My chic Belle-Mere (Mother in law,) knows how to pack. Whenever she comes to visit us she arrives with one small suitcase. It doesn’t matter if she is staying a weekend…

  Our street was narrow, unpaved, and fenced by two large stone walls. This was before the joli maisons; houses sprang up like mushrooms all around us, eating up the vineyards and olive trees. This was before the new families arrived.…

                      My Mother called me Cinderella, not because I wore glass slippers, nor for my flare for transforming mice into men, but because I was the oldest child followed by four brothers. Needless…

                   Yesterday afternoon, it drizzled outside, an Autumn breeze rushed through the open window. A hunk of Roquefort waited on a baguette, Half peeled clementine, and a cracked pomegranate gathered on a terra cotta…

                             Growing up bilingual has its advantages, especially when you live in France and take English in school. Sacha and Chelsea say it is class they don’t have to work hard…

                   Back home, she was considered a good girl, but in Paris, she was considered vraiment bien! When her Mother wrote asking if she were cold? Augustine blushed from afar yet laughed out loud…