How do you feel about?

Those words,"how do you feel about..." are uttered often at Chemin du Port. The can be followed by anything from sushi to a trip to Iceland.

Thus when my housemate added "spending a night in a castle," what could a girl answer but, "YES!" Number 1 son had bought her a night for two at an escape of her choice. The reservation was made and we set off.



"How do you feel about lunch at the Co-op Wok in Lausanne?" Another resounding yes and we parked by this statue.



The view climbing to the château was beautiful even if the weather wasn't. It took a little while to locate the Bolivian concierge, who was also minding the baron-owner's children. The little girl informed us "C'est le château de mon père," as her brother jumped from couch to table to couch and she scrambled after him. We never met the father.



The furniture was great. The only other guests were a young couple who went out for the evening leaving us alone in the great hall. Conversations about being princesses, my imaginary husband off to Rome to meet with the pope, seemed appropriate. We played tile rummy in front of the giant fireplace (sans feu). Even though radiators were placed strategically around the room it was cold, but probably not as cold as when the château was built in the 1400s. If you look closely at the bed, you will see each bed post has a man, which we guessed was an apostle.



My housemate had a thick duvet. my bed did not, but fortunately my down coat came to the rescue. In keeping with the environment, I pretended I was sleeping under a bearskin rug.

It worked, and I drifted off to a cozy sleep dreaming of knights in shining armor that resembled George Clooney.



In the morning, despite the rain, we were headed back home, but not without one more look at the château. My imaginary husband, the king, still had not come back from Rome. If he wants to find me, he can look in Geneva.

And the next time someone says, "How do you feel about..." I am game. Just point me to it.

There's a cow on the dashboard

With a road trip to the northern most part of Germany planned for next month my house mate thought it was time to buy a tom tom.

Then came the hard part.

How to use it.

We gave it a test run.

We realised that it had a series of sounds the tom tom could make when her foot became to heavy on the gas pedal. Bells, horns, sirens just didn't cut it.

Until we heard a moo. After all, we are Swiss.

Sometims a painting should not be hung

I received the painting of old Damascus for my birthday. Almost every day I have thought, today I should hang it up. Instead I have left it on the corner of my desk.

Not a procrastinator by nature, I wondered why I wasn't going for the hammer and nails.

Today I realised why. As I am writing at the computer, I glance at the picture often. I feel myself there right around from the bakery where the pita bread is shoved into ovens, the store where nuts and seeds are sold, where the fountains plash in courtyards, where green flags hang over the street, where water fountains have a cup for the thirsty.

I feel when I look at that painting I am at Auntie's house drinking matei, waiting for the next round of women to share lives with.

I am sitting in a café near where G. has taken me near the window where St. Paul made his escape. We are having another discussion that will resonate with me for months.

I am listening to a concert of young singers.

I am talking to an artist in his studio.

I cannot go to Damascus as often as I wish, but that painting draws my heart into a city I love with people who have welcomed me with open hearts and have touched my heart and soul as well.

Trees

Remember the poem, I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree???? The trees seem extra beautiful to me lately.

This is looking straight up by the garage.






These two photos are from the grassy plage.

The evil red button

My housemate and I have over 36 years of education between us. We are not stupid women. But we were almost defeated by the evil red button.

Our TV/DVD system has an unseen cloven hoof mark all over its set up.

The number of remotes would allow us to open a remote store. We have one for:
The French stations
TheSwiss and misc. stations
the DVD
Number 2 son's games
Volume control.

Wires used to be needed to be changed in the back of the screen until my housemate bought a single feed.

We watch little television, but a lot of DVDs: Gilmore Girls, Everwood, Friends, Boston Legal, movies, etc. Had we vanquished the knight of darkness from our media centre?

No, no, a thousand times no. The underworld was still at work keeping us from our goal.

We pushed all logical spots on all the remotes to get from the TV to the DVD. Our snakcs were waiting. Andy Brown was waiting in Everwood CO.

Nothing.

"Maybe something became disconnected," I suggested.

My housemate was quickly on her knees -- not in homage to any underworld deity and much to the cat's disgust because she had been dislodged from the lap.

All connections were go. The DVD was not.

Then she saw it.

The evil red button.

She pushed it.

The hills of Colorado appeared sent from the DVD machine.

We were in business.

Am I being an old lady curmudgeon when I think fondly of the days when one turned on a TV and that was it???????????????????

Pink snow alerts and other things of beauty or interest

"Pink snow alert." My housemate stood at my bedroom door.

