"Peanut butter! Get me peanut butter!" I didn't mean to sob, but I think the anguished wail was heard throughout Europe. What IS it with these people; how can an entire continent be unaware (the French actually disdainful!) of a staple food redolent with childhood memories? Who in North America does not personally know that delicious feeling of squishing her peanut butter and jelly sandwich (on white bread) and rolling it up into little balls while trying to clear the roof of her mouth so that speech is once again possible?

"What else do you need over there?" ("Over there" to my mother being anywhere that malls aren't and English, if spoken, is heavily accented).

"Loose-leaf." A groan escapes me despite resolutions and tight lips. "Ma", I whisper, looking around, "they all write on graph paper over here. I can't stand it. I'm nearly blind. Send me some real paper."

"How's your supply of red licorice?" (My mother is a saint, you know).

"Very low, as a matter of fact. Oh, and don't forget the Cheerios, mom! They've only got those sugar-coated ones over here; nothing plain for the kids to snack on."

"Okay, hon." I hear scribbling 3,000 miles away. "I've already sent the Sea-Monkey food and some paperbacks. Lessee...oh! I nearly forgot - did you ever find Zip-Loc Freezer Bags?"

"Not only are there no Zip-Locs, but I've run out of cream of tartar and food coloring again!"

"You and the kids making lots of homemade playdough, eh? Well, don't you worry! I'll pick up a supply today and slip it in with the knitting markers and those 3-ply lotion-soft Kleenexes you like so much."

Now that I know a box of America is on the way to this temporary expatriate, I can relax and vive la difference!

French or Foe?: Getting the Most out of Visiting, Living and Working in France