Nora [Ellie]

Nora is five. I can hardly believe it. She's my baby. The one who broke me into motherhood. I still feel like I'm new at this, so how can she be five?

I called to register her for Kindergarten this fall.

We bought her a big girl bike with training wheels and a helmet and watched her ride away from us around the block.

Why didn't anyone warn me she'd grow up this fast? I guess they did; I just wasn't listening. I was too busy wishing she'd grow up. Wishing she'd learn to walk. Wishing she'd learn to use the potty. Wishing she'd learn her letters. Wishing she'd learn to clean her room. I spent so much time wishing for each new milestone and so little time rejoicing when it came. It was like her achievements were on a to-do list to be checked off in my planner. First word? Ah, yes. Check!

What's next?

What's next is, this afternoon she's modeling her new summer clothes, size 6, that I bought her. (I swear it was size 6 months just yesterday!) She looks tall and slender, blond, blue-eyed and beautiful. She has long legs--must be from her dad's side. I think about what boys will think of her some day soon, and I am overcome by the frantic desire to lock her away in a tower until she's 30. Maybe Rapunzel's witch gets a bad rap. Maybe she just wanted to protect Rapunzel from growing up too fast.

But here, now, I just want to rejoice for a minute. Stop thinking ahead and let myself love who she is right now.

This is who she is:
She is the sort of little girl who will give a hug to the neighbor boy who has Down Syndrome, even though the other girl she's playing with jerks away in disgust.

And this:
She is the sort of little girl who hears from her friend, "Look! My airplane is the biggest. Bigger than yours!" And responds, "Cool! Yours is the biggest, and mine can be the fastest!"

And this:
She is the sort of little girl who dances and sings her own musical performances just to express the joy she feels inside.

And this:
She is the sort of little girl who wandered out alone in the rain searching for me because she wanted to go running with me and my running buddy.

This is who she used to be:
It's twilight in Champaign, Illinois, and Nora is two-and-a-half. Little blond Nora is wandering around the front yard of our apartment building in a pink sun-dress catching fireflies. There are hundreds out in the yard tonight, their abdomens glowing, rising, and vanishing. She catches one and brings it over. "This one's for you, Mommy," she says with her two-year-old lisp. She catches another, "This one's for you, Daddy." It's her bedtime, but the moment enchants Bryan and I so much that we can't end it too soon. I am watching her and I'm so completely happy that I must be glowing, too.

And this:
It's eight o'clock at night. For some reason I don't remember now, Bryan's gone and I'm putting Nora to bed alone. Nora is three and we've had a big blow-up over something I've now forgotten. I am worked up outside her bedroom door and she is worked up inside. She's sobbing, and I'm thinking, "I hope she's learning her lesson, the little stinker!" And then I hear her start talking through her sobs. "Dear Heavenly Father," she says, "please help me to be happy." She says this over and over, with a little catching sob as she pronounces "happy." I go in and hold her as we both cry.

And this:
I'm in the hospital after having Andrew. Bryan, my mother, and Nora have come to visit us. My mom has carefully worked Nora's hair into two little pigtails on both sides of her face. She is worried about me in my hospital gown, on the bed unable to get up. She wants to come up and hug me for reassurance. Then the baby is brought in. Immediately, Nora wants to hold him. With Grandma's help she takes him on her lap. She's not sure what to do with him, so we suggest, "Why don't you sing him a song?" Without hesitation, she begins, "I am a child of God, and He has sent me here. . ."

And this:
We're at the mall playground on a snowy day. I watch as Nora fearlessly goes up to another girl and asks her to play. They rush around, giggling and holding hands, utterly unselfconscious and gleeful. The girl's mother catches my eye and we smile. They are the same age. They are both wearing pink. Of course they will be friends. It's so simple. I am so impressed by Nora's confidence and friendliness. I want to preserve it forever, but I can already see a hesitancy developing. Other children have sometimes rejected her. Will this one? I think I can hardly bear to see her hurt this way, yet I know she will be some day. Maybe again and again. I wish I could save her from this.

I can't believe it's possible to love someone as much as I've come to love her over these five years. I can't believe I can be as mad at someone as I've been at her. I struggle to teach and sometimes to control, and she shows me that she will learn when she's ready and holds her own keys to the future.

Nora's Dance Recital

Nora had her first dance recital last Tuesday. It was fun to watch her have so much fun. Here is some footage. If you can't tell, Nora is in a black dress, in the center of the image.

