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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
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
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
Saturday, September 11, 2010
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
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
Saturday, September 04, 2010
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.
Friday, September 03, 2010
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.
Now that's a good friend for you.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Argeles in the snow
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iwcF04iP6A&feature=related
I wish I had found this youtube when it was so hot in Argelès. I could have used it as a fantasy
I wish I had found this youtube when it was so hot in Argelès. I could have used it as a fantasy
Sunday, August 29, 2010
French run
When we woke, we decided to go to France to find the Kark Lagerfeld Coke bottles at some of the supermarkets that are open Sunday morning.
No luck.
Instead we found raisin-cinnamon-bagel chips, a melon, two boxes of wine and a short cut to Leroy Merlin for a foray next week when the stores are open and a lot of beautiful scenery.
Gawwwwwwwwwwwddddddddddd I love living here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No luck.
Instead we found raisin-cinnamon-bagel chips, a melon, two boxes of wine and a short cut to Leroy Merlin for a foray next week when the stores are open and a lot of beautiful scenery.
Gawwwwwwwwwwwddddddddddd I love living here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Albert Anker and Bern
My housemate and I wanted to see the exhibition of Albert Anker's paintings in Bern, but we weren't sure we would be able to find the tme. Then a window of opportunity opened up and we jumped on a train. Anker is an 19-20th century Swiss painter who seems a cross between Bruegel, Rockwell and Mary Cassett. His paintings of Swiss coutnry life are rich with details and the more you look at them, the more you see in them.
Bern has always been one of my loved cities with its medieval arched centre, imaginative fountains, olive green buildings, rivers.
We treated ourselves to a lunch of fish on a bed of black polenta (octopus ink) fennel flavoured with chutney and saffron and chocolate mousse cake. And of course we could not come back with out buying one of those thick, seed ladened pretzels.
Here's some photos.
This is NOT a building front. It is cloth covering scaffolding.
The tree is really a flower-flanked fountain.
A truck is filled with cleaning tools.
This Backerei has wonderful tile.
An antique book store window.
Bern has always been one of my loved cities with its medieval arched centre, imaginative fountains, olive green buildings, rivers.
We treated ourselves to a lunch of fish on a bed of black polenta (octopus ink) fennel flavoured with chutney and saffron and chocolate mousse cake. And of course we could not come back with out buying one of those thick, seed ladened pretzels.
Here's some photos.
This is NOT a building front. It is cloth covering scaffolding.
The tree is really a flower-flanked fountain.
A truck is filled with cleaning tools.
This Backerei has wonderful tile.
An antique book store window.
Meet Roberta
She is the house's new robot vac. She runs around and covers every inch of floor and stops at the edge of the stairs.
Monday, August 23, 2010
It's been a wonderful summer
Although there were a few glitches: heat (although compared to the suffering Pakistan, there is no reason to complain) my diminishing eye sight (to be taken care of in November), people I like in the hospital because of almost strokes and knocking themselves out by falling from a bicycle, and Jean-Pierre knocking Babette down with his van. All are recovering. These are blips in an otherwise wonderful summer.
What made the summer wonderful were the parties, café sits, quiet conversations, lovely walks, good writing and good food be it tapas at Flowers, three course gourmet lunches at Cayrou, and/or dinner at friends. We've discovered new restaurants, laughed, gone to a street dance, watched fireworks.
I never did find the Karl Lagerfeld Coke bottle, although I will look on the other side of the border when I get home, but I have enjoyed Coke zero. Lovely knowing there are no calories.
There was my mega shopping trip last week that left my friends, aware of my shopping phobia saying "You did what and how fast? Girl, when you shop, you shop."
And there was the trip to Toulouse to meet up with F. and P. and to my delight to discover how much I like P. for F. while seeing the city where I once lived and that I still find beautiful. The week back in Geneva with M. was truly a gift.
And when i got back from Toulouse Saturday night, I found a huge bouquet of sunflowers waiting for me. I have no idea who left them, but they were beautiful.
