Category: Living in France
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Natacha: Fifteen Years Later
The last time I saw Natacha she was four years old, and she and Sacha had just finished painting each other, from head to toe, with fingernail polish. Red, pink, orange, pastel pink blotches all over their naked little…
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This Little Girl Went to the Market
This little girl went to the market, in a brown dress, and brought home some melons. I knew something was up when I heard French Husband (who also went to the market with The Girl in…
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An Impromptu Picnic
An impromptu picnic starts when one wants to nibble on something in between meals. One opens the fridge, leans on the door, and scopes out the possibilities. Instead of grabbing, and nibbling where one stands, the essences of…
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The Perfect Shade of Grey
The perfect shade of grey? Is it a mixture of sand and twilight? Does it have a snippet of lamb's wool, and a dash of pepper? Grey, or the French grey that is tres vogue with many at the…
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Because the French Brocante was not where it said it was going to be….A Tour de France Story in Honor of my Brother Mathew
I went over to Annie's yesterday afternoon, she was sitting in her easy chair watching the Tour de France. I pulled up a chair and sat along side of her. The sound of the TV was turned down, she asked…
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Hanging Out with Marie Antoinette
My 101 year old friend Mr. H. paints, everyday. He is a tall, elegant, an aristocratic man who paints abstracts– Cubes, figures without facial expressions, and one eyed boomerangs in vivid color. His paintings are his hobby, his story,…