I scrambled out from under the lovely warm duvet and into her room to gaze out her balcony window. The snow on top of the Jura was indeed pink and the moment lasted such a short time I couldn't even grab my camera, but the memory is imprinted in my head.

I knew any day that starts with a pink snow alert has to be good.



It is leaf raking time. That patterns of light, the smell of the leaves almost make it a pleasure.



Rainbows can be found in the strangest places. This was in my ophthalmologist's office.



I just loved this statue near the University of Geneva. Does it have relatives on Easter Island

Taking a measure

Not everyone takes a tape measure to the airport, but my housemate and I did. Our first stop was for coffee and a chai latté, then we headed not to departures or arrivals, but to the car rental lots to measure vans.

Next month we are driving to the northern most part of Germany to pick up a package.

One car rental employee happily lowered a seat of one model so we could check all possibilities. Another wasn't in the mood to help at a all, while a third juggled many priorities and still made us feel like he really, really cared that we solve our problem.

We still don't have a final solution. All we know at some point in December we'll be on the road.

Signs of fall

Autumn will always be my favourite time of year.

First we get one hour extra when the clocks are changed.

Qt the top of the street today, a tres dressed in sunshine yellow was against the dark blue sky. Leaves will never match new England's, but this was a moment of extreme beauty.

The smell of fallen leaves feels clean and the fallen leaves crunch under my feet.

At night smoke from fireplaces fills the air.

It is the time of fuzzy socks and sweats, snuggies and flankets, while watching DVDs.

Nothing is quite as cozy as after getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom then to jump back under the covers to find the bed still toasty.

Need I go into hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts?

And Fall is the American Library sale. This year as in some other years, I helped set up. My first chore was cookbooks, and I wanted to stop and thumb through so many of them. However, I know if I buy them they will rest on the shelf so I resisted, but I wasn't as good about other books, which I will read and return for the next sale. Giving to the library is just in my best interest because I could never feed my reading habit.

All kinds of volunteers lay out books, stopping only for a mid-morning tea break.

Tomorrow I will go back to see what goodies the bake sale part of the event is offering.

At today's press conference

When he entered the hall where the press conference was held, the flashes and clicks of the cameras were almost blinding and drowned out any attempt to speak.

He is taller than I thought he would be, his skimpy blond hair not quite combed and it is clear he does not spend his organization’s money on clothes. His demeanor is almost shy.

His host, the head of The International Institute for Justice, Peace and Human Rights introduced him, and he humbly thanked them for the kind introduction, although he admitted he didn’t understand a word of the French but assumed it was nice by the reporters’ reactions.

Between coughs for 40 minutes he reeled off facts and figures…

Hundreds of thousands dead.

Thousands tortured.

Countries like the UK and Denmark are launching investigations into the alleged violations of international law. Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and the UN have all called for investigation, not of his organization, but the violations of international law and also of US law.

The US is launching an investigation into him.

The Pentagon has refused a Danish request for unredacted documents.

Bradley Manning’s mother's house has been searched by the FBI in WALES

A Free Bradley Manning supporter was detained crossing into the US from Mexico, and although not charged had his computer confiscated.

He quoted Article 5 of the UN Declaration of Rights which states no one shall be the subject of torture. The US and UK are both signers.

He then read of one sentence descriptions from different reports that included beatings, whippings, electricity, water, not for a few hours but days.

He told of a man told to dig up an IED while the US troops counted 1,2,3…

He told of the US Assassination Squad with a list of 2,000 names but no judicial overview. The US press has not covered this story, the international press has. He said the NY Times were going to report it but killed it.

His organization does not just pick on the US, but have reported on corruption in over 100 countries since their founding. They have 100s of other documents they want to verify, but are releasing material in order of their importance and they do not have the research staff to do everything that needs to be done.

When asked about his personal danger, he said that it wasn’t just the US that has threatened him. His camp in Kenya had been attacked when revealing corruption there.
Seventy percent on his budget goes to fighting attacks on his organization such as against his computer system or the companies that allow for on-line donations. His organization is financed by himself and donations. However, they could do much better work if they could concentrate on ferreting out the truth against the wrong doers. He wishes that the media would do more to expose the lies and corruption that exist.

He quoted Daniel Ellsberg's fears the change in the US government will make it a greater crime to reveal the truth when laws are broken than to commit the crimes themselves.

The lack of a free press only leads to abuses. The US, he said, does not have a free press and he compared it to other countries that carry stories that the US press does not.

