Les vacances d'Avril.

One year ago today, I was about to board a plane to France.

On that plane, I sat next to Samm.

I sat next to Samm for 7 hours, took 1 roll of film, ate 1 coquette, the pudding stood alone, and our first baguette was dry as a bone and tasted like sand.

But it didn't matter, because we were wearing Sleepies and listening to airplane radio and playing with elbow rests and watching Cords.

We landed in Paris at 6 am, which felt like 10 am, and began the longest, yet possibly the best, day of our lives.

The Eiffel Tower is much bigger than you would imagine.

Natalie broke a glass at the Cafe Italienne where we ate lunch, and I don't think I stopped laughing from then on out.

We got yelled at by gypsies, I got bundt cake tossed in my hair by impatient French children waiting in line to walk through Notre Dame, we had a tourgide named Mandy who thought peasant was a synonym for pheasant, we frolicked in Dinard, ate 4 foot long baguette sandwiches and saved room for chocolate waffles, visited Le Mont St. Michel, bought some sailors, played endlessly with the sailors, spent lots of time in Tours, ate at Le Boucherie, toured beautiful castles and indescribable monuments, brought Natty back to life when she died at Versailles, went on a night train and slept like babies, experienced Cannes and Nice and Monaco in all their Southern French glory, and pretty much had the time of our lives.

It's hard to believe all of that was a year ago, because I feel like it was yesterday.

I'm leaving now, for another April vacation, this time to Florida, this time less European.

It's been 92 years...

Dear Rose, Director of Membership at Orchard Hills Athletic Club:

Although my fitness experience with you has been nothing less than satisfactory, I have decided to withdraw my membership.

Ever since I experienced a physically damaging blow to my left hand in Feburary of 2004, I have had neither the stamina nor the ambition to exercise of any kind.

Thank you for providing me with many fantasic experiences in exercise.

Sincerely,

Danielle Randall

Such went my letter of resignation, which was passed in today. I have offically thrown in the towel on my last attempt at physical fittness. 

For those of you who don't know Rose at Orchard Hills, she is the sweetest looking lady, and she knows it. Our conversation went something like this:

Rose: Are you positive about this, honey?
Me: Yes. Yes I am. I'm going away to school in the fall and am very busy at the moment, I just don't have time to come to your establishment.
Rose: But once you're in college you'll need to keep up the cardio...freshman 15 (insert laughs from Rose).
Me: Yes, well, if that happens, you'll be the first to know.

Confimation of enrollment to the University of Massachusetts, Amherst is in the mail. 

I'm thinking that this should feel like a weight being lifted off of my chest, but instead the thought forms a cannon ball in my small intestine.

In case you don't know, today marks the 92nd anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. If I could, I'd be watching Tape 1 right now.

Your subscription to Cat Fancy has been terminated.

Okay so I have officially consumed more ice cream in the past 2 days than I normally eat in a week.

This is not a problem. In fact, I see it as quite uplifting.

Today was interesting. Any day that starts off with Samm and I discussing UMass Male Escort services in AP Psych/Study (Which, by the way, is now officially taught by Coombsy, seeing as Ms. Bolarinho has officially bitten the dust) is bound to be amusing.

I then got to beat sticks together and on the stage, in rehersal for the Almighty Show Stopping Number that is Ugh-Ah-Wug. That's fun. Rhythmn sticks take me back to elementary school music class where Mrs. Dematis handed out instruments to play, and I always got mine taken away because I'd play it while she was talking.

Following rehersal, Jess, Bill, Kristina, Natale, and myself went Panera and spent a good 40 minutes in Market Basket debating which cake to purchase before deciding that nothing beats a pint of Ben and Jerry's, so we took the ice cream to the Blanchflower residence where we had fun.

Lots of fun. The kind of fun where Lovesquish releases a stream of obsceneties and ends them all with a threatening "So you'd better watch your butt, sister." 

Yes, friends, things like this are even more fun when you're a senior in high school.

Show me the meaning of haste.

Operation: Stalk the Shit Out of Luke: Completed.

For a more detailed synopsis, please see Kristina's journal.

I can sum up the evening in two words: Sweet Lord.

Aside from being thorouhly attracted to this Bard of a high school stud, my favorite part of the evening was by far Splash-Mountaining this Weston runner by driving through a 4 foot deep puddle at 50 miles an hour. She was appalled. And wet. But, hey, why would you ever run in the rain, in the dark, under bridges with giant puddles under them anyway? 

Oh, and by the way, their musical was outstanding. I find it hard to believe that one school can house a complete population of good looking AND talented students. Please.

One day I will be caught for all my crimes. All the jelly bean throwing, all the stalking...but you know what? They both make for extremely good stories in the end. And I'm glad we push the envelope of the law.

Let's just hope nobody from Weston or the FBI or the Boston Police Department/ Park Plaza Hotel Management reads this.

Hah.