The Harlequin Romance

Some poor soul left a stack of harlequin novels at my French mom's house. Last night, I was sitting at my desk writing a letter. Jake (from Canada) casually waltzed into my room and said, "Hey, Eleanor, have you read Blaze?" He held up a paperback with a fiery red cover.

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" I screamed. I could feel myself melting.

"Oh, come now," said he. He opened the book. "Jeremy knew that she wanted him. He felt...gumfle bmfle wmfle shsh bmfle." I do not know what else he read; my hands were over my ears. After a few seconds of reading aloud, his voice trailed off. His eyes got big and his chin dropped. Suddenly, he threw the book down. "I'm not reading that!" he exclaimed and left my room. Phew, safe again.

Le Concert de Noël
Alors, Laura (the other housemate) happens to be one of those rare people that shares my taste in music. We had a guitar party on my very big bed last night. We've decided we're going to put a concert on for Odile (my French mom) during Christmas vacation. This concert will include music by the Beatles, a particular version of "Scarborough Fair," and...well, that's all we've got so far. It's nice to have a fun brother and sister around, even if they are anglophone.