He said that the type of behavior exhibited in Iraq and Afghanistan is not acceptable to the world community. He does not think it is the best interest of the US to conduct their affairs by committing violations of both their own laws and international laws.

He will next talk to the UN as an expert witness.

The first apero

The first apero in the new kitchen.
Number 2 son was back from the South of France for a week. He is an Erasmus student there. I, too was back from Argèles. This is the first time since August we were all under one roof and the first time we were together in a finished kitchen and not roughing it when it came to anything involving food.
So what was more appropriate than having some champagne and nibblies of cheese, meats and salmon while we caught up on news and also chatted about
Symbolism
An American artist visiting Geneva
The artistic spirit
How we create
How we see things
Glaciers
Wikileaks
Cross cultural observations
Upcoming holiday plans (more or less because we still don't know if it will be Geneva, the North Pole or Argelès)
and whatever else popped into our heads
Outside the wind blew. Inside was warm not just in temperature but in sharing.

On the road again

I've changed lives again going from Argelès to Geneva once more. And immediately we set off for the mountains via a lunch time stop in Montreux (sans Jazz festival) for a lunch of spaghetti with black truffles. Granted we did not know that would be the menu. A walk along the lake with its gardens, wind chimes, statues, mountain view. Life does not get much better.



the trees were hung with wind chimes that played melodies in the wind.



The poor woman must have a tremendous back ache by now.



Broom decorations for Halloween.

Strikes again

France's retirement age was last set in 1983. Since then, GDP per person has increased by 45%. The increase in life expectancy is very small by comparison. The number of workers per retiree declined from 4.4 in 1983 to 3.5 in 2010, but the growth of national income was vastly more than enough to compensate for the demographic changes, including the change in life expectancy.

Once again I am in France and don't know about getting back to Geneva. There is a plan B. If I can make the border, I can train to Barcelona and make it to the airport and fly back, an expensive alternative that I didn't have last time. We expect no more volcanoes to stop flights. Meanwhile I have met only one person here who is not on the side of the strikers.

I keep hearing we can't afford it from governments. I like the ideas expressed in a Guardian editorial today written by Weisbrot.

"The situation is similar going forward: the growth in national income over the next 30 or 40 years will be much more than sufficient to pay for the increases in pension costs due to demographic changes, while still allowing future generations to enjoy considerably higher living standards than people today. It is simply a social choice as to how many years people want to live in retirement and how they want to pay for it.

"If the French want to keep the retirement age as is, there are plenty of ways to finance future pension costs without necessarily raising the retirement age. One of them, which has support among the French left (and which Sarkozy claims to support at the international level), would be a tax on financial transactions. Such a "speculation tax" could raise billions of dollars of revenue – as it currently does in the UK – while simultaneously discouraging speculative trading in financial assets and derivatives. The French unions and protesters are demanding that the government considers some of these more progressive alternatives."

Reitrement is not mandatory at 60. Full pensions do not kick in until 65.

Will Sarkozy give in. I doubt it.

He suffers from PMS (Petit Man Syndrome)

Killing time in Collioure

I had two hours to kill before the Argelès Gospel Singers' concert in Notre Dame des Anges church in Collioure. It struck me as a wonderful time to wander with my camera. This town, the anchovy capital of France with its ancient streets, château and church, its pebbly beach is so much nicer off season when there are only a few weekenders out to enjoy the last of the warm days.



The bright day despite the Tramantane that made me think if I flapped my arms, I could be blown half way home to Geneva with no worries about train strikes produced sunlight and made for wonderful colours and shadows even on the side streets.



Almost all the hotels are closed. Some restaurants are opened and stay open all year long. And there's more to buy than just pizza. One of the restaurants, Les Templiers, has walls covered with painting from the Impressionists including some famous ones, who at the time were too poor to pay for their meal and offered a painting in place of coins.



Few galleries are still open such as Joce's. She has transferred one of her paintings to an umbrella that was absolutely drop dead beautiful, but 120 Euros was much too much to pay when I know it might end up on the E bus in Geneva, a train, a store or restaurant. This is not one of her works, however.



I had stopped at the cookie shop, which will remain open on weekends until Toussaint, and then I found a spot on the bench to sit in the sunshine and read and/or people watch where the wind couldn't touch me.However, dried leaves, clattered along the cobbled dock.



As I walked through the town I had seen a bridal party walking to the church after their city hall wedding (the only one that is legal). As I sat in the sun, the couple and the photographer arrived to take a picture with the château which has existed in some form since Roman days.

