I find myself awake at the ungodly hour of 3 am. As I sit here in front of ‘The Precious’ downing heartburn medication and wishing for sleep, I realize that for most of you it is still yesterday. Time is funny, the way that on any given day it can be two days at once in different places.
Yesterday, or rather today for you people, was a special day. It was Charlotte’s 40th birthday.
This event reminds me of the slipperiness of time and obviously how old we’ve all gotten. See it wasn’t all that long ago that four adults (our parents) hit upon a great idea to ease their summer woes. Two families, eight, yes count them, eight kids and a whole summer of ‘I’m bored’, ‘it’s hot’, ‘what are we going to do today’, ‘he hit me’, ‘no I didn’t’, ‘yes you did’, ‘nah uh’, ‘yes huh’, ‘I’m telling’…. stretching before them. You see the problem.
At some point, the two sets of parents decided to pool their resources and combine the group. This brilliant idea seems to have cut down on the boredom and doubled the fun for the 8 lovely children. I’m not sure when the first ‘San Diego’ summer was or even when the last one was or even how long these visits lasted. Like I said time is slippery. But those summers stand out in all of our memories as unique gifts given to us by our parents. When we get together these days and relive our memories of those summers, they seem to all blend together into one giant summer of fun and exploration, all one unending memory where the years don’t really matter as much as what we remember. Now keep in mind that there were eight of us and that eight different memories have over the years crafted the collective memory of those summers. Each of us taking away our own impressions and lessons, but over all those impressions seem to have been mostly positive.
Those were summers of learning to roller skate and bike riding, beach trips and (with Rich in the family) emergencies. Summers where we four older ones worked hard and in vain to ignore and separate ourselves from the four younger ones. Summers of trying to scare the holy crap out of each other jumping out from behind shrubs in the dark and damp nights. Summers before parents were afraid to let their kids play outside let alone play up and down the street in the night. Summers of overexcited kids sleeping on the back porch, pancake breakfasts that ended messily, skateboards being used in unorthodox ways leading to close encounters with garbage cans, roller-skating daredevilry that would have turned our parents hair even more grey had they known what we were up to, big scrapes followed by quiet and clandestine bandaging, rendered with whispered admonitions and swearing of silence (on pain of pain), but above all they were summers of unforgettable fun.
It brought us closer as a group and made the lessons of childhood a group lesson so we didn’t have to repeat many mistakes. (We basically let the two boys handle the dangerous lessons.) (Yeah there were only two boys in the group, holy cow; they must have an interesting perspective on those summers.)
Anyway, it’s through the glass of those summers that we watched ourselves and each other grow up. It’s through those times that our relationships were forged and that we became entangled, for good or ill, in each others lives. So to say happy 40th to Charlotte seems to bring out more memories than I can here relate. If you want to hear stories join us at family events where we drag out all those memories and pass them around like shiny beach pebbles polished over the years by all the hands that have handled them. We were a mostly happy group of kids and we seem to have grown into a mostly happy group of adults.
And now it seems that us four older ones have managed to separate ourselves from the younger four at last. We four older ones are now officially in our 40’s. One peep out of you other four though and I think we can still manage to come up with ways to torture you. So here’s to you Charles, I raise my glass (of Mylanta) in a toast to you, happy 40th honey. I miss you.
That is all.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Death , Taxes and Televisions?
| In France we have to pay an annual tax for owning a television.
No, really, seriously, we have to pay 116€ ($145) per year for the
privilege of owning a television. Never mind that said television does not
actually get any stations because that would require getting cable or satellite
TV, this does not matter, that we have a TV is all that matters. We purchased
a French TV so we could watch French DVD's on our French DVD player and
so now we must pay the tax.
(For those who do not know this, French DVD's, and Video Cassettes are formatted differently and will not work in American players. Then when you get a French player you will find that American TV's are not compatible, hence the purchase of a French TV... yet another 'language' barrier.) When we talked about getting the TV we were told of this and warned to pay cash so as to dodge the paperwork and thus the tax. However, even if you pay cash, they will not let you leave the store with your new TV until all the appropriate paperwork has been filled out completely so they can be sure to collect their annual tax. So I, grumblingly, write the darned check and pop it into the mail. Only to go out to my mailbox the next day, no really, the very next day, to find that I have received yet another tax bill from the French. This is a habitation tax. I am paying a tax for having a roof over my head. Yep, you bet. This is a bill for 269€ ($340) for the privilege of having a roof over my head. Aah the French, they're such funny little people.
|
 |
In other news...You wouldn’t think that a group
of people as large as...well, as large as all of Europe is, who do not
get to vote in American elections, would get so worked up about them.
