Younger than Paris time

Bonjour to my reader from France.  I was sadden to discovered that if I move there I will be a day older than I am now. Not a whole day of course but just closer to my next decade than I am in this time zone. I'm guessing it would be worth it.  I had lunch in Opelika on Central Time on my birthday just so I could savor my youth for a moment longer. My wrinkles never know what to do when I go shopping there and then have to rush home.

I am proud to say I made it through an entire workday without a nap.  I was excited to return and all my clients remembered their appointments.  Hurrah.  I do think those companies that have the little tents where their employees go to catch a few ZZZs have the right idea.  There is some research  somewhere (?) to support naps promoting increased creativity.  Ms. Grace Guthrie probably knew that long before the research.  She was my 4th and 5th grade teacher--I --we had her for two years because she loved our class so much.  Or at least that was her party line and we all fell for it.  She was a robust, energetic woman who came to work looking beautiful everyday, I thought.  She wore skirts with a tucked in blouse, a beautiful broach or scarf and her hose and heels.  Back to the nap part--everyday after lunch she read to us from the Bible and The Bobbsey Twins.  I can still see her sitting on that desk with her skirt all tucked around and that straight back while she lulled us--or at least me-- into a restful, contented place with her wonderful storytelling voice. I am getting weepy just writing this because she made school and her classroom such a great place to be.  I don't know if she's still living.  I never knew much about her personal life back then either.  She was my teacher and a person to be respected and looked up to and we did.  Thanks Ms. G. 

I hope someone will say that about me and the way and I do my job. Time to get ready for another day in my part of the  world where I'm still younger than I am in Paris.  Au revoir.

                                                                from the Hooch