About a half hour later it was time to go to the church for the concert.

Forming a syndicate

Today I met with my co-owners to form a syndicate. One women slightly younger than myself who will live in the building, a young man who will live there, a man from Nice who will it use for holidays and when he has business in Perpignan and the man who owns the garage (probably the most valuable property considering the narrow streets and the necessity to park by the river or at one of the few communal lots.

No problems at all to come to the conclusions that will benefit all.

Than the man who renovated the once huge mansion, who was in charge of getting the syndicate up and running prior to resigning as his last step in the project, brought out the champagne, the cheeses and the local chacuterie.

I like this touch. Along with the nice fluted glasses, it was a class act all the way.

He's not staying

But he was meow-ling pitifully a good part of the morning. The wind is blowing and the rain comes and goes.

I brought him in, borrowed kitty litter and cat food from my friend who has called the Cat Assistance people.

Meanwhile he is at least warm tonight and fed. Now he is asleep on my printer after being told my computer keyboard was out of bounds.

He is not staying. I won't name him. He is not staying because I don't stay here myself.
He's not staying...

Anyone want a kitten?

Seasonal fruit

I love eating things that belong to the season. And this is the first kaki fruit of the year. No matter that it makes me break out. Each bite is worth every bump.

a comment on the times

When I was a child Three Musketeer bars were sold with an add that you could share with two of your friends. I just saw an ad for the candy on the web and a friend reaches to take one from a friend who says, "Don't even think about it."

I was sickened by the people who said the TN fire department was right not to put out the fire on a man's house because he hadn't paid his $75 fee. Probably they wouldn't share their candy bar either.

What have we become?

It was a surprise

to be sitting in the notaire's office signing a purchase agreement on my new studio flat.

Six weeks ago I had gone for a walk before the heat of the day made it unbearable and happened by the real estate office near the gare. A picture of a studio within my price range (read very, very, small) was in the window.

Hmmm I thought and wandered on, but after lunch I went back. Jean-Charles, the agent showed it to me. The building had been renovated top to bottom with only the best materials. The studio itself, although tiny, was also renovated with only the best materials. I could have started cooking in the kitchen immediately.

I do know the prices in Argelès having helped anglophones look for places. No, I decided, I won't buy it.

The next morning I went back and made an offer, and in the afternoon, the seller and I signed the purchase and sales agreement. Back in Geneva, I transferred the money (raising questions from the Crèdit Agricole was I laundering money, a terrorist or a Mafiosa--the answer was no).

Thus today, I found myself seated with Jean-Charles and another young man in the notaire's office signing my name or initials on page after page after page until my hand hurt, but not too much to accept the three set of keys for the outside door, the inside door and the letter box.

Tomorrow I will sign the contract with Jean-Charles to manage the rental and care of the flat.

When I used to play Monopoly -- which I never really liked because even then money bored me -- I always tried to get the two cheapy properties as a solid base. I guess I am still doing that.

A friend commented when I told her what I'd done, "I know you hate shopping, but when you shop, you really shop!"

I am still surprised that I did this...surprised but content.



This is the living area.



I can't get a good shot of the kitchen but it is beautiful. take my word for it, the cabinets are a beautiful ruby red.



The flat is in the bottom corner and the house is kitty corner to the one owned by friends Pat, Jeff, Tony and Carol.

Squash festival

The Corsier Port fête de la courge (squash or pumpkin festival) features cotton candy (barbe de papa r papa's beard in French), merry-go-rounds, food stands, crafts, veggies and music. Kids run around in the fresh, clear autumn air, teenagers scope out their friends and dogs hope for a dropped sausage or two. I lvoe it I lvoe it I love it.



And there were a bagfuls of fresh fall vegetables made up of leeks, potatoes, squash, etc. for sale in pretty reusable bags for 28.50 CHF. If I weren't going to Argelès tomorrow and if the frigo wasn't already stuffed with food it would have been too tempting to resist.



A jazz band kept our toes tapping.



And there were stands with crafts to buy.



It was hard to chose from all the food stands, but we selected raclette on potatoes with thyroid conditions they were so big and the traditional dried meat, onions and cornichons and the not-so-Swiss Coke Zero.



Whoever was responsible for circulating with one of the trash bins took a break. The bin was near the restrooms, so it is easy to conjecture where he might have gone.

