THE POTATO BABE

Aix-en-Provence: Is That A Bunny In Your Fanny-Pack?

Today was the most untraditional Fourth of July I’ve ever celebrated. Evan and I took Peter and Debbie into Aix for the day and we sat on Cours Mirabeau for hours and watched the world go by. We tried in earnest to buy fireworks, but couldn’t find them anywhere. One guy said we’d have to go to Morocco to buy them and that just did not seem like a good idea to Blue Betty, that prude.

The day started with Evan counting six straight people walking by in Aix with broken left arms, peaked at getting accosted by a beggar with a rabbit in her hipsack and ended with a good ol’ American barbecue of burgers, potato salad and margaritas mixed by yours truly. (All right tough guy, you try finding margarita mix in a French grocery store. Who knew I’d end up with lime syrup? So they were a little sweet, get over it.)

After a few margaritas, we stirred up a rousing match of badminton by the pool. I know Laura was waiting for one of us to go in the drink, but (fortunately? unfortunately?) it never happened. At one point, one of us declared to the other, “Your athleticism is blinding.” It really was an impressive show.

I’ll keep the other details to the chest for now because I’m busy listening to “Grand Ole Flag” and packing up for tomorrow’s drive to Dordogne. What? It’s a really good song!


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