Life in Paris – Page 2 – The Butterfly Chronicle

September 6, 2019September 6, 2019

Exercises in Patience

Aka losing my mind and feeling like an imbecile at not being able to do basic things: Living in Paris 101

Well, I had a lovely long newsy note that I had created for my next post by way of update to getting started here, but my computer lost the wifi connection just as I completed it, and closed the internet so I lost it. It’s such a perfect metaphor for the frustrations we have encountered trying to do basic things.

Our new apt is SO lovely, and is very high tech ‘smart’. This means however that our modem/router is not in our suite; it is in the mechanical room that we cannot access, and so when the internet connection glitches and I would normally reset the system, I now cannot. We have spent the first week trying to get all our gizmos online so we can complete what needs to be done. Georgia needs to buy ‘social liability insurance’ online and other things I am embarassed to say I’ve never encountered before in order to be considered registered for school so she can retrieve her course schedule. And Roo is trying to have a video meeting with his teacher and submit his homework which has been tricky. But they replaced the internet equipment apparently and it seems to be humming along, except now for some reason my laptop cannot connect despite all my usual fixes. So it feels our efforts are being thwarted left and right.

My sister in law told me living in France would sometimes have me in tears of frustration. I would say we are feeling more like we have rage of frustration. Maybe we are the feistier side of the family, har har. The list of things we cannot understand and do is long and not very distinguished. I’ve even failed at online shopping for goodness sakes.

I ordered a bedside table for Roo from Ikea and it never came (to our last apartment.) I called twice and tried to explain the issue to no avail and eventually had to go to the store and wait for 20min to speak to a person who admitted there have been delivery issues, so I was credited the amount (with a long coded number handed to me on a small sticker) that I am supposedly meant to submit onto another online order to try again. I’ve not yet summoned the courage to attempt another order. (I am tempted to make Roo use my yoga block trick!..)

Then a few days ago I ordered a small kitchen appliance to our home address to be delivered by the equivalent of Express Post in Canada. When I tracked the package it showed it was set to deliver yesterday but it didn’t come. I figured it must be delayed until today so I asked the building caretaker if she knew. She said no mail had arrived for us. I told her in my absymal French about the package and she said if they had attempted a delivery and come when she wasn’t there, they would have left a note but they had not so she had no idea. So I logged back online to track it and saw it was then listed as available for pick up at the ‘retreival point’.

This milk frother order was beginning to sound like a military extraction of agents in hostile territory. ‘Retrieval point’ is great,….but pray tell….where is this elusive top secret locale?! I had to follow a trail of links in French to ascertain the package was awaiting me at the local bible studies shop. The local bible studies shop?! Perhaps the secret to parcel delivery is divine intervention?!

A few weeks ago, we tried to buy Rupert an ‘unaccompanied minor’ train ticket to travel to the south of France to see his friend, but the ticket could not be purchased online without being paid for with only either a French bank card or French credit card. So we went TO the train station to buy the ticket with cash but were told they only sell those tickets online. #ShootMeNow

Georgia needs to validate her student visa and in order to do so, she has to present herself at the equivalent of City Hall and pay a small registration fee. And you guessed it…they won’t allow the fee to be paid by any means other than a French bank or French credit card. And she has to have the visa validated in order to attend classes.

So we had to apply for a french bank account and if you remember our woes about getting a French Student Visa, let’s just say the bank account application process has been rumoured to be similar. I’ve had two conversations with the bank manager in French, and we have submitted everything except the kitchen sink.

So those are just a few of the logistical challenges we are encountering. Nothing is life threatening so these are very much first world problems, and I will say that everyone is exceptionally nice and willing to help or waive certain things away like they actually don’t matter, (despite the paperwork saying to the contrary.) The hard-won student visas for the kids, for example were of little interest to the French Border and Immigration guards. They continued their conversation to one another and waved on us casually.

But the challenges are hugely time consuming and maddening. And we are even in a better position than many given we have some rudimentary language ability. (Although clearly our language is not that good because it didn’t spare G and me from punishing training sessions at the gym today with two separate trainers, when what we had thought we had arranged was a ‘how to use the machines’ session. We emerged sweating like two drown rats. But we were definitely exercised and the sessions were free of charge which was a happy surprise.)

I can’t imagine doing these ‘living tasks’ without any abilities in French, and I suspect G will not be the only student who doesn’t have every duck in its row.

