My French lessons have been pretty hit or miss the last couple of weeks, and I imagine they'll continue to be so for at least several more, as Cecile could really go into labor at any moment. I should be taking advantage of this and, I don't know, memorizing vocabulary words or something, but I'm not. Perhaps I'll make myself some flashcards and badger you all into quizzing me whenever I see you.
One of the many things I learned this weekend is that red shoes are appropriate for every occasion, including going away parties for people I don't know and dancing until late with friends. A very pretty boy asked Cat if I was her girlfriend, and another pretty one slid his hand into that place on my side reserved for the hands of boys and spoke in my ear. I blame it all on the red shoes.
I had to perform emergency surgery on my myrtle tree tonight, which sadly needs to be repotted in a bigger pot. The clouds are doing lovely things right now, and I want to give them all names and social security numbers, and invite them over for dinner.
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