Quick Note

All you get for now is one photo. Great time had by all! Daniel's (on right) family owns a vineyard so he brought a case of wine, others brought more wine. There was tons of food (I have the aching back to prove it - from cooking all day) The kids were adorable and well behaved and the adults were too, well behaved that is. Dinner was at eight and coffee was served at 10:15, the party broke up around 11:10 with children running around in pajamas and the women dragging dishes into the kitchen. People offered to stay and help clean up but they all have work today so we shooed them out. S and I were up until 1:20 or so washing dishes. The rest of the clean up will have to wait just like the rest of the stories until we get back from Paris. We should be gone already but we slept in a bit. Ta for now and hope you all had a happy Turkey Day. That is all.

So it begins...

"Excuse me sir, but do you have a whole turkey?" said in my very bestest and most politest French.

"A whole turkey?! Bah! Phbt. That would weigh 15 or 20 kilos!" said in his snootiest French - but you can imagine it in a strong and derisive French accent.

Brightening at this response and mentally wringing my hands in anticipation I ask with a stupid grin on my face, "So do you have one?"

"No! You crazy American woman!" responds the butcher. Ok, he didn't actually say the last part but he was thinking it, it was in his eyes, I saw it.

On Saturday S dragged me to the grocery store to shop for turkeys. I had been putting it off. First, because I had seen them in the stores and was confident we could find one and second, I don't have the fridge space for a large bird or even two smaller ones. I figured we'd waltz into the market and pick one up on Wednesday night and be set. S however was beginning to panic, remembering last years near fruitless search for Thanksgiving dinner.

We found all the ingredients we needed for Thursday's feast, except for the turkey. We went to every giant grocery store in the area and we were now at our second to the last stop. We looked over what was available and decided to go ahead and purchase a turkey breast in case we crapped out in the great turkey gamble. (Which would go down in the annals of holiday lore as the year Missy got cocky and we had no turkey for the great Thanksgiving party.)

We purchased one giant turkey breast that weighs in at 8.3 lbs. Damn I would have loved to have had that turkey! Did consider buying the other breast and having 16+ pounds of meat instead of a 20 lb turkey, but it's the whole tradition thing, you really have to have a whole bird, don't you?

Well, last stop and we have over the time of one long morning and several 'hyper marches' found all the ingredients on our list except for the elusive turkey.

S drops me at the front door of the 'centre commercial' so I can run in and scope out the prospects without our having to circle for 30 minutes trying to park. I go in with fingers crossed and hike the quarter mile to the back of the store where the butcher shop is and take a number.

As I wait patiently (right) I peruse the wares and I see several whole 'creatures' ranging from small hens to rabbits to chickens to ducks. And then I see it, something slightly larger than a duck; is it a large chicken, a large duck? I wait and keep an eye on my prize. The woman ahead of me sensing the direction of my gaze decides that she too would like to go for the only whole turkey in the place and she asks the butcher some questions about it. (I think evil thoughts at her, but she ignores the waves of discontent crashing secretly over her.) The butcher lifts my bird out of the ice where it is waiting for me and they chat about it, discussing its faults and virtues. Then the butcher, sensing my murderous gaze (and some of the evil thoughts that accidentally splashed over on him), convinces the woman that a few turkey legs would better suit her purposes and moves her along down the counter after depositing my prey back into its icy bed.

After wrapping up the woman's turkey legs and sending her on her way, the butcher returns to me with a conciliatory look in his eyes but with a mocking grin on his lips. He was toying with me! If he knew me he would know that that is not wise, but he doesn't so I'll cut him some slack, and besides that, I'm too happy to generate too much more evil.

Well, weighing in at a whopping 12.7 lbs. our turkey is hardly a turkey it's more like an overgrown chicken, but what the heck, it's whole and it's the right shape.

So this morning I'm tricking my language coach, Elian, into coming over and helping me cook. We will cook in French. And that way I can get a jump on cooking potatoes and yams and can start on the raw veggie tray veggies. We'll also get the pie crusts made and be ready to get the turkeys done tomorrow.

Of course this morning I woke up with what I'll call a 'stress cold'. You know, stress lowers your immunity and leaves you wide open for germs. So I've maxed out on vitamin C and Echinacea and am moving on with my day.

Last night we brought in the table from outside and the bad news is that it will only accommodate 10 chairs. We will work out the logistics today and set the table. Final count is only 13 adults (don't tell anyone, the French are very superstitious about sitting at dinner with 13, will try to drag in another stranger for dinner or something.) and 4 small children.

