the three day birthday

I was happy to turn 70. It meant I was alive.

Usually I don't pay much attention to birthdays, but decided this year to throw myself a party.

Sunday night there was a knock on the door. I opened it. In the tiny hallway was a black bag. Could it be for my neighbours?

Then a hand came around the corner followed by my Geneva housemate who decided I wasn't to celebrate my birthday without her along. The bag? Champagne, shrimp and Season two of The Good Wife. The party began.

Monday, I was slated to take a friend of more than three decades to the eye doctor. We seldom use the car (it has  taken since Feb. to use less than a half tank of gas) so the question was, "Where did we leave it?" seem totally normally.

As we walked by Barteveille, our favourite local restaurant my friend said, "Oh there's your housemate." She opened the door and my housemate was there and two other good friends. No choice for my surprise lunch...no problem...

• tapanade
• amuse bouche of gaspacho
• foix gras and salad
• fish on a bed of roasted vegetables
• Chocolate cake, icecream with happy birthday Donna written in chocolate frosting around the edge of the plate. I wish I could write as beautiful in ink
• Coffee

Then morning of my birthday a breakfast with a candle at the local hotel where my housemate was hiding out.

A trip to the beach to the see the photo exhibition but the most exciting was seeing the water planes land and pick up water for the fires in Port Bou and across the border in Spain. Our wishes went with them.

Then my party at La Noisette with about 30 friends.

Patricia the cook had put out a buffet that included gambas, salmon, chicken, cole claw, tabuli and mozarella and tomatoes. This went with sangria, a soft watermelon punch.

She'd done a beautiful cake and we added champagne.

The room has a divider and when I changed to the other side my Swiss friend and my long-time friend were sitting with their cellos. The music stand had a Swiss flag on it. They had arranged to play a combination of the Swiss national anthem along with happy birthday.

The nationalities present were

• Trinidian
• Canadian
• American
• Swiss 
• French
• Italian
• English
• German
• Danish
• Swedish

I have one more present coming in September. My daughter for eight days.

Those there were people I've known for decades, for years and recently. As I said in my toast to those present La richesse dans ma vie est les copains, les copines, life amis. The richness of my life is my friends.

Turning 70 is fun.

Grey hair

I've said I wanted to have grey hair. I don't have the patience to let it grow. After saying it to a friend he fiddled with my photo and sent me this.  If only it were that easy.

haiku

A yorkie basket
Pulled on an Argeles street
On a summer day

I ain't moving any more

The list was generated for a friend as we discussed our past lives  and I was curious how many times I'd moved. Move is a four letter word carrying with it all the obscenities of words that start with F, S, C etc. and I don't intend to do it again. If forced it will be my daughter's problem if she wants anything.

As I generated the list I kept thinking of the Phil Ochs song, I ain't marching any more.

ttp://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=i+ain%27t+marching+anymore+phil+ochs&oq=I+ain%27t+march&gs_l=youtube.1.0.0l6.24434.26221.0.28918.13.11.0.2.2.0.269.1855.2j5j4.11.0...0.0.kDHxPqkfqic

1. Reading MA to Bluefield W.Va Union St.
2. Union Street to can't remember the name
3. Bluefield to Bramwell WVA
   
4. Bramwell to Reading
5. Reading to Lowell MA
   
6. Lowell to DC MA
   
7. DC to Scituate MA
   
8. Scituate to Helderinlinplatz Stuttgart Germany
   
9. Helderlinplatz to Olgastrasse
10. Olgastrasse to Reading Woburn St. MA
    
11. Woburn St to High Street MA
    
12. High Street to Main Street MA
    
13. Main Street to Pratt Street MA
    
14. Pratt St to 1085 Main Street Waltham MA
    
15. Main Street to Whitman Road MA
    
16. Whitman road to Epping NH
17. NH to North Andover MA
    
18. North Andover to 1085 Main Street Waltham
    
19. Main Street back to Whitman Road
20. WHitman Road to Tavern Rd
21. Tavern Rd to Wigglesworth Boston MA
    
22. Wigglesworth to Riverway Boston MA
    
23. Riverway to Castanet France
24. Castanet to Delle Avenue Boston
25. Delle Ave to Môtiers Switzerland
26. Môtiers to Payerne Switzerland
    
27. Payerne to Francois Lehman Geneva Switzerland
    
28. Francois Lehman to Corsier
29. Francois Lehman to Argeles France
    
    

It won't happen

I've a fantasy to fix up this deserted building around the corner in moments of complete madness. Fortunately my wallet keeps me on a saner course.

