Grayish-Pink Is A Hideous Color On Me

Voila. This is the woman with whom I am at wit's end. Living with Madame Michel is like living with the freaking Queen of England because that's exactly who she thinks she is. Today when I got home from church, I saw that she had dyed all my white clothes pink. Wow. Fabulous. She didn't even tell me. AND get this: Diane and I brought her small gifts, as is customary on this exchange, and we wrote notes to go with them. We left the gifts and the notes in the kitchen and the next morning, she handed back our notes with corrections she had made on them. There seriously is no line of courtesy this woman is unwilling to cross. Whatever. I keep telling myself it'll get better. Haha, one night while she was out soiree-ing, I snuck into the salon (which seems off-limits, though nothing has been said about it) and took a picture of a portrait of her. She had herself painted! HAHAHA! How I got assigned to this hostess I will never know.
Everything else has been super. I have this flimsy little ID card that says I am an Art History student. It looks like a made it in my basement, but it sure does work! I have gotten into the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, Musee Cluny, and Versailles Palace for free! Most people who know me know I am the ultimate cheapskate, but I promise this card is real:) At Versailles, I passed French Test #2: Pawn off a ticket to a lady who doesn't speak English. I bought my Versailles ticket at the train station ahead of time, because apparently it was a deal. However, when I got there, I realized that my handy dandy fraudulant-looking ID card got me in free. SO...my friend Steve suggested I sell it to someone waiting in line. So I did. She looked me over suspiciously and I had to sound convincing, but my charm and incredible in-depth knowledge of the French language won her over. The picture to the right is the group of us who went to Versailles. It was pretty darn amazing. We just stayed in the palace since it was cold and raining, but we'll go back in the spring and rent bikes and ride around the gardens.

The photos above are: At Notre Dame, being really inconspicous tourists; One of my first legit legit French pastries, called a Mille Feuilles; The rose window in Saint-Chapelle; Sierra and I about to enjoy our pastries; My bedroom window.