Making Out in Paris

1 June 2005

Making Out in Paris

Since Ken isn’t with me until Saturday, I must participate vicariously in the “Paris is for lovers” aura that permeates this city. Maybe the girls’ and my favorite spot is a little park just at the Eiffel-tower end (but far from there) of the Isle de la Cité. We sat there for close to two hours, I think, talking and resting, eating our snack of (what else?) bread and cheese, and watching people. We loved one little boy, just barely walking, who maybe burned more calories than I burn in a month by toddling across the width of the portion of the island he owned for a time, maybe twenty feet total, complete with gargantuan hills of around six inches and a dazzling mix of textures for his new-found feet. And we were frankly amazed at the couple who, standing the whole time, hands appropriately on one another’s backs and shoulders, were French-kissing when we arrived and who were French-kissing when we left. And we thought we were making out pretty well in Paris…