Christmas Daydreams in Paris

Bon giorno et Joyeux Noel Paris!!!
Another Christmas has come and gone - just like that, and as per tradition, I have yet to make it to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Next year my dearest Paris, I promise you, things are going to be different.
Now that the young brood believe in gift cards instead of Santa Claus, the magic of childhood Christmases has disappeared, at least until grandchildren arrive. I have no choice at this stage in the life of mother, but to create my own Christmas magic, and that, dear Paris, is where you come in. I can see it now Paris, a Christmas morning spent together, strolling through winding cobblestone streets, feeling the large fluffly flakes fall on my face, not at all concerned about smudging my mascara, because I will have been wise enough to wear waterproof, ensuring a polished look for my arrival to the Eiffel Tower, where the husband will embrace me tightly on our ride up the elevator, knowing full-well my fear of heights. When we reach the top, he will attempt to get down on bended knee, and ask me, once again, to be his bride. And I will shout over the rooftops, "Oui, oui, mon mari, je t'adore encore!" And the crowd will cheer and applaud, because afterall, is Paris not the most romantic city in the world?
The countdown is on dear Paris - only 364 days until I peruse the Christmas markets, visit Monet at the Louvre, sip cafes and enjoy fresh cheese and croissants, drop in on my dear friends, Chanel and Dior, skate under the stars in the city of lights, and finally, take a horse-drawn carriage ride back to our Paris apartment.
Gosh, this daydream has helped me escape the reality that my absessed molar is still throbbing. The memory of yesterday's 2:00 a..m. trip to the local emergency room was the icing on the cake after hosting a delightful traditional Italian family Christmas Eve. What a shame I was in too much pain to enjoy the seafood festival and divine desserts. I guess I missed the excitement over the opening of gifts as I spent a good part of the evening gargling with salt water and beating my head against the bathroom wall, in the hopes of some sort of relief from this "I'd rather be in labour" type of pain. Thanks to the aid of antibiotics, narcotics, yoga and Google, I managed to take a break from the hallucinations and grab some much-needed shut eye - at roughly 5:00 a .m.
No matter - it turned out to be a beautiful Christmas Day spent with family and for this, I am so grateful.
Good night Paris, bonne nuit et a la prochaine!

Did it snow in Paris today?

Bonjour, et comment ca va? Better brush up on my parlez-vous francais situation since Paris and I will be joined at the hip anytime soon. Paris, just to let you know, I've moved the two zebra-print chairs all over the house only to have them end up right where they started - in the front entryway in the hopes of providing guests with a "welcome to my Paris apartment" and the other in the Paris apartment library. Regardless of the families whispers and husbands nervous twitching, I still say the zebra-print chairs would look fabulous, positively fabulous, in the dining area of our kitchen. Who needs a kitchen table when there's a perfectly lonely dining room table right next door? Why not create a lounge atmosphere so one can comfortably watch one's husband cook while assuming a semi-horizontal position whilst sipping a martini?
Can one have too many zebra chairs is the question that has been consuming my mind all day! I would love to have two in the kitchen, one in the entry hall, one in the library and two in the bedroom sitting nook. Would that be considered "zebra chair overkill?" Best to leave it to just the two. At least for now. I must remember my dear Paris, I am saving every red cent (well almost every red cent, as long as I steer clear of HomeSense) for the day that you and I unite.
I wonder if the zebra-chair is a hot commodity in Paris decor circles. Must google. In the meantime, I am checking the Paris forecast. Mild and snowy - perfect for a stroll around the Eiffel Tower wearing my full length red A-line, black fur trimmed collar and cuffs Christmas coat. The ideal boot would have to be waterproof of course, comfortable, practical, yet stylish. I don't know if I own any such boot. Back to google in search of this boot. Where is the day going? Husband and the young brood are clamouring about the excess of furniture in the hallway and how they can't make it through to get to the kitchen. What a shame is what I say! A woman can't get a thing done around here without any interruptions! Dont' worry Paris - I will be home soon!
Until next time, au revoir!

Sunny Sunday in Paris

Buon giorno, or should I say "bonjour",
According to the international forecast, it is a sunny Sunday in Paris. Oh Paris, what a wonderful day we would be spending together if there wasn't an ocean between us! I think I'd start the day with mass at Notre Dame Cathedral, followed by a long and steamy cafe enjoyed roadside while perusing the morning paper. From there, a quick change of shoes from stilettos to flats as we make our way to the flea market in search of all things beautiful. By the time we're finished lugging my new armoire up three flights of stairs to my Eiffel Tower view flat, we are exhausted and ready for a nap. Unfortunately, all efforts to sleep prove futile as thoughts of storing my vintage french linens in the weather-worn country french seafoam green armoire are monopolizing any intention of rest. I surrender. I have no choice but to begin this, yet another, Paris apartment project. But what to do about the zebra-striped chairs we left behind like two lost orphans at the flea market? Dare we break into the "don't want to eat cat food at retirement fund" and indulge once again, to impulse shopping? Why worry about what's on the menu at retirement is what I say! So what if I end up eating cat food in my old age, at least I'll have a gorgeous armoire to store it in - that and my vintage Chanel suits and stiletto collection!
My darling Paris, it seems my daydream is being interrupted by the call of the dear husband, in search of socks and clean underwear. A far cry from our dreamy afternoon together. Not to worry Paris. The days until we meet are fast approaching. In the meantime, and rather sadly, I must return to my reality and the "laundry situation". Au revoir Paris. A la prochaine.