(Don’t) Put the Baby in the Freezer

15 juin 2010 mardi

Oh you know, just another day in the great city of Avignon. A picnic in the park above le Palais des Papes: chicken and baguettes and French mayonnaise (yes, Shawna, that’s for you) and fresh grapes and goûters (FINALLY). A stop at H&M. Coffee with Laurent at Red Sky and then a mid-afternoon Foster’s at O’Neill’s. Token mass confusion and a long bus ride out to the middle of nowhere. Grocery shopping in Agroparc. Soccer games and soccer fanatics. Old friends and massages and rainstorms. Vocabulary lessons (plan cul = one night stand; rassasié = full; griller le feu rouge = to run a red light) and business reports (?). Late night fast food runs. Goodness, it feels good to be home.

(In regards to the title of this blog—it comes from a song that Adrien and Paul were singing to Katie and me last night. It’s actually rather vulgar, so I will not post it in its entirety here. But it nevertheless afforded us quite a few laughs last night, so I figured it’d be an appropriate title for my first night back in Avignon. Adrien, Laurent, Paul . . . I love you all, but putting a baby in a freezer doesn’t keep it “fresh.” Crazy French boys.)

(ALSO: We’re staying in a hotel on the rue de la république called the Hôtel Regina. For all who know my Regina Spektor love, you can understand how awesome this is. And we have clean towels and sheets. No shower curtain, but hey, we take what we can get.)