Joe and I went out on Saturday in persuit of milk. Milk is different here in Europe. They pasteurize it at a higher temperature for a shorter period of time. This method kills all of the bacteria so it can be stored unrefrigerated for a long time. They do have American milk here, sometimes. They also don't sell it by the gallon. You can imagine how much milk four kids can go through. So, we run out a lot here. Saturday was one of those days, hence the trip to the market in our new car.
The car is a Chrysler. It's a minivan, although after spending a month driving a smaller six seater, it feels much bigger. Mucho Grande. I was having a crisis of self confidence while driving to get the milk. The parking garage entrance seemed to have shrunk and the outdoor parking was full. So, I decided to venture a little further to a stand alone store, where we missed the exit.
Feeling a bit overwhelmed I looked at Joe and remarked, "I really need a vacation...in the South of France or something." Joe very calmly replied, "Mom, you *are* in the south of France."
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