Nora's ballet number




Nora's tap dance number

Picture of Nora and her dance friends

Would I want immortality? [Bryan]

My sister just asked a question: Suppose you could drink from the fountain of youth and be forever immortal -- would you do it?

My answer was no. In fact, I'm wary of all forms of immortality, even one in a glorious afterlife. The ancient Greeks had it at least partially right: immortality is a curse that turns a life into a triviality. For the Greeks, the immortal gods were often creatures of derision who were reduced to playing pranks on humans like immature children. Humans were granted dignity precisely because they were forced to strive against the looming fate of death. Mortal humans were called to create things that would transcend their own lives, things that would last even though they themselves were gone. Immortality does not call us to act in this way, they thought.

I can see why they thought this. In immortality, accomplishment means nothing since, after all, you've had forever to practice (it is like a student who does well on the test because they had extra time to work on it). Death brings a sense of urgency to life; it forces you make decisions about priorities. These decisions show what you value and they become an expression of who you are. Immortality asks no such decisions of you. You can spend hours upon hours wasting time because you will always have more of it. There is no fierce urgency of "now."

And the boredom. I can't imagine living so long so as to have done it all. I can't imagine having read every book, having explored every corner, having met every person. (One of the attractions of the Mormon afterlife, is that it holds out the possibility of real creation and endless expansion of learning).

In the end, though, when I think of family relationships possibly ending someday, it does hurt. These relationships are things, of all things, that I think I would want to continue forever. So my vision of the perfect afterlife is this: consciousness of the presence of loved ones (both loving them and being loved by them) and of absolutely nothing else. No sense of time, nothing. Well, maybe a sense of eating chocolate chip cookies, too. But that's it.

As usual, Buffy the Vampire Slayer says it best in her description of heaven:

BUFFY: I was happy. Wherever I ... was ... I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time ... didn't mean anything ... nothing had form ... but I was still me, you know? And I was warm ... and I was loved ... and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or ... any of it, really ... but I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out ... by my friends. Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch ... this is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that ... (softly) knowing what I've lost... (gets up, walks towards the sunlight, pauses, not looking back) They can never know. Never. (continues into the sunlight)

It's out!

Finally! Amazon website is here.

Deep Thoughts and Kid Pictures [Bryan]

Some random thoughts on life, while I await the results from the Pennsylvania primary.

(1) Our house can be very odd at times. Before bathtime, Andrew and Nora have taken to playing a game called "Naked Town." In the game of Naked Town, one removes one's clothes and jumps on the bed for five minutes before heading for the tub. Where this game comes from, I don't know. Where the term "Naked Town" comes from, I don't know. Just be assured that no one will be asked to play this game if they come to visit.

(2) You should all try the Colgate 360 toothbrush. It has little bristles on the back of the toothbrush that massage your gums and cheecks while you brush. I tried it and it was nothing short of a revelation. It was like something I've never before experienced. It was soothing and exciting. A sensual explosion. I'll never go back to ordinary toothbrushes.

(3) I have finally found the chocolate frosting recipe I have been looking for. It is called "chocolate fudge frosting," found on page 78 of a Betty Crocker cookbook. Most frosting is lacking in the proper texture; it is almost like eating a layer of dry powdered sugar. All fluff. Your average frosting gives a burst of sugary flavor, but nothing more. This chocolate fudge frosting, however, is different because it is a frosting with substance. It differentiates itself from the fluffiness of the cake, and thus makes for a more satisfying eating experience.

Some recent kid pictures taken by our friend Heather, minstrel of the photographic arts.

Obama: Believing in Ourselves [Bryan]

I watched the so-called debate last night between Obama and Clinton. It was depressing. Over and over again the moderators asked the most insipid and vapid questions imaginable: Why don't you wear a flag pin? Why are you friends with terrorists? Why does your pastor hate America? Why do you think you are better than everybody else? That sort of thing.

In short, they twisted everything Obama has ever said, every relationship he has ever had. It took the moderators an hour to ask one remotely real question. The facts were mangled, contextual background was fleeting or nonexistent, and silly gotcha questions ruled the day. All in search of a hot sound bite. All of this in the middle of a costly and bloody war and with disaster looming for the American economy.

If there is one thing the Obama campaign has done, it is this: exposed the absolute insanity of our public discourse.

The irony of the latest charges against Obama are rich indeed. He has been called "elitist" by wealthy pundits even though he was born into a single-parent family of only modest means, made himself successful through hard work, became a community organizer on the streets of Chicago instead of joining lucrative law firms, and even now has less personal wealth than most of the other presidential candidates. He is called "condescending to religious people" when, in fact, all available evidence suggests that his religious faith is more sincere and genuine than any other presidential nominee I can think of. Come on people, get real. It almost makes me long for the days when people thought he was a closet Muslim.