The second anyone finds out I'm American these days the first question
out of their lips is 'Have you voted?' followed quickly by 'You didn't
vote for Bush did you?' I'm sure it comes as no surprise to anyone that
the French detest the stupid, pea-brained hick, but I find it amusing
how vocal they are about something they have no say in. And it's not just
the French. Dems Abroad must have gotten their hands on the mailing list of every American group in Europe because we have received e-mails (two of each as we belong to two different groups) offering blank ballots if ours did not arrive in time, also reminders of mail in deadlines to get the ballots to the states in time to be counted. This months AIT newsletter also had names and contact numbers for Dems Abroad members who could answer questions and provide ‘technical’ help. November 2nd (well late November 2nd into the 3rd - the time difference you see) will find all of Europe holding its collective breath and praying for America to do the right thing.
|
|
Fall has sort of arrived in the south of France. Here it is heralded by constant and unrelenting wind and rain and by a damp, clinging and bone aching chill in the air. Despite that, however, I am reminded of fall in San Diego. More specifically I’m reminded of how fall ‘looks’ in San Diego. After years in the Midwest where the colors announced the change of season, where trees heralded the change by changing their clothes, I find this monochromatic season change a bit disheartening. The trees don’t change their leaves to flaming colors in an end of the season natural fireworks display. No sign of individual leaves turning from green to yellow or red and then softly relinquishing their hold on their mother branch and quietly, gracefully falling to the ground a la 'Freddy The Leaf'. No instead the leaves seem to stubbornly remain green only to be buffeted by wind and rain and then after several weeks of inhospitable weather they tiredly cede control and allow the wind to bully them to the ground in dejected exhaustion. Somehow not quite the romance of a Midwest fall.
|
|
If you’ve read S’s Blog you know that S and I have crossed a line, we have started speaking to each other in French at home. Sad but true. Now I’m not saying we’re having deep and meaningful dialogue, but we can manage to discuss daily events (in past, present or future tenses) and even swear at each other a bit (all in fun). It’s a slippery slope this, since I now sometimes fumble for words in English, but it’s an important step. Now my daily speech is peppered with ‘d’accord’, ‘oui’ and ‘voila’ instead of ‘ok’ and ‘yeah’, even when I’m talking to myself.
|
|
S is in Hungary this week and then to South Africa the week after next. My plans for the week include language lessons, reading, more reading, walking and lots of time with the cute and precocious Miss Carla. I’m off for a girls night out with Mags and Paula tomorrow night to catch a movie and then some dinner. It’ll be a quiet night as they both have to work on Friday. And now I’m off to watch ‘Joe Versus the Volcano’ for the umpteenth time while I enjoy a dinner of tea and biscuits. That is all.
|
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Voices in my head
There is a very serious and loud voice in my head arguing with a smaller voice. The smaller voice is arguing against changing our mind over whether to take a nap or not. I’m cheering the small voice and I think it’s winning the argument. Yeah, small voice! The loud voice is arguing even louder but not nearly as coherently or persuasively. So I think I get to nap.
Yeah, you figure it out, have the voices in your head ever made sense?.
So…before my brief nap, before I go and pick up the cute and precocious Miss Carla I wanted to share with you the following.
First there is this article about a ‘contest’ the French have won that no one else apparently knew they were participating in. Anyway, go France! And… way to go and…keep up the good work?
Second, arrived home from my language lesson this morning with a headache and here’s why! Who knew? I must have an ENORMOUS brain now! Or maybe just a big head…
And finally, in a surprise move, my friends at ImpQt have expressed a great interest in the American holiday of Thanksgiving. While watching the dinner scene at the beginning of Tom Hanks’ “Castaway” I began to salivate over the candied sweet potatoes that were being passed around. Well, then the film was paused at the passing of each and every other dish, so that I could describe it and expound on its virtues, until we were all hungry, salivating and homesick (well ok, only I was homesick) So in the spirit of Thanksgiving I was forced to invite 10 people over to celebrate Thanksgiving with us this year. (Hmmm, do you think it was all a huge charade on their part to get me to invite them?...) Send stuffing.
Love to all.
Yeah, you figure it out, have the voices in your head ever made sense?.
So…before my brief nap, before I go and pick up the cute and precocious Miss Carla I wanted to share with you the following.
First there is this article about a ‘contest’ the French have won that no one else apparently knew they were participating in. Anyway, go France! And… way to go and…keep up the good work?
