He doesn’t remember the cheddar pretzels. We always had a bag of them in the pantry when we lived in the States. The kids snacked on them all the time. But they don’t sell them over here. And it is stupid expensive to order them online.
When you are 3,650 weeks pregnant, and it’s nearly 90-degrees Fahrenheit, and your adopted country doesn’t *do* air conditioning, you sit under the ceiling fans on full-blast and guilt-trip your minions to bring you fresh smoothies all day.
As a friend of mine said when we bumped into each other, “Ahhh, you’re just a wee slip of a girl!”
After nearly a year of planning and saving for it, Martin and I just booked our summer vacation today. Though my daydreams envision something out of a Diane Lane movie, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be more like the Griswold’s European Vacation … you can count on it.