In France, pigs say "Groin! Groin!"

I'm trying to remember why it was I said I wished summer would finish up already. Because now it's grey and "cold" (I put the word in quotes because, really, 54 degrees in Chicago can not be referred to as cold) and I am wondering what happened to the balmy summer days of... the first half of this week. Sure, it was hot and humid, but the skin on my hands and lips wasn't parched and flaking off, and my toes didn't go numb while riding along the lakeshore.

So I'm posting this picture of a butcher shop sign in St. Tropez as a reminder of the summer, the long hot days I spent lounging on glamorous beaches in southern France, snacking on real cheese and baguette. I fear my pangs of nostalgia will only grow sharper once the real winter sets in...