Second, arrived home from my language lesson this morning with a headache and here’s why! Who knew? I must have an ENORMOUS brain now! Or maybe just a big head…
And finally, in a surprise move, my friends at ImpQt have expressed a great interest in the American holiday of Thanksgiving. While watching the dinner scene at the beginning of Tom Hanks’ “Castaway” I began to salivate over the candied sweet potatoes that were being passed around. Well, then the film was paused at the passing of each and every other dish, so that I could describe it and expound on its virtues, until we were all hungry, salivating and homesick (well ok, only I was homesick) So in the spirit of Thanksgiving I was forced to invite 10 people over to celebrate Thanksgiving with us this year. (Hmmm, do you think it was all a huge charade on their part to get me to invite them?...) Send stuffing.
Love to all.
Monday, October 11, 2004
I Voted, Have You
One of the benefits of living abroad is that you get to vote ahead of everyone else via Absentee Ballot. (which they don’t count ) So I’ve done my civic duty and I urge you all to do the same. Too much is riding on this one and if the country should go straight down the crapper in the next four years it won’t be your fault, because at least you voted and were counted (maybe)…unless you vote for the Wrong guy, in which case all accusatory fingers will be pointed in your direction. Well, …’nough said.
Oh wait, there is one more benefit to living out of the country in an election year. I don’t have to deal with this like the poor slobs in Toledo. Those ads are something I DO NOT MISS!
Ok, then…
At one o’clock in the afternoon the indoor temp in my cute but solid-brick house, was still at a brisk 67°. This is still a bit chilly for me so I put on a sweater and lit some ‘mulled cider’ candles for the illusion of warmth and now it smells like Christmas in here. With nothing but rain in the forecast, and with forecasted highs in the 60’s for the rest of the week, I’ll take my cheer where I can get it.
First, or (since I’m down to the fourth paragraph already) fourth, apologies all around to all of my readers. The last few posts that featured photos were so large that it was taking 2 minutes or more to load the web page. What happened is that in the past I would resize the photos before posting them to keep the load time down. The last few times I forgot to do that and then on top of that I added some animated gifs. So to relieve the wait time (no, not going back and fixing the problem) I have limited the number of posts showing on the main page to 1, especially since this post alone has quite a few (resized) photos. If you want to see the previous posts go down to ‘Archives’ in the left hand column and click on ‘October 2004’, just be prepared for a substantial wait to fully load the page. (I think it’s worth the wait). I’ll keep it set up this way for a few weeks until I get a few more posts ‘under my belt’. If you experienced no such problems then lucky you, and ignore this paragraph. If you don’t know what on earth I’m yammering on about then lucky you, and ignore this paragraph.
Alright, finally to the meat of the post.
Since we moved in S has been chipping away little by little into the lawn (well the weed patch that passes for a lawn) and creating a garden. Well, there were 8, weed choked and summer bedraggled, rose bushes in a corner of the front yard when we arrived and it’s that area that S has reclaimed and expanded. At first we just removed two or three of the truly dead roses and replaced them with a couple of new ones. Then, last fall we planted a few tulips, hyacinths and daffodils in bunches between the roses. This summer we added some snapdragons and geraniums to the edges for summer color. And now we have truly cranked it up a few notches and have added about 50 crocuses, another 20 hyacinths, another 30 or so daffodils and about 50 more tulips. Plus S dug up the dirt along the fence and we planted 6 lavender shrubs there and some 20 crocus between each shrub. The neighbors just look at us and shake their heads. Pretty stupid thing to do on a rental property I suppose, but since we have to look at it for two more years it seems worth the effort. Spring around here is looking to be festive.
This weekend we did some more touring of the country side and we visited a village called St. Cirq La Popie. It is labeled one of the most beautiful villages in France. So of course we had to go. It lies about an hour north of us and just east of Cahors (famous for its regional wines). The town is supposedly crowded with artisan shops and restaurants, though it was pretty quiet when we were there this weekend due to it not being tourist season any more. I think it’s the best way to see the place though because you don’t have to park at the bottom of the hill and climb up and you do not have to fight crowds up and down the narrow lanes. The climb to the observation peak was touted as dangerous and at your own risk, but well worth the wonderful view of the valley and river below.
So without further ado the photos of the day.
Well folks that's all for now. Looks like the rain is starting up again.
Oh wait, there is one more benefit to living out of the country in an election year. I don’t have to deal with this like the poor slobs in Toledo. Those ads are something I DO NOT MISS!
