Part III of « How to Buy a Huge, Old, Expensive Chandelier Without Even Trying »

So, there I was blithely walking around the hotel, unaware that dramatic lighting was in my future. JP told me he was going to write in a bid for the next day’s auction , I merely gave a vague « Mmmm.. that’s nice » and went back to inspecting the gruesome brown tile in the 1970’s bathroom with horrified fascination.

« Somebody chose this tile. On purpose !» I marvelled to myself.

I saw JP wander off and get into line to place his bid, but I just smiled indulgently. Kind of like when your 12 year old announces he’s going to be 'Mace Griffin: Bounty Hunter' when he grows up. There’s a slight chance that you’ve got something to worry about. But it’s much more likely that it’s not going to happen.
That was my policy on the chandelier.
I found out that I was wrong a few days later when JP came down the stairs and said « Guess what? ».
I’d heard the phone ring a moment before and had figured that he’d picked it up…but I had no good guesses in mind.

Not a one.
Then he said « We got it » and I somehow knew immediately what he was talking about wasn’t something as bad as, say, head lice, but was definitely not something I would unconditionally like, such as winning a million Euros in the lottery.

Call it wifely intuition.
« We got the chandelier and we need to pick it up by tomorrow night. »
Surprise!
At least, it was a complete surprise to me.
Now, at this point, I actually could still have stopped this. We still had the right to refuse to buy the thing. But JP really wanted it and I was beginning to think that it would look kind of funky and unconventional hanging in our new room.

There’s also this: when I was a kid, a local restaurant in my hometown shut down. « Diamond Jim’s » was supposed to be pretty fancy, I guess. ( I am very hazy on the details and have GOT to ask my mom for details the whole thing) The simple version of the story is that the place sold off the furnishing and my parents ended up with two things:
a. the top part of a wooden partition set with panels of red plexi-glass.

(Yes, it was just as awful as it sounds. But hey- it was the 70’s. I don’t have to defend anything.)

and
b. a crystal chandelier
Strange coincidence, or what?
We were not, in the general way of things, crystal chandelier kind of people. In the early years, the family living room featured a gun cabinet as the major piece of furniture. (Yes, it was full of guns. Thank you for asking) But then suddenly we had a chandelier and the guns got moved to the basement and we were looking pretty fancy.

Today (40 years later!) that chandelier hangs in the foyer of my parents' very lovely home and looks pretty gorgeous.
So, I hardly had the heart to quash JP’s chandelier project. It’s possible that in 40 years I still may be looking at, enjoying the darn thing and all the funny memories behind it, right?
So, I got busy helping find someone to retrieve it. Luckily, Monica's husband didn’t have to work the next afternoon, so he and his son went to go get it for us.

From what he told me later, getting it was just awful. They showed up and were told to get the thing down and carted off, pronto. That’s right- they were expected to take it off the ceiling alone! They borrowed a ladder and a few tools and just barely managed to get the thing down. D said it was just sheer luck that he’d brought his 14 year old along for company and he didn’t know how he would have managed if he hadn’t. I felt pretty bad putting them to so much trouble…
They loaded it in the back of their station wagon drove off to meet up with JP. They had to pass the Swiss border and hope they didn’t get stopped. JP was waiting at the drop-off point in the parking lot of a cinema multiplex. He got the chandelier wrestled into our car, paid back D the money for the thing and then gave his son some cash for helping out. The whole transaction seemed vaguely like a particularly incompetent drug deal …
For a few days, the thing sat on the floor in the new room. But then JP wanted to varnish in there, so then it sat right in the middle of the kitchen for a few days.
So, I was vastly relieved to come back from an outing to Evian one day and fine the chandelier hanging in its rightful place! The electrician had come to finish wiring the room and had (with the help of two assistants and JP) gotten it up and running.

(I had taken some pics of it laying on the floor around the house, but I can't find them. If I do, I'll edit and post them)

It lights up the room quite well and certainly gets remarks from all the visitors...

A few weeks ago, I left my blog-readers with a nail-biter of a cliff-hanger: What unlikely and inappropriate object would JP end up dragging home from the hotel auction in Switzerland? A solid silver spittoon? An elephant -foot umbrella holder? A case of slightly-used pillow mints?
The truth , my friends, is somewhat stranger, and probably somewhat more expensive…

When we walked in the door of the huge old hotel, it didn’t occur to me that we would be buying anything. I was there strictly to gawk, and believe me, there was plenty to gawk at. As I mentioned in my previous post about the Royal Savoy, the place underwent a series of « unfortunate events » in the form of redecoration frenzies. One of the latest and most disastrous of these resulted in the place having a large stock of macramé wall hangings and wall-clocks made of olive-green pottery.
Yes, the 1970’s had struck hard and lethally at the old hotel.
Fortunately, they hadn’t gone completely mad and gotten rid of all the fine old antiques, but it made for some pretty odd juxtapositions- fine old 19th century landscapes hung beside terrible abstract paintings from the early 70’s, brown vinyl « leather » chairs beside a beautiful 17th century marqueterie bed.

There was plenty to gawk and the place was packed with people poking into every corner of the place, hunting for goodies. Some of them seemed obviously professional- restaurant and hotel owners hoping to snap up some useful equipment and furnishings. Some were obviously wealthy people looking for marqueterie beds and the like. Some of the latter group had me thinking: after you have been pumped full of huge amounts Botox and the Clostridium bacilum DNA in you starts to outnumber the human DNA, are you still, technically, a Homo sapien? Just asking…

Also, apparently a lot of people didn’t get the memo that excessive tanning is, like, really bad for you.

Anyway, we wandered around the first floor, admiring the fine silver and china, recoiling from the wads of knotted rope and finally went into the main dining room. This was the room that held the worst of the macramé, pottery and scribbly, depressing paintings. But looking up at the ceiling, things got rather better. There were nine large, rather beautiful crystal chandeliers.

JP liked them.
He liked them a lot.
He wrote down the lot number for one of them. (It’s the one at the front in the photo.)
He asked me what I thought.
I said:
a. It’s pretty,
b. It would look strange in a wooden chalet-style room
and
c. You wouldn’t get it anyway. There will be tons of bidders and the price will go too high..

After this, I didn’t really give it another thought.
My lovely pal Monica (who is also much smarter than me) spoke to me about it as we went upstairs and went through the rooms.
« You know Jean-Pierre really wants to bid on that chandelier, right? »
« He can write in a bid if he likes. I’m sure he’ll never get it. There’s too many people here- people with way more money than we have. »
« Are you sure? » She didn’t look convinced.
« Yes, I’m sure! » I said confidently « Otherwise I’d have to stop him from bidding, because we really don’t need a huge, expensive chandelier. »
The starting price on the thing was 600 Swiss Francs.
My plan for lighting our new room involved going to a hardware store and paying less than 100 euros for something. My idea was not to be elegant. What I had in mind was this: to not be sitting around in the dark and to not have an empty bank account.
That’s it.
But, of course, my simple, cheap plan was not to be.

To be continued....

Here is just one of the many places I've been in the past few days.
Nice, huh?
And get this: as we wandered around inside, we ran into the owner of the place and that kindly old gentleman gave us an insiders look at some of the rooms not open to the public!
very cool!

I hope to get a chance to write more, when our guests have gone home and the school holiday is over... This "vacation" has got me worn OUT!

