I sometimes refer to my husband as Mr. French on this blog because he grew up in Paris. You can't even imagine how emotional he was as he watched his beloved city under siege.
In addition, there were several members of his family out and about in the city last night and it took some time before everyone was accounted for and we (and the rest of the family) were assured of their safety.
So we decided today would be a day of fun and beauty and took ourselves off to the Goat Hill Vintage Fair.
Why is it named Goat Hill, you ask? Because the original site for the fair was a 14 acres goat farm in the Santa Cruz mountains. It outgrew the original location after just 2 years and has since moved to the county fairgrounds but the name stuck which is just fine by me because I adore goats.
It makes for some cute advertising and displays.
More tomorrow!
Awwww, that must have been awful for your hubby:( I've never been to Paris but I dream about going there ALL the time! This hasn't lessened my yearning for it in any way...someday!
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