Follow the Son

I know I live where I do when...

D and I go out to a cafe we really enjoy, run by a french couple. We get there about a half hour before closing time, after they'd sent most of their staff home, but they still served us. We had a nice time, then called the driver to come get us right before the owners came over and offered to give us a lift home. We said we'd called the driver, but we wanted to pay. The very nice french lady had forgotten that we hadn't paid! So we paid, then called the driver again because the cafe is close by and he should have been there. It turned out he was taking other people somewhere, so we asked the french couple if they could take us home. So we went out with the wife and their local staff girl who they were taking home. The husband went inside to lock up, and then when he came out, he... sort of bunny hopped or invisible horsey rode over to the car. His wife said to us, "Oh, you know, french people are crazy." Then, the local girl got in the back seat of the truck, then D got in. The french lady said to me, "Do you want to sit back here with your wife?" "Um, no, that's..." I didn't really know what to say, so I just went around and got up front. They had a CD player in their truck, and it was playing... country versions of Adoring songs... in English. The french couple started singing along.

About two minutes down the road, when it seemed the french gentleman was taking a circuitous route, I asked him if he knew where we lived. "No," he said with a smile.

D hadn't had the best of days, adjusting to being back, and this little trip was good for her. Our new topic conversation changer is, "So, the french couple thinks we're married."

It just goes to show you... the Man comes around.