Missy In Real Life: 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:

303 km ÷ 35.58 liters = 8.52 km/liter

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.

1 km = 0.621371 miles

303 km x 0.621371 miles/km = 188.275 miles

ok, then

1 liter = 0.264172 gallons

35.58 liters x 0.264172 gallons/liter = 9.3992 gallons

ok,

188.275 miles ÷ 9.4 gallons = 20.029 miles/gallon

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:

1 gallon = 3.78541 liters

1.10 €/liter x 3.78541 liters/gallon = 4.163951 €/gallon

1€ = $ 1.23159 (that is as of today anyway, it's been worse.)

so...

1.23 $/€ x 4.16 €/gallon = 5.12 $/gallon

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: