FrenchKate is letting me down these days, mired as she is in everyday reality. I, however, am retired and I am not mired. So today I'm dreaming of France. The chateau where we had an Armagnac tasting. Hot summer day, the drone of cicadas, the deer lying in the shade of the park, lovely old stone walls with just a touch of soft gold to warm them, not to mention the Armagnac itself.
I am not remembering the group of annoying teens and their even more annoying (because less excuseable) chaperons. Hey, it's my memory. I can be selective if I want to be.