I’ve been in a spring break haze of long sunny days in the park followed by Aperol spritzers (one part Aperol, two parts Prosecco or other dry sparkling wine, a splash of soda or citrus juice, and a slice of lemon over ice). Delicious. I finally managed to locate a bottle of Aperol in Paris. La Grande Epicerie saves the day, again. You can do the same thing with Campari if you’re in a place where Aperol isn’t readily available and you’re not a nutjob that will hunt to the death for the sake of a cocktail. But man, Aperol is pretty amazing and worth the extra legwork. My friends BC and J also snagged themselves a bottle at La Grande Epicerie and lugged it to Buttes Chaumont with a bottle of sparkling limonade as a mixer.
I find it good to have friends with similar interests to mine.
Also, I’ve discovered that in Italy, there’s apparently an Aperol girl! What I lack in legs for this gig, I think I more than make up for in enthusiasm:
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Some other lovely things as of late:
Cherry blossoms in front of Notre Dame.
Poppies in the Jardin des Plantes.
Apple blossoms in the Jardin du Luxembourg.
Macarons from Ladurée (clockwise that’s rose, pistachio, lemon, blackberry violet, lily of the valley (!), and lemon).
I don’t like sharing my lemon macaron, obvi.
My new windowbox full of yummy herbs (from the top, that’s rosemary, Moroccan mint, basil, Italian parsley, and chives).
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Finally, early on in this blarg experiment, I made plea to the universe when confronted with some annoying home improvement problems. I believe it went something like this:
“…if the universe wanted to send me a guy capable of doing anything other than telling me how capable he is, I wouldn’t exactly spit in its face. Did you hear that Universe? I’d literally trade all the hyper-verbose, hyper-articulate guys I’ve dated in the past five years for one soft-spoken handyman.”
Apparently somebody in my life took this as an incitement. About a month ago B started quietly fixing things in my house. Well, it wasn’t always quiet, in fact, some times there was some rather loud pounding. But now all my chairs have four stable legs, I don’t have to cook in the dark, and a particularly gnarly cabinet hinge problem has been resolved. B only had to ride the métro with a hack saw once or twice. I figure that all of this manly manliness requires at least a restitutive shout-out, so thanks Universe, and thanks B. I didn’t know that it was possible to be so hyper-verbose, hyper-articulate and wield a mallet quite so well.