AliThinks

Maudit Mardi

The day started off pretty well.  I had to laugh this morning.  Just as we were about to leave for day care, I heard my son singing Abba. 

It's a little disconcerting to hear your first-grader chant "Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight."    But then, this is the kid who wanted me to paint his toenails.  Things went downhill from there. 

God Grant Me...

...the serenity
...the strength
...the courage.

You know that poem. I'm not going to reproduce it here.

This Is It

Today I had lunch at a colleague's house.  She lives in Small Town too, and she has been very kind to me.   There were three couples and me, and all of us except for two of the husbands were teachers.  The other guy teaches history in the same school as Christel and me, and he happens to be head teacher for my 6th graders. 

Back Scratching

Last night I helped Allan update the look of his blog.  I chose the colors, and he redid his banner. 

Tonight, he created a custom banner for me, because he's into Photoshopping.  (I'm just into shopping.  Wait.  No, I'm not!) 

I've wanted to use a photo of my tattoo on my blog for a while now, and I thank Allan for taking the time to fashion a banner for me. 

Small Town Photo Of The Day

This afternoon I went to have coffee at Kees the Dutchman's place.  It was so warm and sunny that we sat outside.  I took a few pictures here and there.  After I got home and uploaded the photos, I realized that Kees mistreats his clogs. 

Just When You Thought You'd Had Enough Food

The Carnival of the Recipes is up at Random Thoughts.

Go get some ideas on what to cook between now and Christmas. 

Remember Her? (Updated!)

The blue sweatshirt lady?   Well, let's see.  I took that picture on what, Tuesday?  There's no school on Wednesdays in France, so I didn't see her then.  But yesterday and today I saw the BSL. 

Wearing that same outfit.

 

I Am

a generally unfuckwitted, liberal, not-too-generous, not-too-selfish, relatively well adjusted human being!
See how compatible you are with me!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

Just To Lighten Up

YOU ARE CHAMOMILE

What herb are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Lifted from The Cheesemistress.

What It Is

Just as I was wrapping up that last entry -- I was a little choked up -- my kids ran into the room and T. shrieked. 

I shrieked too, and burst into tears. 

Prattling On With Nothing To Say

Come on-a my house.   I'll make you coffee or tea, and you can sit with me.  We'll shake our heads at my children's ability to sow clutter wherever they go.  Then maybe we'll chat about priorities and what really matters in life. 

Small Town Photo of the Day, Threefer

This kitty approached me as I walked down the street.  It's a busy road, and Cat was hanging out near a parked car.  It seemed happy to see me, and I petted it a bit, and snapped this photo. 

It followed me a bit as I continued on my way.  Or so I thought.  I looked back at it, and it was spraying the front license plate of the parked car. 

I guess that's HIS neighborhood. 

Small Town Photo of the Day, Part 2

The other day I saw her crouching in front of her infant's Maxi-Cosi car seat, which she'd placed on the ground in front of her. 

The first thing I noticed was the long blond hair. 

The second thing was the way the waistband of her jeans dipped way down.

The third thing was her lacy black thong. 

I thought how luscious she was. 

When she stood up and turned around, I was surprised to see how worn she looked. 

Small Town Photo of the Day

I took some hipshots when I picked up the kids from school.  I'll post another one later tonight or tomorrow.  The woman in the blue sweatshirt is always in the pharmacy when I go in there.  You can't see her inch-long grey roots, or how greasy her hair is.  But she is one of the folks in this town who caught my eye. 

Chicken Licken

The following story was told to me by my friend Donna.  It happened the other day at Carrefour, which is a national chain of hypermarchés.   Kind of like Super Wal-Mart, or something.

Donna was at the rotisserie chicken stand.  It was just a low heated table with no cover on it.  There was another customer there; he was standing next to Donna.

There was only one roasted chicken left. 

I Said...

...I'd write about my invitation to a Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday.   My friend Dan called last night.  We haven't been in touch for a while, so it was good to hear from him.  He's a great one for stories and pop culture references, and I always laugh a lot when we converse. 

It's hard to get a turkey around this time of year in France, so Dan said they'd get a turkey roast roll thing, make some mashed potatoes, and call it a meal.  Then he said "If you can't come, we'll make turkey sandwiches and oven fries." 

I'd love to go, but it's 120 miles round trip.  In the dark.  On a school night. 

The company would be excellent, the meal would be a small celebration of the abundance we have available to us, but I just don't think I can muster the energy to go. 

