En ce moment

Friends, I am exhausted. There are but less than 2 weeks left of my summer baking in Paris and I have probably gained 49 pounds, my feet perpetually ache, and I sleep an average of 3 hours a night with my only means of social life consisting of listening to the teenagers get increasingly drunk as the hours pass outside my window. Suddenly an interesting conversation about politics turns into a cacophony of French slurs and name-calling. I know, I'm a terrible eaves-dropper.

But I think one of my favorite parts of being here (there's a lot to choose from) is being able to fall asleep and wake up to God's glorious masterpieces in the sky. The quietness of morning, and the crisp air. The smell of fresh bread from a hot oven, cheap French coffee to open those droopy sleep filled eyes, or the burn of hot butter croissants in a paper bag.