Paris, Part One

Yes, that's Paris, France, and it means I went there.  :-)


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So about a month or so ago, John suggested that we go to Paris for my birthday, and I stared at him in disbelief because that is what you do when someone hands you the fulfillment of a childhood dream on a plate.   "We could have dinner at the Eiffel Tower," he said.  "Why don't you make reservations?  We could go by train."

I was so floored by this that I didn't even blog that we were going just in case I might jinx it.

J'ai tricoté au Tour de France

Which is my high school French attempt at saying, "I have knitted at the Tour de France." Here is a picture of what I was knitting, a cell phone (or "handy" as they say here in Germany) sock. I'm making it out of wool and silk tweed yarn, using a US size 3 Skacel Addi lace knitting needle and "magic loop" method. Why? Because 1) I kept running out of minutes on my cellphone while it was in my purse and it would get hit on this or that button and dial whatever number without my knowledge, 2) it was the first yarn I picked up and hurriedly packed away before I went to bed last night, 3) and we were going to be sitting there waiting for hours before the bicyclists would whiz by.  Unfortunately, the deep aubergine color (note, I use French for "eggplant") does not show up well in this light. At least the needles show up somewhat (I bought them at the Unraveled Yarn shop back in Federal Way, WA--I also think I might have bought the yarn there, too).

Happy Independence Day - and the Tour de France

Happy Independence Day, all you United States citizens, wherever you may be.

I'm feeling this day more than usual, as I'm not in the States, and I do miss it. On this day at home, we'd be hearing fireworks shot off here and there, sometimes even starting the day before. John would be suddenly seized with a bit of pyromania and have gone on a trip off to the fireworks stand to load up on explosives. I would be fixing something to be prepared on the grill, while our friends would be doing the same. We would often get together with our long-time friends, the Thompsons, and pool our food and our fireworks in a display of gustatory and pyrotechnic indulgence.