MountainMornings

Lucky us. Bob has turned 70 and I’m about to do the same.  Not one to celebrate post-50 birthdays, we thought after our high school reunion, a party was in order. Remember our trip to Provence last year? Well tomorrow we’ll be meeting a few friends in Florence! Two chefs, Tuscany and our villa await. Let the wild rumpus begin!

But first, we will always have Paris. Three days ago, we landed at Charles deGaulle airport for our mini-stay on a houseboat on the Seine in the Bois de Boulogne. This was my idea, and don’t ask me how I thought of it cause I can’t remember. However, I now believe we could easily ditch the whole beach house idea and live on a houseboat, ie paniche, in the South of France.

You are rocked to sleep. Your scenery is constantly changing from big barges to water-skiers to paddle boarders. But best of all, your Nashville neighbors come to visit with a brut of pink champagne and enough food for a small French Foreign Legion. Plus, they bring Tatiana, a Russian reality TV star.

No kidding. And, she is an etiquette teacher, so Bob was pre-warned not to put his elbows on the table.

We talked about travel and love and life. She told us about Putin, who btw has just started his very own reality show since his popularity numbers have plummeted – he made the mistake of raising the age of receiving a pension. Now you can watch Vlad strolling through Siberia pointing out the wildlife. It’s like Mr T in reverse.

But no, no talk of American politics in France. What will be, will be.

And I feel revived, reinvigorated by walking around Paris. Like the sculpture of Cupid’s kiss of Psyche by Antonio Canova, it seems that 70 is the new 50! Ciao bambinos.