So now, I am ready to change lives once again, back to the other place I love and start the fall activities. Sushi, chai latté, Gilmore Girls, shrimp, champagne, an art exhibition in Berne, a kitchen rebuild, crisp fall weather, raking leaves with that autumn smell that I love, walks by the lake and through the vineyards, the pumpkin festival, and my kid coming in Nov. are all now in my future.
As my housemate and I often say: Life is good.
What made the summer wonderful were the parties, café sits, quiet conversations, lovely walks, good writing and good food be it tapas at Flowers, three course gourmet lunches at Cayrou, and/or dinner at friends. We've discovered new restaurants, laughed, gone to a street dance, watched fireworks.
I never did find the Karl Lagerfeld Coke bottle, although I will look on the other side of the border when I get home, but I have enjoyed Coke zero. Lovely knowing there are no calories.
There was my mega shopping trip last week that left my friends, aware of my shopping phobia saying "You did what and how fast? Girl, when you shop, you shop."
And there was the trip to Toulouse to meet up with F. and P. and to my delight to discover how much I like P. for F. while seeing the city where I once lived and that I still find beautiful. The week back in Geneva with M. was truly a gift.
And when i got back from Toulouse Saturday night, I found a huge bouquet of sunflowers waiting for me. I have no idea who left them, but they were beautiful.
So now, I am ready to change lives once again, back to the other place I love and start the fall activities. Sushi, chai latté, Gilmore Girls, shrimp, champagne, an art exhibition in Berne, a kitchen rebuild, crisp fall weather, raking leaves with that autumn smell that I love, walks by the lake and through the vineyards, the pumpkin festival, and my kid coming in Nov. are all now in my future.
As my housemate and I often say: Life is good.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Olive Slaves
I love buying my olives from Joël. besides his outpouring of ever lasting love, his requests for marriage, and other BS, his olives are wonderful as is his perfume that he also sells. It is always more than just a purchase but an experience. Women's lib, not withstanding, these t-shirts are an example.
Monday, August 16, 2010
rites of passage
Although my daughter is grown, there are things I wish I could have done better.
I admire many parents on how they are bringing up their children. Some like Mighty Mom I marvel at. It has been a great pleasure to watch others go from six and missing teeth to accomplished young women, or a three-year old scoffing olives to just signing a contract for her dream job.
I've also subscribed to Dollar stretcher www.stretcher.com/menu/subscrib.cfm for years.
Today's edition carries a wonderful story about a father, aware that our society does not allow most young people turning 12 a rite of passage (exception the Jewish religion) arranged for his 12 year old son to meet with 52 men over the course of a year to gain their wisdom. The blog below is about that meeting.
http://www.52godlymen.com/week-23-a-penny-saved-is-a-penny-earned/
In societies where youth, not age, is revered, where culture is created in corporate boardrooms, this would be a wonderful trend to have grow.
I admire many parents on how they are bringing up their children. Some like Mighty Mom I marvel at. It has been a great pleasure to watch others go from six and missing teeth to accomplished young women, or a three-year old scoffing olives to just signing a contract for her dream job.
I've also subscribed to Dollar stretcher www.stretcher.com/menu/subscrib.cfm for years.
Today's edition carries a wonderful story about a father, aware that our society does not allow most young people turning 12 a rite of passage (exception the Jewish religion) arranged for his 12 year old son to meet with 52 men over the course of a year to gain their wisdom. The blog below is about that meeting.
http://www.52godlymen.com/week-23-a-penny-saved-is-a-penny-earned/
In societies where youth, not age, is revered, where culture is created in corporate boardrooms, this would be a wonderful trend to have grow.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Blackberry memories
Blackberry bushes besides the country lane outside the village were laden with sun-warmed fruit. I could not help but eat a few, and as the flavor burst in my mouth memories swamped me from eating blackberries on another summer day in a woods walk with my best friend from high school at her family’s Maine cottage a few decades back. We had become friends when the same boy dated us both, only to discover we were a lot more fun than he was. Thus, started a 46 year friendship.
Her father saw to it that I could attend all father and daughter banquets at Rainbow with him and her. (My father was not in my life at that time, although he reappeared years later and we made up for last time). Their apartment was often my refuge and her mother considered corn chowder the New England equivalent to Jewish chicken soup as a remedy to everything including broken hearts.
