Thursday, July 17, 2008

Testing 1 - 2 - 3, Testing

After an eight day stint of full time child-care, i.e. no mom except by telephone, I'm still recuperating. Oh, it was fine, but it did put me a little behind schedule.

I mentioned that there was much excitement that the boy was paddling solo. (With the aid of inflatable arm bands, but no human assistance.) So I thought I would post the proof.

Et voila... he sings to boot!

Next time I will change the subject, lest we approach the "cute fatigue" zone.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Nothing at all about the 4th of July

Color me excited. I just found a two-day-old croissant in the micro-wave. I know that sounds pretty pathetic, but it is like finding money in the pocket of pants you haven't worn in years. (Assuming we're not talking about almost worthless dollars.) Plus, there is no one here to catch me eat it. Gagné.

Does anyone remember me being a big breakfast person? Coffee, yes. Eggs, bacon, etc, no-thank-you. However, there is this weakness for croissants, and I am quite capable of scarfing down a couple or more even before being fully awake. Which points out that I can partially clothe myself, go down three flights of stairs, cross the street, buy some undisclosed number of croissants, and make my way back without fully waking. I think that is pretty impressive.

But those croissants are one, relatively expensive when you add up a month's worth, and two, absolutely fat enabling long before the end of the month. So how can I in good conscience look at sweet cherubic faces, however deceptive, and deny them weekend pony rides after I have squandered the money on waistline busting bakery products.

Tough call, but I've been trying to limit my croissant intake. Ok, we didn't really have to trade pony rides for my pastry addiction. And admittedly, the best incentive is that I really hate shopping for pants. Outside of the undesirable silhouette created by a large gut, I have no butt. Which makes shopping for pants even less fun than normal since nothing fits. My legs attach directly to my back. Do not pass BUTT, do not collect $200. End of game. And therefore I am still wearing pants that looked well forward to the coming Second Millineum. Hence, I need to fit into my pants.

This is deteriorating from pointless to less than pointless.

At least I posted.

I am posting, therefore... I exist. Take that, Descartes.

The photo of René Descartes
was removed because
it never existed.

He never posted, therefore, he didn't exist.

So we may pose the question:

If René Descartes existed today,
would he have a blog?

Thursday, July 3, 2008

It's All About Who You Know

(continuing the catch-up requested by family and friends)

Forget the old jokes, "It's not who you know, it's who you b..."
If you are poor and live in the South of France (NP,NP - not Paris, not Provence) it is all about who you know. And fortunately we know some winners.
So last weekend we cashed in some dinner chits (yet another reason to keep honing your cooking skills) and landed in the pool of a friend's house not far from Arles. (OK, close to Provence.) Not just any pool. A stone pool with variable speed current, surrounded by lush gardens and terrace, all built into the remains of a large stone barn just behind the house. Typical of many 18th-19th century, village vigneron (wine-maker) houses. Completely private, hidden from surrounding houses by the remaining tall stone walls of the barn, now supporting nothing but mounds of lush, flowering vegetation. No, it is not for sale. But in the spirit of keeping everyone back home up to date, you get a peak - along with the monsters of course.
Excerpt from the lesson on "How to be a best friend?"... uh, build a pool in your garden like this? Just a thought.
And just for the cherry topping, we have lift-off. Boy is paddling solo. Hip,hip,...
Girl is still clinging but she does NOT like falling behind, so not for long.