Francy Pants, in the third person.

Once upon a time...a couple months ago...

...there lived a young midwestern wife who was whisked across the Atlantic Ocean into worlds unknown to her.  It was a land filled with stretchy pants, pointy shoes, cigarettes, and pigeons.  Her inner Dorothy Gale whispered, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."   Inner Dorothy was right.  She was, in fact, in the Land of...Paris.

Paris was a city of:

 Towers made of metal...

Towers made of chocolate...

Angry men made of gold...

 

Men who thought hard for a really long time in a squatting position...

Angels with cool dance moves...

Dogs who peed without ceasing...

Dogs who ate dinner with you...

Plastic women wearing circular hats and dresses...

Trees in perfectly straight lines...

Old castles...

With tiny secret doors...

Fabulous dancers...

And ham and cheese sandwiches with Cokes for every meal (with a killer Shania Twain soundtrack)!

Needless to say, the young midwestern wife struggled to find her place in this new land.  There were moments of doubt...Would she be able to survive in a world so different from her own?  Surely it was a lost cause when she found herself announcing a celebration of her homeland, "America Day!".  There was McDonalds for lunch!  The Avengers 3-D movie in a theater!  M&Ms in her hands!  And a newfound crush on Captain America!  So what if she did spontaneously erupt in a proud rendition of "God Bless America" on several different occasions?

But wait, dear reader, don't lose faith in her yet.  Just when you think she has been defeated by The Unfamiliar...The Uncomfortable...The Unknown...

She goes and makes a new friend...a Parisian friend.  A professor at the University of Paris who teaches a class on 1930s American culture.  There were long discussions of Jimmy Stewart, old Hollywood, and The Great Depression.  And with a hearty "Sante, Paris!" (French for 'Cheers for Paris!'), she found herself comfortable, confident and content in the strange land.  On her last day there.

The young midwestern wife at last found her Francy Pants, and wore them proudly.  But the best part of her journey across the Atlantic was being there with...

Young Midwestern Husband

Sante!