Fat Bottom Girls You Make The Rockin World Go Round!

I woke up ornery as heck on Saturday.  I was determined not to be happy and not to have a good day.  After trying (unsuccessfully) to cheer me up, Burke realized it was time to meet up with our culture class for a bike ride through Bois de Boulogne (The Woods of Boulogne).  Boulogne is an immense park on the outskirts of the city that was an untamed forest hundreds of years ago.  It is now lined with trails for bikes, horseback riding and runners that weave around the forest and picnic areas as well as two man-made lakes connected by a waterfall.  This park was designed to mimic Hyde Park in London and then Central Park in New York was based off of Boulogne.  As soon as we rented our bikes and began riding, my bad mood cleared right up and this turned into one of my favorite days yet!

As you can see, my height issues landed me on a little boy's bike with a ghoulish face for a seat.  Professor Muse (the one kicking my tricycle tires in the top right) joked that the face had been asleep until I sat on it.  Nice.  We rode about 10 kilometers past the largest and most famous horse racing arena in Europe, around a scenic windmill, past Lake Superior and Lake Inferior with couples in charming row boats, along the river Seine where quaint houseboats reside, explored the miniature waterfalls, and finally stopped for a picnic lunch on the "Muse Log" next to this lovely spot below.  

It was so nice to be out in nature, but we were truly never far from the city as our trails often intersected with busy highways with cars roaring past.  As we rode, Muse discovered how much we had enjoyed watching the World Cup the day before and invited us to join him that evening at his favorite Irish Pub.  We reminded him that we were Mormon and would love to come, but would not be drinking.  He surprised us all by confessing that he had been sober longer than I had been alive and promised us a great meal, a great game in HD and even live entertainment.

Of course we agreed and that evening found us in a Carr's Irish Pub eating the most delicious steak and salmon, thoroughly caught up in the USA vs. England game.

My favorite part of the evening, besides the exciting game, was when an old gentlemen,one of the Irish owners, sat down at the piano and began to play song after song by ear!  He reminded me of my Dad as he sang Danny Boy, rocking back and forth on his bench with such obvious joy.  He got the entire pub singing as he played hits like "Let it Be, These Boots Were Made for Walking, New York New York and All You Need is Love."  I was singing at the top of my lungs and Muse commented that I sure didn't need any alcohol to have a good time!

The pub was just down the street from the Louvre Museum and before we called it a night, Burke and I walked up to see the palace and pyramids lit up.  It was lovely as usual and we headed home on the metro happy and worn out.  When we got to our apartment, horror set in as we realized our building was throwing a dance party that night.  That meant that from the time we got home (11:30) until 4:58 in the morning (don't you worry, I was wide awake and fully aware when the last song finally ended) all we heard outside our window was drunken laughter and the incessant beat of the techno base.  It was also incredibly hot in our room, but since our window is right above the courtyard, we couldn't open it because that is where all of the smokers were congregating!  I hardly slept a wink and my bad mood from the morning came back in a hurry. I'm glad we haven't learned any French cuss words because if I had known any I think I would have flung that window open and let them taste the wrath of the Emilita!