la manque de vie

Just returned from a sweet weekend of Paris. Every morning I would savour the French pastries - croissant, pain au chocolat, chausson aux pommes - and fresh espresso. I left the flat to partake of the famous Paris 'Soldes', to make wine purchases of Gigondas and Bordeaux, to sit on the steps of Sacre-Coeur and float in the breeze of la Seine. But just as much time was spent in Thibault's gorgeous flat, within plain sight of la Tour Eiffel and les Invalides. Inside I lay in the sunlight next to the window, reading Purple Hibiscus, listening to children singing outside (trop mignon!), and learning to make french vinaigrette and dinde de creme et moutard from Annabelle.

Restless. A little part of me is hoping I don't get the job project call back. The second 'interview' felt off. But maybe it was me. Halfway through I was struck by the transition into this new stage - work. This is my last summer. Ever. I want to loungt on Mediterranean beaches and explore places like Turkey and Egypt. I'm not sure what it would mean to NOT work this summer. Perhaps it would mean I should return home in September. Too much time on my hands, mind wandering too far. Been thinking about my parents a lot lately. It feels so wrong that I can actually forget to call them 3 weeks in a row. I so want a place of my own. And a dog.

Missing Austin today.