(at least not today anyway)
I’m a moron. And here’s why… you know how a few weeks ago I was all icky and what not with la grippe and conjunctivitis? Well, I convinced myself that my beloved mascara would still be ok since I hadn’t worn it for a couple of days before the onset of the gooey eye pinkness and of course hadn’t worn it during, so naturally it’d be ok. But it’s not ok. And now my eyes are once again, not ok.Â
moron moron moron
(But give me a break, do you have any idea how far I have to drive to pick up a tube of Yves Saint Laurent mascara? Far. Far is the answer)
So here’s the deal, since I’m super duper cranky and totally irritated with myself for being such a moron (I mean really, how dumb am I?!) I’m cheating today and posting something I wrote back in July for my friend Ami over at Fit With Flash. Pretty please forgive me guys (and Aidan, you don’t get to say “I told you so”, no you don’t). Â Â
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I never used to be much of a jogger, but since moving to France, my day doesn’t kick off right without a jog out of my village. I started jogging for a couple of reasons; 1) I’m currently a housewife and am blessed with time in the morning. Now instead of jogging in heels to catch the bus, I’m jogging in shoes that aren’t conducive to twisting my ankle. And 2) because although ‘French Women Don’t Get Fat’ (according to that book) women who move to France do (well I do anyway). I blame it on the baguettes, and croissants, and the cheese, and the wine… that damn delicious, inexpensive wine. So since I’m not willing to sacrifice my baguette, and my croissant, my cheese, and my delicious, inexpensive wine, I jog. Because really, what would be the point of living in France without all of that French goodness?
Every morning (ok, almost every morning) me and my dog head out and catch the rising sun. It’s completely quiet; just me and my dog, Fifty. It’s my favorite part of the day.
This is what we see as we bounce along…
Which, I have to admit, makes me love jogging in my little village almost as much as I love all the baguettes, croissants, cheese, and wine.
Almost.
bisou
It's Me, Sara Louise 
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