In which I get off to several dull starts.
Here is that meme of first-lines-of-the-month, in my case a staggeringly boring selection - apologies:
Random memories of the honeymoon, in no order: Stopping at a tiny railroad town in southern Tennessee and going to a proper old soda fountain, where the waitress thought we were French because we said we lived in Paris.
Sitting at the desk at the end of a long and satisfying weekend.
It's been over a year since I moved to France. It seems difficult to believe somehow.
How was your day, boss?" asked my taxi-driver.
"Stressful."
He nodded slowly. "That is a man's life."
God gives the nuts, as Kafka so wisely said, but he does not crack them.
Since I came out to Paris I have been working on continually-renewed short-term contracts.
My fellow merkins, here I am back in the US and finally on a holiday after several long, slow weeks of work which left me brain-frazzled and hopeless and, as you'll have noticed, incapable of writing even the briefest of updates.
My mother got back home the other day to find that my dad had gone out and left a note saying: BACK IN A COUPLE OF HOURS.
Two and a half years ago, in the ancient royal city of Luang Prabang in northern Laos, Hannah and I met a couple from Alberta called Wayne and Renee.
From a linguistic point of view, it's really a fascinating time to be in France right now.
I really need to brush up my opening lines.
I am currently packing and in a few hours will be on a plane bound for Australia, leaving snow-struck Paris behind and heading, inconceivably, for the middle of summer. I've never done Christmas in the sun before, I'm not sure I approve - but I'll let you know once I've tried it.
Hannah and I have our first wedding anniversary while we're out there - we'll probably leave Brisbane and head to Sydney for the weekend, a city we've never been to. Hannah is looking forward to Australia's impressive array of gluten-free eating options, and I am looking forward to beachside restaurants with ‘please remove thongs before entering’ signs, which Hannah says will never provide the misunderstanding I am hoping for - but I have faith. Faith, and an inappropriately honed sense of erotico-linguistic mishap.
Mostly, we just want to be away with family for a while. I am tired: I need a break. I'm just going to lie by the pool in my sister's house, drinking cocktails, reading my book, and fending off the hordes of children. It's going to be awesome.
Random memories of the honeymoon, in no order: Stopping at a tiny railroad town in southern Tennessee and going to a proper old soda fountain, where the waitress thought we were French because we said we lived in Paris.
Sitting at the desk at the end of a long and satisfying weekend.
It's been over a year since I moved to France. It seems difficult to believe somehow.
How was your day, boss?" asked my taxi-driver.
"Stressful."
He nodded slowly. "That is a man's life."
God gives the nuts, as Kafka so wisely said, but he does not crack them.
Since I came out to Paris I have been working on continually-renewed short-term contracts.
My fellow merkins, here I am back in the US and finally on a holiday after several long, slow weeks of work which left me brain-frazzled and hopeless and, as you'll have noticed, incapable of writing even the briefest of updates.
My mother got back home the other day to find that my dad had gone out and left a note saying: BACK IN A COUPLE OF HOURS.
Two and a half years ago, in the ancient royal city of Luang Prabang in northern Laos, Hannah and I met a couple from Alberta called Wayne and Renee.
From a linguistic point of view, it's really a fascinating time to be in France right now.
I really need to brush up my opening lines.
I am currently packing and in a few hours will be on a plane bound for Australia, leaving snow-struck Paris behind and heading, inconceivably, for the middle of summer. I've never done Christmas in the sun before, I'm not sure I approve - but I'll let you know once I've tried it.
Hannah and I have our first wedding anniversary while we're out there - we'll probably leave Brisbane and head to Sydney for the weekend, a city we've never been to. Hannah is looking forward to Australia's impressive array of gluten-free eating options, and I am looking forward to beachside restaurants with ‘please remove thongs before entering’ signs, which Hannah says will never provide the misunderstanding I am hoping for - but I have faith. Faith, and an inappropriately honed sense of erotico-linguistic mishap.
Mostly, we just want to be away with family for a while. I am tired: I need a break. I'm just going to lie by the pool in my sister's house, drinking cocktails, reading my book, and fending off the hordes of children. It's going to be awesome.