Paris is a City...

You have not met my dear sister so you do not know how delightful she can be. She has an uncanny ability to say the perfect thing at the most opportune moment. Case in point: Scene: driving range. Mom: Will you hand me some balls? Sister: No, I'm a girl. I don't have balls.

Whoa! So I hope you got a kick out of that even though it was a bit crass. I generally refrain from that type of humor. I have another scene for you, though. We were nearing the end of a week-long trip with my mom, sister and me in Paris. My mom had last been to Paris the summer before I was born.

So, we returned over twenty years later with me, my mom, my sister, and the French I learned from the French teacher I later dated. We had a fabulous time as a family. I think we averaged a half dozen chocolate croissants each per day. This is seperate from the crepe, cheese, and wine count.

On our last night in Paris, we ate on the outdoor patio of a delightful restaurant in Montmartre. We were sharing our thoughts on the trip, what we liked, what we learned, what we appreciated about Paris. And my dear sister, her parting thoughts on Paris were... "Paris is a city where men feast on women."

And you know what? She has a point.