On the day that I was born, I was destined to be a nomad. My dad once joked with me that we were descended from a band of gypsies. As I grew older, that jest kind of went along with my life-long theme as a military brat. After Vietnam, my father transferred around from air base to air base. I can probably count on four sets of hands and twenty fingers the amount of times that we had pulled up our stakes and moved away: Goosebay, Labrador … Ohio, California, Georgia, Mississippi, Maryland, Kansas, Wyoming, North Carolina, Oklahoma, and even Alaska.
Later on in life as an adult, I continued to follow that same path: Illinois, Germany, Idaho, Italy, Colorado and Texas. Fifteen years later, to my unimaginable surprise, it happened again. But this time, in a very magical way and with a very special person. I met the love of my life who just happened to be French and so once more with a love-lorn sigh, I pulled up my stakes and flew to the South of France, and that my friends, is where the magic happened. Hence, the reason for my blog about an American living in Provence. Thank you for visitng my site and taking the time to read about my daily musings of life, love and adventures abroad. Blessings