What would you do?  Remember:  120 miles in the dark. School night.  10 year old car, albeit in good shape. 

SDF

She accosted me as I was leaving the library with the children.  Perhaps accost is not the right word.  She walked quickly toward me, her voice raised, asking if I knew of a contact number for someone at the mairie, or town hall, which was the building right behind us.

As she approached, I could make her out better.  Dusk was falling, but I could see the long grey hair, one half of it held in a ponytail at the side of her head.  The other half lay lank on her shoulder.  Her eyes were deepset and worried.  She spoke to me again, and I could see that most of her top teeth were missing.  Her shapeless clothes covered a body certainly more petite than mine.

"Do you know how I can get in touch with the mairie?  They gave me a place to stay, but they cut off the heat.  I'm an SDF."

SDF.  Sans domicile fixe.  Homeless. 

"The doors are locked but I can still see people working in the offices up there."   She pointed toward the second-floor windows.

I said that I didn't know how to contact them, but that there was someone in the library who would have a phone number.

She continued ranting.  My daughter hovered near me.  The woman talked about sleeping outside for a month and a half.  About walking all over Brittany.  About freezing her ass off.  About walking 30 kilometers last night so that she wouldn't freeze to death.  About having paid taxes in this country, and now she happens to be down on her luck, but that no help is forthcoming.

"They're assassinating the people!"

I just listened.  Walked with her to the library, and showed her where to find someone.

As we parted, she said "Excuse me.  I'm just fed up." 

"That's okay," I said.  "Best of luck to you."

The children and I walked away. C., who's nine, said "What was she talking about?"

I explained that she had nowhere to live, that she had been sleeping outside.

"Outside?!"  my son exclaimed. 

"Yes," I replied. 

He continued.  "But how can you sleep without a blanket?"

Good question.  How can you sleep without a blanket?

I don't know, and neither do my children.  And we are lucky.  I can't be fired.  I get paid every month, so I can pay my rent.  The other day I complained about not having one cent to my name.  But I have a father who's helping me, a steady job, food to eat, and for that I am thankful. 

Later I was thinking about that woman, thinking I should have offered to help her.  At the time, the thought didn't cross my mind.   I could have given her the four euros I had in my wallet.  I could have offered her a place to stay for a night.  All I did was lend an ear.  I hope it helped her.

As I was writing this, I got a phone call from my friend Dan.  He's American, and he and his wife Laure wanted to invite us for Thanksgiving.  More on that later.

What's Up With THAT?

As soon as I got back from walking the kids to school, all my good intentions about balancing my checkbook [stop laughing] flew out the window.  My sinuses started aching, my tummy started rumbling, and the cat mocked me. 

Well, maybe the cat didn't mock me. 

I'm out of paracetamol (used by millions in Europe!), my Wal-mart bottle of 200 ibuprofen tablets expired last February, and I'm not sure I can walk the 45 steps to the pharmacy.   The fridge is just about empty. 

ACK. THPPPT.   I feel like Bill the Cat. 

I just yawned.  I think that's a sign.  Back later after my nap. 

 

Yeah.

You Are a "Don't Tread On Me" Libertarian

You distrust the government, are fiercely independent, and don't belong in either party. Religion and politics should never mix, in your opinion... and you feel opressed by both. You don't want the government to cramp your self made style. Or anyone else's for that matter. You're proud to say that you're pro-choice on absolutely everything!

What political persuasion are you?

Lifted from DaGoddess.

Well, Shee-it!

My CD burner is not working.  As in, not opening.  So I forced it open with a bent paper clip in the little hole made just for that purpose, put a CD in, shut it, and then I realized that it wasn't even showing up in the "Poste de Travail" or the "Gestionnaire de Périphériques."  (I forget what those are called in English.  Desktop and Something Manager). 

Methinks the dude who replaced my power supply a couple of weeks ago might have done something to my burner.  I'll deal with it tomorrow. 

It's one of those evenings where I don't have much to say.  I spent most of the weekend indoors, and most of today either in front of this machine or in bed.  Late this afternoon before the kids came back, I took a walk outside with my camera.  Two photos in the box and my batteries died.  Sometimes it takes me a while to learn.  This is not the first time I've had this problem while out walking.

Listening to: The American Analog Set
Reading:   Glamour magazine, UK edition
Thinking:   It's time to turn out the lights in the kids' room
Longing:  To get back to the States

EDIT:  I totally wrote this in my pajamas.