The past two days, I’ve spent quite a bit of time remembering much of what I enjoyed most about blogging — the community, the camaraderie. I know it’s been three months since I’ve written here, but often, things change. Sadly, sometimes they change forever.
When each of my three sons’ birthdays rolls around, I ask what type of birthday cake they’d like even though I know what the answer will be without fail.
Chocolate. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. Chocolate with more chocolate on chocolate with chocolatey chocolateness, please. You get the idea.
I started this piece a couple of weeks ago, and so I’ve recovered a bit more from vacation lag, but only slightly. The way things are going, the entire summer will be one huge vacation lag. When I’ve seen an email pop up about “cheap end of summer flights,” I’ve checked a few bound for Paris, mulling over the idea of going again without my husband to wander the streets and brood. Shoot more photos. Sit in cafes. Write.
And then I snap out of it because I’m not exactly 20 something and trying to find myself. I could be persuaded to do a bit of a makeover, however. Alas, recovery from the cost of our recent trip must also be considered, but I can dream, can’t I? I can think about all we’ve seen and done and wonder what we might do next should we venture to Paris again — we, because I’d never go without my husband. He has the Metro all figured out, after all. And who would carry my camera bag if he stayed home?
I’ve been jonesin’ for Rosé since returning from Paris and I’m no wine expert, but I could be with the variety I’ve enjoyed over the years. I’m just not interested in being an expert, preferring to enjoy what I’m sipping when I’m sipping it. Often. I do know enough to get me in trouble, however, and so while we were on vacation, I spent the two weeks away from my usual Chardonnay, which when one is from California, is a staple.
I thought I’d take a break from posting photos of our trip to Paris to give those who would rather look at food a break. It’s only fair, I guess, after holding everyone captive with my vacation photos. But I will warn you this is still connected to Paris in a six degrees of separation sort of way. It’s about dessert, and it’s about French dessert in particular. French pastry from the French “Picasso of Pastry,” Pierre Hermé. I thought my sampling of beautiful pastry in Paris was lacking so ordered his book, Pastries as soon as we arrived home.