Bon Jour Mon Amis!
I had vowed not to blog at all while in France, just to try really hard to have an actual vacation. But I cannot resist the urge to share with you the miracle of Christmas Eve. Broken record: I can't stand Christmas. Yesterday, though, on the eve of, we tromped through Paris in the cold, cold, wet, wet, rain for THIRTEEN HOURS. At the Village d'Noel in front of the Eiffel Tower, I was accosted and groped by Pere Noel, who was very nice and spoke perfect English. It was actually a power hug. Warren (a Jew, just like Baby Jesus!) captured the whole thing with his camera. Later, we tromped up the Champs Elysees and on to Notre Dame where we heard the French Children's Choir sing Silent Night to a massive, SRO crowd. Today I am far too exhausted to whip myself into my usual annual holiday disdain. I'm just gonna sit and knit and eat.
Oh, and I was delighted to see that, after role modeling for the world for the past twenty Christmases or so, some of the world is catching on to my suggestion of non-celebration. Check out this article in the Times-- bonus points, my friend Hank Stuever, author of Tinsel, his new book about the insanity of Christmas in Frisco, TX, is quoted heavily in the story.
Joyeaux Noel Y'all,
Spiqueline
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