My first trip to France, the word “Oeuf,” dominated the menu of every restaurant. When I was a baby I loved eggs. I ate them everyday until I was three. One day, Mom put an egg in front of me, mashed it up, and the smell made my stomach flipped over. I waved my arms frantically pushed the bowl away and never ate another egg.The sophistication gene skipped me and my futile attempt to learn a little French imploded and I was forced to depend on the kindness of strangers. I don’t hear English, too well, so broken English is another alien dialect.
My meal was over, I saw a menu left on the table and I grabbed it and read my selection carefully, no sign of ‘oeuf.” The waitress spoke a little English, I asked her why my crepe had “oeuf,” she said they always add ouef! I lost 9 pounds. 9 pounds on a 12 day trip to France. Something is wrong with me.
But I love France, it’s stunning.
If you enjoy my stories please check out my memoir, "I Hate the Dallas Cowboys - tales of a scrappy New York boyhood." Available at Logos Book Store or online at Amazon or Barnes and Noble.
The book has 109 Amazon five star reviews out of 109 total reviews posted. We're pitching a perfect game. My old world echoes TV's "The Wonder Years" ~ just add taverns, subways and Checker cabs.
You can also purchase my photography portfolio, "River to River - New York Scenes From a Bicycle" on Amazon.