An American girl at Omaha

I think I was in the 5th grade when my Grandaddy finally spoke about his experiences in WWII. I had a school project and he sat down with me and a tape recorder to tell me his stories. I was young and unappreciative. And I was most definitely not worthy of hearing the stories he had to tell.

Today Jason and I visited Omaha Beach, Pointe du Hoc and the American Cemetery in Normandy, France. To bear witness to the conditions of the "beach", have memories return from conversations with my grandfather about when he stormed the beaches for D Day and view the ultimate sacrifices of thousands of boys and men who never returned home was humbling.

I do not cry much. I told Jason that this day trip was more for him bc I did not have the appreciation.

I was wrong. I cried. I said a silent prayer and took in all that the museum and thousands of white crosses laid out before me had to offer. 9,000 crosses, actually.


My grandfather survived the invasion of Normandy and the reoccupation of France in 1944. Now I understand why he drank constantly upon his return to the united states. I cannot fathom what a sober life would be like if I watched my friends and comrades die in battle. Actual battle. Not the kind we have today where it is distances and machines. I mean the kind where you see a mans face as you pierce him with a bayonet or shoot him with a gun in your hand.

The nightmares and images that would haunt your sleep would be enough to drive anyone to a bottle to numb and block it out. I'm not saying it was right, but now I can better understand. A family and daughters to raise would be something to block the memories, but the images would always be there in your head as constant reminders.......



I am glad we went.

A married American girl in Paris

Jason is out smoking a cigar and selecting a bottle of red wine as I write this. I love that about him - he's in an element and state of mind that relaxes him. He can be anywhere, at anytime and take in all that his surroundings have to offer. We have spent our days and evenings talking, sharing and hanging out. I love this honeymoon cocoon we are in. I sleep better than I have in months. I have no stress. He has no stress. We can just be as we are, and be together. No deadlines. No errands to run. No where we have to be.

I am still living the high from our wedding - an event that I would do a millions times over again and again. Despite my own self induced stress I had no worries and I had a damn good time. If anyone that attended did not have fun, then that is their fault. The months of planning and decisions and meetings resulted in a wedding that was EXACTLY what I wanted. If anyone is in need of referrals then just ask me.











So the spectacular event in which I became Mrs Jason Burt then brought us to Paris. I love the memories we are making, the fun we are having, the ring on his finger that I make sure to touch and play with every time he holds my hand. Jason and I have fun everywhere we go and we are in love, and it shows. I notice the people around us watch us when we are sitting at a table in a cafe or restaurant. We laugh. We smile. I stare at him when he isn't watching.

I've been told that this will wear off. Life will return to normal. We will fight. He will get on my nerves. Life will get in the way.

I hope that life will hold off for a bit. I am enjoying this phase immensely. Paris has been good to us and we will be sad to leave. We have toured and walked, enjoyed a dinner cruise along the Seine, strolls through a Christmas market with an illuminated Eiffel Tower 100 meters away, holding hands and hot cinnamon wine, window shopping, scarves and cold wind. I wouldn't trade our cold and rainy days in Paris for the warmest and most sunny days on a beach for anything.













I love being a married American girl in Paris.

An American girl in Paris

This is tough to do on an iPad, but I'm trying.

Being an American girl in Paris is easy. I like it. People have been friendly and accommodating. People all speak English. Paris is clean, the people do not smell bad and they are not all chain smokers. All of the notions I had in my head of what the city would be were false. I was warned not to look and act like an American, not to wear jeans and tennis shoes.

I look "American" and there isn't really much I can do about it. Blondes do not really exist here. However, I have blended in bc I have refused to look like a tourist. I do no have a backpack - I have an oversized designer handbag that I tote my camera and iPad around in. I "speak" as much as a I can and remember my manners. Hello, good morning, good evening, please, thank you -- all important phrases to know. My attempts to speak French have been appreciated and everyone I have come across has smiled and immediately returned my arttempts with English. If I butcher a word then I take the opportunity to learn the correct pronunciation.

Being an American girl in Paris has been wonderful. Jason has already promised me that we will come back.


There is so much to see here that it is not possible to see it all in one trip. Seriously. Even a week long trip where we have walked through the city for 12 hours a day. This is the part where I wish I had my tennis shoes...you cannot imagine how badly my feet hurt.

When we were in Italy last spring I walked through the streets and imagined myself living there. I had not been able to imagine the same thing about Paris until yesterday. I could definitely be an American girl in Paris :)