Ok, then…
At one o’clock in the afternoon the indoor temp in my cute but solid-brick house, was still at a brisk 67°. This is still a bit chilly for me so I put on a sweater and lit some ‘mulled cider’ candles for the illusion of warmth and now it smells like Christmas in here. With nothing but rain in the forecast, and with forecasted highs in the 60’s for the rest of the week, I’ll take my cheer where I can get it.
First, or (since I’m down to the fourth paragraph already) fourth, apologies all around to all of my readers. The last few posts that featured photos were so large that it was taking 2 minutes or more to load the web page. What happened is that in the past I would resize the photos before posting them to keep the load time down. The last few times I forgot to do that and then on top of that I added some animated gifs. So to relieve the wait time (no, not going back and fixing the problem) I have limited the number of posts showing on the main page to 1, especially since this post alone has quite a few (resized) photos. If you want to see the previous posts go down to ‘Archives’ in the left hand column and click on ‘October 2004’, just be prepared for a substantial wait to fully load the page. (I think it’s worth the wait). I’ll keep it set up this way for a few weeks until I get a few more posts ‘under my belt’. If you experienced no such problems then lucky you, and ignore this paragraph. If you don’t know what on earth I’m yammering on about then lucky you, and ignore this paragraph.
Alright, finally to the meat of the post.
Since we moved in S has been chipping away little by little into the lawn (well the weed patch that passes for a lawn) and creating a garden. Well, there were 8, weed choked and summer bedraggled, rose bushes in a corner of the front yard when we arrived and it’s that area that S has reclaimed and expanded. At first we just removed two or three of the truly dead roses and replaced them with a couple of new ones. Then, last fall we planted a few tulips, hyacinths and daffodils in bunches between the roses. This summer we added some snapdragons and geraniums to the edges for summer color. And now we have truly cranked it up a few notches and have added about 50 crocuses, another 20 hyacinths, another 30 or so daffodils and about 50 more tulips. Plus S dug up the dirt along the fence and we planted 6 lavender shrubs there and some 20 crocus between each shrub. The neighbors just look at us and shake their heads. Pretty stupid thing to do on a rental property I suppose, but since we have to look at it for two more years it seems worth the effort. Spring around here is looking to be festive.
This weekend we did some more touring of the country side and we visited a village called St. Cirq La Popie. It is labeled one of the most beautiful villages in France. So of course we had to go. It lies about an hour north of us and just east of Cahors (famous for its regional wines). The town is supposedly crowded with artisan shops and restaurants, though it was pretty quiet when we were there this weekend due to it not being tourist season any more. I think it’s the best way to see the place though because you don’t have to park at the bottom of the hill and climb up and you do not have to fight crowds up and down the narrow lanes. The climb to the observation peak was touted as dangerous and at your own risk, but well worth the wonderful view of the valley and river below.
So without further ado the photos of the day.
This is a grape harvesting tractor dumping its haul of grapes into the trailer to take them to the winery
|
Look at all of those grapes!
|
Is that not just beautiful!
|
Just ripe for the picking.
|
Hard to see I know, but that is an actual beret on the head of that little old farmer. He's getting ready to hit the road and slow down all of that weekend traffic. The other man standing there is his son. The little old man very proudly told us that his son owns the vineyard now.
|
St. Cirq la Popie from the road, before crossing the river.
|
A lane in St. Cirq that leads to the church.
|
The church (of course) is having its interior renovated so we have no interior photos but this is a photo of the outside from the overlook point.
|
Looking down on the village as we descend from the overlook.
|
Yeah, yeah, look at that an actual picture of me, taken at the railing overlooking the valley. No my leg is not up on the railing because I was thinking of jumping.
|
And look there's S down another charming little lane.
|
On the way back we stopped in Cahors to wander a bit, not as beautiful as St. Cirq, but tons bigger. We saw this church garden and I just had to have a photo. Notice that the garden borders are actually woven wicker work. We noticed several planters and fences and gates that were woven like that. It was pretty cool.
|
Well folks that's all for now. Looks like the rain is starting up again.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
You Do The Math
   |
 |
   |
   |
|||||||||||
So I go to get gas for my trusty, dusty (yeah I really need to wash it.) little car, and out of habit I write down my miles, check that, kilometers, and how much gas I pumped. So I do the math:
Well, that's just dandy, I get 8.52 kilometers to a liter of gas...hmm, well what the hell does that mean. Kilometers per liter means not a darned thing to me, so I sharpen my pencil and do some more math.