My poor, neglected computer. The best it’s gotten from me the last two weeks has been an absentminded pat on the monitor as I race by it on my way downstairs at six am every morning.
It’s been getting far more attention from the twins and Severin, who like to stand around and bicker viciously over it like three starving badgers fighting over the last bite of road kill squirrel. My answer to this was (as it is to so many of life’s questions) to make a schedule. So, the twins each get one hour on alternate days and Sev gets and hour per day…which leaves lots of time for other stuff, considering the fact that the kids are on a two week holiday right now.
Sev, resourceful kid that he is, REALLY found something else to do besides stare at a computer screen. He managed to get invited along on a trip to Paris to attend a videogame/manga/anime con (a 'convention' to all you n00bs). Lucky boy! He’ll leave this afternoon and be back on Tuesday.
The twins are also too busy right now to worry much about screen time.
They are:
1. Helping to varnish the wood on the addition to the house and the carport. (Three coats on over 80 square meters. Do the math.) This is mainly what Alexa likes doing. She's quite handy...but, oddly, doesn't like getting her hands dirty.
2. Planting flowers. This is Mallory’s thing, not Al's (see above info re:hands). If it were up to me, our yard would be a barren wasteland, but Mal has got dahlias, anemones, sedum and all sorts of stuff scattered about the place. Very cute.
3. Babysitting what is possibly the world’s cutest two year old. She’s the daughter of some friends who are staying with us right now. Along with their sweet, deaf and half-blind sheepdog, they have come up from the south of France for a working vacation. The emphasis is on the « working » part of that last phrase. Last night I came home from picking up JP in Geneva and Amina and Robert were still varnishing the carport (along with Tya). It was nearly 8pm!

Anyway, the twins adore having Yasmine around and find endless things to do with her. And when she gets tired, she loves it when Mallory gets a pagne and ties her on her back just like her mom does. You should have seen Yasmine’s eyes light up the first time she did it. She hadn’t realized that under all that blonde hair and pale skin, Mallory is secretly Burkinabé.

So, we’re all very, very busy. And it’s sure a good thing I finally broke down and bought an oven, as I’m cooking meals for a crowd lately. It’s SO great to be able to bake again!! It makes life so much easier!! In fact, when I think no one is looking, I like to hunch over it protectively and caress its brushed metal finish while whispering « My preciousssssss ». Unfortunately, Tya caught me at it yesterday and gave me a chastising « Don’t make me throw that oven into the fires of Mount Doom, young lady! » look.

It’s past 7am now and I need to get down the stairs and into the kitchen!! I’ve got to to prepare breakfast and then lunch for 10 today. Last night was couscous with merguez and alloco (fried plantains).

Today I’m thinking chicken and veg curry with rice.
And I’d better make pie. Maybe lemon meringue?

Goodbye for now computer, blog and interwebz pals. Hope to see you all again soon!

The Royal Savoy Hotel of Lausanne, Switzerland.
Gosh, that sounds classy!
And I guess it was, for many, many years.
It’s a huge old dinosaur of a thing, dating back to the days when upper class young people from England and the USA would still swan around Europe to be «finished ».
The Americans wanted to acquire that sheen of genteel Old World culture. According to my deep analysis of this phenomena ( which mainly involved reading the book ‘Little Women‘ several times), this sheen could only be had by sitting by a lake ( preferably a Swiss lake, but a French one might do) and painting watercolors of it.

The English, on the other hand, seemed to seek ‘continental sophistication’. This is possibly involved the ability to eat roasted horse without freaking. I’m not sure.

And this was the kind of hotel where people would do this stuff. It was very fancy and very, very expensive.
And it wasn’t just the foreigners that flocked there. It was a favorite with European aristocrats, as well. In fact, the Spanish royal family lived in the hotel throughout the entire Second World War.

It was furnished with antiques from all over Europe from the 19th, 18th and even 17th century. Very chic.

But then something happened. Two very bad somethings, actually. Major remodels and refurbishings were done in the 1960’s and again in the early 1980’s.
And this was bad. Very, very bad.

The antique wallpapers and carpets all went and all kinds of newer stuff was installed. Some antiques were kept, but many disappeared and were replaced by modern 60s and 80s stuff. Bleh.
Worst of all, 19th century landscapes were pushed out of the way in favor of 1960’s art. God help them. The stuff was darn ugly and didn’t fit at all with the spirit of the building (or the spirit of good taste).

After this frenzy….nothing. Absolutely nothing for a long, long time.
And the hotel began a decline.
It began to disappoint

The internet arrived and word began to get around even faster…the Royal Savoy was musty, sad, shabby and far too expensive for what it offered. A client review from 2009 on one travel site called it a « smelly, dusty, run down big hotel ». Another person remarked « We were expecting a nice hotel but in fact it is an old, smelly and antiquated hotel ».
Ouch.

The « Grand Old Dame » had become a « crazy old homeless woman with ragged clothes and distinctly bad body odor ».

I guess it’s a good thing, then, that the place was sold recently.
And the new owners, Barwa Real Estate of the tiny (but rich!) nation of Qatar, had big plans.
Their first plan was to clear the whole place out. Everything would have to go: furnishings, bathroom fixtures, dishes, paintings, ashtrays, etc.
How would it all be gotten rid of?
It would be auctioned off.
And just who would buy this stuff?

Well….my husband would.

The first order of the day is to wish a very

to my faithful friend and constant blog reader, Babzee.

The next is to show you all what has been keeping me away from my computer lately.

No, I haven't been out enjoying the good weather. There's been none of that to be had around here. There's been nothing but cold rain- perfect weather to be sitting in front of a sewing machine and making tons of stuff!
My first project was to sew two sets of curtains for the living room. JP had picked up some fabric last time he was in Burkina and it had been laying around for the last two months, constantly whimpering " Sew me!" at me every time I passed by the crumpled plastic sack in which it was forced to live out its sad days. Maybe this was all just in my head, but that didn't make it any less disturbing.

As my old machine isn't fixed yet, I've borrowed one from a friend. It's white, plastic and very modern, but it works pretty darn well. I'm enjoying the heck out of the fancy zigzag stitch it has.

(Why no, I don't get out much. Why do you ask?)

When my kitty and I were done with the orange, African-ish curtains, we got right onto another project: an adorable pioneer outfit for Mallory!


The fabric is...old sheets that I got from my MIL! So, price-wise, this was a complete win.
I didn't even pay for a pattern- not that I'd easily find one in France. I would have had to special-order it at the fabric store.
So, I designed the dress and bonnet myself!


When it was done, we decided that it was still a little plain. So, I added a matching pocket on the apron and sewed up a cute pair of bloomers to go under the dress.

Mallory has been learning to embroider and she wanted to decorate a handkerchief to go with her outfit. So, I sewed one up for her and she put her initials and a flower on it. You can click on the pic of the skirt detail to see it a bit better. She's actually quite good and is working on a cute cross-stitch bib right now.

I would have KILLED to own this outfit when I was a young Laura Ingalls Wilder fan. I loved the books and read them many, many times. I watched the tv show, but with less enthusiasm. The only thing it seemed to have in common with the books was the setting and the names of the characters. SO annoying and disappointing!

The impetus for making this? Well, this summer, we'll be camping up near DSmet, South Dakota! We'll get to see the real Little Town on the Prairie and go the the annual pageant up there. This is something I've wanted to do for years. luckily, my three girls are all fans and are completely up for it. the men of the family are going along with it and won't protest too much ...unless I try to dress them up in old sheets, too!

