Sundays are for....

standing in line to go to the Salvador Dali exhibit.

because I am a HUGE Dali fan.

Ok, not really.  I like him.  But I like my girlfriends even more. 
And any chance we have to get together and be loud and laugh loud and just generally enjoy the madness,  PLUS see some art?  I am in. 

I still mistake cheese for fart

Fart,
Toe Jam,
Cold wet cement,
poison,

These are some of the words I would use describe cheese here.

It took 3 years to stop frantically searching  for something past its date when a waft of cool air reached my nostrils after shutting the refrigerator door.  Even wrapped in plastic and in a tupperware.

I still (on Tuesday, to be precise) have been in a room with a guest and been surprised that we were "close enough" for him to pass a silent but deadly, only to realize that the smell coincided with the opening of the fridge and the laying out of the cheese plate.
How can one be sure.

-----

The story one is told in the hills of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon is that Roquefort cheese was born from a sheep herder who left his half-eaten cheese sandwich in the cold, wet caves while taking a break from the sun.  When he came back 2 weeks later he found his sandwich, and was delighted after taking a bite to find new flavor.  (Because who doesn't love a couple of fuzzy green-blue spots on their 2-week-old lunch).


Or maybe, the sheep herder was sick and self-medicating.  Roquefort, by its scientific name, is Penicillium roqueforti, and is indeed a member of the penicillin family.

Yes, really

 

This is what I mean by permagray soup.  

Gray buildings, gray streets & sidewalks, heavy gray sky.

From Dec to March

9a.m. to 6p.m., sometimes only 10a.m. to 4p.m.

nothing changes 

kind of makes you want to slit your wrists after 2 months

Well played lotion makers...

I read the list of ingredients. 
What I did not read was the 2nd list of ingredients. 
Well played lotion makers.

Commissioned vs Street Art

Look!  Proof that we were not in a ghost town!  See that guy in the left corner?  Sadly the lighting doesn't show off his orange army pants.

This is the street art around the city.
The ones on the right are the "non-commissioned" pieces. 

And then ...

And then the bus driver got on the intercom and said there was too much traffic and that the next stop would be....my stop. Spontaneously eliminating 17 stops. 

Like having my own huge and badly upholstered taxi 

I like.

The Pope's Place

Everyone gets a window seat.

A place to hold your house and lean against the wall.

Or take a long nap with your husband and 2 dogs.

Fast train, cold evening. Avignon

As you may have noticed from the last photo I posted, B hurt his leg.  To be more precise, he completely tore is Anterior Cruciate Ligament.
So while he stayed home in bed in his compression tights waiting for the daily visit from the nurse and eating 3 meals a day prepared by his crème of a mother, I happily took our train tickets and a friend to Avignon. (Aveen-ñon)

689 kilometers (428 miles) in 2h38min.
French trains are fast.

I thought it would be warm,
but no,
the constant blow of the mistral ("fresh" would be a generous term) meant we were shivering while checking out the city walls and the pope's digs.  But it also meant that we had nearly the whole city to ourselves.
especially the first night

Popes' Palais 1309 - 1403

Things you don't expect to hear your boyfriend say at your girlfriend's house

In the kitchen helping decorate a cake for a 2 year old, I hear, plain as day, out of the mouth of my boyfriend:

Est-ce que ça te gêne si je me mets en slip?

"Do you mind if I am in my underwear?"

He doesn't even fight me anymore when I take the picture.  Just pulls up his thigh-highs.

Sundays are for....

city trains to the suburbs for birthday parties