I know. You're dying to know everything. Where is she? What is she doing since that fateful month of June when she left us, panting on the pavement in search of new messages? Has she given birth? Has procured with money from his pig, a magnificent recreational vehicles and currently travels the sandy roads of America, arm in arm with her boyfriend at the time?
Well, the answer is no. I have not given birth, and the only recreational item which I purchased in June is actually a tent that sleeps now in the maze of the basement locker.
I
with that same tent, plied the roads pavers Charlevoix, arm in arm beneath my love of the time. I went kayaking on the St. Lawrence and a fin whale (ie, the big criss Whale) found nice going out for a breath of fresh air for about seven meters in front of my humble craft.
I also went to spend a wonderful romantic weekend in Quebec City, where at noon on day 2, I stride the foot and I had to spend the rest of the weekend in the hotel room with a ziploc of ice on the foot. And no, the Canadiens did not win that night.
I finally extended my horizon and what I called the South is no longer located twenty minutes from Longueuil, but well south of Florida in what is called the Caribbean. Oh yes. I took advantage of my absence here of a family feud that leaves us a bit empty-handed during the holiday season and peerless generosity of my parents to go soak my feet in the warm sea, hot and blue blue, blue. A full moon on the high seas, it's just beautiful. And it is very shit try you when to take her picture, and it just gives a small white circle on black background. I know, I know .. Is this a full moon .. But it reflected on the water and it was pretty nice. Good.
I also started to take the time to move me by the little things in life like a beautiful full moon in the high seas. Ahem. Mouin. Let ...
A new friend appeared in our lives, and I love it about a month ago. ("Ah-ha!" You say, "she gave birth, I knew") A beautiful baby Doris now floundering in a pitcher (even stupid, she saw a pitcher) dotted with pretty yellow stone on the table the kitchen. Its main activity in life are floating on top of water near the handle of the pitcher and so to believe his Mom (...) she died when her mother (...) returns to work, swim fast-quick-quick to pick up the delicious little balls of food that he jumps into the water, then we literally spit in the face (...), leaving her small mouth fish to take a mini-breathing at the surface, its fins to move quick-quick-quick by back to back quick-quick-quick when it deigns to stick our big giant face near his pitcher and finally, opening her mouth wide for veeeeeery fish, I think, to scare me when I kid too long. I like it less when it frankly did this, rather disgusting.
was acquired, a few weeks ago, two suuuuperbes bits of paper that will lead us out of this country and to the mythical and magical land of the United Kingdom, where for two weeks, we gambaderont in the rain. Perfect time to go, Julie and Caroline are holed up in Edinburgh for a few months already. And a house full of porage and haggis and kilts Julian, I like it and I want to go. So now, a small country blitz, Edinburgh-London-Bath-Highland. Very little, but we do with what one has and the world of people who have a serious job and accomplished a career (like, not me but my boyfriend), and although we have two weeks vacation. Point bar.
And you, things have happened since June?
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