The class lectures are supposedly in English but we were at the school yesterday enquiring about some of this stuff and were directed to some of the staff and all of the conversing we blundered through was in French. Georgia had read in online reviews of the school that they say the courses are taught in english but all the real teaching happens in French. That is ‘vraiment evident’, so I guess she is definitely learning French as well as Fashion! And of course that’s a whole pack of wonderful but right now, while we are floundering our way through things, it’s more than a little challenging.

Georgia received a supply list for school and for items we didn’t understand, we used a translation app to hysterical result. Apparently she needed a 10 metre long ruler as well as both a full size pistol and a package of five smaller hand-pistols. (Turns out it was a 10m roll of lined paper…thank goodness….carrying that 10m long ruler was going to be a challenge, wink wink, and the pistols were in fact some kind of plastic geometrical sewing shapes.)

Anyway, so you will now have gathered we are finally ensconced in our new apartment and we are really thrilled with it and its close proximity to G’s school. Our other apartment was so noisy and this one is like a vault….with the minor exception of some major construction currently happening in the suite beneath us!! Omg…. In Victoria we had moaned about the neighbors next door grinding rocks for months to put around the base of their house and we thought it couldn’t get worse. Now we have drilling and sawing right underneath us. Georgia thought they were going to come through her shower this morning!!

The building is a beautiful Haussmanian construction that has been gutted and beautifully redone, enhancing all the original mouldings and detailing, but having added a contemporary glass addition out the back flanking the courtyard, creating two massive walls of glass. The light pours in and we are spoiled with a lovely new and modern kitchen.

The owners renovated, starting from the top of the building and so each time a suite is completed they rent it out. So we just moved into this one and the last one to be completed is the one beneath us. We are foolishly hoping it won’t take long. (Riiiight…..)

Rupert has begun his online classes and is taking it in stride, and G is prepping for her orientation tomorrow (Friday). She is pondering WTW (what to wear) and though this is probably her most enjoyable challenge lately, it is arguably not entirely insignificant since it will be her first day of fashion school and first impressions matter as they say.

August 12, 2019August 13, 2019

“Annie, get yer brollie ☔️, and yer pie dish…🥧”

When it rains, it pours but they say you don’t move to Paris for the weather. 😉 So when Paris gives you soggy croissants, you attempt to make Bread and Butter Pudding with them. 🥐 ☔️ 🤷🏼‍♀️

So, alas not everyday in Paris is La Vie En Rose.

(What the heck?! Why not?! How did Coco Chanel make it work?….)

How living in Paris is in my mind, vs the reality of how it feels at the moment:

So for those of you who follow my instagram accounts you have gleaned that Roo and I are rockin’ it out alone here at the moment, awaiting la grande ‘demoiselle’ of fashion herself to arrive:

Throwback from when she was rockin’ the runway at age 2:

Georgia as my model when I had “George Clothing Company” (pre-walmart moving into Canada and issuing us a Cease and Desist Order….we had only trademarked for Western Canada. Most costly business decision ever….)

And before her Royal Highness of Fashion arrives, Roo and I have been navigating a few new challenges:

1 We have to move. This apartment is for sale and the owners will be allowing prospective purchasers to come through which isn’t really what we had in mind. And then of course we would/could have to move at some point when we are feeling really settled, so we decided to look for something else. So that’s been happening…just as I’m settled, the universe says, ‘oh no, you don’t….

2 We have had a leak in this apartment. It’s in a corner of the bathroom we don’t use much and the leak isn’t coming into our bathroom but is apparently leaking very hot water into the storage space below which prompted the building guardien (caretaker) to come knocking on our door with the plumber one evening when we were in our PJs. So we had a 10:30pm-midnight plumbing investigation happening which is NOT how I recommend one spends a Saturday night in Paris. grumble grumble…

3 Today, the plumbing issue continues. Yesterday apparently the water was still flowing into the storage space below so I had to be in constant communication with the apartment owner (who is in LA) to keep him informed with photos etc as to the progress. The plumbers are now cutting through the wall as I write this to see what’s happening with the plumbing behind. What’s that you say? Sorry I cant hear a thing over these saws. grumble grumble moan and groan.

