Six a.m. The city lay under a blanket of fog. It was drizzling. I gave up. I turned the car around, and headed home. It wasn't the first time I'd gotten all the way there just to figure out for sure that shooting would be impossible. I lamented my lost sleep.

Nearly home, I called Preston. I woke him and told him we're going for breakfast, so get dressed because I'd be home in ten minutes. He loves eating breakfast in restaurants.

Over pancakes I asked him what he wants to be when he grows up. I felt awkward, since he's fifteen now, and it's more like a little kid's question.

"You know." he said, pushing on a blueberry with his fork. I assured him I did not. It's sad, but I really didn't.

"An architect. Or, an assassin," he said.

I told him I definitely didn't remember having this conversation, but I was glad to finally know. We didn't talk much about advancements in either field. Ultimately, he'll make the right choice. I know which I'd choose if I was faced with an either-or.

. . .

I dropped him home and went shopping. I needed to buy luggage for our trip. I found a massive but cheap duffle bag at Eddie Bauer. I was helped by an older French woman named Jackie. She'd been helping another couple before I came in. They were away trying things on, so when they returned, she excused herself and rung up their purchase.

The man inquired about military discounts, and Jackie dropped her arms to her sides and said she was so very sorry but it had ended in July.

The man explained he's in the Air Force. He asked where she was from.

"Originally? From France," she said.

He asked where in France, and I suspected he'd perched either Paris or Normandy on the tip of his tongue, ready to spit out that he'd been there too. She named a town with an impossibly convoluted name, and the man, stumped, asked for its relative distance to Paris.

"Hmm, perhaps one hundred and fifty kilometers, south-east. You have heard of this place?" she asked.

He hadn't, and he hesitated a moment before asking how far a kilometer is, but she couldn't come up with a meaningful multiplier.

Before leaving, he told her how he loves French wine and cheese and how great a country he thinks France is. I got the sense he was thinking about the whole "Freedom Fries" thing, offering his personal approval of France as a gesture to heal relations between our two countries.