I know I’m supposed to post the continuing exploits of Pierre Bonsoirno and his jungle adventures (Pierre Bonsoirno is what I call my husband when he’s being unbearably French—guess you just have to read my book Sex, Cheese & French Fries for more details), but I can’t stop thinking about Michael Jackson.

As you know from my last (and first) post on this site, Pascal was dispatched to the Amazon (or he decided to go, depending on which one of us you ask).  On our way to the airport, I made him promise to stay in touch with me every three days to let me know he was alive and well.  In the month he was away, he managed to call me a total of three times—when it exists, technology is downright Read More…

Why my husband went to the Amazon…and why I didn’t!