Alive and Kicking

Coming "home" from "home" is always a bit discombobulating.

There is the obvious jet lag that keeps one pinned to the sheets until 10 ---11 in the morning.
There is the joy of one's own sheets and dogs and cats on the bed.
There are the fresh croissants fresh from the much missed bakery.


But then there are the things in daily life that are a shock to my system each time I come home from home.

The roads are so narrow.

There are no country music stations.
There are a lot of cooking programs. And hey, they are all speaking French and eating foie gras.

There will be no grocery bags at the store, nor baggers.

I cannot forget to get out of the car with my sacks and a plug for the grocery cart or I have to start all over again.

It will take an extra half hour to get to the grocery store or yoga because I have to speak to everyone as I walk between here and there. 

Or it will take hours because I arrived between 12:00 and 2:00.


What's up with the trees?!

It's grey. It's beautiful.