Usually I'm not mean spirited

And deaths are awful no matter how and where...

But I wonder how many people in CO, DC, VA, MD etc. don't believe in climate change.

How many are driving SUVs.

How many have fought wind turbines?

I will be more sympathetic when the death toll reaches 30,000 as it did in the European heat wave in 2003.

Okay, maybe I'm mean spirited, but sooner or later as a species we need to do something or as a species we will have self destructed, but maybe since we are such poor caretakers of the earth, we don't deserve the planet.

High tech what?????

I admit I like pretty underwear. Even my cotton underwear is in gay colours and matches. Sometimes I match my underwear to my outerwear.

Why?

It makes me feel feminine and together.

So when I watching Télémartin this morning, I saw some models wearing pretty underwear. The voice over was saying how it was high tech.

High tech...?

Does it tune into the internet?

Can it open a car door as you approach?

Does it vac as well as our robot vacuum?

No, it helps with cellulite.

Ya right...

Those of you who are older will remember way way way back when panty hose first came out they were supposed to remove the shame of panty lines when one wore slacks. I'd forgotten to be ashamed. I'm still not ashamed.

Will I rush out to buy high tech lingerie...?

I doubt it...

I've grown fond of my cellulite.

What is necessary for a trip

Two days in the mountain...the most necessary thing to pack? Two books.

The Chalet haiku

As a little girl
I did Swiss jigsaw puzzles
Now I live in them

The price of love

I didn't like the funeral home my parents chose.

Although my Dad has been gone 32 years, I still remember the tacky thank you cards they gave us that basically said, "We don't know what you did, but thanks anyway." It was a little less abrupt, but nothing I would ever send out even to a stranger. Too, too tacky.

However, my father had told me that they had prepaid their funerals so it wouldn't fall to me. And if that was the place they wanted, I would go to the same place.

I don't hold grudges.

A requirement for getting my mom into a rest home is that her funeral be arranged. She is no longer safe when the caretaker isn't there. I went to the same funeral home.

Prepayment in monthly installments after a down payment is fine with the same funeral home since they could not find the paperwork for the prepayment arranged so long ago. Although I was positive I'd seen something almost three years ago when I was helping my mom sort a major problem out, but the care taker was not able to locate it.

I was to be sent a coupon book by the funeral home but they didn't want to send it overseas. Thus it was to be sent to my wonderful nephew, who is helping so much with details concerning different American details. He was to forward to me.

What did the funeral home do?

They sent the coupon book to my mom. Fortunately, she is not capable at this point of understanding.

Today I made the first of ten payments.

It's not the money. It's a bit macabre to be arranging a funeral whose body is still alive, even if her mind isn't. I've already lost this woman who was a wonderful step mother.

I want to throw a tantrum, lie down on the floor and pound it.

I won't.

I'll do what it is necessary. Sadness is the price of love here.

Shadow haiku

            
                             Paint-by-number trees
         Cast sharp shadows on the church
                In Collonge village.

Haiku

                           Fall leaves and feathers
                           Float by on a Spanish pond
                           Forming a small duck

Edinburgh Half Marathon

 Llara approaches the finish line as they call out her name. She looks pretty good as she wears her medal and clutches her T-shirt.

What I loved about Scotland

Seeing Llara.

The feel of Edinburgh.

The train ride to Glasgow.

Seeing Llara.

Kilwinning. A half hour from Glasgow where J's ancestors came from in the mid 1800s. We found the ruins of an abbey.

Seeing Llara.

Chris, our hop on hop off guide in Glasgow.

The Religious museum in Glasgow. Felt good even for pagan me because it called attention to our human sameness.