4 Roo’s school has moved which explains why we couldn’t see any signs of it at the address we had previously visited. Wow. Thanks for the heads up. (Not!) I would have thought that might be some critical info for people moving from half way around the globe and seeking accommodation nearby…but there we are. So we have decided to give a pass on the school. Roo is super keen to do the ‘Distance Learning’ and I’ve now adjusted to that so I think we could make a good experience of it. (Plus the school here has upped all its fees and associated fees (bus, lunch, sports) AND moved to the Trocadero…which is chaos central and so not somewhere we want to be schlepping to and from on a daily basis despite its jaw dropping view of the Tour Eiffel.

**Love this! And reminds me that one system doesn’t fit all. #HomeSchool #FingersCrossed …Unless you are a fish, penguin or a snake in which case** **just wiggle, or wink your eyes, or do some kind of a happy dance that works in the absence of fingers to cross! hahaa**

So that’s the scoop. Oh! and it’s been pouring rain which Roo is grumbling about because it makes driving his remote control car less responsive. I however am ok with the respite in heat. My back is still bothering me so cool weather makes me feel less guilty about being a bit lazy. And one could always turns soggy croissants into this:

https://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/caramel-croissant-pudding

But I did start a Kundalini Yoga program yesterday morning and that was shockingly amazing. I heard Madonna is a fan which i think is what likely put me off, and that it doesn’t seem remotely athletic but given I was just wanting to be able to move without pain, I was all for a chill yoga experience. I loved it. The teacher is an older woman who is so graceful and lovely I was quite transfixed by her. I can’t wait to do it again. I do yoga on an app so I can access it any time which works so well. So after one class I did two more and I could move again!!! As I said to a friend: I KNOW I know I need to do yoga daily….why am I so pig headed about wanting to?! I think it’s just the Border Collie in me: I would rather just run at top speed chasing squirrels. I don’t have the focus and calmness for yoga: yet….. wink wink. Clearly I need to keep working on this. Working by sitting still: Such a foreign concept to me! 🤪

So when you see me next, if I’m in tights and draped in a kaftan and wearing a white wrap around my head with a beautiful stone, you will know that Kundalini dun got me real gud. (Besides….I would never have to do my hair!?….Endless benefits I can see…..)

**She is the most charming lovely lady…💛** **And just as limber as all get out!!**

August 8, 2019December 10, 2019

A Ride Through the Park, or as I call it…

“Careful What You Wish For, Harry”

This post is actually about bike riding in the Bois de Boulogne but before I get there, a little bit of backstory…

Last night at dinner I asked Harry what he thought of my blog. I had sent him the one about us arriving and getting settled into our apt. He said he looked at the first photo of all the suitcases and glanced at the caption and said ‘boring’, and stopped reading. I blanched.

“Really, you didn’t make it past the first photo?…..yikes. That IS bad.” and I shook my head.

“Mom, the thing is you need a HOOK. You have to hit your readers with something interesting that really pulls them into wanting to read whatever it is you are droning on about. From what I’ve seen so far, it’s not very titillating. You need some sex in there. Sex sells.”

..Nothing like some solid writing advice from one’s 14 year old son who routinely says he can’t stand reading.

Our conversation then turned to what we were going to do the next day. I said that I had read about this massive forested park that is close by and had ideas about taking the bikes and riding through it. That suggestion was met with lukewarm response from Team Testosterone but Roo was slightly intrigued to try the electric assisted bikes I had been raving about. (I love the electric assisted bikes here that you rent through the Uber app on your phone because they have a built in basket to carry stuff and with the electric assist it means for me I don’t sweat at all while doing errands, and I love that. I’m all about sweating at the gym, but when I’m out and about, trying to be french and effortlessly chic in my ‘I woke up like this’ outfit on my bike, sweat rolling between the boobs is not the desired effect.)

I explained to the guys that the park is 4x larger than Stanley Park in Vancouver (and 2.5x larger than Central Park in NYC.) It features several lakes, a waterfall, two botanical gardens, a chateau, a zoo, an amusement park, two horse racing tracks, 2 hippodromes (which I had to look up what those are…they disappointingly have zero to do with hippos, wink wink), a tennis stadium where the French Open is held each year and the Louis Vuitton Foundation.

