There Is a Bird on My Head

Back in June, David went to work at the Paris Air Show. Nearing a state of complete exhaustion, I tagged along -- sans Luke.  I hadn't had any kind of real rest since before he was born and all I really wanted was the chance to sleep in. And maybe, when I would finally manage to drag myself out of bed, the leisure to sit quietly with a book and to drink a cup of coffee undisturbed.   But Paris is one of those rare places that actually lives up to, and even possibly surpasses, the hype. I did a lot of sleeping and sitting and drinking coffee, yes, but, inspired by that incredible city and by Edmund White's lovely book, I became a flâneur. (In other words, I did a lot of aimless strolling around.)

In the Tuileries Garden:

I came across this unfortunate fellow:

Oh my god, there is a bird on my head.

Oh my god, there's a bird on my head and I am naked.

Oh my god, there is a bird on my head and I am naked. Plus, there's a big stick up my butt. And I just noticed I'm in the middle of some fancy public garden next to the Louvre. Jeez, this is like those nightmares I used to have in high school. Or something out of a Greek tragedy.

Comments

[Patricia]

Oh my heavens. I just discovered your blog. And what a start – you made me laugh out loud, over and over again! Boy, I thought I was having a bad day until I saw this guy!

[Susan]

That is funny.

[elizabeth ellen]

oh, i adore edmund white and had not seen this book. will have to order it at once! i'm so happy you got to paris!

[Heather (errantdreams)]

I think you should publish books of photographs with such commentary. 'Twould make awesome coffee-table books for snarky people. *grin*

[Stephany Aulenback]

ee, you would LOVE that book.

[kittenpie]

How I love the commentary.
Will be back.

[Kat]

Steph you are the best, keep writing and have it PUBLISHED!!!!