The new kitchen

For those that knew the old kitchen, this is very different. Ideally we will be able to keep it almost pristine as we build new memories of brownies, meals, brownies, conversations, brownies, reading at breakfast, brownies...



Our clear table.





A view of a nicely clear counter top. We hope to keep it stuff free.




The next to last rose from the garden is on the new counter by the sink. I had to figure out how to turn the faucet on.

Long Island Memories

When we lived in Germany the Armed Forces Radio Station told stories of people came through Grand Central Station. Here I am in the middle of the station but I doubt if I will be the subject for a radio show.





We took a boat tour of the wetlands





A general store still in operation fromthe 1800s



A good luck praying mantis was a great sign for my friend's new business. He jumped from her car and then ran to her. He did not stop for a reiki treatment

NE Memories

This is the first house I ever owned only when I lived there was only one storey.



This is soooooooooo New England that my host braked do I could take it.




He doesn't think he can jump over this gate nor does his brother who is at least five times bigger.

Three Conversations

1.
Little girl at Pont d'Avre tram station.: Stop!!!
The tram stops.
Little girl to Grandmother: I have REAL power!


2.
Dermatologist: Are those Massachusetts or Swiss bites?
Me: Swiss bites. I think it happened as I was getting into a car to go to South Station to go to New York. (He studied in Massachusetts, but I guess he didn't meet the right bugs there)
Dermatologist: I don't know that much about Massachusetts insects, but they look like -----------(I have no idea of the word he said)
Me: I have been thinking of the advantage of amputating my feet, the itching is so bad.
(He decides it is better to give me a cream, but cautions that I will still look like my lower legs have the creeping, crawling crud for another ten days.

3.
Pharmacist: Put in your debit card
(I do several times but it is blocked for not reason that makes any sense)
Me: Can you hold the package for me until tomorrow when I can get to the bank?
Pharmacist: I'll just print you out a bill.
I leave with the medicine that will keep me from cutting off my legs to stop the itching.

Roots are funny things

At my final naturalization interview I was asked about my feelings for both the US and Switzerland. In my analogy I said if I were a plant the roots nearest the plant would always be New England Yankee. However I had been transplanted to Switzerland and put down longer roots. If the original roots were cut off, the plant would die, but the new roots had gone so deep and the plant had grown so much, that the original roots were no longer able to sustain the plant.

Recently I’ve reconnected with my roots in a series of encounters with people whose faces have morphed into new faces that were sometimes recognizable, sometimes not. Their experiences have written on those faces, as on mine. Life has been kind to us, overall, but none have escaped without some pain that have made us stronger and grateful for what we have.

Sunday evening, I found myself on a stone terrace with other friends, younger friends. Had not a man poked his head into my office in October 1971 where I worked in a job that I was not qualified for and not successful at and asked if the rumour were true that I had coffee available I would not have been with this couple. That coffee cup friendship extended into the next generation and proved how one simple act can cross decades.

The sun was fading over the trees, just beginning to turn colour, but the flowers and landscaping were still visible. Clearly the end of summer was at hand. He had built a fire, not in the traditional outdoor fireplace but a huge stone circle one surrounded by a moat. Their Jack Russell was on guard duty against all frogs that hopped in and out of the moat.

Their other dog was quick to find a marshmallow on a stick that had yet to be toasted.

Time with them is always a gift. We’ve shared Indian meals, murals, cries of sleeping policemen, chateaus, olives, laughter, eagles soaring and memories on two continents. I am hopeful for more to come.

Geographically I am closer to my roots than I normally am albeit for only a short-short time. Looking at the land where I grew up, seeing people from the past, were what made me into me.

They say you can never enter a river in the same place twice, but you can enter in many places letting the water nourish your roots.




This is the land where I grew up. The house burned down. Their are only a few of the original 50 pines still standing. The two huge rocks which I turned into western badlands, Greek temples, tea party tables and more are still there.



This dog can jump three feet in the air, but does not think he can get over the gate. His much bigger brother, thinks the same thing.

Check this out

http://fourseasonsproducts.com/

For those that like
Switzerland
Puns
Nail Polish

Anatomy of a new kitchen

In the almost six years I've lived here it is has become a tradition to sit in the kitchen and plan how to improve it. Planning time is over. We have three weeks to totally do over the old and replace it with the new. I feel a bit if I'm on the old BBC Changing Rooms. Trips have been made to Ikea and other places, materials selected, and the work begun.



The old cabinets wait for the trash men. They had over 30 years of holding this family's dishes, food and a memory or two.



