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Roussillon sits perched atop ochre cliffs by Leah Marie Brown   "I have a feeling you are going to love Roussillon," Stephanie boldly proclaimed.  "In fact, I think it is going to be your favorite Provençal village."   We were sitting in the gilded tearoom  La Maison Angelina , sipping our ridiculously delicious, overpriced drinking chocolate when Stephanie made her declaration.  It was day one of our Paris-Provence-Tuscany Adventure and already she was making predictions.  By the time I had discreetly licked the whipped cream from my lips - for one always preforms such necessary but unsophisticated acts discreetly when in Paris - the conversation had flowed in another direction.   A week later, I found myself sitting in our zippy rented Fiat, watching the ochre hued landscape of southern France whiz by, and  I thought about Stephanie's prediction.  I wondered if it would come true.  Remembering al...

map-generator.net We departed Juvignac, an arid commune in the heart of the Languedoc-Roussillon region, in our rented Fiat.  Stephanie took the wheel and I rode shot gun, my nose pressed to the window so I could watch the scrubby landscape whiz by (as much as things can whiz by when rolling in a microscopic Italian death machine).  Although Stephanie and I are intrepid world travelers with dog-eared passports, we were both feeling giddy at the prospect of spending the night in Provence, a fabled land of romance, olives, and wine. Stephanie is an adventurer at heart.  It's one of the things I love about her.  She believes travel is about the journey, not the destination. (I respectfully disagree.  For me, travel is all about the destination, especially if it includes a night at the Hotel Ritz Paris or the Hotel Martinez in Cannes.  Belgian chocolates devoured while lying naked in one of Westin's Heavenly Beds trumps salte...

Ever since I discovered I have a Rational Heart , I've been exploring the notion of soul mates .  Are human beings meant to mate for life?   Is monogamy natural? In the United States, the divorce rate has been on a steady climb for the last forty years.  The majority of children born in France are born to parents out of wedlock.  Many young French couples are opting to cohabitate rather than wed.  France!  What does it mean when a nation known for its romantic pairings (Napoleon and Josephine, Marie Antoinette and Axel von Fersen, Nicolas Sarkozy and Carla Bruni, to name but a few) , is making "to death do us part" obsolete?   Hollywood offers little hope.  Tinsel town is littered with the wreckage of disasterous unions.  Brad and Jennifer.  Tom and Katie.  Demi and Ashton.  Jennifer Lopez and (insert random male name) .  It makes me wonder.  If golden couples who have yout...

Do you hear that distant knelling?   Book lovers around the world are ringing bells and mourning their losses.  The era of the bookstore is dying, my friends.  With customers converting to Kindle and Nook, and sales plummeting, Barnes and Noble announced a plan to close 190-240 of their stores.  First, Technology set her sites on newspapers; and now she means to annihilate bookstores.  As a former newspaper reporter and a lifetime book lover, this news fills me with great sadness.  The days of walking into spacious, neatly organized bookstores - or even small, independent nooks (pun, recognized but not intended) - are fading away like a dollop of whipped cream in a Starbucks mocha.  At the risk of sounding Orwellian, I fear we are headed into bleak times.   I try to imagine a world without newspapers, bookstores, and greeting cards (I am sorry, but ecards are just not the same) , and it fills me with d...

I woke early this morning eager to start the day.  I usually do.  I padded into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of tea, and stared out the window.  A downy blanket of snow covered the world outside my window, illuminated by waning silver moonlight.  I thought how perfect the forest appeared after a snowstorm - pristine and glistening - like a glitter-dusted fairy world. I felt at peace.  I anticipated the day stretching before me with poetic happiness.  I would take a brisk walk in the snow.  I would have another cup of tea.  I would settle down at my computer and create worlds with my words.  Fate had other designs, apparently.  A few ill-spoken words by thoughtless family members and I felt my happiness slip away.  I looked at world beyond my window through altered eyes.  The icy forest seemed somehow transformed - forbidding and bleak. It's amazing what a few harsh words can do to a tender heart, ...

An encouraging message was posted in a university restroom (Imgur) Each morning, I pour myself a cup of tea, settle myself at my desk in my Cloffice (a closet converted to an office), and sign in to Yahoo. I usually try to avoid reading their news pieces because, well, frankly, reading about school shootings, corrupt politicians, and economic woes really bums me out. This morning, however, I found myself zoning out, staring at the news scroll on my computer screen (I guess my super-caffeinated tea hadn't kicked in yet).  I noticed the following title Inspiring Note Found in Stall .  I confess, the teaser aroused my curiosity.  I mean, who would leave a note taped to a bathroom stall?  And what would they even say?   "Sure, you are sitting in the bathroom at the Starbuck's in Omaha, but that doesn't mean you can't create great things!  After all, Van Gogh created masterpieces ...

I spent my morning in bed with a lusty man’s man.   Hemingway again.   No, I did not read  For Whom The Bell Tolls again;  I watched  Hemingway and Gellhorn , a film about the love affair between writers Ernest Hemingway and Martha Gellhorn .   He was a tortured artist, she an ambitious world-weary journalist. It was not a match made in Heaven.   Their love affair began as so many passionate, disastrous unions of the minds (and/or bodies) begin: in a bar. Hemingway was married but in possession of a wandering eye – an eye that focused on a young wandering journalist.  They meet in a seedy moonshine shanty called Sloppy Joe's.  She saunters over to the bar, where Hem is celebrating.  The two exchange sharply pointed banter. One gets the sense that Martha, played by Nicole Kidman, was a sincere person, earnest about her career, her ambitions, her passions.  Hemingway, portrayed by Clive Owen, comes off ...