Even after my divorce, her mother came to see me and my infant daughter every Tuesday night often bringing clothes gleaned from the Unitarian consignment shop where she volunteered making my daughter the best dressed baby in day care. Her father was quick to help with repairs and showed up one night with a moon wagon for my daughter.
My friend too often came out from her beautiful Boston apartment, decorated with things found and refinished, making a cozy home that reflected her personality with taste and imagination. We would play cards, eat potato sticks, drink Coke, marvel at my daughter’s tiny nose that she swore was too small to breathe through. She coached me through those first painful days and weeks of my separation and taught me it was okay to be good to myself.
There wasn’t a life crisis we didn’t share, and once, when things were going well and we hadn’t talked for a while, she called to remind me we were more than FOUL weather friends. There was much laughter and rooting for each other mingled among the problems that we talked about. Those problems always seemed lighter, and so often we found solutions or at least how helped each other cope better.
Thanks to the joys of email and voipcheap.com we can still chat on the phone, despite a half-day plane ride distance between us. Happily, these days we keep problems to a minimum, each of us finding our own happiness, each of us celebrating the other’s good fortune.
Thus with each blackberry I ate I was transported back to that day in Maine. I could see her father’s garden with his unique garden watering system of wine bottles turned upside down in the soil and a chipmunk he had trained to run up his leg and eat from his hand. I remember the unconditional sharing that day built on the trust that still exists whenever we talk or write.
Those blackberries were really powerful to bring forth so many good memories and so much love.
Her father saw to it that I could attend all father and daughter banquets at Rainbow with him and her. (My father was not in my life at that time, although he reappeared years later and we made up for last time). Their apartment was often my refuge and her mother considered corn chowder the New England equivalent to Jewish chicken soup as a remedy to everything including broken hearts.
Even after my divorce, her mother came to see me and my infant daughter every Tuesday night often bringing clothes gleaned from the Unitarian consignment shop where she volunteered making my daughter the best dressed baby in day care. Her father was quick to help with repairs and showed up one night with a moon wagon for my daughter.
My friend too often came out from her beautiful Boston apartment, decorated with things found and refinished, making a cozy home that reflected her personality with taste and imagination. We would play cards, eat potato sticks, drink Coke, marvel at my daughter’s tiny nose that she swore was too small to breathe through. She coached me through those first painful days and weeks of my separation and taught me it was okay to be good to myself.
There wasn’t a life crisis we didn’t share, and once, when things were going well and we hadn’t talked for a while, she called to remind me we were more than FOUL weather friends. There was much laughter and rooting for each other mingled among the problems that we talked about. Those problems always seemed lighter, and so often we found solutions or at least how helped each other cope better.
Thanks to the joys of email and voipcheap.com we can still chat on the phone, despite a half-day plane ride distance between us. Happily, these days we keep problems to a minimum, each of us finding our own happiness, each of us celebrating the other’s good fortune.
Thus with each blackberry I ate I was transported back to that day in Maine. I could see her father’s garden with his unique garden watering system of wine bottles turned upside down in the soil and a chipmunk he had trained to run up his leg and eat from his hand. I remember the unconditional sharing that day built on the trust that still exists whenever we talk or write.
Those blackberries were really powerful to bring forth so many good memories and so much love.
Are you ready for this Rose
I have another planned purchase for September. That means two shopping trips unless we can combine them. I need a measuring cup that has litres and cups...
Be still my heart.
Be still my heart.
COW
Cranky Old Woman
This is a COW column about allegedly passes as entertainment today. Until last night I listed Song of Norway as the most ridiculous movie I've ever seen. Inception has beaten it hands down. It seemed like a stupid blot to satisfy producer/director urges to have explosions, car chases, via and shoot outs in exotic locations. When it took a van almost 10 minutes to fall from the top of a bridge into the water I wanted to cheer and hope no one in the van survived. (however, I did enjoy the company of the couple I was with and we couldn't help laughing that we really sat through it and didn't leave. Thank God, I only paid 6 Euros.
