Category: My French Husband
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The Meaning of Cute Signs, or How Not to be French
The impasse that we live on does not have a street sign, though it is has a name that nobody in our village knows of. Instead they refer to it as, "Where Monsieur Dupont use to live." To complicate the…
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Discovering Our New Neighborhood
Our apartment is in a neighborhood that is not touristic. My most favorite brocante is literally fifteen minutes away on foot. At the turn of the centtury, the neighborhood was were many artists had their studios, Monet and Renoir to name…
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Why Did I Agree to His Idea of Fun?
The glue was ready, Wall measured, Tools in place, Turgot's map four rows across, five deep, stacked and waiting, French Husband came home, beamed and wanted to help. He thought it would be "fun" to do it together. Inside…
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No Song and Dance, because he is Feeling Good
I woke up this morning hoping that the tossing, turning and moaning of last night meant he wasn't feeling good… Ha! No song and dance routine of happiness here. I mean I am happy, really happy, honestly happy that he…
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The Party Pooper’s Desire Comes True
The plan was to wake up early and get a head start. I made a face as if to say, "Oh that is going to happen." In which French Husband reacted, "Don't you want to go?" "Not really…" and then…
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Can I Tell You Something You Already Know?
He said over the phone, "Can I tell you something you already know?" Nervously I said, "If it is something I forgot to do, or something bad no." He repeated his punch line, "Can I tell you something you…