The bare walls look so funny stripped, but the kitchen never looked so large.



We have set up a temporary kitchen on the desk in the living room and the table in the winter garden. The WC sink in the downstairs hall is for utensils and the few dishes not made of paper. We've been quite clever with meals including brownies and a potato casserole dish. I had haystacks for the first time in my life, but it won't the last.



We try and create a tiny space of beauty among the chaos.



Our end goal is to enjoy a glass of wine on the beautiful new glass kitchen table. We won't be discussing what to with the kitchen any longer

Another Review

Murder in Caleb's Landing
D-L Nelson
Five Star, Sep 15 2010, $25.95
ISBN: 9781594148972

Thirtyish Annie Young may have been born in the States, but the contract technical writer has lived mostly in Europe with her Swiss based parents. She is a “Third-Culture Kid” not quite comfortable in Europe but totally uncomfortable in America. When her father inherits a home in Caleb's Landing, Massachusetts, the Young family leaves Geneva for New England.

In Massachusetts, Annie dad and his friends persuade her create a CD on the real founding of America. Her program is previewed at the local elementary school. Many townsfolk are irate due to her realistic portrayal of the Pilgrims and the Native Americans. In the basement of their new house, father and daughter find skeleton dressed in pre-Civil War rags and a diary written by a runaway slave; her mother’s business partner and Annie intervene to save a woman from her abusive spouse. Then there is Des.

This is a fascinating fast-paced mystery the takes off once the Yong family arrives in Massachusetts and never slows down until the finish. Annie’s problems with poorly adapting to a different society enhances the tale as her actions make her an eccentric and to some a pariah. Her diligent research provides a rounded realistic portrayal of the founding of America, but alienates many who prefer deity filters on the heritage of the country especially the state.

Harriet Klausner

Vingt ans déjà

So many French television variety shows are entitled 20 years already to commemorate the 20th anniversary of some French singer's death.

Sept. 4th is a vingt ans déjà anniversary for me, but a happy occasion. Sept. 4 1990 I arrived in Switzerland to start a new job, a new life. Half of me was utterly terrified, the other half ecstatic that I had achieved an almost life-long ambition, to live and work in Europe.

Overall it has been a wonderful 20 years.

There were ups and downs of course. My first three years of work were a nightmare, something that my new boss had warned me about. He even had me meet with people who used to work with him so I would be fully warned on how difficult he was. They told nightmarish stories. They spoke the truth. It was a sales job, not my strongest point. But I survived.

Switzerland brought me in touch with the Geneva Writers Group which led me to my masters program in creative writing at the University of Glamorgan in Wales and the learning of my craft that has earned me six novel contracts.

Switzerland brought me many new friends of many nationalities: UK, Egypt, Syria, Czech, France, Italy, India, etc.

It gave me a new passport.

We have to celebrate, my housemate said. She treated me to breakfast at the Relais St. Bernard. We ate lunch at the Burger King where I went with CB my first weekend in Switzerland to buy furniture. Tonight we are having fois gras and champagne. We've invited the Gilmore Girls to join us, and we will also celebrate finding the kitchen floor tiles.

I am so grateful for every minute of the last 20 years, already.

Last minute escape

With Kitchen Chaos about to begin (three weeks to totally redo the kitchen), my housemate and I decided to escape to the chalet for a night between tearing down the old cabinets and the arrival of Cousin W. who is going to put the new kitchen together.

We've been spending years sitting in the old kitchen, playing "where should we put the frigo, stove, dishwasher, etc." Now it is fish or cut bait. We've been scouring LeRoy Merlin, Ikea and Obi for tiles, cabinets, etc.

In Martigny we let our artistic sides play out as we went around taking pictures of the beautiful statues.

We fell in love with the Dancing Nuns. We didn't ask them if they had any kitchen suggestions.

Eye surgery on the cheap

The couple I am staying with when I go to my high school reunion generously offered me their car...when I said I wasn't driving until after my eye surgery, the husband said "I will also perform the eye surgery if time permits."

Now that's a good friend for you.

Roberta goes to the mountains

In a recent issue of Smithsonian there was an article about a survey on couples that were composed of robots and humans. The humans didn't like the constant humming and the fact that their partners could not go in the water which affected vacations and the robots were annoyed at humans' need to eat and sleep.

How silly I thought.

Then I saw my housemate's suitcase as she packed for a few days escape into the mountains.

Sitting in the middle was our very own robot.

I hope the robot will be patient as we eat fondue.