Prunes to plums

After my last game of water polo in Paris, I sat drinking a beer with my friend Chuck, who was sporting a snazzy black and blue eye, courtesy of a wild shot I took during the game.

“When I first saw you last year, you were so burned out you looked like a prune, just sucked dry,” said Chuck. “Now look at you, you’re whatever a prune is before it dries out.”

“A plum?” I offered.

“Yeah, a plum.”

That, at the end of the day, is what a year in Paris did for me. Thirteen roller-coaster years in a startup – not erased, but softened. I didn't make it all the way through my "Things I'm Gonna Do In Paris" ToDo list, but I definitely nailed the first item on the list.