Then in the Guardian this morning I see Eat, Pray, Love, one of the most boring books I have ever read (I had to finish it to discover if the woman would ever get beyond navel gazing.--She didn't even get out of her navel she was so deeply curled inside it) has been made into a movie which I will not take any amount of Euros or Swiss Francs to see. I still find it hard to believe in this world today anyone can be as stupidly self-centred as the writer. I wanted to send her list of things to do, maybe for others starting of with the promise never to write another word.
This is not sour grapes at anyone's success.Nor do I rely on high literary works or philosophically inspiring movies. As my housemate says about some they are "nimcompoopy" but are a good way to pass some time. I can read or watch good genre books/movies and knowing how hard it is to get published I say congratulations to whoever makes it.
Okay this COW is now going to graze on her oatmeal/cinnamon, strawberry pancake having gotten the message off her udders. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
This is a COW column about allegedly passes as entertainment today. Until last night I listed Song of Norway as the most ridiculous movie I've ever seen. Inception has beaten it hands down. It seemed like a stupid blot to satisfy producer/director urges to have explosions, car chases, via and shoot outs in exotic locations. When it took a van almost 10 minutes to fall from the top of a bridge into the water I wanted to cheer and hope no one in the van survived. (however, I did enjoy the company of the couple I was with and we couldn't help laughing that we really sat through it and didn't leave. Thank God, I only paid 6 Euros.
Then in the Guardian this morning I see Eat, Pray, Love, one of the most boring books I have ever read (I had to finish it to discover if the woman would ever get beyond navel gazing.--She didn't even get out of her navel she was so deeply curled inside it) has been made into a movie which I will not take any amount of Euros or Swiss Francs to see. I still find it hard to believe in this world today anyone can be as stupidly self-centred as the writer. I wanted to send her list of things to do, maybe for others starting of with the promise never to write another word.
This is not sour grapes at anyone's success.Nor do I rely on high literary works or philosophically inspiring movies. As my housemate says about some they are "nimcompoopy" but are a good way to pass some time. I can read or watch good genre books/movies and knowing how hard it is to get published I say congratulations to whoever makes it.
Okay this COW is now going to graze on her oatmeal/cinnamon, strawberry pancake having gotten the message off her udders. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Friday, August 13, 2010
Blessed blankets
The storm changed the weather so it was a snuggle-under-the-blanket sleeping night. I awoke with energy for a good long walk and was striding down the street by 8 a.m. I've several favourite routes, some which are through town and some into the nearby countryside. This morning's walk was a combination. Each moment I walk through town I feel so incredibly lucky that this is my life. It isn't the big things, it's the little ones.
The brasserie across from the train station is under new management which is trying to turn it from a place where the local drunks hang out to a nice out door restaurant. A brochette meal is only Eight Euros. I haven't tried it yet, but it is on my list.
The mountains rise above the new car park next to the station. Last night's thunderstorm and today's wind has cleared the air of dust and heat.
If I ever have the success of Dan Brown or Danielle Steele, I will buy this châteauette and turn it into a writing centre.
I've a new favourite bakery now that the old one was sold and the new owner does not make bread out of chestnut flower. This bakery has wonderful deserts from the fugase, bread with fruits, to anything with chocolate. Usually I just buy their cereal baguettes, but today I gave into a Napolitan, which I will take two days to eat. Did you know there are no calories in half a desert?
The brasserie across from the train station is under new management which is trying to turn it from a place where the local drunks hang out to a nice out door restaurant. A brochette meal is only Eight Euros. I haven't tried it yet, but it is on my list.
The mountains rise above the new car park next to the station. Last night's thunderstorm and today's wind has cleared the air of dust and heat.
If I ever have the success of Dan Brown or Danielle Steele, I will buy this châteauette and turn it into a writing centre.
I've a new favourite bakery now that the old one was sold and the new owner does not make bread out of chestnut flower. This bakery has wonderful deserts from the fugase, bread with fruits, to anything with chocolate. Usually I just buy their cereal baguettes, but today I gave into a Napolitan, which I will take two days to eat. Did you know there are no calories in half a desert?
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