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!