Whoops I did it again.

I went to the market this morning with a very short list. Fruits and vegetables. Fruits and vegetables. And some fresh spaghetti for the kids.

I would *not* be swayed by the siren call of the basil-olive tapenade, by the succulent smell of the roasted, marinated tomatoes, by the smooth shell of a perfectly formed tortellini. Most of all, I would NOT yield to the temptation of any kind of fromage.

Well, I got my fruit.

I got my vegetables.

And I was on my way to get my spaghetti for the kids. But when it was my turn to be helped, the vendor wouldn't let his new assistant serve me. He told the new assistant: "She is my special friend -- I will get her spaghetti -- did you know her kids love this stuff?" And then when I told him that after today, I had just two more Saturdays at the market before "quitting" France, he didn't believe me. He looked so very, very sad. And he said I would always have a special place in his heart, and he hoped he would always have a special place in mine.

So of course I had to buy the tortellini.

And then, on my way to buy flowers for a gouter with friends this afternoon, I walked by my favorite cheese vendor. Or should I call her my dealer. She is, after all, the one who on my first visit had the nerve to suggest I try a new cheese she was offering that day, a tasty, salty gruyere that is made high in the mountains by cows that, I am sure, receive regular massages and manicures. What other explanation for the the price -- 44 euros per kilo? Yes, that's right, there is a cheese in the world that costs about $30 a pound -- and it IS that good. Really.

That first taste was free, of course. It  always is. And like a good junkie, I've been dutifully coming back each week to see what the latest specials are (although I only ever buy a small slice of the most delicious, expensive kind on the Saturdays she has it). So clearly, CLEARLY, when she stopped me this morning to say bonjour, when she said she missed seeing me last week, when we talked about chateaux and the Loire and a new cheese she had -- well, really, I had no other choice. Before I knew it, I was walking away with three small packets of cheese in my bag, and my wallet noticably lighter. The only saving grace is that she didn't have my (crazy expensive) gruyere this week. Otherwise I might not have been able to face John when I got home.

And finally, I had everything on my list (and then some). I was almost free. I was walking toward my car, almost all temptations behind me, and who do I see? The olive-tapenade-tomato vendor -- another of my favorites where I usually stop at every week but had purposefully walked by this morning. He caught my eye. He gave a warm bonjour.  How could I say no?

(Does it help that he gave me a good deal on it? Probably not.)

Clearly, I have a problem...and what a wonderful problem to have. But for the sake of our budget and our cholesterol, it is probably good we only have two Saturdays left.

Sigh.

Two Saturdays left.

This won't be easy.