Pictures are restored, but there seems to be a problem with my email that has been ongoing for the entire time we were away. I realize anyone who tried to write me and got “No such email exists” type error messages won’t necessarily be looking at this blog now, but Just In Case: My profound apologies, and I do love to hear from readers, and I am working on the problem. Rather, I am working on getting other people to work on the problem, but they keep claiming it’s fixed and then leaving for the weekend.
I’m not sure how to take the fact that everyone bought Without a Single Question or Hesitation the idea that I would have, right there in the line at the airport, eaten enough chocolate to bring a 34 kilo suitcase down to its 32 kilo limit.
That’s TWO KILOS OF CHOCOLATE!!!
We just shifted those two kilos and the four kilos of roof tiles to Sébastien’s carry-on. After which I ate a LITTLE bit of it, the chocolate, not the roof tiles, since it was now accessible and it was a long flight, but the main problem with this batch of chocolate is that it’s primarily baking chocolate. I picked some up to make goodies with later, because good baking chocolate is so outrageously expensive in the U.S.
What happened to the rest of the chocolate, from which I intended to draw some Prizes, is a grim, sad story that I will have to tell at another time. Possibly when it’s raining and I want to dwell on my sorrows.
It’s one of those stories that will have to come with a warning, for it will make your heart heavy and sad, and the more sentimental among us might even weep.
I may also tell the story of the roof tiles.
RIGHT NOW, though, I am having a hard time telling any stories but the one I’m writing. I am so excited about this book I cannot tell you, and I came back just bursting with things to write, so I am glued to my keyboard doing that.
So I’m going to leave with a brief glimpse of the second evening in Paris and Mia’s birthday candle.
One year old and the most sparkly candle in town! And not only did it light up for her on the stroke of midnight, but a group started singing Happy Birthday.
Possibly to someone in their own group? Oh, well. As first birthday candles go, this one is pretty special.
And before anyone asks what a one-year-old was doing out at midnight, remember it was 6 p.m. her usual time. Also, I used to live in Madrid. That should excuse a lot.