Three weeks ago, Obama gave one of the finest speeches I have heard from a politician -- his speech on race in America. It was sincere and heartfelt, nuanced and intellectually powerful, courageous and politically dangerous. While the rest of the press treated us like children, he rose above the gotcha nonsense and attempted to engage Americans as thinking adults. He expressed more faith in the average American in that moment than any of those who are now calling him "elitist." The power and daring nature of his speech shocked everyone for a few days. But now the silliness has started again.

Perhaps the "audacity of hope" is really the hope that allows us to believe in ourselves. While Obama wants to treat us like adults, and believes that we will respond, I fear that his faith and hope in us have been misplaced. We have not yet risen to the occasion.

Boston Trip [Bryan]

Just got back from my conference. I will just say this: Visiting Boston and Paris in the space of a few weeks has led to a major case of city-envy. Boston/Cambridge was wonderful. Although not its equal, of course, Boston had much of what I liked so much about Paris: history, famous river-fronts, art, food, students, universities, and philosophy.

The first day, I arrived at my hotel to find that it was right across from Fenway Park. That may matter to some of you, but I found the crowds and lights slightly annoying. I crossed the Charles River, though, explored the MIT campus, and walked up Massachusetts Avenue to Harvard Square. What a great place! There were protesters and music playing. I bought a book at a little bookstore. I grabbed a wonderful hot chocolate at Burdick Chocolate (yummy) and a burger at Mr. Bartley's Burger. Bartley's Burger was rated "best burgers in America" by the Wall Street Journal and they are known for burgers named after famous people. I ordered the Barack Obama burger. (Thanks for the tips Nollie!)

After Harvard Square, I undertook a quasi-religious pilgrimage to Emerson Hall on the Harvard University Campus, home of the legendary Harvard Philosophy Department. Emerson Hall is named after one of my heroes, Ralph Waldo Emerson. It was also the actual haunt of two more of my philosophical heroes, William James and John Rawls. I took a picture of the faculty directory and humbly used the restroom, very aware that the toilet I used could have been used by Rawls himself. I poked around campus a bit and found it full of nerdy-looking people. I felt right at home, although I'm sure that the average IQ there was several factors higher than my own.

Walking back to my hotel at night, I crossed the Massachusetts Avenue bridge again. On the bridge, the night was clear and the city of Boston was lit up beautifully 360-degrees all around me. It was a magical walk indeed.

The next day I went through the Back Bay to downtown Boston and walked most of the Freedom Trail. The Boston Common was beautiful and so were all the old churches. A highlight, though, was seeing the sight of the Boston massacre and of the first public school in America.

After that, I decided I better start attending the conference. I won't bore you with those details.

Saturday afternoon was another highlight of the trip, thanks to hospitality of the Chapmans. David picked me up and drove me through downtown Boston and the North End. I caught a glimpse of the Boston Garden, but alas, the new building holds little connection to old Garden dominated by the great Larry Bird teams. He then took me past the Boston temple, various Lexington battle sights, the home of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Louisa May Alcott, and Walden Pond, among other things. Everyone told me that Walden Pond would be a disappointment, but it wasn't. It was beautiful at dusk; I can see how going there to "suck the marrow out of life" might be an attractive proposition. That is really a wonderful area of the world. Lots of forests, rivers, and ponds.

The night ended with dinner at the Blue Coyote Restaurant (where I had a great Salomon dish with mango sauce and cilantro), ice cream at a local creamery (I had Butter Rum, Yum!), and a round of Guitar Hero on the Wii. I was pleased to see that the Chapmans were doing well: a beautiful little house on the river, charming and energetic kids, and a wonderful little town to live in. Thanks for letting me invade your lives for a few hours David and Michelle!

Fenway Park from my hotel room

Harvard Square

Emerson Hall, Harvard

Boston Commons, looking up Beacon Hill to the State House

Big man at the conference [Bryan]

I'm in Boston right now for a conference. I've had a good time. There is one highlight, though, that I need to tell you about.

I attended a session today that was dedicated to criticizing a paper I had written last year. Naturally, I was a bit uncomfortable. The presenters at the session disagreed about almost everything. The one thing they agreed on was that my paper was wrong on several important points.

