Paris is giving me scurvy

Day 3:

Today was another day of excessive eating and sightseeing.

The biggest thing to report is that I am pretty sure I have scurvy.

Yes, I am talking about the ailment of pirates and sailors in the 18th century from a vegetable and fruit deficiency. I am aware that I am not a pirate and nor is this the 18th century but as it turns out, it is not super healthy to live off of cheese, bread, and wine. I know, its shocking. I know you thought that wine basically covered the fruit and maybe even vegetable categories, so did I!  But alas, it does not. And thus, the scurvy sets in.

But other then my rapidly diminishing health and my inability to survive without my local Whole Foods, the spoiled Boulderite brat that I am, I fit right in here in Paris. I have the pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes, medium height, and am a little heavy on the sarcasm. My mother however, the little, blonde, mama meshugana she is, stands out like fresh lettuce in a French brasserie. A foot shorter then everyone around here, she marches through town with an excessive bounce in her step to compensate for her lack of height.

This woman no shame when it comes to documenting our Paris getaway. Not only will she shove the nice Korean couple on their honeymoon out of the way for a picture of her children in front of the Eiffel Tower, but she went as far as to disregard any "No Photography" sign in the Museum Dorsay. You know Van Gough's famous self portrait with the teal background? Oh, we have that. She used a flash and everything. The moment her guilty flash went off, her camera was quickly stowed and all the museum's patrons glared in our direction. Not a single one suspected the pint sized, blonde, mother of three and so off we went, to relentlessly damage priceless works of art and annoy the bejesus our of our fellow museum visitors.

xo k