”On the bat's back I do flyAfter summer merrily.”

We were sitting out back after having just enjoyed a fabulous dinner prepared by our neighbors Ann and Gilles. It was that time of evening, around 10pm, when it’s not yet absolutely dark, but the sun has set; the dusk having just slipped into twilight and the breeze beginning to finally cool after another scorcher of a day. I was drinking my umpteenth Perrier and contemplating my umpteenth trip to the potty, when I looked out over the orchard and saw a small brown winged creature swooping into a tree.

I assumed it to be a small owl beginning it’s nights hunting, but on second look out toward the trees I noticed dozens more of these brown winged things and realized they were bats.

Not scary screeching black ‘Batman Begins’ bats, but small graceful brown bats. They were flying, swooping and diving into the trees. I don’t know much about bats and didn’t get a good enough view of them in the almost total dark to see what type of bat they might be, so I don’t know if they were diving into the trees for the shriveled and desiccated remains of cherries or for the bugs that might be drawn to the little black and shriveled ex-fruit.

They were amazing to watch though, gracefully and silently flying in and out of branches. At one point one of them flew right towards the back of Gilles head and at the last moment made a 90° turn back up into the sky, Gilles remaining ignorant of his near miss with something small brown and silent. It was even more amazing that within about 20 minutes in that quickly fading twilight they were gone again. On their way to greener pastures (dried icky cherries can’t be much of a meal) or they had never been there to feed in the first place; just to visit and move on. I was sad to watch them all slowly disappear; they seemed so peaceful and friendly.

Say it isn’t so!!!

Sorry all, Harry Potter arrived on Saturday, a full week earlier than I’d expected (bless Amazon.com), and I’m currently on my second reading. Last year I cried when Syrius died, but this, this is worse. I’m still in shock! I’ve never cried so hard reading one of these books. It’s all too much, I kept reading between the lines hoping for an out, hoping for a glimmer of hope that it had been a mistake, but no. It’s all I’ve really been able to do anyway, it’s just too hot to go anywhere or do anything too ambitious. ……………………….. Ok, so someone sent me this Link in response to the rabbit question, it explains everything quite clearly. …………………………

While J was in town we did a whirlwind 4 day weekend in Paris. We were finally able to visit Giverny and we also tried to take J to Versailles, but unknown to us we were there on the day of the Live 8 concert and couldn’t get within a mile of the place. We also did a quick Normandy tour and visited the American military cemetery as well as a quick visit to Mont St-Michel. So below I have a few photos of the trip. …………………………

The interior of the Musée D'Orsay, it's just a short walk from the Louvre and though only about a tenth its size, I liked it better. They house a fabulous collection of impressionist art. It's also a really cool looking building.

Monet's garden at Giverny. Looks just like the paintings doesn't it. Though the walkways that wind around the large garden are roped off making it hard to get around in the crowds of hundreds of milling tourists.

One of many photos that we took at the American Military Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer. It contains the graves of over 9000 american soldiers killed in action. The cemetery overlooks Omaha Beach. There is also a wall inscribed with the names of 1557 soldiers missing in action. The cemetery is beautiful and immaculately maintained. It's quite eerie to walk among the crosses and Stars of David.

Mont St-Michel is one of the most popular tourist sites in France, so get there and tour the Abbey early before the crowds arrive or visit in early spring. The Mont receives over 3 million visitors a year and is quite the tourist trap, however, it really is a site to see and the views from the abbey are really something.

View from the cloister of Mont St-Michel. No it's not really wide open like that, thee's a Plexiglas sheet to keep people from plummeting to their deaths on the rocks below.

The Rabbit Died?

First just for fun I submit the following, regarding the most recent London bombings. It's stolen from a London friends blog who stole it from a friends blog who…..well, you get it.

Breaking News Londoners 'peeved' by continued bombings, Australians all out for 190. As London is hit by the second wave of bombings in two weeks, the Government has raised the terror warning level from 'miffed' to 'peeved'. Whilst many people commented with respect at the stoical attitude of Londoners to the first wave of attacks, Londoners are losing their traditional reserve and may soon require the terror level warning to be raised to 'irritated' or even 'a bit cross'. A government spokesmen commented upon the seriousness of the situation. "London has not been a bit cross since the height of the Blitz in 1940 when supplies of tea ran out for almost three weeks", said a representative of the Security Services. "It is as a mark of the seriousness with which Londoners are taking the situation that we have recently been forced to recategorise suicide bombers from 'tiresome' to 'a bloody nuisance', and the last time we had a 'bloody nuisance' warning level was during the great fire of 1666." On the streets, Londoners reacted with uncharacteristic anger to news of the latest attacks, with some members of the public reacting with harsh language to the news that they might be delayed on their homeward trips by up to twenty minutes. "It really is the absolute limit," said Reginald Boggis, 42, of East Ham. "These terrorists. Not content with blowing things up, they then have to spoil the day for everyone. That's just irritating, that is. If they wanted to get things changed, they should write an angry letter to Points of View. That's what my wife and I always do." Tony Blair is expected to make political capital out of the situation as soon as his focus groups report on the mood of the nation. In other news, Britain reeled today at the news Australia were all out for 190 runs in the first test. "Good heavens!", said cricket fan Stan Higginbottom. "We showed the Aussies, what for, eh? What's that? More terrorists? Well, that's bloody typical, isn't it?" ..............................