My next project? Making a pioneer outfit for Alexa, of course! And i'm alos in the middle of making her a new Renaissance faire outfit.

Plus, there's tons of repair work to do. Now that the machine is out and running, it seems that everyone has ripped pants and torn shirts for me to fix... And no, you can't mail me yours to fix. I adore you guys, but I have to draw the line somewhere!

Back when we lived in Ouagadougou, we had a television, but never bothered to hook up the antenna. And there was no question of paying good money (or even bad money) for a satellite dish.
The tv was never turned on during the week.
At all.
On the weekends, our kids were allowed to watch just one video cassette per day (with the exception of special permission from their soft-hearted father).
One of the most often viewed and most treasured of these cassettes was « My Little Pony ». It was a French tape, so it was actually « Mon Petit Poney ». In this cartoon, small, chubby, pastel-colored talking horses went about their daily activities. And their daily activities included: being adorable, going on scavenger hunts, being even more cloyingly adorable, babysitting naughty (yet adorable!) toddler ponies, being adorable some more and rescuing a rock-star pony from the clutches of an evil manager. (Note: Rock Star Pony looked and sounded very much like The Artist Formerly Known as Prince and that particular episode was, as you may imagine, peculiarly fascinating)

One thing the ponies were never, ever obliged to do in an episode of the show was flee from people intent on killing them, butchering them and serving them up as Sunday lunch. This might well have been the plot of an installment if the show had been made in France, or Switzerland.

Most of you probably already knew that the French eat horse meat. What you may not have known is that the Swiss do it too.
They’re sneaky that way.
The Swiss may seem charming but you have to watch them closely. Otherwise, the minute you sit down to the table for a nice lunch, they are plonking down a huge roasting pan right in front of you and it’s chock-full of Mr. Ed basted in an herbed wine sauce.

And I know this is absolutely true because that’s exactly what happened to me last Sunday.

We’d gone to the Swiss city of Lausanne to visit some good friends there. We’ve known M and D for many years and were looking forward to a nice meal with them and then a group visit to an old hotel that was auctioning off all it’s furnishings (note: this hotel will figure very prominently in my next post for reasons which will surprise you. )

Anyway, there we were, all sitting around the table. There was JP, the twins, Sev, and our friends’ two lovely teen-aged sons. M was in the kitchen finishing up , while D approached the table with a big cast-iron dutch oven.
He put it down right in front of me and lifted off the lid with a decided flourish.
The large chunk of meat inside had a definite gray tinge to it. I figured that it was the sauce that had given it a funny color.
D want back to the kitchen to get a better knife and those of us left at the table speculated as to what it was.
Beef was the general consensus.
By this time, D was back at the table, hacking away at it with a large knife.
I asked him what the meat was.
« C’est un rôti de petit poulain. » he happily informed me.
« Poulain » is « foal » in English.
We were being served « roast of small foal ».
« You’re kidding, right? » I asked him.
D just looked at me quizzically and went back to putting slices on Sev’s plate.
I turned to JP. « He’s kidding, right? »
JP peered down at the lumps of gray on his own plate.
« No. I don’t think he’s kidding »
« Seriously . What is it? » I insisted, a vaguely worried feeling creeping into my mind.
« Poulain. » he said again, quite surprised I’d asked twice.
« Really? What? Really?........As in « My Little Pony ?» I asked, a bit desperately.
During all this, M had been coming down the long hallway to the dining room. She could see me clearly the whole time and she swears that throughout this exchange my face went from draining paper white to flushing bright red. (Note to self: Don’t plan to earn millions as a professional poker player)

D didn’t quite get what my problem was. In fact, he’d gone specially to the horse-butcher’s shop to buy us this nice treat.
I said that it was just like serving a roasted kitten.
In other words, not so good.

The twins, of course, refused to touch it.
The men of our family, on the other hand, chowed down. Sev even had seconds and thirds. With sauce. Horse blood sauce.
Gah!!

I’m not even that keen on eating cows. I serve beef to our family maybe once a week, max. It’s always organic, relatively happy beef and usually small quantities- little chunks in a sauce over pasta or rice, rather than steaks.

The foal roast was so very, very creepy.

Luckily, M and D are good pals and we all managed to have a good laugh about it in the end
Everyone but the foal, anyway…

I've been working on some posts-mostly about French culture and such- but can't manage finish anything. Spring has sprung in the French Alps and I can't seem to keep still in front of a screeen. I'd much rather be outside admiring my bright yellow crocus patch...

The addition to the house ? Well, the builders have got all the doors and windows on and put the interior wood panelling in. Their work is done.

Lucky dogs.

Now there's lots for us to do. JP will do as much as he can by himself, with a bit of help from a neighbor and maybe our kids.

What's left?

Flooring (insulation and then stratified floorboards)

Heat (drill hole through kitchen wall and add on a radiator out in the new room)

Paint (one ugly cement wall which used to be the exterior of the west side of the house)

Light (Agree on, purchase and put up some light fixtures!)

Varnish (interior walls and ceiling with transparent UV protection)

More varnish (exterior+shutters+the carport)

So, plenty to do there.

The REALLY big news is that Tya is leaving for Germany.... at 2am this Saturday morning. That's only about 16 hours from now! She's leaving on a bus with a bunch of classmates and some teachers. They'll all be lodged with various host families in a small town not far from Berlin. Tya's very excited. She'll only be gone a week, so expect a full report on her blog very soon.

I was in Thonon today, dropping off my sewing machine to be repaired. It's an old Kohler that belonged to JP's maternal grandmother who was a seamstress. Widowed when her only daughter was just a year old, she earned her living making hats and dresses for the good folks of Luneville. And she had to work hard, as there wasn't a penny of insurance money.

She's planned to pay the premium on Saturday, but the baby (my MIL) was crying and fussing in her stroller. She decided to go right on home and get to the insurance office on Monday.

The next day, her husband died in a motorcycle crash...

So, that's my sewing machine.

The repair guy thought it was great. A real classic.

"An old metal machine from the early 1960's? These things are indestructable." he said.

If nuclear bombs go off, it seems, the only things left standing will be the cockroaches and my sewing machine...

I had it with me in Burkina, but it didn't do well on the trip back to France. The six months in transit were hard on it and it hasn't worked quite right since. I need it working again because I need to be making curtains, cushion covers and cloaks for the girls (renaissance faire stuff).

I also want to give Valentine a few more sewing lessons, as she's been asking me...

The Book: The Ice Master: The Doomed 1913 Voyage of the Karluk- I’m not generally a big fan of non-fiction, but I make an exception for books about early polar exploration. I don’t know why , exactly. When my interest began, back in Burkina, I thought maybe it was because reading about people freezing to death made me feel less miserably hot. But that theory doesn’t seem to hold any (ice) water because I now live somewhere with very long, cold winters and I still love me some polar adventure. And this is a good one. Based on a mountain of diaries, newspaper accounts and some interviews, this account of a Canadian scientific voyage gone very, very wrong could have been very, very dry. But Jennifer Niven keeps the story engaging. It’s an amazing book!

