In addition to sipping on lattes, taking a walk, knitting, and trying to decide when I should finally break down and buy one of those wind sculptures, Joan and I also went out to lunch this week.
We settled on a little french bistro where they started us off with a thick slab of butter and a crusty baguette, which we decided would pair well with a couple of hard ciders.
Then, while we were waiting for lunch to arrive, we pretended we had arrived in Paris last night and this was our first meal out. We discussed what we should do on our first day in the city. Chocolate croissants, cafe creme's, a garden stroll, and train rides were all on the list.
Then Joan's "salade de chevre chaud" arrived, as did my "salade nicoise" and we oh-la-la'd and mmmm'd to our hearts content.
We sat up straight in our chairs and smiled in delighted contentment over the sheer luxury of a simply prepared, beautiful meal. Then, when we were done, we locked arms and strolled out of the restaurant in true Parisian style.
I might have made up that last part. But the next time we go that's what we will do. Right Joan?