So, change of plans. I want to be that cool earthy girl who wants to teach English in South America, but I'm not. So France it is. Fewer parasites, better food.
My parents and I just finished a lovely discussion concerning their role as my personal financial backers. We had a few hiccups at the beginning as he began what I will refer to as "lawyering". I kindly reminded him we were in the family living room and not in the middle of a heated business deal transaction. He gruffled (yes, I realize this is made up) at me, but then slowly changed his ways. I picture the word gruffle as being defined as the grumbling noise made when someone gets his or her feathers in a ruffle. Gruffling. Although, admittedly this word could also be a creature of the Harry Potter collection. But, really now I'm just thinking those Griffin thingys that are half lion, half falcon. Fions really. I bet there are Fion statues somewhere in France. They seem like the sort of thing the French would fancy.
It was also brought to my attention by my favorite lawyer, that I don't speak French. I retorted that I speak Spanish. He retorted, my point exactly, let me repeat, you don't speak French. Lucky for me, I had picked up a beginners French sing-along CD just a few months ago and I was able to end this discussion of my linguistic competency with an "Un, du, twah. Bonjour. Madmoiselle".
Clearly, I would be fine.
Adious, Buenos Aires. Bonjour, France.
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