The TV series: Dollhouse.
Joss Whedon-how do I love thee?
Let me count the ways…
( Buffy, Angel, Firefly, Serenity, Dr. Horrible and now, Dollhouse)
OK. Six.
I love thee six ways, baby.
(Apologies to E. Barrett Browning- but I figure she can take the damage)
Like everything Whedon has done, it's thought-provoking, creative, touching and funny. And, like the amazing and beloved Firefly, was cancelled by the networks after only a short run.

The Music Video: TikTok is THE song of the moment, I'm sorry to say. But, much as I'm not a fan, I’ve listened to it several times lately. I wanted to watch the cute video my cousin’s daughter made with a friend.
OK.
I’m not sure how appropriate it is. The cans of Mountain Dew labeled as Jack Daniels were kind of disturbing.
And the lyrics "Boys trying to touch my junk"? Well, maybe it refers to people rummaging through her box of old Barbies at a garage sale...
But it’s all in good fun. And she wants lots of people to watch it. And her mom is very sick right now with cancer.
So, cheer up Mikayla and watch her video. 'Favorite' it and star it up, even. She's a sweetie.


The Podcast: AV Talk - This is my go-to movie review place

The Home Improvement Project: That would be the new room being added to our house. And right now, as I write this, there are workers in it nailing on the interior wood paneling! Progress is being made!!

Bad news: France is again an occupied country.

This time, though, the invasion force is made up of annoying imported cartoon characters. They are everywhere and imprinted on everything: Dora the Explorer, Thomas the Tank Engine, Spiderman (which the French pronounce "Speeder-mahn" which makes me ROTFL) and everything Disney.

This foreign invasion has long been a concern/peeve of mine. As a young mom in France with a passel of tots, I often found it frustrating that most of the kids' clothes looked just like what you'd buy back in the USA, only way more expensive. On top of that, they'd often feature text in nonsensical English. And I didn't WANT my son to wear sleepers imprinted with Batman's face and ungrammatical phrases. I just didn't.

I started thinking about this issue again when a friend (non French, but living in France) recently complained that she couldn't find much "real" French stuff for her kids. Where are the real French kids' books (as opposed to something originally published in English, but then translated) , the cartoons, the nursery rhymes and songs? And this is just the kind of "insider" information that is difficult to prise out of the natives. (see this post for more info on why the French won't tell you jack)

Luckily, when I got my French passport back in 1996, they neglected to make me sign any papers promising to keep my mouth shut. So, I'm free to give you the low-down on Real French Stuff.

There's a lot of ground to cover. So, today I'm just going to go over a few comic book characters you need to know about:

1. Asterix- This little guy is at the core of French culture. If you want to be an insider, a nodding aquaintance with this small Gaulish warrior is a must. He, along with his big pal Obelix and their many friends, fight the good fight as the last holdouts against the Roman invasion of Gaul (France in about 50BC). The books are very funny and there are 34 of them, so get cracking!















2. Tintin- He's cute! I love the intrepid boy reporter. I really do. But he's Belgian. So, never mind.












3. Marsupialami- This cute fella is...well...I don't know really WHAT he is. I guess he's a kind of monkey/leopard (?) thingy. Anyway, he spends his days bouncing around the Palombian jungle, outwitting the hunters and saying "houba houba!" in an adorable manner. He's been around since 1952, so apparently the formula works. At any rate, he may have a Palombian passport, but he's also trés, trés français.

















4. Titeuf- His pedigree isn't as long as that of Asterix or the bouncy yellow guy above, but since the early 1990's, he's definitely been a force in the French culture of childhood. I didn't "get" this one at first. I guess maybe because I found the artwork kind of ugly... but both the comic book albums and the animated cartoon are actually very good. French kids certainly adore them. In fact "Titeuf" is the most popular comic in France right now...and has been for some years. Don't miss it.






5. Becassine-I was always delighted when I could find baby gear festooned with the figure of this lady:
She's very vintage (1913!), very cool and still a force to be reckoned with. Who would have imagined making a housemaid from Bretagne into a comic strip heroine?

6. Lucky Luke- I'm adding this one a bit grudgingly. I don't like him, but he's a definite presence in French culture. I probably feel about this dopey, fake euro-cowboy the way actual French people might feel about Pepe Le Pew. But a true knowledge of French popular culture definitely requires at least knowing what the song "Les Daltons" is about and who sang it back in 1967.

Just so you know...
If someone offers you a choice between the two following options:
1. See the new Scorsese film "Shutter Island"
or
2. Get your eye poked by a sharp stick,
my recommendation is that you take a good, long look at the stick in question. If it seems to be relatively clean and free of any obvious splinters, you should go with the stick. Chances are, you'll be fine, with some good medical care.

Maybe your eye won't thank me for this bit of wisdom, but your brain will. Your brain does NOT want to deal with "Shutter Island".
Trust me.

What's not to like? (spoiler alert: if you're determined to see this film despite my good advice, you'd best get off the bus here)

Well, most obviously, there's Leo DiCaprio's squinting and brow-furrowing ("acting").

There's the distracting accents. Somewhere between the dialect coaching sessions and the eventual performances, something went horribly, terribly wrong. I know people from Boston and they really don't sound like that. At all.
There's the overwrought "scary" score that I would have expected from a brand new, not too smart filmaker. Some subtletly, please? If something is frightening, I don't need jangy, staccato piano notes and/or screechy strings to tell me so.
There's the threadbare "suspense" plot that gives away the ending with ten minutes of the opening shot.
There's a horrific, drawn-out-beyond-the-realms-of-good-taste scene near the end which is completely gratuitous (because the audience already knows the details of the traumatic event) and seems to be there just for the shock value of seeing small dead children and giving DiCaprio another chance to over-act.
And don't even get me started on the Dachau scenes. Just don't.

About 30 minutes into the film, I leaned over to JP and whispered "Scorsese has lost his freaking mind."

Not that I've ever been a big Scorsese fan. Lots of his films are about the mafia (Casino, The Departed, Goodfellas) and one (considered by many to be his best) is about boxing (Raging Bull). These are two subjects that are completely uninteresting to me (as are race car driving, football and watching paint dry) and I go out of my way to avoid movies about these things, even if they are supposed to be "good" ones.
Another problem is that Scorsese made many of his films in the 1970's . This was an era in film-making when it was fashionable to make everything look like crap. Really ugly crap. On the big screen, even the most glamorous movie stars looked like homeless heroin addicts. (In fact, even the "adorable" orphan in Disney's 'Pete's Dragon' (1977) looked like a homeless heroin addict!) I was only a kid, but I couldn't help but notice that things in movieland had suddenly gotten ugly, dirty and sexual (in a cheap, scary kind of way).
We're just lucky Scorsese and his ilk never got a hold of "The Sound of Music".

The only Scorsese film that I admire is "The Gangs of New York". The whole "gritty realism" thing worked to bring to life a very realistic mid-19th century city in a way that I don't think had been seen before and hasn't since. But maybe I'm biased because I'm an archaeologist and have spent a lot of time trying to imagine the past and he did a great job with the historical aspects.

The above is just to flash my credentials as a non-Scorsese-worshipping filmgoer. I won't, as so many seem to be doing, cut him any slack on this one. It's NOT a good film and you shouldn't waste your time.

My only two consolations are that
a. we went to a cheap show and only paid 4 euros each to get in
and
b. I still have both of my eyes intact.


(Many thanks to blogger/artist Sean McGlinchey for the use of his crazy sketch. Check out more of his stuff here)

I didn't post yesterday because I had to shop for party supplies, teach a couple of English courses, clean house and then make this:

It's a kind of psychedelic fairy cat. You can see that, right?

