Five more days and I’m headed to Paris for the week of Thanksgiving. A real vacation after a really long time. One that involves leaving the continent and a foreign language which I don’t speak. The last time I had a real vacation was a little over a year ago when I spent a few days in DC hanging out with Matt Henry and saying au revoir to the Bush Administration. So other than a few long weekends here and there, and a Fawntastic wedding weekend in Chicago, I haven’t had much vacation since September 2008.
Haven’t thought about what I’m going to do or what I’m going to see. All I think about is eating my way through Paris. Crepes. Baguettes. Lots and lots of cheese. And lots and lots of dishes with foie gras. If I see the words “foie gras” on the menu and I don’t recognize any other words in the menu, that’s what I’ll have.
So after a year of no rest, I get to take a break from it all. No deadlines. No alarm clocks. No driving in traffic in LA. No email. And no TV.
Just a week by myself, in Paris, in the company of French food and wine and maybe some French men on the side.
