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Laura's Blog
Talking Dirty in Foreign Languages

Vaga-Blog - Volume I
My Vagabond Summer Begins
Skinny Jeans and Cigarettes
Don't Teach Your Kids To Drive Like This
What's Italian For 'That's a Lovely Speedo'
"For You, I Have Special Price"
Sam Comes To Italy To Go To Ferragamo. Ferragamo Is Closed.
The Grocery Store Is Out Of Pasta
This Isn't Pork!
Four Courses And A Wedding
Look At What My Dog Found In The Grass
Who Needs Barilla When You Have Donatella?
That's Why Men Like Grapes

Vaga-Blog - Volume II
How Many Tunnels Does It Take To Get To France
Boars And Bees And Gypsies, Oh My!
Mas de Chain Saw Massacre
My Lawyer's Not Afraid Of Your Lawyer
No, We Don't Have Reservations. Is That A Problem?
What's So Funny About My French?
YOU Belong To The Vegas Party Club?
Mom Discovers Her Inner Lady Marmalade
You Prayed For What?

The Potato Babe
Roussillon: Steve's $7,000 Bill
Oppede: Which Way To Apt
Apt: No Tablecloth For You!
Avignon: Raise Your Hand If You've Seen Elizabeth Taylor Naked
Bonnieux: Gratin of Edouard Loubet's Grandmother
Aix-en-Provence: Is That A Bunny In Your Fanny Pack?
Dordogne: The Search For Walnut Oil
Issigeac: It Depends On How Much Pie We Drink
Domme: Steve And Laura's Favorite Restaurant In The World
Beynac: Out Of Breath? Me?
Biron: Happy Bastille Day
Barcelona: On The Road Again

Guest Vaga-Bloggers
Potato Boy
 

Vaga-Blog - Volume II - Bonnieux (June 22)

MOM DISCOVERS HER INNER LADY MARMALADE


For our last day in Provence, we decided to take it easy and give Blue Betty a break. She told me last night she was pretty sick of driving everywhere. We had found a restaurant in Bonnieux, Le Fornil, which looked interesting, so we made a reservation for a late, leisurely lunch. It was an impeccable meal and the perfect way to finish our week.

On the way home (after a few glasses of wine), my mom decides to sing (from the backseat) every song she knows that has to do with France. After she gets through Frere Jacques, Moulin Rouge and Henry VIIth (I know, that’s not French – but it was sung with an English accent so she got credit for it) – she declares that she wishes she knew more words. My dad, who was half asleep in the front seat, mutters that he doesn’t.



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