The Grand Central Hotel with a water faucet that combined the hot AND cold water.

The Grand Central Hotel that had plug outlets for most nationality plugs.

The Glasgow train station.

Seeing Llara.

Pub grub in the beginning, salad at Llara's and Japanese dragon roll towards the end of the stay.

The major differences between the Grand Central and Guards Hotel. Pretended I was rating hotels. With all out hotel stays over the last few years we've done everything from four star to no stars and all have had some essence of fun.

The beautiful weather--Chris called it the first and maybe the last days of summer.

Seeing Llara run the half marathon. Hearing her name called as I watched her cross the finish line literally moisted my eyes. I think the joy there more than made up for the beginner violin concerts that she had that I went to in motherly support.

Quiz night at the pub even if we know diddly squat about snooker and cricket (apologies to Anil--he tried but that didn't help with team info). At least I knew the Chaucer question.

Seeing Llara's former dorm mate Marianne.

Loudon's tea room.

Did I mention one of the joys of the trip was seeing Llara?

The solution

For the holiday, J and I decided we were to go out and start photographing as many of the painted electrical boxes that we could find. Of course, lunch in a nice restaurant was in the plan.

I took things from my pocketbook to put in my backpack: wallet, camera, pen, notebook, bus pass, etc.

I went to pick it up. It was heavy. I tugged and tugged.

Why was I so weak?

Then I stepped off the strap. Voilà...the backpack was light again.

And off we went to capture 32 of the 150 electrical boxes that we are seeking. One of my favourites is above showing an event where a street car from another city ran on Geneva tracks.

We want to be alone

Granted we live a five minute walk from Lake Léman where ducks abound. This is the first time we've had any ducks on our garage roof.




We assumed that they were tired of being with a crowd and needed a little time to themselves away from all the others.

                                                             Photos by J. Schmitz-Leuffen

Haiku

Carcassonne cookies

Bin after bin to choose from

Chocolate are best

Bordeaux Haiku

                                              Coloured flower cart
                                              in an old  Bordeaux courtyard
                                              Kevin helped frame it

Corsier misc.

This is the time of year that one almost needs sunglasses to pass the fields and fields of colza. Photo by Julia Schmitz-Leuffen who also does the photos for my book covers.

I found J driving back and forth into and out of the garage. "Something's wrong," she said. We looked at the tire. One was flat. A temporary was put on but it looks a bit like a band-aid. Glad it didn't happen when we were on the road somewhere.

 
Three of us, my housemate, a British friend are LWL, ladies who lunch. We take turns experimenting with different recipes. This time S. made a Romanian curly pastry with salad. J.'s turn next.

Desert was a strawberry truffle...we also have the date for the next lunch with a different chef. Meanwhile I'm scouring recipes for my turn to produce something new.

RB2

Someone once said RB2 was the brother I always wanted. A Swiss/Dutchman, 20 years younger and I shared the company flat from 1990-93. We also shared shopping trips to France where instead of coming back immediately we'd roam the countryside, trips to Argeles (where he met and married his wife), concerts, musics, and hours and hours of talking.

In the intervening years depending on where he was living and/or working our time together might be under the same roof or close enough for many get-togethers.  Other times both our busy lives interfered and months would go by with no contact.

Thus when I got an email saying he'd meet me in Yverdon and I'd spend the night I jumped on the train. But no sooner had he served me Dutch pancakes, and I'd chatted with his wife, then he told me to get in the car.

Long ago, I learned to follow him (not a natural inclination of mine.) We ended up in the Swiss Germanic medieval village of Murten   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murten heading into a hotel that had a concert by Chi Coltrane. www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJjOo9eu1Ok (totally opposite to what he is)

The next morning we watched the Eric Clapton Guitar Festival and his salute to George Harrison, before visiting his wife's brilliant children's play place.

Then off to a chalet for a fondue. I chose the one with morels. He selected a local white wine. He dropped me off at the station.

I just feel so lucky to have this brother wantabe in my life be it daily, weekly, monthly, bi-monthly, annually, whatever.