The small pleasures truly do make life worth living. I bought grapefruit last night and as I fell asleep a child's christmas eve anticipation crept into my thoughts of having a grapefruit with honey for breakfast. My childhood homes always had fruit trees. I have wonderful memories of my mom slicing the sections of the fruit, drizzling it in honey, and serving the half fruit in a bowl with a spoon. Maybe it is those fond rememberances of motherly affection that made this morning's grapefruit that much nicer.
This reminds me that I tend to order food in restuarants that sound funny. In france, I always drink pamplemousse juice, and at falafal joints I always get baba ganoush.
Another tangent. "sur le trottoir" is my favourite french phrase, but its not very useful unless you are explaining where to find dog mess in Paris.