Tomorrow is the end of the world as we know it, and for tonight at least, we are sure going to feel find. Olivier busts out the Veuve Clicquot, Kei warms the GÜs, I slice the cake, and we each pretend there’s still room in our guts after Olivier’s delish fajita dinner to stuff champagne and chocolate, because, lets be honest, there will always be room for chocolate.
We toast to the end of Kei’s studies and to the beginning of a whole new world and more, and I find myself feeling so warm and fuzzy to be here in London with two awesome people.
Maybe it’s the bubbly or maybe it’s the chocolate snowman in my little “G” stocking or the kick-ass book Many Lives, Many Masters and slippers, but whatever it is, I am loving this brilliant idea of teaming up with monkey 1 and 2 for a London extraordinaire. Thanks, K and O, for an excellent sejour and for making me feel right at home, complete with mini Christmas tree and unpoppable, blow-up mattress.
And, because conversations with family members always turn down this road, we reminisce about the RV trip Olivier and his twin sister Laurence take with my family forever ago in the American southwest, and after a decade or almost two of wondering why it was Olivier prefers the cramped RV toilet to the ones at the lodge, I learn that it’s because we do such a terrific job terrifying him of black widows that he avoids dark, cramped corners like the plague, preferring cramped, lit, known corners instead.