During the comments, I stood up and said,"I guess I should introduce myself as the person who was criticized today." There was some laughing, and I then tried to persuade them that they had misconstrued my position a bit (understandably, now that I think about it, but that's another story).

Anyway, shift forward a couple hours. I was meeting up with a longtime friend, David Chapman, who lives in the Boston area. David arrived at the hotel and rolled down his window to greet me.

Just at that moment, a man approached me and asked, "Are you Bryan? The same one who wrote the book on imitation? I've been waiting anxiously for that book to be released. I'm going to buy it as soon as I can. When you introduced yourself at the meeting earlier, I was excited to meet me." We chatted for a minute and parted. I was amazed because this sort of thing has never really happened to me before.

I turned toward David's car and it seemed that he had been listening to the whole conversation. I tried to nonchalantly open the car door and sit down, pretending that this fawning behavior from fans is the sort of thing I must endure all the time. David smiled and said, "Well, hello Dr. Warnick!"

I really don't know how much David heard. But what an excellent image: public homage in front of an unsuspecting old friend. This is the sort of thing I would have paid somebody to do, if I had thought of it earlier.

Some final thoughts on Paris [Bryan]

I hope nobody is sick of hearing about Paris. If so, I'm sure to be back blogging about politics soon, so don't worry. I do have a few final thoughts and impressions from our trip that I haven't written about yet.

(1) Visiting so many vast, ancient cathedrals gave me a different sort of religious experience. I come from a religious tradition that is focused on bringing religion into daily life. In Mormon church buildings, there are kitchens, stages, and basketball courts. The place I would rain jump shots on my friends during the week was also the place that I worshiped on Sunday. The church building was a place of ordinary community life; thus, religion itself was linked to, and infused with, ordinary living. Mormon temples are a bit different, to be sure, but even there, in Mormonism's most sacred ceremonies, the feeling is one of coming home to family. The interior of temples is, for example, similar to a finely-worked living room and the rituals there (to me at least) seem designed to invoke and expand notions of family and kin.

The religious feeling of an ancient Gothic cathedral is very different. The idea is not to create feelings of familiarity and coming home. The intent is not to infuse religion into everyday experience. Rather, with its vast interiors, high ceilings, distant echoes, and stained glass windows, the idea is to invoke a feeling of awe, grandeur, and other-worldliness. The metaphor for religion is not coming home to family and familiarity, but of entering a different world -- a world vastly greater and more encompassing than our imagination.

I don't know which experience is a better religious experience. Each architectural space hits on something important about how I experience religion. Each rings true in some sense. The religious tradition than manages to somehow combine both the feeling of coming home and of being in a different world will be something to behold.

Saint Etienne du Mont

Sainte-Chapelle: interior

(2) One of the strangest things I saw on the trip occurred in our first night in Paris. We were tired after our long flight and our day of sight-seeing. We were emerging from the Pompideu Center, which is a museum of modern art. Outside of the museum were hordes of teenagers, maybe 15 or 16 years old. I was not all that surprised to see this. The Pompideu sits near a busy shopping district (Les Halles) and I didn't think it shocking to see young people hanging out "at the mall." It would have been the same in Ohio. As we passed the groups of teenagers, though, I was shocked to see what they were doing. They were sitting in a big circle and passing around two or three canvases. On those canvases, they were busily slapping on paint and constructing works of abstract expressionism. Some kids were painting, while the others were watching, cheering, or criticizing. I couldn't believe my eyes and I wondered if I was dreaming. Granted, those kids were probably unique and not representative of all French youth. But still, it was way cool. Viva la France!

Hall of big French paintings, Louvre

Louvre, outside

(3) The trip was humbling. Paris is a city that is not content with things that are just "good enough." There is little toleration of mediocrity. As I walked the streets of Paris, the halls of the Louvre, and the domed monuments, my own accomplishments felt insignificant and small. Surely, nothing I have done will be admired by people centuries from now. Nothing I have done has been tempered by the discipline and critical taste necessary for great achievements. I live in the world of the "good enough," the world that is on constant display on American television and the rusty streets of Ohio. It was a shock to be immersed in something different. It inspired me to try to do something worth calling a masterpiece......Maybe after I get tenure.

View from Arc de Triomphe

French countryside from a high speed train

Ellie on top of the Eiffle Tower

Going through security [Bryan]

One of my little pleasures in life is going through airport security with my daughter Nora. How so? About a year ago, we were headed back to Utah and taking off our shoes to pass through the security checkpoint. Nora asked what we were doing.

I said, "They need to make sure we are not carrying any dangerous things."

