Uhuh. . . "pure as the driven snow" as the poet tells it. . . .hahaha Cold, crisp, 'tis the season'. . . .
And this is the street where Mme Bouvier lives. . ..she's my granny. . . .and I live here with her, in the attached and connected apartment.
I look forward to his being here. . .our being together.
Mme Bouvier looks forward to Peter's coming. She likes having her boys home. . .so she can cook and fuss and at the same time be unobtrusive. Gram's a discreet lady. She has done her shopping and I hear her downstairs, rattling pots 'n pans, cooking up something delicious. Her French cooking style is simple, direct. . you know what you are eating. . .carefully prepared with just the right spices and white wine. . . food fit for a King, as she says, "for my boys". It not only looks elegant, it tastes superb. . . . .very different from campus food. LOL
By choice we don't do much alcohol. For me it is prudence: "One drink is never enough. . . .and one drink is too many. . . " Gram's 'wine with dinner' is a tasty mix of lemon juice or orange, a dash of bitters, and sparkling water. Does it for me and no side effects which tend to take over and cloud my head. Peter is quite content with all this. He doesn't need alcohol to have fun and enjoy good times or as a pusher into bed. LOL. . .Blunt, aren't I!?
Whooaaa. . .Peter is here. . .I look out the window and Mme Bouvier is already at the door hugging him. . . .I'm next.
Bye everyone. . . ..see ya around "Justin Dunes". . . ..ciao, ciao. . .