The lack of dozens of photos showing our new room being built this week means -yes, you guessed it- the new room was NOT built this week.
At all.
Which is sad, but not at all unexpected. The French building contractor is a rare, shy creature and you really can't expect one to show up according to any kind of predetermined schedule. Wild and free as the wind itself, and all that.
It's a bit tiresome, but that's how it is.

So, this week, instead of watching the addition to the house go up, I kept busy with other stuff. "Other stuff" included taking Severin on a shopping trip to buy badly-needed winter boots. His old ones were worn to shreds and about a month ago started getting actual holes in them, which is not really what a person looks for in winter footwear. But Severin hates shopping so much that he'd rather have snow melting all over his socks all day long than set foot in a store. In fact, he'd probably rather have his entrails torn out by rabid hyenas- but I didn't give him that option (so messy and painful, don't you think?) Cleverly bribing him with promises of a lunch at McDonald's, I managed to get him into a sporting goods shop. We found him a pair of Columbia boots that he liked and, at 40% off, they were a complete win.

What was not so "win" was the moment, right after we left the shop, when I realised that my key card was NOT in my purse any longer.
I dumped everything out of my purse, but it wasn't there. We all (I actually had all four of the kids with me) went out to the mall parking garage, just to make sure I hadn't somehow left it in the car.
It wasn't there.
And to make things worse, I could see our housekey sitting on the armrest inside the car. This meant that if I couldn't find the key card and needed to go home and get the spare, I wouldn't even be able to get into my house. Unless I broke a window....
But no need to borrow trouble. I was sure (kind of) that I'd be able to find my key card somewhere in the mall. It had just fallen out of my purse somewhere.
Or had it?
(This is where you get a small insight into the workings of my tiny mind. And let me tell you, they are some strange workings indeed...)
Right then, I looked around the crowded parking garage and this thought flashed through my brain: "Maybe it was stolen! A clever car thief took my key card and is watching us right now! He's followed us in order to find which car is mine and the minute I take the kids and go search the mall, he'll click the door open, start her up and drive away. OMG!"
Yes, I am insane. Thank you for asking.
I told Sev (my six foot tall son) and Tya (5'9" and quite capable) "Guard the car". Mallory stayed with them and Alexa came with me to help search. Luckily, we hadn't gone to very many places that afternoon. There weren't too many places to cover.
First, we searched the McDonald's. My purse had fallen on the floor at one point as I'd fussed over my salad, so I had a strong hope that the black plastic card would be found on the floor under our table.
No such luck.
I talked to the manager, but nothing had been turned in. So, we walked to Go Sport, looking at the ground the whole way. The store manager there was super-helpful. "I lost my keys at McDo once. I'd put them on the tray and then got distracted by the kids. Threw them right in the garbage! " she told me. Her previous experience (which ended happily after she searched the trash bin) made her very sympatheitic and she helped us look through the whole store.
Nothing.
Disappointed, I left her my name and cell phone number and trudged back down to the fast food place. I was just lifting one of the tables so Alexa could look under it, when my phone rang. It was the Go Sport manager...someone had turned in my key card! It had been found wedged under the bottom edge of the front counter where the cash registers sit.
So, it turns out I was NOT the target of fiendishly clever car thieves.
Imagine that...

Our trip to southern France last weekend was far less dramatic than the one we made a few years back. This time around, the only slight hiccup was that someone stole my wallet when we stopped for a break at Montelimar.
They have nougats there.
Also thieves, apparently.

But I'm not dwelling. It's bad to dwell, right? And at least "all" they got was half a checkbook (quickly cancelled by phone), 100 euros and several fidelity cards from various French supermarkets. Could have been worse, right? I'm SO glad I don't keep my credit cards in with all the other junk. They were safely still with me after the Horrible Incident, so our trip continued on without another hitch.

After hanging out at the cabanes charmantes that I showed you in my last post, we drove a few miles further south and took the kids for a swim in the Med.

Afterwards, we went for a stroll around Montpellier. It was Sunday, though, and that was bad news on the shopping front. Every shop in the whole city was CLOSED. It was the height of the tourist season and there was not a postcard or t-shirt to be had.

So, no tourist goodies for my friends and family back in the USA- sorry...
But it was pretty:

After lunch in an outdoor creperie, where we were "serenaded" by an accordeonist and his accomplice who apparently know only three songs and have no qualms about playing them over and over and over again until someone pays them to STOP, we visited the botanic garden in the center of town. It was commissioned by Henri IV and is the oldest one in France.

It was a great trip, despite the wallet-loss aspect. I hope to go back down there and spend more time one day. But we had to be back by Monday night, as JP had lots of work to get done. We're planning to leave again on the 31st to travel up north (in France and into Germany!), so he needed to get things in order before then.

Me? I'm teaching English, taking the kids to the pool, seeing friends, and generally having a good time.

I love summer.

Finding time to get to an internet café and sit around blogging is turning our to be even harder than I thought. On top of everything else, Mallory got quite sick yesterday with a huge fever I was sure it was malaria, as she spiked a fever of 103°F. This was accompanied by some weird babbling. She told me that she had a hole in her brain and that she had lost all her happiness, among other things. It was definitely some feverish delusion, as she is better today and her happiness is pretty intact. I figure that her brain is ok, too. And the malaria test came back negative. Just one of those viruses, I guess.
But all of that certainly ate up my time yesterday. So, I have been trying to catch up today. One task is to find a picture online of my laptop. The police are inquiring into our case, but would like a picture, so I'm here to look online for something I can print out.