"Oh," Nora said, and paused for a minute. Then she asked, "Like spiders?"

I laughed out loud and said, "Yeah, like spiders."

So every time we go through the spider security checkpoint, we smile and submit to the search. Wouldn't want any spiders to get on the airplane.

Some lessons from Paris [Ellie]

Before the real business of this post, some of you have asked what we actually saw while we were in Paris. Here's a quick list (and my starred rankings - out of 5) of what we did:

Monday
Conciergerie (prison where they held guillotine victims)**
Sainte Chappelle Cathedral*****
Notre Dame Cathedral*****
Pompidou Center (modern art museum)*****
(On the right, an installation of inflatable furniture. I love modern art!)

Tuesday
Versailles Palace*****
Eiffel Tower*****

Wednesday
Louvre Museum*****
Tuileries Garden****
Champs-Elysees (famous street)****
Arc de Triomphe*****

Thursday
Louvre St. Germain-des-Pres Cathedral***
Saint Sulpice Cathedral***
Rodin Museum*****
Hotel des Invalides/Napolean's Tomb***
Musee d'Orsay (Impressionism museum)*****

Friday
Chartres Cathedral*****
Sacre Coeur Cathedral****

Saturday
Louvre
Notre Dame Archaeological Crypts***
Luxembourg Gardens****
Pantheon (tombs of famous dead people)****
St. Etienne-du-Mont Cathedral*****
Marais District****

Sunday
Normandy (D-Day beaches)*****

Wow! I got tired just typing that! We really did see a lot while we were there. Even more than I listed--that was just the big stuff. Which segues nicely into my topic. . .


Lessons We Learned in Paris
1. Don't kill yourselves by trying to see too much. There were a few days that we really should've relaxed and cut out a few things.

2. Every country has its unwritten rules. You will never know what they are until you break them. Here are a few Parisian we broke:
-It's rude to eat in the streets. (How could we help it? No time to eat! Gotta go, go, go!)
-You can't sit there. (Stairs, heat vents, etc. Poor, tired feet!)
-The Eiffel Tower stairs close at 7 p.m. on rainy
days. (Ok, but how many people can say they've been locked in the Eiffel Tower? We can!)
-You can't sit there, either. (Open tickets mean you might have to give up your seat on the train over and over without realizing why.)
-You can't eat right now. (Cafes close between 2 and 7 p.m.)

3. It's really true that everything in Paris is beautiful! Some of my favorite sights in Paris were ones we just came upon unexpectedly--beautiful plazas and parks, cathedrals every few blocks, great public art. Bryan had to make me stop taking pictures of every street in Paris.

4. Everyone in France speaks English better than you speak French. I would speak to them in French; they would speak back really fast; I would look blank; they would just speak to me in English.

5. Ride the Metro. Don't get so tired of walking that you don't enjoy what you're seeing.

6. Many things are just different in France: traffic signals, electrical outlets, middle-aged women with their hair dyed brilliant purple or red. . .

7. What a "rood screen" is. Ok, we still don't know. But here's a picture of one at St. Etienne-du-Mont:



8. Parisians wear scarves. All of them; all the time.

9. It rains every day in the springtime in Paris. Fortunately, not all day every day. Bring your parapluie!

10. $10 for a cup of hot chocolate. Need we say more?

Overall, we had a wonderful, unforgettable time in Paris. We would go back in a minute! (Who wants to watch our kids?)


Special Thanks
-Thanks to our parents for giving us this time alone together.

-Thank you to everyone who watched our kids or brought us meals or loaned us things or wished us well! Our trip went more smoothly with your help!
-Thank you to Heather Whitehead who warned us to bring umbrellas.
-Thank you to Kiki Comin who made us an awesome Paris journal. We wrote in it every night together. We'll remember the trip better because of it!
-Thank you to Bryan for the rose he bought me (what a fantasy to be bought a rose from a street vendor in Paris!), for his enthusiasm for everything we saw, for his patience with me in Paris and always. I am a better person because of his example!

Ah, Paris...

Last week, Ellie and I spent seven glorious days in Paris, France (rather than Paris, Idaho). We shipped the kids off to grandmas and grandpas (thanks!) and departed to celebrate our ten-year wedding anniversary. We saw nearly every notable corner of Paris along with Versailles, Chartres, and Normandy. It was a great trip. No, it was more than that. It was an emotionally moving, breathtaking, life-changing adventure.

I will always remember sipping hot chocolate in the famous Cafe Flores -- once the haunt of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. The chocolate was exquisite and I kept the napkin, which I will proudly show to anyone who wants to see it.


