It's Me, Sara Louise

Please enjoy these recent tidbits from my life…
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You know how they tell you how dangerous texting can be? Like don’t text while driving and, don’t text while walking. Well it’s true.

Do. Not. Text. While. Walking.

Last week in Dublin, I bit it. I bit it hard. I was texting my uncle as I walked along. I didn’t see a curb and B A M !  Total utter humiliation. And nobody even saw me. So basically I was embarrassed for myself. Like I didn’t want ‘me’ to see ‘me’ fall. Mortifying.
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Back story: Aidan has three children, so in her house her name is Mommy and her husband’s is Daddy. So naturally, Aidan and her husband refer to each other as “Mommy and Daddy” at times. But one time, as we sat sipping Rosé on the terrace, Aidan wanting me to tell her husband something, looked over at me and said, “Tell Daddy…”

So you can only imagine the fun that I’ve had with that.

Flash forward to this past weekend… The Husband was in the living room playing around with the cable box when he looked at me and said, “I need to call Daddy.”

? ? ? ? ? ! ! ! ! !

Now please try to imagine the expression on my face as I looked at my 6’2″ husband after the word, “Daddy” came out of his mouth.
“Um, who is Daddy?” I asked, knowing full well that he wasn’t talking about his own father and silently praying that he hasn’t made a new ‘friend’ of some sort that I was unaware of.
“Aidan’s husband. Isn’t that his nickname?”
It is now.
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Anyone ever play Just Dance 3 on Wii? I played with Niece and Little Niece and while I thought I killed it, The Husband dominated. Which is totally odd, because his actual dancing, like in a club is ridic. As in not good. Maybe from now on he should just memorize the Just Dance moves and duplicate.
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We had a new shower installed last weekend. Want to know why we had a new shower installed? Because B shattered my old one (now B, you didn’t honestly think I’d let you get away with me never telling this story did you… silly B).

You see, B is pregnant, and sometimes pregnant ladies have to pee… a lot. And one day, B drove all the way from Cannes to Le Petit Village and didn’t stop to pee once (it’s almost three hours). This was a major coup, but while she didn’t have to stop on the way, by the time she got to my house, that little baby was pressing on her bladder something fierce, so she ran into my house like a tornado, totally freaking out Fifty. A couple of minutes later, The Husband and I heard a loud crash and terrified that a pregnant lady had fainted in our bathroom, ran upstairs shouting if she was OK.

“Yes, I’m fine. But I think I may have broken your shower.”

Now please pay attention to the wording… I think… and I may have.

Total hogwash.

The whole bottom half of the shower cabin was missing. There was no, “I think” and “I may have” about it.

What happened was, B had stood up, and as she did, she hit the top of her head into the bottom of the open window But she did it so hard, that the window lifted up, became unhinged, and crashed into the shower door.

Homegirl has one crazy hard head.

Silver lining… my new shower is much nicer than the old one. And in fairness, the last time The Husband and I went to B’s house, she told us that we could break anything that we wanted. What a sweetheart.
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For more tidbits… check out this interview featuring yours truly on A Matter of Taste.

bisou