La Famille!

la famille d'aceuil! le mot [word] pour, "homestay family" en francais. Et AH! Ils sont SI mignon [=SO cute, like when you get a cute chunk of cow in a cute restaurant]! et je les aime beaucoup. (I love them oodles! (literal transltion)) Ok enough sous-titres (subtitles) lets get down to beezwax. and by beezwax i mean english / descriptions of my new home.

But WAIT, before gettin into the juicy (dirty, naughty?) details, perhaps lets tell a (slightly related) story. ALL RIGHT INTERNET LAND, HOP UP ON MY KNEE. (no not like in the terrifying dr seuss tale "Hop on Pop" which I have never read, but I'm guessing they end up killing ther dad, or at least some kids out in reality took Dr Seuss seriously and broke thier dad's sternum as he peacefully slept. CUTE STORY NOW, DR. SEUSS??) So, internetland, having the adorably Parisian mindset to picnic sous la Tour Eiffel, last saturday a bunch of chums and m'self grabbed the bare necessities:
1. A round of camonmbert, a block of another cheese
2. Baguettes (one per person)
3. Bottles of wine (and again, one per person )

didn't intend to finish it all, but we also didnt want to run out of the most important things. And of course we threw in saucisson, des tomates, l'huil, des poivons, du chocolat, my guitar just for shitsies and ca c'est tout. So yada yada yada picnic progresses and 6bottles of wine later the last metro leaves before we do. SO, not wanting to spend d'argent for a taxi, we decide to walk at first, and then catch a taxi to the bastille, walk the whole way? PSH. its too far. MUCH too far...? but AH. the gret paradox* of indecisive cab takers who don't want to spend money, the more you walk, the closer you get, and the less you have to walk / less chance you'll hail that cab. (*this is not a paradox). So yes, for those curious, it takes about 2.5 hours for confused americans to traverse the entire width of Paris: Tour Eiffel to Place de la Bastille. crazytown.

(tangent) hmmm as much as "journals" are "fun" to write, who the hell enjoys writing or reading a laundry list of things one does? Ooh and THEN I saw the eiffel tower, and THEN I petted (pet? pat? patted?) a cute dog with a puffy tail, and THEN a bird pooped on me, omg it was so funny! LOLZ to the MAX! yeah .... even writing this story I'm feelin like, eff...me want more blog less journal, get to the point SELF. The point, you ask?....

SO mon nouveau pere, qui s'appelle Jaques (thank God) picked me up at 11:00 to drive me to my new home, in the 15e arrondisement (district). TURNS OUT, for those curious, it take about 10 minutes for an experienced frenchman to drive from Place de la Bastille to the Eiffel Tower. I contained what could be best described as "sigh-laughter" as we whisked by each and every monument I noted seeing only what? 6 hours before.

And here we are. As impossible as it was for me to describe how much I love Paris, the same has become true for my host family. They are adorable, kind, and playful. I WANT TO BE THIER BEST FRIEND NOW. RIGHT NOW. but I'll give it time, can't come off too eager now, even though I often end up biting off more than I can chew when talking with them (because, lets face it, I love talking with them) I start telling a story only to realize, AH NUTS, I don't know that KEY WORD I'll need to tell this story, euuhhh, pardon-moi while I behead your language (too soon). Talking with my host family I sometimes feel as if i'm wooing a beautiful bird to be my companion, but because my bird accent is so bad, I keep murdering its sing-song language fearing the bird'll hate me for it, HOWEVER as far as my first three days have shown, this ain't the case: ma famille is so sweet it makes me smile, they are fun, intelligent, helpful, and mmmmmm (= happy/yummy/content sound, no i do not plan to eat them) YES. LE MIEUX (the best) I could have asked for.