At any rate, it's what the twins wanted and they were thrilled. Plus, their pals were gratifyingly impressed.

I had to bake it at a friend's house (Thanks, Esther!) yesterday, as my oven is still broken. (As it would cost about 150 euros to fix it, I know we had better just go buy a new one. But I can't seem to make myself spend the money...)

Anyway, the kids were busy this morning getting everything ready. Even Severin lent a hand, but quickly fled the scene when the nine 11 and 12 year old girls showed up and started with the squealing and chattering.

A good time, as they say, was had by all.

Birthday Girls!

Last Sunday, the twins turned 12 years old. As a friend recently pointed out, this is probably the last "kid" birthday for them. At 12, they still ask for Barbies and Playmobil as gifts.

At 13? Not so much.

Actually, Mallory asked for books. As is often the case, Alexa didn't have any idea of what to ask for. It's funny that Mal has such definite ideas about...everything, while Alexa is much more laid back and vague about things.

And it's been that way since they were born. When she was small, Mallory would grumble and howl to get things just how she liked them- while Alexa laid ( and then sat) around looking serene and generally ok with the world as it was.

So, the zen girl got a video game involving music (she likes music) and a tiny digital photo frame

Then we had our outing. The buffet at the Chinese restaurant was a big success. The food was good and the decor was satisyingly oriental, in that crazy-tacky Chinese restaurant way that is so entertaining.

Afterwards, we went to Geneva:
The Museum of Art and History is rather small, but has some great pieces. Severin enjoyed the swords and armour, while the girls preferred the paintings.

Here's Alexa in front of some gorgeous peonies by Renoir.

And here's Mallory's favorite- a painting depicting a happy family of farmers apparently enjoying a picnic with all of their livestock. That's what I call cruelty-free farming!

That evening, for about 20 minutes, Mallory was 12 years old and Alexa was still only 11. Mal enjoyed it while it lasted, but Al was very happy when the clock finally hit 8:50pm. She could finally say she was really a whole year older!

The high-tech voodoo practitioner came today, waved some chicken feathers over my computer and now I can once again post photos! Yippee!

OK- I'll admit it.
He didn't really do a rite involving poultry.
But he DID do something deeply mysterious that made my computer behave better....

Anyway, to celebrate, here a a few pics taken TODAY to show you the progress that's been made on the house.
As you can see, we have a proper roof, windows, cute shutters and a gorgeous copper gutter:

We can finally start imagining how it will look when it's all done. I am loving the super-high ceiling and big wooden beams:

Also, we finally have the insulation all in. (No door yet, though):

And now that it's insulated, that means the electrician can come and start the wiring!

We accepted an estimate yesterday and the guy promised to come tomorrow morning! And I'm pretty confident he will- he's someone we've had work for us before and he's exceptionally dependable, for a local artisan.

We had to modify his estimate a bit, though. The electrician had included a lighting system for the room...a very nice one. A bit like this:

The thing is, a set-up similar to the above would us cost over 1000 US dollars.
So, that's not happening.
I'm sure we'll be just as happy (and way less broke) with normal lights costing ten times less.

I haven't been posting often, as most of the subjects I've wanted to write about seem to demand at least one small photo to illustrate them...and I seem to have picked up a computer virus (?!) that prevents me from using any photos or attachments. At all.
And it's not just with Blogspot- also Gmail and any other site where I try to load my own photos. Very odd.
I've got a computer specialist coming on Thursday night to help me out. I sure hope he can figure out what's wrong and fix it, asap!

As soon as my computer is working right, expect pics and posts about:
The twins' birthday outing in Geneva
The progress on the addition to the house
French comic book characters
Tya's artwork
plus
The twins' 12th birthday party (coming up this Sunday) which will feature a fairy cat cake designed by yours truly. i'm already working on the sketches for it. Could end up being cute. Odd, but cute.

You all HAVE to go have a look at Valentine's latest art project for school.

The assignment was to use photography or video in conjunction with one other art technique (painting, sculpture, whatever) to make a piece portraying a daily activity in a humorous way.

She ended up using a picture of an old Flemish domestic painting and having some fun with it. She changed it up and incorporated pics of our whole family.

I think she did an amazing job, but you should go see for yourselves.

BTW: It would be nice of you to leave her an encouraging comment, too. She likes that.

A list of stuff ( just because I like lists)

1. Project Runway- I adore Tim Gunn. (Not that I'd ever want to meet him, mind you. I dress so badly that it would probably give him physical pain to look at me.) In case you are some unfortunate creature living under a rock and don't know of him, he's the co-host of a fabulous and "fierce" reality show that pits young clothing designers against each other in various challenging situations, ex: must make an evening gown in just 8 hours, using only materials purchased at a corner grocery store.
Let me add that I usually HATE reality TV. The kind of thing where a bunch of people live in a camera-filled house together and gossip about each other is just...so tacky and dull. But shows where people show a real talent, such as singing or sewing? They're a win, IMHO.

2. The Birthday of the Twins- The Dynamic Duo turn 12 this Sunday, which is kind of scary for their mom. My babies are nearly teenagers? Gah!
But it's all good, right?
The girls have opted to celebrate with lunch at a chinese restaurant and a vist to the Museum of Art and History in Geneva. (I'm so lucky to have such cool kids!)
Then, when the school holiday is over, they'll hand out invitations and we'll have a little party with their friends here at home.

3. Pumpkin Soup with Cumin and Coriander: This is a family favorite that is appearing on the table fairly often these days:
Sauté one chopped onion and 2tsp of cumin in two tablespoons of olive oil. Steam or boil about four cups of chopped pumpkin until soft. (If you boil it, drain it well afterwards). Purée the cooked onion and pumpkin til smooth, slowly adding three to four cups of chicken or vegetable bouillion. Wash and chop up a small bunch of coriander leaves? garnish each bowl with coriander, a tsp of creme fraiche (or sour cream)and homemade croutons.
Easy, yet kind of fancy, and very tasty...

4. Skeptic's Guide to the Universe: This podcast is my new "escape to reality" these days. It's about an hour and a half of discussion and debunking : urban myths, conspiracy theories, pseudoscience and paranormal crud get taken on. I especially enjoy it when they go after anti-vaccine whackos and homeopathy.

5. Dingue, Dingue, Dingue- Here's some French pop for you. It's the song stuck in my head this week. Sadly, the only lyrics I know are three words to the chorus...and they're all the same word. The kids are possibly a bit tired of me singing the word "dingue" (crazy) over and over and over again...but it's a cute song! (Here's the lyrics in French and in English, if you're interested)

The news:
No progress on the house.
JP is back and keeping very, very busy.
The kids are in the middle of a two week school holiday.

The anecdote:
A few weeks before school got out, Mallory's book bag gave up the ghost. It was in such tatters that we just threw it out and she started carrying an old one that had belonged to her big sister. but after a few days, that one broke, too.
I took it to the local shoe repair guy and he said he could have it fixed up in a couple of days.

In the meantime, Mal needed a way to carry her books. And not just any daypack would do. The kids have loads of books each day that are easily 30 lbs or more. The only pack I could find that was big enough was crushed up at the back of the attic crawl space. It was nothing fancy- just the most basic model and the blue nylon was dusty and stained.

