Did you know that the French word for weekend is week-end? Yep... week-end. I guess throwing that dash in there makes it a bit more French like. Who knows. Either way, I had a très bon week-end. It started off the way all weekends should start... deliciously.
(Whenever I think about the word weekend, I think of the Dowager Countess asking, "Wha- what is a weekend?" It cracks me up every time! Downton Abbey fans, you know what I'm talking about.)
Friday night, my friend Martine (if you like Irish ladies, horses and food, then you'll love Martine and her blog) invited The Husband and I to the grand opening of an artisan ice cream shop a couple of villages over. And since saying no to free ice cream goes against the basic principles of humanity, we went.
It was packed... but I mean, c'mon... free ice cream, of course it was. Plus they had a band playing outside. I'm not sure if the music was Irish, Scottish, or Bretagne, or what it had to do with ice cream, but it was festive.
On Saturday The Husband and I hunkered down for the day and prepared ourselves for the second chapter in our Road To Dublin... the ASM Clermont vs. Munster match. It was stressful. The Husband watched while sitting in a ball on the floor (very similar to the fetal position) while I paced like a mad woman. Clermont won, we breathed a huge sigh of relief and went to sleep an hour later. Sure it was only 9PM on a Saturday night, but that shiz was exhausting.
One down and only one to go, on Sunday we went to Gatz's house for lunch and to watch Toulon play the Saracens.