I’m in the middle of reading Julia Child’s My Life in France, which I received as a birthday gift from a thoughtful friend, and have become thoroughly smitten with Julia. I already decided that she would receive an invitation to my imaginary dinner party, as noted in a previous post Julia Child and Blueberry Clafoutis. But as I immerse myself in her anecdotes and musings during her life-changing years in France, I am awed to no end by her good-natured outlook on life. She had such passion in both the momentous and mundane experiences that one can’t help but fall in love with her. As I read her book, I am secretly hoping that Julia’s culinary skill and joy-filled spirit rub off on me.