When I went to the police station on Monday, I was ushered, after only a 20 minute wait, into the office of Officer Dolly.
"I am Inspector Dolly."
I just stood there processing. It's not a last name I've ever heard here. I figured that I must have misunderstood.
"Sammy Dolly", he added and handed me his card. I didn't have the presence of mind to ask him what ethnic group the was from. All I could think of was the great fun I was going to have telling everyone I knew that the officer on our case was called "Inspector Sammy Dolly".


Besides having a fun name Inspector Sammy Dolly is an energetic, thorough guy. First of all, he took a long statement from me. Then called up the person that had sent me away on Saturday and chewed him out. Finally, he came over to the house, looked around, interviewed neighbors and did all kinds of police-type activities.
He thinks that he might be able to track down some of our things. Maybe.
In the meantime, I am trying my own hand at sleuthing. I've been going to various second-hand electronics stands asking for nice used Minolta camera and a Fujitsu Siemens Laptop.
No luck so far, but one guy did say to check back tomorrow.


Thanks for the messages of support. I really need them, as they help ward off burn-out.
We are moving out of our house tomorrow. Then Sunday will be spent delivering the furniture that has been sold. Then I'll have to finish up the packing, as Container Day is Thursday.
If I don't post again for about a week, don't be surprised.

Monday afternoon found me sitting in the lobby of the local police station, clutching an empty Playstation 2 box to my chest, rocking back and forth as I watched a torrential rain pound down. If there had been anyone around, maybe they would have thought I was mildly autistic, but more probably they would have pegged me as just plain strange, but I'm used to that.


In truth, I was just tired, discouraged, miserable, angry and somewhat bored.
The latter problem was caused by the fact that I, who always brag about going everywhere in Burkina with a good book (so that long waits just fly by), had forgotten my book of the day back at the car and no way was I going out in a rain that had a real "firehose on full-blast" quality to it.
Luckily, though I didn't have a book, there were the chickens. Apparently, just as a firehouse in the USA might have a Dalmatian dog mascot, a police station in Burkina has a flock of mascot chickens. And strangely enough, the rain didn't send them all running for cover. A few of them were out in the downpour (dare I say it?) frolicking. Back in the USA, we have the expression "as mad as a wet hen". May I suggest a collorary to that: "as happy as a wet Burkinabé rooster".


Now you probably want to know why I was sitting at the police station, staring at chickens, being severely depressed. The answer lies in the empty PS2 box... and in my missing ipod, cellphone, dvd player, cell phone, digital camera, computer, etc.
I was at the station to give a statement to the police about the robbery at our house early Saturday morning.


I actually slept in a bit late on Saturday. I wandered out into the livingroom at about 8am (VERY late for me!), feeling ready to tackle the preparations for the big party that would be taking place that night. I noticed that my USB stick was missing off the bookshelf where I'd left it. I figured that maybe JP had taken it and went on into my office. No computer. I went to go ask Valentine about it, as she sometimes uses it in her room. That was when I saw my phone was gone.
Then I really started to realize that something was very wrong. The main clue (duh!) was the slashed mosquito screen and bent security bars of the living room window. We had been robbed, big time.
To say I was freaked would be to but it mildly. I've had things stolen before. Heck, I've already has two cellphones stolen while I've been here in Africa. But I'd never had housebreakers and the thought that strange men had possibly been in my children's bedrooms was giving me a severe, sick-making case of the creeps/willies/heebie-jeebies. The fact that Tya's ipod was still in place in her room reassured me that they probably had stayed away from her bedroom. But all my cash was gone from my purse that hung in the back hallway, just opposite the twins' bedroom door. Not a happy thought.


I didn't cry at all until I was in the car heading to the police station. And then it was just a little- mainly for Tya's school pictures. The few she had now really were lost for good, along with lots of other irreplaceable photos of our life here.
At the police station compound, the officer at the reception desk in the tiny cement-brick hut at the entrance took down a list of what was stolen and told me to come back on Monday.
Monday?
Didn't they want to, like- I don't know....investigate? Find clues?
Whatever.

I went on to the National Gendarmerie. I don't know what the heck they are in English. They are kind of like the police, but more of a military operation.
There I was pretty quickly ushered into the office of the head officer. This guy did come out to the house right away. He looked around a bit and had his assistant take a few photos.


And that was it, until Monday. That afternoon, I showed up once again at the police station. I brought along the big, bright blue Playstation box so someone could help me figure out which of the 20 different codes written on the box was the actual ID number of the machine.
Then, it started to rain, hard. I waited for about an hour and the officer I was supposed to see never showed up. Finally, I found a kind officer that was willing to phone him and set up another meeting for the next day. I hoped that it wouldn't rain again on Tuesday.


So, yesterday at 3pm I was back at the police station for a third time. My friends the chickens were running around like mad between the buildings, but I noticed that none of them ever ran out into the road through the wide-open gate. I guess they are living the good life in there and have no reason to wander. While Burkinabé cops don't eat doughnuts, maybe they toss their chickens the odd bit of leftover lunchtime tô or rice...


And what happened next? What's going on now? Well, I guess I'll have to come back and finish this sorry story tomorrow. My time here at the internet café is about up and I need to get home and pack for the move on Saturday.

Thanks to all my dear friends and loveable family (hi mom!) for your comments on the goat wedding post. I was SO happy to see all the messages from you-it made me teary (in that happy, really-touched kind of way) .
I, of course, had many, many adorable pictures of Yann and Dawn's wedding, but some creepy thief is probably erasing them all right now.