I'll take photos and report next week. S and I are off for a four day weekend in Paris, first thing Friday morning, so I'll report all next week.

It's mom's birthday today so call her and wish her a happy one! She's ## today!

That is all.

Geez, I hate that!

As a blogger I enjoy not only writing but also reading. I have several internet friends who I have met, and keep in touch with, through blogging. There's nothing I enjoy more than sitting down each day and reading what Ky or Fletch or Fish or any other of my many fellow bloggers have to say.

But boy it just bugs me when they don't write every day! Don't they know I check and want something to read and amuse me!?

Grrrrr.....

C’est remarquable!

I don’t really know what type of glue they use for wallpaper around here, but I wish that that was what had been on every sheet of wallpaper I’ve ever tried to remove.

……

The wallpaper in my office is coming off of the wall. The good news (if you can call it that) is that it is coming un-glued from the floor and working its way up. The bad news is that there appears to be mold under the progressively de-sticking paper and it just so happens to be occurring on that one wall, the one wall that borders the bathroom of last years flooding issues, the one wall that is in line with the bizarre leak in the garage, and that same one wall that in the hallway has begun to show a lovely dark stain on that wallpaper. All together this evidence would appear to point to a leak in that wall or the roof above it; all together this evidence would seem to be cause for concern. Jumping right into the middle that conclusion we will find that if that indeed is the case, the problem is really bad because if something is leaking into that wall, it would require MAJOR construction to repair it, as that wall is solid brick and there is no easy way to get to the leak.

It is this issue in the main that has led me to the conclusion that the landlord must be called, this and a few other smaller issues. Like, first of all, the wallpaper in the dining room is also coming down but top to bottom and the whole top edge of this paper seems to have water stains on it. (roof leak?) Then also, there is the electrical issue with the outside light, when you turn on the light over the front door, after three or four minutes it trips all the breakers and pitch black darkness ensues not to mention that the computers also shut off I’m disconnected from the world (that can’t any of it be good.). And thirdly, but most important, I think, our lease is up in July of 2005 and we need to extend it until December 2006.

So there are some issues that need to be discussed with our landlord, our landlord to whom I have not spoken since the toilet debacle last December.

So with this aim, I spent an afternoon with Elian at ImpaQt practicing lines and words and role playing the conversation and also practicing my responses to any and all possible, eventual questions that might be posed. Even with all of this preparation, however, I dragged my feet about calling M. Babec. The man is probably in his mid 60’s, speaks absolutely NO English and communicating with him is always difficult. Add the fact that speaking by phone in French is difficult. It’s so much easier to speak face to face because you can ‘see’ what the person is saying. You can’t imagine the huge role that visual clues play in everyday communication.

So eventually I made the call. The first time I called there was no answer and I was forced to leave a message, I did a little happy dance in anticipation of just having the man show up at some point eliminating the need for any further phone discussion. Of course he didn’t come by or call back so I had to call again, this time reaching someone who said that he and the Mrs. were on vacation. I dance a smaller happy dance in hopes that he would receive the message and decide to just stop by. But no, he didn’t stop by or call back, so I was forced to call a third time, this time M. Babec, himself, answered the phone.

I explained who I was and began to launch into my spiel when I noticed that there was absolute silence on the phone, «Your tenant at 9 rue Delherm? In Castanet? M. Babec ? »

« Umm, yes ? »

« We have some small problems here that I wanted to discuss with you. »

After another long silence «Yes, tell me. »

I launch once again into a description of the problems and ask him if he could possibly come by the house so I could show him what I’m talking about. After another brief silence he hesitantly says that he can come tomorrow evening. I say that’s fine and we hang up.

At this point I’m just dreading the next evening, obviously he was having trouble making out what I was saying and now all sorts of scenarios are flashing through my head about the ordeal ahead.

The next evening at right around 7pm, the doorbell rings. Of course he would arrive before S gets home from work, drat the stinkin’ luck.

I open the front door to find M. Babec dressed in a very nice suite, per usual, and smiling pleasantly at me. We exchange greetings and as we do I notice that the man is sort of staring at me. Really sort of gaping at me, but I choose to ignore this. I’m self conscious enough as it is without wondering what on earth he’s staring at.

