under the weather

Annabelle was still sick 0n Friday.  Boo.  She had to miss her last day of school before Christmas vacation due to a stomach bug.  I think we’ve been pushing her too hard, though it’s not always easy to know if she’s really sick or just resisting change and this bug of hers hasn’t been particularly forthright.  According to the school principal, many children have been out with illness, so that gave us a little comfort.

 at least she gets to be sick in our posh parisian apartment

After a day of rest which included a Shirley Temple movie marathon and being waited on hand and foot by yours truly, I bundled up the invalid and we headed out to find some sanity (for me) and dinner (for us all).  Until we get our countertop oven (coming soon!), we are relying on four burners and a microwave.  I am not amused.  We’ve been eating a great deal of rotisserie chicken (poule roti), salad, cheese and pasta.  Friday night was no different.  Same thing, different package: chicken, roast potatoes and broccoli.  It was nourishing and did the trick but I am anxious to bake and unsure of what to expect from a countertop oven, which appears by all accounts to be an over glorified toaster oven.

 
sick never looked this chic

Our first stop was the nearest cafe, where we shared a millefeuille (thick vanilla custard sandwiched between two squares of crisp, flaky pastry with fondant icing on top) and I had a much-needed cafe crème (equivalent to a latte or wet cappuccino).  Annabelle drew a crèche on her paper place mat as I sipped my coffee and soaked in the ambience.  A change of scenery did wonders for the outlook. 

on the mend, i hope, i hope…

After dinner, I brought home gelato from the shop around the corner.  The gelato scooper somehow pinned me for an American before I said a word and proceeded to speak English to me.  Normally, this only happens when I wear converse (the shoes).  I defiantly answered back in French and ordered my usual:  l’inimitable, a creamy chocolate hazelnut ice cream with big hunks of frozen nutella (aka: heaven on earth).  She seemed to appreciate my efforts to speak the language and gave me an extra big scoop.  Our little tree glowed in the window as we ate our gelato to the sounds of Chris Isaac belting out ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’.  Having a sick kid is no one’s idea of a good time, but a little ice cream goes a long way.

 
a rosy outlook