I lived in Paris. I felt important. (I actually felt uber-Canadian.) I felt seriously sophtistiqué. I developed a reasonable amount of Parisian disregard for schedules. I learnt a whole lot about how to deal (with things, not cards). How to eat. How to be broke. How to eat only after 8 pm. How to be broke after … like… any time of day, lets be real.
And I appreciated the bejesus out of it.
This was my last month in Paris. I’m just THROWING it all atcha and then we’ll move on.
Friends came, friends left, and everyone tried to absorb as much butter and butter-associated goods through their pores as socially acceptable. (also some seriously serious ethiopian food. ohmama)
I had to see all of the important things one last time and then I was set to breath some fresh-er sea-type air. To Greece I went with a most lovely amie Abby. You’ll see it soon.
No but really. I know I sometimes say that and half-a-year goes by. I don’t want to turn this into some “ex-parisian who cried wolf” shiz. Two days ok and you’ll have it. Two. Here’s a cute little boy and his crepe to tide you over.