Between a Rock and a Hard Place

That’s where I am.  This is the period of time of enjoying the glorious summer in Cassis

and dying to get home to my bebe’s in Saint Louis.     It ranges from drinking a lemonade  on the steps  by the ancient maison where we share an ever petite apartment  while deadheading hydrangeas and waving at Sandrine across the hills, to taking a sledge-hammer to my petit congélateur and knocking the hell out of it to dislodge 7 inches of ICE.  The groans and exclamations  emanating from  our petite abode, well, you wouldn’t have believed it if you had heard it.   I could hardly believe it.

I am beside myself with JOY and also with LONGING.

I iron my towels, shuck some kind of spotted red and white long beans, then I walk to city center for epiliation which, I have never had done in the United States…