**Bois du Boulogne (photo from wikipedia on a sunny day.)**

Because I’m a tourist, I read about the history of the park. It’s long and fascinating as one might expect. (And I’m not being sarcastic for once.) It was a hunting ground and pleasure garden; Marie Antoinette had a bet with her brother in law about building a castle there in record time; numerous famous people were murdered there, and the first manned free-flight in a hot air balloon happened there. Napoleon III is mostly credited with its current state. Apparently he decided the city needed a park like Hyde park in London and so two vast areas of land were dedicated to making two giant parks on either side of Paris. And fun fact (or very boring fact according to Harry) no ruler before Napoleon III or after has ever created more green space in Paris. In his 17 years of reign he created more than 4500 acres of green space’ for princes and paupers alike to enjoy’.

Life in the park was written about by famous authors Emile Zola and Gustave Flaubert, and the park was the subject of many paintings by artists Eduard Manet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Vincent Van Gogh and Mary Cassatt. In the late 1800s the park also housed an ethnological garden, or what critics called a ‘human zoo.’ Groups of inhabitants from faraway countries were put on display for weeks in reconstructed villages of their homelands. Terribly un-pc but also really fascinating!!–Like a living National Geographic magazine! Or so I thought. My entourage however, was decidedly less enthusiastic.

Nevertheless I was keen we hop on the bikes and do a little rip around the park to check it out. It sounded rich in history, and beautiful and interesting and I’m always keen to do a little spin on trails without cars. Harry wanted no part of the adventure but I insisted he come get some fresh air and perhaps a little education. We woke up that morning and it was cloudy so I was further encouraged this would be a great day to bike because we wouldn’t be too hot.

Well, let’s just say, we were definitely not too hot. What began as a pleasant light sprinkle of moisture rapidly turned into torrential downpour. I was wearing white shorts and Roo was wearing white pants and he was very alarmed our appearance was about to become scandalous. Little did we know, however, that our ‘white tee shirt’ contest of the lower body was the least of our worries. A few pedal strokes into the forest we passed numerous groups of pretty sketchy looking individuals who we later ascertained were drug dealers.

The park was mainly devoid of people which made it all the more perplexing to see scantily clad women standing at trail intersections, or sitting in lawn chairs (under umbrellas when it started to rain.) We noticed many vans parked at the sides of the road (which the bike path ran parallel to) and all of the vans had their windows covered, and some had welcome mats. All had scarves tied around their sideview mirrors. It didn’t take long to figure out we weren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy, and had ridden into what we now refer to as the ‘Bordello de Boulogne’. Van upon van lined the road with a little bit of breathing space between each one. The breathing space we later saw was where the Johns would pull in and park their cars before wandering back to haggle over prices and services with the ladies seated at the roadside or in their vans when the rain started.

As we biked along the path, it became a sort of reverse parade of sexy outfits, them remaining still, and us riding past. While I looked on with huge interest and curiosity, Harry looked the other way, and I thought poor Roo was about to have a panic attack. He was mostly okay until we witnessed an actual transaction and then he got a very angry looking face and expressed how entirely “offended” he was with “this whole prostitution situation.”

I, of course, couldn’t help but exclaim with unfettered glee that this was in fact JUST the sort of hook Harry was suggesting I harness for my next blog post. He looked at me under wet curls sticking to his forehead and said “This is without a doubt in the top 10 worst things I have EVER done.”

Hehehe….that tickled my sense of humor in the same inappropriate way I often find things to be hilarious that really shouldn’t be. Harry continued:

“Like honestly, Mom, this whole biking adventure of yours is THE WORST. And I thought shopping was bad!”

(At which point James gave him that knowing look of ‘See, shopping and long lunches isn’t looking so bad, is it?! Told you you should have been more enthusiastic about MY suggestions.’…)

So there you have it. I have now lost all rights with my family to plan outings. It was apparently the worst 2 hours they have spent of their lives. (Which had me pointing out just what wonderful lives they indeed enjoy which, no surprise went over like a lead balloon.) My efforts to point out some vistas I thought were pretty (see photos below) were met with disparaging looks and they were equally unenthused with the flock of geese we saw.

“Look guys! It’s Canadian Geese!!!” I called out in front of me to 3 bodies hunched over bicycles, rain running down their shoulders. Not one of them even turned their heads to look. Only Harry took his hand off the handlebars to reach behind him to flip me his own version of a Canadian bird.