Our neighbors, Ann and Gilles, are expecting their second child. Yes the sweet and adorable Miss Carla will soon have a sibling. Yes, her reign of terror will soon come to an incomprehensible end. When I think about what awaits her highness in the wake of a new baby in the house I could almost feel sorry for her. What a rude awakening for a child who has been the only child for 4 years now. Yet, in a way I'm gleefully anticipating the show. Ann was one of the first people to know of our news. Actually after S was apprised of my suspicions, I phoned Mags to see if, and where, I could get my hands on a 'pee on a stick' test. When all suspicions had been confirmed, I had a chat with Ann about who her doctor was and where I should go. Ann was quite excited about the news and informed me that this had happened because I had been foolish enough to touch her expanding belly. That's what happens you know, pregnancy is catching if you touch a pregnant woman's belly. I asked her why she hadn't warned me as I reached for her belly and she said she thought I knew what I was doing. How could I have known? I'm not French! ..............................

It fell to poor, wonderful Mags to call and make an appointment for me for the doctor. The AIT guidebook lists English speaking doctors of every field. There were about 8 doctors listed under obstetrics and gynecology who spoke English and one of them belonged to the same clinic that Ann had recommended. The clinic, by great coincidence, also happened to be near Mags' house so that's how that decision was made. Mags called and asked for an appointment with Dr. Alec Finkeltin. When the receptionist heard how old I was she insisted that I come in right away, I was able to get an appointment that week. I found that to be just a bit disturbing, though internet research on the subject of 42 year old pregnant women is even more frightening. When J and I arrived at the huge clinic, J was in town then and let me say that I wouldn't have made it through the following weeks without her help, I was unpleasantly surprised to find that my doctor would not be Finkeltin. My case had been assigned to Dr. Jean-Baptiste Benevent who, oh by the way, speaks no English. This, however, was the least of the surprises that awaited me on that visit. In France the doctor does everything, meaning he doesn't have a nurse. I was ushered into his office, where I sat at his desk while he entered my history and all other pertinent information into his computer. This actually went better than I'd expected, since we were able to understand each other with little difficulty. The most bizarre portion of the visit was the exam and here ladies you'll understand how odd this was in comparison. He ushered me into a closet sized examining room adjacent to his office that is jam packed with all of the obstetrical gadgets you can imagine. The first oddity I noticed was no stirrups, and you know that that would stand out. He asked me to remove my clothes as he busied himself gathering and preparing things for the exam. No leaving the room, no paper gown, now paper sheet, no supervising nurse, nothing, just remove your clothes and hop up on the table while he waits. I had been warned about the French lack of modesty or prudishness, I guess, in their view, but it still was a bit of a shock. Quick exam and then I was asked to dress while he gathered things up and then back to his office. He did literally everything. After the exam he scheduled my next few appointments for me, asked me for a check for 50€ and gave me a receipt. It was fast and efficient and required no third parties. ..............................

Poor J, I'm sure that this was not how she imagined spending her European vacation (scusi, scusi). But she didn't seem to mind. She was happy just not having to work or study or be anywhere. If it hadn't been for her the garden would be completely dead and I probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed all day. Between the nausea and fatigue, I was not good company, but she amused herself with books and the internet and going for walks. She is a real trooper. I thought of how Miss Carla would feel about the intrusion of a new baby after 4 years of being an only child, but somehow don't think J will suffer in the same way after 22 years of being an only child. Not the same dynamic I wager. ..............................

Well there you have it, an update of what you missed while I was busy with J and being nauseous and tired and unmotivated and pretty much all around nuts. The sonogram on the 20th has confirmed me to be nearly 3 months along with what so far appears a healthy baby *****. (Won't say because there are some of you who still insist on being surprised)(Nut cases the lot of you!) Starting to feel better and join the land of the living. Am blogging not out of motivation really as much as fear of those of you who have sent me thinly veiled threats via e-mail. (Shame on you don't you feel bad now!) Does anyone know where the expression came from or what it means? The title of the blog I mean. Though not something that is used much anymore, but I remember it from movies and vaguely from an episode of M*A*S*H*. Well that's enough for now, I'm late for a nap.