Slumber Party

It's Monday and I'm tired. Yesterday I couldn't manage much more than a long sit in the square, drinking coffee in an attempt to fend off the nap that was threatening to take me over at any moment. I finally succumbed, walked home and tumbled into bed for an hour in spite of my 5 cups of espresso.

I'm not sick, I'm just recovering. Because I got to spend a portion of this weekend with 3 friends whom I had never met before...except through our blogs. Two Texans, Sara and Adrian and Kirsty, an Aussi, who live here in the south and who also blog about their lives as expats. If you read their blogs, you'll understand why we had so much fun! These women were a kick times 10.

I shouldn't be tired. We only had two things we HAD to do. The first was get to O'Shannon's pub so Sara could watch the first half of the Ireland/Italy rugby match. I don't know why it was specifically O'Shannon's but I led the group to what I thought was O'Shannon's.

 Except it was not.

Oh sorry. Oops. 

Now I know where it is. We can get there in a few minutes.

Oh geez!  That's not it either.  Who knew finding an Irish Pub in a French city could be so difficult? Or that we'd have so many to choose from. Sara said, "it's across from a fountain, just at the end of Cour Mirabeau and off to the right".  Oh yeah, I know where that is. I spent St. Patrick's Day there once. I forgot about that one. 

Strike out. 

It starts with an O. Doesn't that count?

No, she said, I think it's on the other end of Cours Mirabeau...to the right. At this point we'd covered most of the town but we schlepped to the other end of Cours Mirabeau, running the last few meters because  Adrian and Sara (who have both lived in Ireland) wanted to hear the national anthem. National anthems make them cry.

Score! 

We talked a blue streak ( in English....yeah!) through the first half of the game.  Sara, being a woman, was able to watch her game and talk trash with the rest of us AT THE SAME TIME. 

The only other thing we HAD to do was put down the wine bottles on the terrace in time to get to dinner. Which we managed because I'd already scoped this one out. Properly.

So here's the deal. These girls were rarin' to go at about 7 am the next day. AND they had to return to their families, husbands and dogs and hit the ground running. I didn't have to do anything. Except attempt to polish off the chocolate cupcakes. And sleep. Which, as I said, was all I could manage. Is this the difference between the being in your 30's/40's and surpassing age 50? I guess I could be depressed about that...except I'm still giggling thinking about all the funnies from the weekend. 

Thanks girls. Let's do it again soon. But give me a little time!