So, yeah wow, cool I'm getting 20.029 miles to the gallon in my little Mercedes. That's pretty damn good, when you consider what sort of mileage I was getting in my Excursion. And thank goodness for that because the price of gas is unbelievable here. Gas had been €1.01/liter and now it has gone all the way up to €1.10/liter (€1.20/liter on the tollway). So what does that mean? Let's do the math:
I'm going to say that that is easily more than double what any of you are paying! So no more griping about the price of gas from any of you! In other news, it's that time of year again. Yep it sure is... What time? Well it's that time of year when the roads are darned near impassable on the weekends (as opposed to during the week when they are passable?). First because it's harvest time and they are harvesting 'the grape' all over the country and the roads seem to be clogged with little tractors pulling wagons full of grapes to the wineries. Though the first few times you see them it is one of the most romantic sites you can imagine. You see the farmer in his grape stained denim, rolled up shirt sleeves and beret cocked jauntily to one side, driving his old tatterdemalion tractor at a conservative speed down the road. Though I'm not sure that his speed speaks so much to being conservative as much as it speaks to the capabilities of the tractor. The sense of old world romance is enhanced when you drive past fields that are being hand harvested. Now, some... (and dare I say, most, though I don't know for sure, but it seems horrid to think they'd harvest all of those grapes by hand.) ...fields are harvested by machine but on Sunday when we were out driving we saw many fields being hand harvested. HAND harvested! I think that this speaks to how serious the French are about their wines and the grapes they grow, when you consider them doing this sort of hard labor on a Sunday! Yet, there they are, groups of people moving laboriously up and down the rows, checking each bunch for ripeness and only taking those that are ready. That care and dedication speaks of a time that has not gone by the way-side here, a time when these things mattered and were honored. A time when this was what was meant by honor. (Yeah, I know, I have a way of getting carried away.) Anyway, then when you get out into the true country and rural roads you run into the further problem of cars parked anywhere (and not too carefully either) there might likely be MUSHROOMS! Add to this the people walking aimlessly along the sides of the road watching the ground and not where they're going and it's an accident just waiting to happen. But, these hardy souls will not be deterred from their work. This fills me less with a sense of honor and romance as with just plain annoyance. Oh yes my friends it's mushroom season and any French cook worth their salt has a secret place that only they know about where these little delicacies might be found. Can you believe there are probably dozens of varieties of FUNGUS that are not only known to be good for cooking but these people will know a specific recipe for, that will showcase each type to it's best advantage. If you should be at one of the open air markets perusing their fungi, do not ask what you would do with one type or another unless you have lots of time on your hands. Because not only will the grocer share his fountain of knowledge with you but (in typical French fashion) so will any bystander within earshot (the French love to jump into conversations and give their opinions) It's mind boggling to me to think that such a big deal could be made out of FUNGUS! Ah the French, they're an odd people, but we love them anyway. As for me, my hand is a bit better thanks to some sunshine, warm temps and to a care package I received from J that included a few 'IcyHot Sleeves'. Though I'm hording them and have sworn to use them only when I'm desperate and have reached the point where I have decided to just chop off the darned hand. I fear that that may be often come winter, but we'll see. And speaking of weather, I'm noticing an odd phenomena around my house and by odd I mean extremely creepy. It seems that the spiders also know that fall is coming and they've decided to come indoors. Especially the common european house spider, disgusting rascals.(Don't let Emily see these photos, they creeped me out) I've gone through about 4 cans of spider spray in the
last couple of weeks and have killed about 8 of them. The spray does slow
work and I have to keep on eye on them until they quit moving so I can
dispose of the carcasses. But the thoughts that really creep me out for
hours after killing one and wake me in the middle of the night are these:
Where did it come from? Where was it hiding? And how many more of them
are hiding just out of sight? The only bright side, if you can call
it that, to all of this is that I deposit so much bug spray, at the sites
of my kills, that for days after I'll find the carcasses of other spiders
and bugs who were unfortunate (fortunate?) enough to traverse that piece
of floor or wall. And to round out our week S dragged me to yet another pile of rubble (see photos below). To recipricate I dragged him to a Diana Krall concert. So in our relationship we've established that:
That is all!
|
||||||||||||||
| Chapel of rubble at Peyrepertuse.
|
||||||||||||||
Entrance to rubble
|
||||||||||||||
More rubble to climb up to.
|
||||||||||||||
The Abbey St. Hilaire that we also visited. (Notice: no rubble)
|
||||||||||||||
My man in front of the haunted castle at the month long carnival in Toulouse. No rubble, but he was still drawn to it.
|
||||||||||||||
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)