Every evening French Husband calls to give a run down of the last twenty-four hours.His report ninety-nine percent of the time goes like this:
"We rode 760 kilometers, ten hours of riding, one stop for gas. Frances didn't sleep well. The roads are in perfect condition. Nice scenery. Hard to blog. We ate pizza and had a beer. It is very hot, the mosquitoes are horrific. All is good. We are having fun."
Last night he threw in something new, he asked me if I missed him. If I said yes he would have
felt bad, and worried (he is a worrier). I said, 'No.' He said, "Good! I hoped
you would say that."
We laughed.
I asked him what the food was like, for example while in Germany, "Did you have a potato pancake with apple sauce?"
But each and every time he calls he says, "We had pizza and beer."
I told him to shake it up a bit. He said, "It isn't about the food."
I guess you gotta be a motorcycle nut to love what they are doing.
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Note: Today is The National Holiday of the 14th of July. The French do not wave flags, nor have BBQs.
They do not even say Happy Bastille day. I guess there isn't too much to be happy about storming the Bastille and beheading people.
There are a few military parades, and fireworks to celebrate the National Holiday.
Last night my niece Juliette, Sacha and I went to the Fireman's Ball… a dance outside the fire station. Very casual where the children run around, few dance, and the rest sit around talking about la belle vie.
French Husband will certainly celebrate the 14th with pizza and beer.
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