**It looks sort of creepy summer camp-ish, but I like it somehow.**

**Before the rain set in….and before I inadvertently scarred the boys with offers of hookers and blow.**

**Napoleon insisted there was water to break up all the aridness of the city. People now take rowboats down it. I thought it looked great!**

**Aforementioned row-boat!! See! It looks so lovley!!! Maybe that’s what we will do next time we come here!!!**

August 7, 2019August 7, 2019

Competitive Geraniuming

I may have found/hit a new level of low. I blame it on my lack of accompaniment by warm souls with paws….

Day 7 on the island (as I might write in a journal about being shipwrecked on a deserted island somewhere), and I’ve taken to studying the local flora. I have discovered myself to have a penchant for ‘window box tending’. Is this even a ‘thing’? I think not, and yet….

Like many French apts, ours has window boxes with what i consider the requisite Napoleonic Red Geraniums. I noticed right away when we moved in however that ours are like the ‘Tom Hanks in the middle of Castaway movie’ version. They are the bare ‘essence’ of the geranium flower but very much lacking in being the ‘substance’ of the geranium flower. Overwhelming us with abundant blooms, they are NOT.

This wouldn’t be quite so tragic except that Double Dubs (see last post) and co above us, with the SAME damn window boxes and the same damn Napoleonic Red Geraniums have the ‘Lady Gaga at the Met Gala’ version of geraniums and this situation is seriously harshing my mellow. I mean Double Dubs’ geraniums are BOLD. They are literally falling all over themselves to attract my attention. The Lady Gaga geraniums sing out to me every time I walk across the courtyard to enter our flat. There are just sooo many blooms, and so much greenery cascading elegantly while my Tom Hanks Castaway geraniums look like the skinny water-wing-wearing men from that 1986 Arctic Power TV commercial. (Click to see it and tell me I’m not the only one who remembers this.)

**See what I mean?! Are mine NOT just exceedingly underwhelming?…They are like the before photo of a workout transformation.**

So now I”m weirdly obsessed with bolstering my blooms (and I can’t imagine a more obvious life metaphor.) In sleepless jet-lagged wee hours I’ve been reading online about geranium propagation. I’ve made trips to 3 shops to procure fertilizer specific to these ‘hungry’ flowers. That was the word on the bottle in french and I’ve never thought of plants as having an appetite level before, but then truthfully, I’ve never really thought about plants much. After all, my forte is warm souls with paws, not things with leaves. Thats just how I roll.

But I am determinably loving these floral friends. I washed their leaves (who wants dusty leaves?!…how can they even breathe like that? I mean I know jack diddly about plants but I remember learning something about photosynethesis and them doing that through their leaves, so I reckon it’s like them trying to read through filthy reading glasses.) I dead-head them daily, give a few of their leaves a gentle rub and spritz them after the sun moves off them with a light shower of Evian. Okay, the Evian is a lie but IF I thought it would make a difference, damn straight my gerries would be getting that french spa treatment! I only have 3 windows of them after all. How much could they really soak up through the scant number of leaves that currently cling for dear life onto their spindly stalks? So I’m doing it all, and hoping for a little Lady Gaga Razzlematazzle.

I guess this is what happens when you move from being surrounded by so much green that it all sort of blends together. Having just three very obvious window’s worth of blooms makes it so glaringly apparent when they are less then resplendant. There is definitely another life metaphor here. Indeed it is often hard to see the trees for the forest.

And already these little guys seem to be responding to the attention, and I’m kind of glad Georgia isn’t here to witness this new ‘growing’ obsession (#GardenPun) otherwise her relentless sense of humor would know no bounds. I haven’t yet named them though, so at least I’m holding onto some shred of sanity. (Not chastising those of you who I know DO name your plants….not naming names, MB, naming your Tomato plants…. hahaha)

I am however going to go full Kayla Itsinies on these babies and take ‘progress’ photos because I swear they have already responded to my Tony Robbins-esque pep talks and ‘ground-breaking’ (wink wink) green leaf massage treatments. I don’t want to brag, but I’m already up at least 2 blooms PER planter box which is at least at a whopping 4 blooms per window. And 6 in the family room! 6 blooms, people! I mean, come ON! And if you are tempted to write and tell me that they are probably just doing what they would naturally do, and bloom some more, don’t burst my bubble. I’ve got at least 10 blooms more than when i arrived, and so there’s really no stopping me now.

Look out Lady Gaga Gerries…we may have started waaaaay behind the pack, but we are fueling up, training hard, and there is no doubt, we are coming for you!

