Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

This is why we can’t have nice things.

As the miniature sapins that would actually fit in our flat are rapidly approaching their expiration date, we bought a small cypress tree; it’s apparently hardy and thus should survive in the planter on the balcony once we’re finished staring at it, it’s “green” per the Purrito, it is sturdy enough to hold the popcorn strings and paper cranes that make up the bulk of our Christmas decorating, and it’s festive (every time I make the statement “it’s festive,” the Purrito giggles; this makes me feel like the campaign manager for Jeb Bush who told the NYT that the exclamation point on the signs [Jeb!] was “meant to convey enthusiasm”).

Naturally, the furry bastards are out for blood (sap, I suppose).

Here’s to hoping our noble cypres de noël makes it through the winter.

While this is not Fezzik, you can be sure that should he succeed, the bounty will be shared by all.

While this is not Fezzik, you can be sure that should he succeed, the bounty will be shared by all.

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