A Cureall For Woes

Still at the Grandparents.

Today was lovely. I petted goats and made friends with a bear-like dog, baked a cake for my belated birthday party (I should probably add that even for me, who celebrates my entire birthday month, it's a little late) and walked along the sea. My excellent french friend and I explored old Nazi hideouts and she told me about Bretagne's history. It's far more robust by comparison to the rest of France, as for much of history it's been considered separate. Different language, different culture, and very proud of it too.

Learned the french word for thug (described to me as a gangster who wears his pants low). Racaille. But you don't say it to someone's face, unless you want a "knuckle sandwich." In our exchange, this was the phrase I offered. More of my grandparent slang.

Skyped with my lovely parents and little brother. Twas very good to see them and hear the news. Sadly, they were less than helpful when it came to me complaining about my romantic woes. Their suggestion was to get my eyebrows waxed. This has been a hit chez grandparents, and is being lauded as a cureall. Tomorrow, we are all going together to get our eyebrows waxed. Group sesh.