Dans Mes Rêves...

I am dreaming of Paris. I am dreaming of a café on the Rue de Quelque Chose (and why did I bother even trying to click on that when Word told me I got the wrong spelling. As if Word was as monoandhalflingual as I am!), where I drink Beaujolais Nouveau and smoke Gauloises (no, Mom, I really don't smoke anymore, and if you say what you're actually thinking, then I'm not going to let you read my blog anymore). I’m working on my forty-second novel, but instead of the laborious, miserable task of nanowrimo, words of beauty and wisdom flow from my pen with ease, and surprisingly, my hand never tires and my writing remains legible. My french is fluent ("Plus du vin, s'il vous plait"), and handsome waiters keep my glass full and my ashtray empty. When I am finished writing, I return home to my gorgeous appartement, where the chef has created a six-course dinner of rich buttery cheeses and bread that are actually fat-free (and yes, you can have six different courses all made up of cheese and bread) for me and my darling husband, Adam, who is the CEO of Hachette, which hired him because I refused to allow them to publish my books unless they did so. After dinner, we will sip Dom Perignon on the balcony overlooking the Seine, before heading out to the opera in our [fill in name of fashionable French designer whom I've probably never heard of here] gown and tux. Aprés opera, we will have drinks and witty conversation in a small bistro with our dearest friends, Eric Rohmer, Milan Kundera, and Isabelle Adjani, as we listen to a jazz string trio. At the end of the night, we shall return to our gorgeous maison, sneak in to kiss les enfants--whom the au pair has cleaned, fed, and read to--good night, and retreat for a night's sleep on our 600-thread count sheets.

(A side note, when I went to check on the spelling of Gauloises, I was rudely told by their Web site: "Sorry! Access to our site is not authorized by the legislation in your country." Even posing as a Brit, I couldn't get in. The key is to act Dutch. The Dutch are completely legit on the Gauloises Web site. Totally worth the lie, because you can graffiti a subway car there! Didn’t you know? Smoking leads not just to death, but to tagging.)