Where is Missy, where has she gone, you remember Missy, that adorable girl who used to keep us in stitches, swell writer, sharp of wit and sharper of tongue, cute little thing slight of build and a real sharp dresser… wait, that was someone else…never mind.
So I’m sure that you all are imagining days full of adventures and fun for J and I, after all what else could possibly be keeping me away from ‘The Precious’.
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J and I have been walking every day, usually twice a day. We walk around town and try to explore new paths each day.
The other day we were walking down a side street talking and minding our own business when a sight across the street suddenly quieted us and made our eyes snap back to the pavement in front of us. After walking on for a safe distance and when we could trust ourselves to speak without cracking up and being overheard, J mumbles out of the side of her mouth “Was that a man? And why was he wearing that house coat?”
“Was that a house coat?” The thing was a garish mix of red, black and white geometric shapes with a few silver shapes tossed in here in and there.
“I think it was.”
“Forget the house coat, did you see his feet?” My eyes had been drawn down the length of that garish dress to the hairy tree trunk legs that ended in bright fuzzy blue slippered feet.
The man needed a fashion tip or two, ‘cause those slippers were all wrong for that house coat.
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Last Sunday we were invited to celebrate the First Holy Communion of Mags youngest, Jean Baptiste. Mass was to be at 10:00 a.m. followed by a small lunch back at Mags apartment.
We were up at a decent hour and I lollygagged for a bit before hopping into the shower. I exited the shower to find that my mental clock was an hour off or that I had mistaken the time on the clock (those tricky hands on the no number clock faces) and that we would be too late for the actual church service.
Now some of you might argue that there is no such thing as mistakes and that my misreading of the half dozen clocks in the house (most of which are digital) was a subconscious attempt on my part to avoid having to make an actual appearance in a church…Those of you who know me will know that there was nothing subconscious about it.
We were forced therefore to forgo the Mass and go straight to Mags apartment where we arrived just in time for champagne and foie gras aperitifs. My timing is impeccable!
Mags place was stuffed to the gills with her ex-husbands family (all French) and Mags friends and family (mostly Irish, but all English speaking) The place was cut in two by the language and, um, social barriers, thank goodness for Paula, who was the only guest willing to cross the chasm for the sake of civility. The rest of us were content to be rude stay on our side and speak in English.
After initial introductions were made and plenty of champagne was poured, we settled in to lunch and conversation. After a couple of hours J says to me “I can’t keep up there are at least four languages being spoken.”
“Um, no honey, lay off the champagne, there are only two languages, French and English.”
“No, there’s French, French-English, Irish-English and American-English. Also what’s a ‘dirty knacker’ and should I be offended?”
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Last Wednesday night we attended a concert. I had managed to get my hands on three tickets for Joe Cocker about a month ago and I thought it would be a good time. J was unconvinced of the fun factor, since first of all she’d never heard of Joe Cocker and secondly that man on stage had to be at least 60 years old.
After a few songs, however, some of them began to sound familiar to her. The high points consisted of the singing of ‘Up Where We Belong’ and a horrid Jennifer Warrens stand-in that sang her parts with a bit of vibrato in her voice. Eeew! During the song the cute French whipped out there lighters to wave over their heads, the funny thing is that none of the lighters would stay lit due to the cranking air conditioning in the building (it was very warm in the arena), so one resourceful French person after the other simply flipped open their cell phones and began waving those wan lights over their heads.
The final bit of entertainment came when he sang ‘Unchain My Heart’ and the French rushed the stage a bit too late and were stuck up there trying to rock to a much slowed down version of ‘A Little Help From My Friends’.
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So no, no great travel adventures yet. We are enjoying quiet times together and I think that J is enjoying not having to get up for school or work or having to worry about homework. She misses Matt and Snickers, though not necessarily in that order…kidding Matt, just kidding.
That is all.
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