If you really want to tick your husband off…

Leave him with the kids and go to Paris. Again.

This is the second time in a row Jason has stayed home with our four children while I skipped off to Par-ee. Let’s just say his attitude was best described as “fuming martyr”.

But oh my goodness I just had the best weekend ever. It was so good that I feel guilty even talking about it on my blog because what I’d really like to do is gift it to all my wonderful friends and family so they could come over and experience it for themselves. The clock is ticking and Wonderland is about to turn into Hot Las Vegas land so I’m soaking up every last pat of butter this experience has to offer.

And this was one buttery weekend, let me tell you.

My girlfriend Ashley (who is really more like a little sister, she and her husband are some of our closest friends) put together a girls’ trip to Paris to take some classes, a croissant class and a Macaron class.

For the record, I believe that a truly fabulous experience in Paris requires a few necessary must-have’s: Cute boots, a fabulous scarf, some rocking lipstick and a best friend (husband’s count). If you’ve got that much the rest of it doesn’t really matter.

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My darling wonderful friend Christy and I took the late ICE train to Paris (we made the train with 3 minutes to spare thanks to an unscheduled stop for lipstick and toothbrushes and general dawdling) and spent the two-hour journey doing what girlfriends do best; trying to fit as many words as humanly possible into our limited time away from home and family.

We were a few hours behind the rest of our group and decided to spend Friday afternoon imagining our way through the halls of Versailles. With no kids to wrangle we were able to listen to the audio tour and feel the ghostly swish of skirts. I’m not lying, I swear I could hear them.  We weren’t really supposed to take photos inside…paris04 paris05 paris06 paris07
















Let the record state that we managed to navigate the entire Paris metro system without a single break in our running conversation. That is worth writing down.

What I love about Paris? Everything. This was my fourth time and I cannot get enough of it. Paris is big girl Disneyland and I am constantly romanced by the atmosphere, the language, the architecture and most importantly…the food.

Oh, the food.

By the afternoon I had downed two medium sized baguettes, three pastries and a plate of Macarons. It was kind of a perfect day.

And the music, it’s everywhere. You can step off the metro worrying about pickpockets then get completely distracted by the sound of an orchestra wafting from one of the worm holes. You round a corner and there is a three piece Mexican band, a guitarist, or my personal favorite, an accordion player.

Our time on the metro was a hightlight, we were serenaded by this lovable yet greasy gentleman for 10 minutes on our way to Moulin Rouge. paris08paris09

We spent the night before our trip watching the 1990’s version of Moulin Rouge. Of course, we had to swing by. paris11 paris10









Our evening was spent strolling arm in arm through neighborhoods on our way to the flat, singing ridiculous songs and acting for the most part like 8th graders. paris12 paris13 paris14 paris15
















We met a few of our girlfriends (there were a total of 14 in our group) and found a good old Parisian cafe to dine in. Looked like nothing from the outside but the food was absolutely divine.

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It was a wild night and very educational. I learned foreign words like “jank” and “tow up” from my southern girlfriend Renee that had nothing to do with French, and I was reminded of how many amazing friends I am leaving here in Germany. Not being in the old ward I’ve really missed them…I needed this. These women are the cream of the crop.

Finally, two Advil PM and I was down for the count by 11:00. Yes, a number of my girlfriends lost bets at my early bedtime. I think I was the first person asleep.

The next morning was cool and drizzly but we made the treck across town to La Cuisine bright and early for a day of French baking classes.

paris30 The first three hour class was a crash course in making french croissants. I say crash course because it is normally a three-day process. Our teacher was a charming fellow who had been trained in Paris and cooked all over the world from America to Australia and back again. It was awesome. paris18 paris19 paris20 paris21 paris22
















Christy and I skipped shopping and spent our 2.5 hour lunch break doing the one thing everyone should do in Paris.

We went to a cafe and sat. And ate. And sat and sat and sat.

And drank Diet Coke…

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I have never seen Big Gulps in Europe, this was a first. Let’s just say that we paid through the nose for our Coke Light Steins. Worth every euro cent.

The afternoon was a Macaron class. I was really just there for the company, I will never make these again. I know they’re the hot thing but my kids don’t like them and I’m not a huge dessert baker (although seeing my friend Sharma’s pictures of the Opera House did make me think I should have played hookee). Still it was wonderful to spend time with friends.macarons paris29 paris28 paris27















By the time we got home I felt refreshed and rejuvenated and all the more in love with Paris. Favorite city in the whole world, I leave a little piece of my heart every time.

(Side note: My friend Geneva ran into Jason and the kids Saturday morning and they were looking rather…ruffled. When she asked Georgia where I was GG said, “My Mama’th gone. Thee went on the eyeth twain and I weewy mith hew.” It’s nice to be missed.



  1. Where do I sign up? I mean, seriously. So fabulous!

  2. Geneva Chugg says:

    Glad I made the post. Even if not in Paris cuz I was home doing stake youth stuff. I need a girls trip but now you have all used your girl’s trip time up!!

  3. you had me at: Leave him with the kids and go.
    The “to Paris” part sealed it. When? Can? I?

    My husband has teased me with the idea of going to Spain to see my parents for our 15th… but then he talks about how much he doesn’t want to… so I’ve decided to go with my girls when they are grown up. They’ll need a chaperon. And a fat old lady who will eat all the food they bake and not care.