salt lake parents.

Kent looking for a place to eat. Pam and I waiting for the verdict.

I can't remember, but I think the first time I met Kent and Pam, it was the fall of 2008 and we were at Jane's house--their house. I can't quite remember why. But I do remember that Pam ended up telling us stories in high school when Jane was low, and she gave me a couple of snickers candy bars for emergencies. I took these candy bars very seriously, and when Jane slept through classes whether on purpose or not, I would throw these chocolates at her, yelling, "Jane! Are you low?!" and some of the time she was, but sometimes she wasn't. Either way she said she wasn't low, so I just assumed she was low at all times unless she had just eaten. I was very angry to come back to the apartment one day and see that the plastic bag I had put the snickers in and labeled "for emergency use only" was gone. Along with the chocolate. Jane had gotten hungry.

Anyway. Jane's parents were in Paris this last week, where I took them to some of my favorite places.

surprise surprise...where did we end up, and what did we end up drinking. Kent doesn't even like hot chocolate that much, but he still drank some. And Pam and I finished off his portion.

h-core travelers.

We sat and talked about a lot a lot of different things, and we all got mad together at someone who I am irritated with, and we talked about relationships, and about that one time last winter when Pam promised Jane something if she did something, and then when I did that same something, that weekend I was at Pam and Kent's house and I was having a breakdown and I was feeling numb and Pam just talked and I listened while I sat at the kitchen bar and Jane and I exchanged lots of smiles while Pam cooked some onions that sizzled, and I watched them get clearer while I told her about another friend of mine who was struggling with other issues and she told me her experience with those issues. But the main point is that I could just forget, try to open my eyes wide enough to make a well for my tears to stay in, to try not to make my voice shake, I could just drink in all of the emotion, all of the experiences she had had, and nod my head, wanting to stay in that warm, red kitchen in Salt Lake where we were making pizza and never go back to my cold, white apartment where all I had to eat were eggs and cereal. And Kent would chime in from the table.

We did that again here in Paris, the topics jumping all over the place, but I talked as well, and we talked about Europe, and they both liked talking to people who were here, people who spoke English, why they were here, what they were doing, and we talked about Jane and ate, and ate some more, and Kent was calm, very calm as we shopped and as we ate, and polite and kind and easy. On friday when I was waiting for the RER, I got a phone call, and I heard Kent's voice saying "Bonjour!" to me, and I listened to his calm, friendly voice asking where I was, what I had done that day. I remembered when we went to the Orangerie and the Cluny Museum and he listened to my unoriginal ideas that came from sitting in those places for a long time, and when he waited for us while we shopped, or even waited in line to pay for something while we went across the street to another shop. We talked about where we would meet to go get lunch, and that Pam was currently shopping and then they would head to the Saint-Chapelle where I would meet them, and he told me he would pay for lunch. Such a sweet man.

Don't look at my face please.

I am skyping my mother, and she just said: "Emma, do you think anyone really cares about your blog?"

My mother. The one who birthed me. Who has given me my life and that is the last time I am ever mentioning her in my blog again.