In fact, it looked like it hadn't been washed since my last fieldwork back in 1991. I hadn't ever gotten rid of it for sentimental reasons- it was the backpack I'd bought for my first real work as an archaeologist. I carried it in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks as a young government archaeologist. I took it down to southern Peru as a graduate student . Then it kept me company as I did boring, run-of-the-mill survey work for a private archaeological firm in Illinois.
It even came with me to Europe when I started to work on my (never finished) doctorate.
It's a sad-looking item with a proud history.

I wasn't sure what Mallory would make of it. In fact I fully expected her to turn up her nose.

I explained that it was my old archaeology kit, assured her that she'd only have to carry it for a few days and then told her I'd wash it up good as new.
She grabbed the bag with what looked distinctly like a sparkle of interest in her eyes. She didn't even want it washed. (I guess the stains lent it authenticity?) Her books went in with room to spare and she happily went off to school.

Three days later, I proudly held out the clean, repaired back pack that had belonged to Tya. It's rather pretty- a sort of beige with red scrolls and flowers on it- and I was sure that Mal would be so pleased to get it back and get rid of the ancient, ratty blue pack.

"I like the blue one," she said
"It' so old and stained..." I began doubtfully.
"But it makes my books lighter on my back....and lighter in my head, too. It always makes me think of you!"

So, she's kept the old field pack and the fancy flowered bag is at the back of the closet.
That's my girl!

Idiot Box à la Française: Part 2

So, ready to settle down and watch more French TV with me?
Great.
By the way, you have paid your television tax, right?
You know - the 115 euro tax automatically added onto your property tax bill? And it’s no use saying that you only use your tv to watch dvds…if you have a tv in the house, you have to pay the tax. (I know this because when we first moved to France, we didn’t even hook up our tv to the ancient antenna on the roof. For about four years, we only used it to watch tapes. But we still had to pay the stupid tax and pay for tv shows we never watched.)

Even you folks that don’t even own a tv had better be ready for a struggle with the French tax authorities. They will definitely send people to poke around your house and verify.
Srsly.
Ok. Now that we’re all legal, let’s continue my list and get you a dose of France via television:

4. Un Diner Presque Parfait: This show is relatively recent (just started in 2008) but it’s excellent for people wanting a glimpse into the « real » France. It’s a game show that each weeks pits five people against each other in a brutal competition to….. have the nicest dinner party. I kid you not. Each night, the contestants gather at the house of one of them and the host gives them a (hopefully) tasty and entertaining dinner. You get to see the host’s home, go along to do a bit of the shopping and then hang out in the kitchen while he/she cooks. As all kinds of people participate in this show, you get to see all kinds of French homes. How people arrange and use their living spaces is so culturally dependant that there is no way this can be boring to someone really interested in learning about the French!
As is typical of many French game shows, there is a large effort involved (making a fancy dinner for five one night and then dining out on four consecutive nights) with very little reward. The contestants all score each other and, on Friday night, the highest total wins the victor a grand total of….1000 euros.
Yawn.
But it’s not about cash, it’s all about the pride French people take in preparing and serving really nice food…

5. 100% Mag-: After UDPP (see above) is over, leave it on the same channel and watch this fast-paced collection of short, easy to understand reports on lightweight topics of the moment. I really recommend this if you are just learning French and/or need topics of conversation when standing around with the other parents waiting to pick up the kids at school, or whatever.
The subjects are varied, ex:
Should you let your teen wear goth clothing?
What’s worse for you? Frozen food or canned?
How about we meet this nice lady who repairs garden gnomes in her spare time?
and
Should I let my dog date?

Ok. It’s often a bit silly, but lots of people watch it and the French is easy to understand.

Plus, there’s this: I was watching the show a couple of months ago and they did a segment on redecorating your home on a budget. They went into the Paris home of a couple in the middle of just such a process…and I recognized the woman! It was someone I knew back in Ouaga. Her son was one of Mallory’s best friends- in fact, Mal and little V. informed us they were going to get married one day. Granted, they were four years old at the time…
At any rate, it was so funny to see her on tv. I hadn’t heard from her since she left her husband for another guy, moved to France and had twin daughters….the girls are cute, btw.

6. Les Guignols de L’info- This is a good one for people that don’t like to watch TV. It lasts about 10 minutes and does a quick roundup of the news of the day (mostly political, but it depends). The thing is, it’s all left-leaning satire done by huge latex puppets….it’s kind of hard to explain. Guess you have to be there.
The writers are definitely fans of President Obama, and President Sarkozy definitely comes off the worst in all interactions. This is a great clip from the show, if you'd like to have a look.


There’s other stuff on, of course, but a lot of it is very French in a way that does not interest me at all. I’m talking about all the weird « talk shows » they have- the ones where mostly D-list celebrities sit around and chat with each other and seem to find themselves (and to a far lesser extent, their fellow obscure guests) endlessly charming and amusing.
Like this.
Me, I'd whitewash my lawn to watch the grass grow as the paint dries, rather than watch one of these shows.
Some people love the stuff, though, and they certainly always manage to fill up the studio audience for these things. But I really don’t get the attraction. It’s very dull and old-fashioned-like something they would have had on tv in the US in the 1950’s.

Anyway, I hope this has been helpful.
Comments are, as usual, welcome!

Does French culture even exist anymore?

While living here, I’ve managed to get US pop songs stuck in my head, watched the latest über-popular US films, and even bought Dr. Pepper in a local supermarket..
I sometimes fear that my blog might give my readers the impression that France is just like the USA, only smaller and populated by people that talk funny.

But this is very wrong.
Consider just this small fact: On last Thursday, the cafeteria at the junior high (collége) my twins attend served frog legs for lunch.

The above is a true fact that has not been fabricated to impress you with scary French-ness.

The above is also a definite sign that we aren’t in Kansas (or even Nebraska) any more…

What really got me thinking about this was two things: 1. The frog legs and 2. A recent post on a blog that I keep up with. It’s written by a Canadian woman who plotted and planned for years to get her family of five to France for a sabbatical. In this particular post, she remarked the fact that Dora, Spiderman, and that gang of pastel-shaded toughs referred to as the "Disney Princesses » are hard to avoid, even in the heart of the EU. It seems like every book, dvd and tv show is just a US product translated into French. As the whole point of the sabbatical is that the whole family get a taste of another culture, this stuff is just not up to the task. So, she put out a call for ideas for « real » French stuff for kids.

I quickly wrote back with a few suggestions, and it gave me the idea to write a post of my own:
What TV programs are uniquely French?

Here in France, when you turn on the TV you can watch a group of madcap, wacky NYC pals having humorous adventures in French (So I’m told. I hate « Friends » and have never watched it) . Homer Simpson insults everyone in French. Heck, there’s even ‘Extreme Home Makeover’ and ‘Wife Swap‘ in French. There is, in short, no end of US shows imported to France and dubbed into the local lingo.

But if you want to get to know French culture, it’s sure not what you should watch while you’re here.

What you should watch is the stuff below. I’m not saying it’s all great, but it’s all very French and you’ll learn lots. Trust me.

