Counting down the last week of the French guest's residence.
Nothing today; tomorrow she makes Steak Tartare for us (I'm nervous about that, as I'm a well-done meat kind of guy). Saturday we go to New York, staying overnight (in New Jersey; NYC would surely break the bank). She wants to do some shopping at Abercrombie (Me: We have a local branch, you know. Her: Oh, no, no, no.), Aeropostale , and the M&M store (her father wants a T Shirt or something like that. Though I find myself wondering if it's really her boyfriend who wants it). A stop at Rizzoli, because I love that bookstore, and I'll be damned if I am going to New York City without stopping by. Oh, and getting a hot dog from a street vendor. Nasty, overpriced, and I love them. On Monday there is a picnic for the French kids, Tuesday she packs and we take her out to dinner, and Wednesday she leaves. We're not in a hurry for that, but we're kind of ready. I'm sure she is.
Oddly, we find that seeing that she really liked the Baltimore Aquarium makes us feel better about her. Why that is, I have no idea.
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