I'm back from Paris. Gawd, I love that place. Only thing was about Day 4, I started missing my babies something fierce. This always happens on long trips.
Paris, as Julia Child noted in her memoir, is a city of cats. But I only actually saw three of them while I was there due to the cold weather. Cats are no fools. They don't get out in it unless they have to.
I actually chose my restaurant one night based solely on the fact that they had an orange house cat just like my Henry. Yes, in Paris you will see cats and dogs in the restaurants. This one had a French attitude (as does Monsieur Henri) and only let me touch him twice before going upstairs.
By Christmas Day, I was reduced to petting the guy above at the Jacquemart-Andre museum -- a very beautiful place by the way.
Getting home took forever. Nothing like a little episode of international terrorism to spice up a transatlantic flight. But then again, it was probably the safest day to fly what with all the bag checks and frisking. I haven't been felt up that much since playing spin the bottle in 6th grade.
After 24 hours without sleep, it was wonderful to fall into my bed covered with cat hair, even if I did awake to Henry peeing on the pillow next to me. Just letting me know where he stands on the whole issue. Today, Henry, Nettie and CJ still aren't talking to me. Sammy, Roxie, Koko and Ernie are always glad to see me.
It's good to be home.
By the way, if you'd like to read more about to my trip to Paris, go here.
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