I think I'm out of things to say. At least for a while.

Thanks for playing along.

Paris

Life is weird.

Despite all your best planning, figuring and dreaming, you never know what you're going to get.


On one very normal day in November, my family was pulling out of the parking lot of a Courtyard hotel in Page, Arizona. We were coming home from two Thanksgivings, one in Logan and one in St. George.

In the hotel lobby, my mom and I ran into people speaking French.

I was thirty minutes into French-teaching podcasts, and I listened intently to the french speakers' conversation. I was pretty sure if I just focused hard enough, I would be able to understand what they were saying. After all, I did have 30 minutes worth of French instruction.

I didn't understand a single word. Well maybe one. Oui.

My sisters and I got into our rental call named Bertha, and we pulled out of the parking lot.

Then my mom said to my dad, "So are you going to tell them?"

"No, you go ahead," my dad said.

If I remember correctly, this conversation was not light. And so I immediately assumed someone was dying. Because that's what I do. I assume someone is dying.

"What?" cries that backseat. "What are you going to tell us?"

My sister's sound excited, and I'm just scared. And while we try to figure out what's going on, my parents sit in the front debating over who should tell us what's going on.

"It was your idea," my mom says. "You tell them."

My dad ho's and hums and then says, "Do you guys want to go to Paris?"

My sisters and give each other sideways glances with half smiles. Because what kind of question is that? Did we hear right? Is this real life?

I can't remember exactly what came next, but basically we asked a series of questions verifying the validity of his statement.

"Is this a rhetorical question?"

"Are you talking about the eiffel tower in Vegas?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"Why are you asking this?"

And most importantly,

"Are you serious?"


After a half hour or so, we had nailed down that this was in fact a real question about the real Paris, and our half smiles turned to full ones.

We decided on spring.

Because summers are busy.

And I committed to learning more than a half-hour worth of French.



Three and a half months later, I am home from Paris.

In a way, the trip was everything I thought it would be.

I expected to be inspired.

And I was.

I expected to eat incredible food.

And I did.

I expected to be amazed.

And I was.

I expected to fall in love.

And I did.


Paris was magic.

And that's exactly what I expected.

London Calling

Today, I met the Queen of England.

And by met, I mean I saw her driving into Westminster Abby.

And by saw her, I mean I saw the big, red, double-decker bus intentionally blocking her as she arrived to Westminster Abby.

I will have to show you a picture of her sometime.

The red bus, that is.