**Just a boy in his kitchen with his Gerries eating an eclair….for breakfast ‘dessert’. It’s a thing. At least sometimes it is.**

**Beautiful flower displays in my neighborhood.**

August 5, 2019August 7, 2019

Living in the equivalent of just off Robson street, (if Robson street was a lot wider, with wide sidewalks full of every walk of life from around the globe.)

Life in Paris in a Haussmanian Apt, a couple of blocks off the Champs Elysees.

Who brought SO many suitcases?!….For sure it was Harry. (hehehe, riiiiight!….Harry had 1/2 of the smallest bag. Yours truly had to bring all manner of ridiculous things. #HardcoreHomebody

We are now happily ensconced in our apt a couple of block off the Champs Elysees, and close to the Arc de Triomphe. It’s really a beautiful space. As I mentioned on my instagram post on the same topic, interior design is of huge interest to me and knowing we are going to be here for at least a year has me putting my mind to getting settled in it to the best of my ability.

The owner is a Fashion Designer in LA (and her husband) and they have a penchant for high end French furniture. Most of it is Roche Bobois, and our family room couch is definitely, er, ‘cheerful’ as my granny might say trying to be diplomatic about something she thought to be very loud. But I must say the jewel tones have already grown on me and it’s also super comfy so I’ve embraced it.

Look at these floors! Very ‘typical’ I’m told and I think the herringbone in wood is gorgeous.

Because I am who I am, I had to rearrange the furniture and artwork a few times. My family is so tolerant. They come to expect it now. (Full disclosure: I also do this in hotel rooms if I’m there for more than one night. It’s not their fault they can’t read my brilliant mind!. Hahaha….brilliant/insane….it’s a thin line.)

First to go was the massive TV in the family room. We watch on ipads anyway and I’m really not a fan of TVs being seen in rooms. So I hid it in a closet and the table it was on became our low slung coffee table to accompany our low slung french couch. (It’s kind of a Japanese style vibe to me, and I imagine us sitting cross legged doing (very thin!) puzzles, eating sushi or playing board games (or bananagrams, right Maile!?).

Then I moved a desk from another room and now I have a writing perch that quite delights me. (I’ve started compiling a ‘you know you are old when you get excited about ________’ list in the style of those memes you see on the same topic.) Getting excited about a desk seems right up there with vacuum suction power and kitchen cloths that magically resist smelling gross but I digress…. So now I’ve got my desk, complete with dimmable desk light which only took us to 5 stores to locate. I don’t like harsh overhead light. I don’t know what to say, but I’ve got the whole of the Hygge lovers with me on this one.

And from this vantage point I can see/hear the world of the courtyard happening to the right and the world wandering past the street to the left. A friend asked me if this apt has inspired any specific topics or genres for writing. My immediate thought was ‘Rear Window’, the Hitchcock movie where James Stewart is home bound with a broken leg during a hot summer and spends so much time looking out the window at his neighbors who are living with their windows open and he hears and sees a lot and one night he thinks he sees a murder occur in one of the apartments across the way.

I relate to the way he has nicknames for all the people he observes. One of my favorite things to do is eat alone in a crowded restaurant and observe the other people eating and create narratives about who they are and what they are doing. I can go really deep into my imagination about where they find themselves and what they are speaking about. It’s the best when I can’t actually hear what they are saying and can only lip-read the occasional word.

In that vein, we have new neighbors who have suddenly made their presence very much, well, present. That’s my diplomatic way of saying they are bloody loud. I think it’s a couple and young child. The lady of the house tromps around in heels in the morning and the man of the house appears not to be of the shy bladder variety. The sound of him peeing echoes down one of the small interior courtyards and comes into my ears as though he was in the next room. ‘Waterfall Wayne’ seems not to suffer from prostate issues and I had him pegged in his mid 30’s. But what is throwing me is his weekend music choice. He listened, very (VERY) loudly to a French classical music radio station. And he listened to it the ENTIRE weekend. I can’t wait to see what happens next weekend. Will he mix it up with something else? Can I send Roo upstairs with a request?

But Double Dubs n Co have some damn fine geraniums in their window boxes which are very much putting ours to shame which brings me to my next post, “Competitive Geraniuming”. I know, I know….how can you even wait another second for this wildly exciting topic? I hear you, and I’m on it, my people. But now it’s time for bubbles. And look at the flutes here!? I need a stool just to reach the rim of the glass.