1. Fort Boyard: this is the ultimate French game show. It’s now in its 21st season and has imitations in many different countries, but don’t be fooled - the French version is the original. It takes place in a real 19th century fort sitting out in the middle of the ocean. It features tigers, dwarves, gold coins and, that favorite element of any French entertainment, D-list celebrities.
The concept is this: little-known « celebrities » form a team and pass through a series of trials to earn keys that will eventually unlock a « treasure room » . These trials may involve physical prowess (having to cross a room in the fort without touching the ground, for example), mental toughness (crawling into a room full of tarantulas) or intellectual skills.
The latter type of trial is typified by a visit up to the tower of Pére Fouras. This character asks the contestants riddles. His makeup is not exactly state of the art and makes him look like he’s approximately 180 years old. On the other hand, his riddles are pretty good. (And I LOVE it when I get one right! It may be silly, but it makes me feel like I am really fitting in)
The « gold » coins won in the end are weighed and « turned into » real money, which is donated to a charity chosen by the winners. So that’s nice.
At any rate, the whole spectacle is rather entertaining and very French, in a strange way.

2. Intervilles- This one dates back to 1962. During each weekly episode, teams from two different French towns are pitted against each other in a series of completely ridiculous games. The teams may, for example, have to dress up in giant otter costumes and slide down into pool to gather huge foam anchovies. At least one of the games invariably involves « Les Vachettes ». These are irritable , sharp horned cows from the Landes region of France. Competitors are usually sent into the ring to fetch objects (ex: giant plastic turnips) and get chased around (and not infrequently trampled) by the animals.
It’s all really weird and you must see it if you want to understand France. EVERYBODY knows about this show. Last summer in Montpellier, Mallory was talking to a little three year old boy that could barely speak. He managed to convey to her his love for Intervilles, though. « I like Rosa! » he announced, and promptly tried to gore her with pretend horns. (Rosa is one of the « star » cows of the program.)

3. La Carte au Tresor- Here’s another fairly old one. It started back in the 1980’s and was significantly modernized in 1996 to its current form. But the idea remained the same. Two teams compete to follow a series of clues and compete to find the treasure box full of cash. The special thing about this show is that each episode focuses on a specific region of France. And solving the clues involves going from place to place, learning about the local landmarks, historic sites and activities. The teams get to use a helicopter for some of the game, but they are mostly on foot and have to resort to asking strangers for rides. This can result in some pretty funny scenes, as the French are not, in general, « hey! Hop into my car! » kind of people.

Another very French thing about this show is that the people go to a huge amount of effort and they actually win very little money. The "treasure" is 3000 euros.
I always loved this show, though. You get to see so much of the country and learn interesting stuff .
Sadly, it was just cancelled last September. This was mainly due to a lack of interest by young people, who mostly prefer reality shows like « Koh-Lanta » (A French « Survivor » imitation.) You know- a show where you don’t have to see boring old stuff and learn about history. Sigh. But if they start re-runs, give it a try. And it may come out on DVD, as old episodes of « Fort Boyard » already have…


This is getting a bit long, so I’ll stop here. Be sure and click the links and have a look at a YouTube vido of the opening sequence of each show.
I’ll be back tomorrow with a few more.

BTW: The builder and his crew showed up again today! It was right after lunch, so it was only a half day. But that’s better than nothing. They installed the big Velux window in the roof and put on the gorgeous copper gutters!

Blogspot still seems to be having problems. I can't get even a single picture to load on my blog, which is rather a shame as things are finally progressing again on our room!


Anyway, as I blogged in a previous entry, the builder showed up on Feb. 4, got the walls up and most of the roof on, then wrapped it all in plastic and ran off.
Finally, today (12 days later!) his team showed upagain. They weren't exactly bright and early, either. It was 3pm-ish already, so they got quite a late start.

But they're out there right now putting the roof tiles on, which is nice. It will be even nicer when we have windows, a door and insulation...

If you want an idea of what it's all looking like, go here. It's a Photobucket album of the room going up. It will be of interest to you home renovation fans out there. For the rest of you, not so much.

Sorry this post is so lackluster. I am miserable with a particularly rotten cold. It's giving me a bad cough, making me sneeze and slowly sucking away my will to live...

Today I just spent ages getting together a bunch of photos of the progress on our house, but Blogger isn't letting me post any pics today. This is not the first time this has happened...Any other bloggers out there finding Blogger a bit buggy lately?

Well, it's not like there's nothing to write about. Mallory is feeling very perky again, so that's great. JP is finally coming back from Ouaga on Sunday.

And also: Martha Barnette wrote an email to ME!!!

SRSLY! And no, it wasn't a form letter for a funding drive or something lame like that. It was a very friendly answer to an email I'd sent in...
Wait a minute...
You DO remember who Martha is, right? She, her co-host Grant, and their amazing radio show have made it onto two of my "Top Ten" lists over the last few months(here and here). I'm sure you rushed right to the show website and downloaded many episodes, right?
No?
Go do it now. I'll wait here.
You're back?
Good. Listen to an episode after you get done reading this post. You'll thank me.

Back to the business at hand: Yesterday afternoon I had to go pick up my older kids and a few of their friends at school. As is my custom, I listened to my ipod over the radio (Thank you, Technology Gods!). I was really looking forward to the 20 minute trip because I had a new episode of "A Way With Words" waiting for me. I was not disappointed (never am, actually). Like usual, there were many listener questions called in. One that caught my attention was about the term "swan song". The caller had heard and even used the term many times, but had no idea where it originated. I actually didn't find the answer all that interesting, because I already knew it; (+in case you don't know and have decided not to take my advice to listen to the show: The ancient greeks believed there was a variety of swan that stayed silent its entire life until the very end. Then it would sing a beautiful song and immediately die.
The story was already discredited by Roman times, but the idea stuck around. Shakespeare even used the concept a few times.)
The discussion made me think of a wonderful song that I've performed. In fact, I sang it as part of a quartet in Ouagadougou at the US Embassy. (I'm the one in pink) The Ambassador herself sang the alto part. (She was an excellent singer, too. Multitalented!)
The memory prompted me to jot off this qucik email to the program:
Dear Grant and Martha,

Besides being a fan of your entertaining and educational show, I'm also a fan of renaissance music. When on your most recent program, you discussed the term "swan song", I immediately thought of this beautiful madrigal composed by the great Orlando Gibbons in 1612.

The Silver Swan, who living, had no note
When death approached unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sang her first and last, and sang no more.
Farewell all joys,
Oh, death, come close mine eyes.
More geese than swans now live
More fools than wise.


Just thought I'd share.

I am a US citizen (born in Nebraska) and currently living in the French Alps with my French husband and four bilingual children. We learn something from every podcast and usually have a good laugh, as well.
Thanks for putting together a great show week after week.
Sincerely,
Beth Jacob

Within about an hour, I got this in my inbox:

Wow, that is really cool. Thanks, Beth! Maybe I’ll share that on a later podcast. And how cool — living in the Alps with bilingual kids sounds fantastic.

Thanks again!

Best,

Martha Barnette
Cohost, "A Way with Words"

I'd been expecting, at best, a canned response "Thanks for your interest" kind of thing and I thought it was VERY amazing that she took the time to write back.

My first reponse was to yell "Hey everybody! Martha emailed me!!!"
This brought all four of my kids stampeding up to my attic office to behold the wonder of it. They were all very happy for me and rather pleased that she thinks that living with them "sounds fantastic" (which it is, mostly).

But Tya was very careful to inform me "Martha is still NOT your friend. You know that right? She is a radio host that you have never met. Don't make her think you are a creepy stalker."

Ah, teenagers. They always know what to say...

