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.