Category: My French Husband
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Some get Breakfast in Bed & Some get Socks
This morning as soon as my barefeet hit the tile floor I knew that this was not an ordinary mid winter day in Provence. Outside ten inches of snow had fallen. My naturally cold feet were colder. Much colder.…
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Dancing in the Farm House Kitchen
In the middle of a field stands an old farm house with an attached barn. Nobody lives there, It use to belong to his grand parents, who had farmers manage it, we bought it many years ago. …
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In Search of Kouign Anman
A year ago I started to write the story of how I met my French Husband. After a week or so I was derailed by babysitting, brocante and baking up romance for another American and her soon to be French…
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Licking my Lips
We arrived in Rennes after a six hour train ride. It usually takes twelve hours by car. As soon as we walked into my Belle-Mere's (mother-in-law in French, which means: Beautiful Mother.) home lunch was ready, she is organized…
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French Food Talk
In France there is a great deal of talk about food. Simply food. Everyday food. Food food. There isn't a day that goes by that the topic of food doesn't come up. Food, unlike politics or religion is a safe…
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Twenty Three Years
French husband proposed to me in a small neighborhood park in Paris. His breath was swirling white from the cold; funny when you are first in love, the things around seem brand new and miraculous, …