What are we doing?

WE have three calendars hanging up in our kitchen… July, August and September. It’s like after September we enter some black hole. It’s a crazy feeling to know that in approximately six weeks (40 days, give or take) our little family will grab hold of one another and take this giant leap of faith into this vast unknown.

We are moving to France. France. France! We’ve never been there. We don’t speak the language — unless we need to invite a woman to our place for a drink. (Great learning CD we chose!) We know virtually no one. We will spend seven days picking a place to live, buying a car, setting up a bank account, enrolling Kaitlyn in school , then we will sit back and hope that most of the chips fall into place, or somewhere close to it.

The families who have been through it say to remember this is an adventure. And when you are on an adventure, things don’t always go 100% to plan. I like plans. I like to-do lists and calendars that are filled with set events.

I have this image in my head of what it would be like to live in France. First, I am instantly 40 pounds lighter, have no grey hair without having to go to the salon, and I have a closet filled with black clothes. No berets. I am suddenly tres chic. I put on my sunglasses and walk outside, pick up my little basket (or canvas bag, depends on my mood) and stroll down the lavender lined lane to the center of town. There, I stop at the café for my morning au lait. Then I buy some fresh flowers, some bread and meat and veggies I’ll use at home to whip up my gourmet dinner. I speak slow but perfect French with those in town. In the afternoon, I pick Kaitlyn up from school (another walk) and we stop at a park to play and eat bread and cheese before heading home. Todd says I don’t think I’m moving to France, I think I’m moving to an Audry Hepburn movie. Turns out, instead, I’m going to get an adventure.

Au reviour, plans. Bonjour, adventure tres grande.

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