I will always remember walking along the Seine for the first time and catching my initial glimpses of the famous monuments rising above the skyline.


I will always remember exploring the ancient churches and cathedrals like Notre Dame, Chartres, Sainte-Chapelle, Saint-Germain-des-Pres, and Saint-Etienne-du-Mont. There is in such places a real feeling of immensity and awe. I will always remember sitting quietly and watching the light pour through the stained glass.

I will always remember connecting with the history of philosophy and early university life in a deep way. I stood before the tombs of Rousseau, Descartes, and Voltaire (among others) and walked along the streets of the Latin Quarter and Chartres, where the university was born.

I will always remember gazing at the most magnificent art I have ever encountered. This includes the epic and monstrous paintings of David and Rubens. The mysterious and perplexing paintings of Da Vinci, Titian, and Watteau. The emotionally rich and spiritual paintings of La Tour and Murillo. The paintings of Van Gogh and Matisse that brim with a colorful and discordant energy. The statues were even more gripping. Seeing the "Winged Victory of Samothrace" was a deeply moving experience, as was seeing the "Marly Horses." The Louvre displays statuary perfectly.

I will always remember feeling the power of Omaha Beach and Pont-du-Hoc. It was rainy, cold, and dreary when we went, just like D-Day on June 6, 1944. The beautiful place somehow manages to whisper of courage, sacrifice, and loss.

I will always remember eating my first croque-monsieur (and second and third, for that matter). I also savored a wonderful duck dish with a sweet sauce in a tiny little restaurant near our hotel, along with the best potatoes au gratin and creme brulee I've ever consumed. I learned that nothing beats a French crepe with Nutella and banana for an afternoon snack on the Ile-de-la-Cite.


I will always remember that things weren't perfect. It was sometimes cold and windy, and it was tiring to try to see so much. Our first day in Paris included being fined 25 Euros for not having our ticket to exit the train station. It also saw us encountering our first (and only) rude Parisian. We entered a restaurant around 5:30, which is very early to eat dinner in Paris. The waiter approach and snapped, "What do you want?" We explained we wanted to eat and he then went downstairs to rouse the chef. A few minutes later, a groggy and annoyed-looking cook emerged from the basement and proceeded to cook our meal. Actually, I don't think any of this was really"rudeness" per se, it was more us not following (or knowing) the usual protocol.

I will also remember how much I loved Ellie. Her sense of adventure and good taste made the trip all the more rewarding. Marrying her was the best decision I ever made. Je t'aime Ellie.

More pictures:

Ellie as chimera atop Notre Dame

Here is The Thinker. He is standing next to a famous statue.

Ellie at the Pompidou Center.

Watteau's "Pierrot"

The historic district in Chartres.

In the "Hall of Mirrors," Versailles

Second Floor of the Eiffel Tower, looking South

Alexandre III Bridge at night, Eiffel Tower in background

Arc de triomphe

Eiffel Tower at Night

Ellie meets Mona Lisa

Gardens of Versailles

At the Louvre

Children playing in a tree. (Given the low birthrate of France, I wasn't expecting to see any children. In reality, Paris is full of little French kids everywhere you look!)

German bunker -- Omaha Beach

Sacre Coeur

Cool sculpture in Monmartre

Ellie in a Crystal vanity at the Louvre (I think this is a cool picture)

The Musee d'Orsay

Marie-Antoinette's play hamlet, Versailles

Pei's pyramid, Louvre

Montparnasse cemetery -- final home to many famous people

The famous Hermaphrodite, Louvre

A Warm Beverage Break -- Champs-Elysees

The so-called "Rose Line," Saint Sulpice (for all you Da Vinci Code fans out there)

Notre Dame, South Side

The Goddess of Love and Beauty, standing next to a famous statue

Near the "Street of Straw" where many of the first university classes were held

American Cemetery, Omaha Beach (Notice how bundled Ellie is -- cold and wet!)

This is the Louvre's Metro Station -- They have art and ancient relics displayed in the subway station!

Ruben's room, Louvre (the paintings you see are all about 20 feet tall)

Matisse and me, Pompidou Center

Shakespeare and Company, a famous bookstore, Latin Quarter

Rodin's Garden, Hotel des Invalides and Eiffel Tower in background

The Pantheon

Tomb of Rousseau

Pont-du-Hoc, Normandy
Behind Chartres Cathedral, overlooking the town

We have literally hundreds more pictures. If you dare to ask, we will show them to you!