Paris

28 years ago I ate my first croissant. At the end of my very first French lesson, where we learnt fancy words like "bonjour" and "au revoir" our teacher handed out something called a croissant for us to eat.  I took one bite of the delicious buttery, flaky, crescent shaped thing that had been thrust into my hand and decided that when I grew up and had a job all of my own, the first thing I'd do with all the money I saved (ha!) would be to buy a plane ticket to Paris.  Yes, after one short french lesson in 1985, the language and the food had stolen my heart.

Turns out I had to wait a little bit longer to get there than my 12 year old self (and 20 year old & 30 year old self) thought I would have to.  But finally, after 28 years of waiting, my dream is coming true. 

You see, Lovely Reader, in 9 short weeks, I'll be standing under that gorgeous tower, celebrating my 40th birthday with Scott.  I KNOW.  I can't believe it either.  

And to think Scott had led me to believe we'd be celebrating my birthday here...in town, overlooking Brisbane's Story Bridge, which, according to Scott, "You'll love because it's just like the Eiffel Tower except longer."

Well played Smith, well played.

xox