Since we are standing in the dark of the front door I figure this is as good a place as any to start the ‘tour’ and so I explain to him that we are unable to use the front door light and why. As I’m explaining this the man is still staring at me but in a puzzled sort of fashion. My speech tapers off into silence and I start to stare back. The cessation of speech seems to snap him back to what we’re talking about and he smiles winningly at me and acknowledges that he has understood what I said and puts forth his theory on the matter. He finishes by saying that he’ll get an electrician out to look at the light and in the same breath says “goodness isn’t your French much improved!”

I thank him and give my best self deprecating oh-shucks smile and move on to the dinning room where the paper is stained near the ceiling and starting to come down. I explain that it’s not much of a problem really except for the paper coming down and I thought he should know about it in case the stains indicate dampness and therefore leakage. I look over and the man is staring at me again. When he sees me looking at him he gives a small start and proceeds to explain why he doesn’t think this is an issue.

While he’s talking and giving excuses I proceed to take mental inventory, is my fly unzipped? Hmm, wearing sweat pants so that’s a non issue. Did I comb my hair? Casually reach up and pat hair and while my hand is up there near my head I go ahead and smoothly check my nose, with a swift wipe, for something dangling out of it. Check, check. Something big and green stuck between teeth? Slip tongue quickly over tooth surface and feel no anomalies. Hmm, all appears to be in order…

We move on to the hall and the office where I point out more wet spots and pealing wall paper. He’s staring again but seems to know that I know he’s staring and he quickly averts his eyes and launches into more excuses and possible reasons for the stains and dismisses them as nothing. He continues by saying that he’ll definitely have someone out to fix the pealing wallpaper but he’s sure there’s nothing to really worry about. (Yeah, right.)

We move into the garage where I’m prepared to show him the lake that forms next to the washing machine after almost every rain, but the lake is gone. I explain the problem anyway and he says that he’s been up on the roof to re-arrange some of the tiles and that there’s nothing more to be done. The roof will leak if it’s windy while it rains end of story. Ok, whatever.

I launch next into the need to extend the lease for an additional year and a half and this seems to really cause some open mouthed staring. When I stop talking he once again pulls himself together and begins a careful explanation of what the procedure for that should be. I repeat back to him what he’s said to be sure I understand, and he’s staring at me again.

He notices me noticing him staring and finally he just bursts out with it.

« Votre français est remarquable ! Votre amélioration est étonnante. »

“You’re French is remarkable! Your improvement is amazing”

Geez, now you’re embarrassing me! I say thank you, but he just can’t let it go, he goes on and on about the difference. He then launches into full-on conversation mode. His French picks up speed as he talks and pretty soon I’m barely getting the gist of what he’s saying. I ask him to please slow down and he starts to laugh. “Well” he says “I’m just so pleased to be able to speak with you.” He prepares to leave then, says he’ll call with info about workmen later in the week and encourages me to keep up the good work.

It’s after he leaves that I realize that it has been almost a year since I last saw him and that I hadn’t started my language lessons yet last December. I suppose in that sort of ‘before’ and ‘after’ type of view the change is pretty remarkable.

Busting my buttons with pride!

That is all.

I hate it when Marty’s right!

Thanks!! J&R sent a care package that has also now arrived. They sent Mayo (because you can never have too much mayo! sorry Emily) and Chocolate chips and other wonderful things. Including some deodorant for S, thanks especially for that he was starting to get a little ripe! (i.e. he was starting to smell French!)

So of course I had to bake chocolate chip cookies, you know I had too. I made a full batch of Nestle Tollhouse cookies, well I made enough dough for a full batch but probably only ¾ of the dough actually got baked. See, I did what anyone would do, I ate ¼ of the dough raw. Now I know that Marty told us that it would make us sick but it never did, so I, of course, ignored the little Marty voice in my head and ate the dough anyway. Well of course, you guessed it, sick as a dog for two days now. Whether the ordeal was worth it or not has yet to be determined, (though I've not been able to tolerate so much as the sight of the finished product let alone eat it) but all I can say now is that it matters not whether the toilet paper packaging says ‘extra doux’ or ‘avec aloe’ or any other such indication of softness, after a point it might all just as well be sandpaper cause that’s how it feels. I know, too much information, but I’m all about sharing. So chalk it up to another lesson learned…don’t tell Marty, ‘k. (by the way, I blame the 'French' eggs.)

That is all.

