Mon Cheri

As previously predicted, I did indeed gaze upon glaciers, revel in the technicolor cornucopia of the supermarket, and enmesh my toes in grass as well as beach sand.

But enough burying the lead.  You guys: I joined my companion in France, and everything is très excellent.  Allow me to introduce you...

- Name: Jean-François (fact check: he is French)

- Age: 66 (not a typo)

- Meet cute: walking the Camino de Santiago, discussing our mutual interest in poetry and type-two fun  (-Is that redundant?)

- Profession: author, surgeon (retired)

- Enthusiasm for consuming cheese from a rucksack:

off the charts

A common and legitimate question is, aren't you worried he'll die or get sick?  This is not a new concern for me, I thought of this often even as a newly-married 23 year old.  Now, as then, such thoughts are eclipsed by the dazzling sense of fun and warmth that radiate from the man in question.

We have eaten so very much cheese -- it has essentially replaced dessert at the end of the meal, and served as the main course in the form of fondue and raclette during two weeks in the Alps.  And I tried unctuous Mont d'Or for the first time.  Who knew spruce bark could do so much for a cheese?

hiking near Chamonix

backcountry skiing and trying not to die (for me anyway)

Carcassonne is home to a medieval walled old city, and delicious cassoulet

home at Ile de Ré