An American in Paris

My cat, Marcel, on the ledge of a window in our "Passage." It is once again starting to feel like spring in Paris, the best time to be here. People are much more weather-centric than in NYC, and if it is a nice day, people are nice. I wave to the butcher as I walk to the grocery store. He is really too expensive and I rarely get anything there, but he is friendly and I wave. The waiters in the pizza place are getting started for the lunch service. I stop for a moment and say hello. Marguerite from the green grocer is working furiously on the display of saucissons; I wave as I pass. It has been a little touch-and-go here. The election in Paris scared a lot of people but especially me. I am a not-quite-legal-yet-now-just-a-tourist immigrant American married to a here-legally-through-the-EU-but-for-how-long German man. We are in the process of buying a Townhouse here in Paris. With Marine Le Pen on the horizon all that might have been taken away from us. If she had her way...