Don't look at me with that tone!

On Monday morning, not seconds after S left on a road trip, the hot water heater quit working. By the time J went to take a shower there wasn't even the merest suggestion of warmth in the water. Not being one to complain (or perhaps setting me up for the shock of my life...hmm) the girl said nothing to me. I luckily discovered the problem when I went to brush my teeth. A couple of phone calls and two days later the plumber finally showed up. Thank goodness cause things were getting a bit dodgy. My plumber, M. Bonnet is a man of indeterminate age, neither young nor old but rather good looking just the same. He knows me as M. Walters, the American from Castanet and speaks to me in the slow indulgent way you speak to young children or those whose brains have been scrambled. Most importantly, however, he tolerates and actually seems to understand my mangled French. He wears these square European type glasses that give him the look of a kindly and intelligent grandfather but when he smiles he looks like a teenage boy. I don't stare or drool or anything, but I fear that he may be begriming to believe that I'm purposely sabotaging the heating system just to see him. Today, after explaining the fix to this weeks problem to me, he asked me if I'd opened or closed a specific lever. I said I had not and he asked me again pretending to think that I had not understood him. When I assured him again that I never touch that particular lever he looked as if he didn't quite believe me but smiled that knowing indulgent smile at me. I hope I don't have to change plumbers. In other news...I'm posting a few pics for your enjoyment.

This is the current view from my bedroom window. The Cherries are not quite at their peek yet, but another day or two of temps like today and plenty of sunshine and they'll be great. Carla has been out picking and eating everything within her short little grasp and I've seen a neighbor or three out picking a few handfuls. This year we have a ladder so we'll be able to get to the good ones higher up in the tree. I guess we'll be retiring Mark's cherry picking tool this summer.

J arrived safe and sound and was immediately put to work constructing the furniture for her bedroom. That's her working hard behind the stack of Ikea drawers. She's a darned good little builder too. Next week she's going to start on some trellises for the garden.

A fine group touring Millennium Park in Chicago. We finally get a stranger to take the group shot and mom chooses that moment to look around. She hates having her picture taken.

And finally... This afternoon J and I decided to do a little shopping. We got in the car, and after I'd pulled the car out of the garage, I ran back into the house to get my forgotten sunglasses. I got back outside to find that J had jumped into the drivers seat. I told her to get out of the drivers seat and reminded her that my car has a manual transmission. She said she knew that but that she wanted to drive. After a brief power struggle I reluctantly went around and got into the passenger seat with much sighing and eye rolling in anticipation of the afternoon ahead of us. Well, she killed the engine twice before she managed to get the car moving. When we reached the gate at the end of the driveway she took it out of gear, put the break on and got out. That's all she wanted to do, just drive to the gate. 10 feet, wow, now that's some progress. Tomorrow she'll shoot for the actual edge of the street.

Fring- The noise made by a lightbulb that has just shone its last.

J: I'm so tired...

Me: I know honey but we're almost home, we just have to stop at the store for some essentials...milk, bread, eggs, cream, Pepsi...etc.

J: Can't we do it tomorrow?

Me: No everything is closed on Sundays.

J: Mom, tomorrow is Saturday

Me: No dear today is Saturday, tomorrow is Sunday.

J: What happened to Friday then...

What indeed...Off to bed for now.

That is all.

You live and learn. At any rate, you live.

So I made it to town. There was a small problem on the airplane when I somehow ended up being in charge of putting all the old peoples’ luggage in the over-head bin. I seemed to be surrounded by a group of octogenarians with very heavy carry-ons. Then when we landed and I stood on my seat to hand them all back their heavy bags and canes, some dude behind dropped his suitcase on my head. Not an auspicious beginning.

So far J and I have shopped a bit (ok more than a bit), eaten at CPK (twice) and vaguely stalked a UPS van (but that’s a story for another day). Of course since the third season of the Gilmore Girls just came out, there’ve been a lot of goofy Gilmore-isms tossed around too.

Now we are off to see…you know.

Later.

The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.

Well, I've spent half the day trying to find out if I can pack champagne in my luggage or not. The consensus was that if the cargo hold was pressurized the champagne would not explode, but if it's not, it will. So then I had to call the airline to find out this information. I really don't cherish the thought of having my new party dress soak up $80 of French champagne, but on the other hand, I really don't want to carry that much weight through three airports. So after being assured that it would be fine I went ahead and wrapped the bottles in thick foam padding and put them inside a heavy plastic bag in my suitcase. So if I lose the champagne at least I'll still have a cute dress to wear to the graduation. You have to have priorities.

The French are observing the Ascension today. Everything is closed, well except for a few select bakeries and flower shops. But everyone will 'fair le pont', make the bridge. It's very popular in most of Europe that when a holiday falls on a Thursday or Tuesday they go ahead and take the Friday or Monday off as well. I sort of like how serious these people are about their leisure time. I mean their priorities are in the right place; they work to live not live to work. On the other hand, their predilection for vacations could be the main reason they aren't the economic powerhouse that they could be. Socialists are an interesting group, but not without their problems.

Well that's all from me from this end of the world, you may next hear from me from Illinois.

That is all.

It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes.

Well, obviously 42 is, (aside from being my current age) ‘the answer to life, the universe and everything’! And all of you should know that, if you didn’t know this, then you should drop me a line and I’ll send you a copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

…………………………

I was struck by such a pang of homesickness just now that it made me feel almost physically ill. I am babysitting the adorable Miss Carla; having just promised her (with my fingers crossed - I know, how evil can I be, lying to a child) to call her in an hour and let her get up whether she'd slept or not. I of course hope that she'll fall asleep. I’m beginning to doubt the wisdom of this promise since 45 minutes into it she's already been asking 'ça y'est' (you can guess what that means.) at 5 minute intervals followed by ‘Je n'ai pas envie de dormir’. Lately ‘je n’ai pas envie..’ begins many of her sentences. ‘I don’t feel like…’ Ah the world of a four year old.

Anyway…

Something about the quality of light, the smell of slightly humid springtime air and the slightly warm feeling of obscured sun shining on my back from the window and I am suddenly homesick for San Diego. Homesick for some fresh June gloom beach air, homesick for a quick Starbucks latte out on the patio, homesick for the sights and sounds of PB or La Jolla or downtown. Mostly I think it’s just that 'I want to go home' sadness.

In the midst of laundry and packing to go to Illinois house for the graduation, I feel like that's not far enough. I just want to go home.

If it weren't for 'her royal highness' calling to me every 5 minutes I could really give into this deep blue funk.

Ah well, I guess I’ll let herself get out of bed and we’ll begin our long afternoon, which I know will end not at all well, when around 5:20 she’ll dissolve into cranky tears and tantrums. That ought to keep my mind far from the beach.

42

42

Alright, dish. I mean it, someone better give me some news! Reviews? Impressions? And if you haven't seen it yet, what are you waiting for?