De la nourriture...

Let's be honest...: eating in Paris is such a chore! I mean, first, the bountiful markets bombard one's five senses with a happy chaos of tastes, smells, sights, sounds, and crowds — requiring equally ample self-control. Second, the straps of your market bags dig into your shoulders as you bear your booty homeward. Then, once you make it home, you have to dedicate many minutes to unpacking and cleverly finding space for your spoils in your tiny studio apartment. Finally — oh, the tribulation! — you cannot help but devour all the deliciousness, often too quickly and with too much fresh butter/cheese/yogurt/crème fraîche/fromage blanc... and wash it down with fabulous (and fabulously affordable) red wine.

Of course, I jest — while, at the same time, speaking the truth.... I lose all self-control, it seems, when on French soil.

 Spoils from my weekly marché

Spoils from my weekly marché

 sometimes life is, indeed, a bowl of cherries

sometimes life is, indeed, a bowl of cherries

 Strawberries and Rhubarb.... do you sense where this is going?

Strawberries and Rhubarb.... do you sense where this is going?

 Balcony picnic

Balcony picnic