Which American accent do you have? Neutral You're not Northern, Southern, or Western, you`re just plain -American-. Your national identity is more important than your local identity, because you don`t really have a local identity. You might be from the region in that map, which is defined by this kind of accent, but you could easily not be. Or maybe you just moved around a lot growing up.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Or maybe you lived in Switzerland, then France, and then Burkina Faso and then France again.

I left my home state of Nebraska right after university. Then when I was in my mid-twenties, I left the US altogether. I apparently also left behind my Nebraska accent.

Not that I ever sounded like Larry the Cable Guy. But it's been years since I called a soft drink a pop ...

First of all, thanks SO much for all the supportive comments. It's so good to know there are people out there on my side!!

Secondly: I am SO on top of this Bad Bus situation! Monday afternoon, as soon as Mallory was feeling ok and resting a bit, I contacted the SIVOM. That's the parents' organisation that actually negotiates and signs the contract with the private transportation company. The office was closed, but I got an appointment right away for the next morning when it opened at nine am.

I told the representative the whole story and stated my main concerns:
A. The bus driver should not start the bus until everyone is sitting. That is a basic safety rule (and we all see why now, right?). Thanks to efforts by parents in the past, the bus driver has plenty of power to enforce this. If a child doesn't obey him, he can even take his/her bus pass away and leave mom or dad to drive the miscreant to school. It should NOT be left up to the younger kids (age 11) to try to make the older kids ( up to age 15!) act like decent people and move their bags off the seats.
B. There is apparently no SOP for medical emergencies. As Mallory sat clutching a wad of bloody kleenex to the back of her head, the bus driver drove into town (4km away) and hoped for the best. He had no clue what to do with her. He stopped the bus on the main road at the entrance to town and made all the kids get out, including Mallory. He walked with her to a seamstress' shop and peered through the window. He had a vague idea there was a nurses office somewhere nearby. There wasn't and I don't know what he would have done if she passed out. As it was, after much discussion (Alexa said it took AGES), one of the older kids said that there was a small medical clinic on the north edge of town. He then sent the other kids walking off to the junior high (even Alexa) and told Mallory to get back on the bus alone. She was weepy, starting to feel woozy, and beginning to feel like help might be long in coming- not a good feeling when you are 11 years old, bleeding from the head and alone with some strange guy who seems completely clueless.
He drove her to the clinic, walked her in, told the doctor to take her and left.
And get this: When the SIVOM representative phoned the transport company on Tuesday morning, she was told that the guy hadn't even mentioned the incident to anyone. What a responsible individual, eh? A real prince.

All of the above made me very worried about how such a person would handle a more serious emergency. The mind reels.
Luckily, the SIVOM representative agees and is talking to the SAT (the transport company) about outlining some emergency procedures for the drivers on school runs.

I'm also deep in the insurance stuff. I spent yesterday alternating calls between the SAT and my insurance company. I finally got sick of it and forced them to speak to each other. That seemed to do the trick. I found out this morning from the SAT that our own insurance will pay for Mallory's medical bills, but then will be reimbursed by the insurance of the SAT. The woman there also told me that the driver had just submitted a report of the incident.
I'd love to hear his version of the whole thing...

The original ending of my last post was the line " Well, at least we still have our health".
I looked at what I'd written and promptly deleted it. I was sure that a bit of snark like that (I meant it sincerely, but it just didn't come off that way) would surely earn me a big smack-down from the Powers That Be.

Apparently, the Powers That Be don't just read the final, published post. They read the draft over my shoulder as I write. (You'd think they could find a better use for their time, but there you go. )

I know this is true because the day after I wrote that and erased it two seconds later, the Powers conspired to make me regret my lack of appreciation for the good health of my family. They did it like this: They put Mallory on the school bus on Monday morning and put it into the other kids' heads not to let her have a seat. (Actually, it's a frequent situation. The older kids put their book bags on the seats and don't let the younger ones sit. The victims are too shy/scared to insist and the driver ignores the problem).
Then the Powers made the child standing at the next bus stop temporarily invisible, so that the driver would only see the boy after he'd passed by and then feel forced to hit the breaks with great force. Their clever plan worked and the sudden stop hurled Mallory backwards onto the floor. The back of her head hit the edge of a step and the blood was impressive. I'm told that every girl on the bus was in tears.
I know all this because Alexa was there, of course. I only got all these details much later, though. The first I heard of it all was at about 8:30 am. The phone rang and when I picked it up, the secretary at the junior high was on the line saying "This is the school. Your daughter wants to talk to you."
A weeping Alexa tearfully told me "Mallory is hurt bad, Mommy".
I, of course, imagined the worst.
The absolute worst.

Then, she told me Mallory had hit her head, there was lots of blood and she was at the hospital.
This was still not sounding good.

I asked to talk to the secretary. And adult could help me out, right? Wrong. The woman knew NOTHING. The kids are only the responsibility of the school once they come in the gate, I was told. The school transport is contracted out to a private company.
So, good luck with that.

Luckily for my sanity, my call-waiting went off just then. It was the doctor at the medical clinic in the town where the school is. She reassured me that Mallory was there, relatively fine, just a bit hysterical and in need of a few stitches .

I got there in a flash and found quickly Mallory by marching through the place yelling her name (btw: Works great! They brought me to her right away!) Mal was huddled on a table, weeping piteously, asking if she was going to die soon. The doctors found her melodrama a bit much. I did my best to calm her down and comfort her. (What worked best was a promise to read "Bunnicula" to her when we got back home.)

She ended up with five stitches and walked out of the doctor's office looking like the victim of a severe disaster. Her hair was matted pink with blood and it was smeared all over her face and covered her coat. And don't forget that half her front tooth had been shattered on Saturday.
She was fairly miserable, but I was just feeling relieved.
I knew we'd gotten off lightly.

We just spent three days with no heat in our home and no hot water. The crazy (malfunctioning) gauge had me convinced that we still had at least 500 literes left. But we didn't. And nobody could get me a delivery any time soon. Most places offered to bring some in a week. It was -5F outside and I was not going to last a week with no heat. I ended up making a second call to my usual supplier and shamelessly begging him to find a solution. He promised a few liters for Thursday, so we settled in to wait. The electric space heater had just short circuited , so there was no help there. We mostly huddled around the fireplace and I boiled endless pots of water on the woodstove. Luckily, my girls are all big " Little House on the Prairie" fans and they actually thought it was fun to have their mom wash their hair using a bucket of water.

The builder came on Thurday and started on the new addition to the house, but after a few hours, he covered everything in plastic and said he'd come back when "the weather is good"(which, considering the fact that we are in the French Alps, could be in April). The plastic tarps are all nailed down, effectively sealing up our back door. And now everything is covered by a foot of snow.

Then, Mallory broke a chunk out of her front tooth, whacked in the face by a bar on a ski lift. (Can you say "ouch!"?)

Also, the oven is broken.

Add to that a burned-out computer monitor, and that about sums up the last week for me.

It's been...interesting.

I had to do some blog-housekeeping recently and make some changes. Lately, I've been getting all kinds of freaky, annoying spam in my comments section and I finally got tired of sorting through it.

So, now when you comment, you'll have to give an ID and write the funny words in the tiny box.
Sorry.

I wish spammers would...go away on a permanent basis. If I were a less nice person, I'd just go ahead and say they should DIE, along with people who create and send out computer viruses.

Oh, what the heck- who ever said I was nice?

DIE, SPAMMERS, DIE!