Joyeux anniversaire, joyeux anniversaire, joyeux annniiiiiveeeersaiiiiiirrrreeee LO-RENN….Joyeux anniversaire!
I mean we didn’t celebrate or anything official. But according to the Republic of France, my passport and that trusty calendar….I am officially 1 year old.
A little-12-month-baby-parisienne…that would be…
Don’t get me wrong, I support the red-white-and-blue , big fan of those stars and stripes etc.
But…I’m also a big fan of the red-liquid-in-a-wine-glass with a slightly woody undertone. Ahem.
Bring on the stinky cheese (un reblochon ou un Roquefort s’il vous plait) those tricky conjugations, the lip-puffing, eye-rolling, those long nasal “euhhhhh” or "bof bof" sounds that punctuate conversations, the Gallic-shoulder-shrugs, the rare and moo-ing meat, the painful shoes, the forgotten English, the flights and flights of stairs with no elevators, the 2 hour lunches, the 2 hour waits in the post office, open-air drinking, cigarette smoke being blown in your face, pastries, pastries, pastries, pastries, foie gras….
The list goes on.
Oh mon dieu! I am soooo French!
Euuuhhhhhh...bof bof...lip-puff...eye-roll.....gallic-shoulder-shrug....the timer has gone off…my chocolate chip cookies are almost done, and the boyfriend is about to come home with our piping hot Pizza Hut cheesy crust pizzas so we can drink a beer and watch “The Office”.
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