We Now Return To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

First of all, “Thanks Mom!” a care package has arrived from home with stuffing and cranberry sauce and a few other creature comforts. So, really thanks again mom you’re a peach. Did have a craving this morning for an ‘Orange Dream Machine’ with a protein boost from Jamba Juice and would absolutely kill for a half dozen ‘Carnitas Street Tacos’ from Rubio’s. I think that if you pack them together the cold of the smoothie might keep the tacos fresh? I’ll keep dreaming.

Speaking of Jamba Juice. While reading some fellow bloggers this morning I went to The Silly Con Valley Report which is a goofy site that tracks up and coming gizmos (sort of) near the middle of Mike’s page I saw this goofy entry (which I believe led me to have my Jamba Juice craving) for Blendie. It’s a small quick time video that you have just got to see. (Ky , are you thinking what I’m thinking?)

So plans for the Thanksgiving Bash are moving along nicely, latest count has us at possibly 18! Of course the logistic of this event are mind boggling. We will have to purchase 6 fold away chairs to avoid having people eat on the couch. The outdoor “picnic” table that was here when we moved in, will be dragged into the living room I think to accommodate most (but not all) of us. One small problem is that when we moved here I only brought half of my dishes and so I only have 12 place settings. Hate to go with paper for such an event but we may have to.

In other news…well in other old news anyway. When we arrived here and began to learn the highways, we noticed what looked like a bomb site on one side of the Rocade. Every time we went passed it, on the way to the airport or mall, I would wonder what had happened there. S eventually pieced together some info about some industrial accident that had happened years ago, we couldn’t figure why they hadn’t cleaned it up yet though. Well I found this story about the accident on the internet. And Paula says that cleanup has been slow due to the French versions of the EPA insuring the site is truly detoxified and clean.

Speaking of Paula, last Sunday after I took S to the airport (South Africa) Mags invited me to have lunch with her and Vincent at his mothers house. Since they were already there, Paula and I drove the one hour drive south to Salies du Salat, together. We had a fabulous lunch. Lunch was preceded by champagne and snacks (olives – yuck and sausage – double yuck), this portion of the meal being called the apéritif. Then lunch began with a salad of ‘lambs greens’ (I’d never heard of it or seen it before but it was yummy) and fois gras (Claudette makes her own Fois Gras and it was very good.) followed by a pork roast with roasted potatoes (The potatoes where supposedly for Paula because she doesn’t like veggies….hmm…and we had a heck of time making her share them), a zucchini casserole, bread and wine. Dessert was cheese and/or a dessert called a ‘Floating Cloud’. It was amazing! It was meringue floating in a custard sauce and drizzled with caramelized sugar. After eating to bursting we four women set of for Spain, Vincint chose not to join us, I think lunch with four jabbering women was more than he could take. We drove another hour south and we crossed the border into Spain. Don’t ask me the name of the little villages we went to because I can’t remember, I know one of them was Les but the others, who knows. It was freezing though. We were in the foothills of the Pyrenees and their had been snow in the mountains recently. We could see the snow above us and the breeze brought the smell of snow along with bone chilling cold. We were not really dressed for this weather. Luckily I'd brought along extra gear since Paula had only worn a wind breaker. We wandered around and found a cute little church that was undeniably old. When we entered it and looked around it looked like all the stone was about to come down on us at any moment. At least it was warm inside. There was a posting on the door announcing the recent death of a long time resident, a man who had been over a hundred years old. I didn’t read the sign but I think Paula said he’d been something like 113. Heck, he was probably baptized in the church when it was still relatively new. After leaving the church and wandering a bit more we found our way into a little Tapas bar for some refreshment. I was able to impress the ladies with my Spanish since my French is still so slow and halting (and often wrong). We had hot drinks and got on the road back, as Mags had seen a store in another little village near the border advertising Levis. Upon our return to Claudette's we were once again fed. Dinner included leftovers from lunch plus a homemade vegetable soup to sustain us on the drive home.

Claudette, Mags and Paula in front of the church.

Well folks that's all for now. I'm off to the airport to get S.

Go Vote!

Have you voted yet?
	...K...How about now? ...Now?
Well don't just sit there reading this crap...GO...Go VOTE!...Hang on, unless you're voting for the other guy, in which case, by all means, stay here and read. I'll try to fill as much time as possible with meaningless anecdotal drivel about my day...
Actually the dilemma for me is what to do until 2am when the east coast polls close and early estimates will start to come in. Hell, the polls in California won't close 'til 8 am! (That would be France time.) I better go put on an extra strength vat of coffee, it's going to be a long night! Real post coming soon I promise...In the meantime ...you know...