It's Me, Sara Louise

++ Big news people… Fifty has made the jump to twitter! After months and months of him begging me, I’ve finally let him have a twitter account (he is still updating his Facebook and vows that he won’t ditch his Facebook friends for his new ones on Twitter). Since his cousin, Napoleon, started tweeting, it has gotten harder and harder to say no. (If you’d like to tweet with Fifty click here, and click here for Monsieur Napoleon.)

++ For some bizarre reason unknown to me, I’ve been watching Dynasty. As in Joan Collins/ Linda Evans, Dynasty (what can I say, I missed it the first time). And for some other even more bizarre reason,  I’m in love with the fashion. Bring back Gloria Vanderbilt I say! What I’m not in love with however is the casual sexism and homophobia of the early ’80s. It’s something to see let me tell you. I’m treating watching it like a lesson in cultural anthropology. We’ve come a long way baby (but we’re not there yet).

++ This memory popped into my head the other day and I knew I had to share it with you… back when I first started this blog (about three months into it) I was in Dublin visiting for a weekend. My blog came up in conversation and my Aunt started going on and on about a radio program she was listening to that was talking about social media. She didn’t understand why people felt the need to publicize their lives, for example, me and my blog. My mother jumped into defend me saying how I tell stories about my life, but it’s basically anonymous (this is before I let you know that The Husband is really named Gregory) since everyone is given a nickname including the village where I live. My Aunt turned to me and said that no it’s not because everyone knows that I live in Le Petit Village. My mother and I looked at each other confusedly and I asked, “You know that I don’t actually live in a place called, Le Petit Village, right?” She stared at me for a second and asked, “That’s not the name of where you live?” “Uh, no.” She gasped, “People have been asking me where in France you moved to and I’ve been telling them Le Petit Village.” HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

++ This article about a roving band stray cats that attacked a woman walking her dog freaks me right out and honestly scares the bejeezus out of me. What if that’s just the beginning? What if there is a cat revolution on it’s way? Le Petit Village is swarming with stray cats, surely this could be their stronghold, and my back garden, their headquarters (these are the thoughts that keep me up at night). From now on Fifty and I will not be going out without our mace and nunchucks.

++ There was a segment on the evening news here a few nights ago all about how high the salaries are in Switzerland (some jobs pay twice as much as they do in France) and how lots of French people work there and live right over the border in France. It interviewed French people who said how great it was and showed the number of vacancies for different fields. This was on the national news. Obviously France would prefer their citizens to go and work someplace else. Nice one.

++ When I was in London (Essex to be exact… shut up) I was shopping in Primark and came across some gold short shorts. Mrs. London threw them in my basket and told me I should get them and be Kylie for Halloween (as in Miss Minogue). I considered it, but then being the responsible with a budget adult I am, who is also way too old to be strutted around in gold short-shorts, chucked them out and decided against it (also because I think Mrs. London and I should be Eddie and Patsy for Halloween… c’est parfait, non?). Well the other day I checked the post and found a package from England… Mommy London sent me them! So if anyone needs me between now and Halloween, I’ll be in the gym… spinning around.

++ This weekend marks my tenth anniversary in Europe. TENTH! It’s been ten years since I packed up, threw my stuff in storage, sold my Cherokee and moved to Dublin. That was the fastest ten years full of a lot of living and a lot of surprises. When I got off the plane in Dublin a decade ago, I never would have pictured that ten years later I would be blogging about my life from a centuries old barn turned house in Provence. I have no idea what the next ten years have in store for me, where I’ll be, or what I’ll be doing, but I’m very excited to find out. Cheers to the next ten years, and cheers to you my friends.