AliThinks

BHD made me do it.

I found this meme on her blog.

The Rules:

1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

Here is the fifth sentence of my 23rd post:

There were always little bugs, and sometimes I'd have to quit IE and reopen the home page I'd set up.

Ah yes, I remember the days before Firefox.

Oh, and I'm not tagging anyone.  Just leave a trackback if you decide to do it, how 'bout that? 

Munch

   

Click image to enlarge.

French bread pizza made with roasted tomato sauce and mozzarella, on pain de campagne, or rustic loaf.  We ate the pizza with a salad of leafy lettuce, tomatoes, and cubes of feta cheese.   

Don't Annoy The Person Who Provides The Enchiladas

Being the great language geek that I am, after editing (and tracking changes in Word) my brother's thesis, I started browsing the fat orange book's website. 

I found myself getting really into the Q & A section.  In fact, this exchange made me laugh out loud:

Q. The menu in our cafeteria shows that enchiladas are available “Tues.–Fri.” However, when I ordered one on a Wednesday, I was informed that enchiladas are available on Tuesday AND Friday, not Tuesday THROUGH Friday. When I informed the cafeteria manager that this was incorrect, she seemed shocked and refused to change the sign. Please help determine who is correct!

A. Although the sign was incorrect, I’m not sure you should annoy the person who provides the enchiladas.

Indeed.

Untitled

This morning Allan and I drove to Angoulême, where I attended an informational meeting about a training program I would like to do.  I would do six modules: beginning Photoshop CS, Illustrator CS, and Quark XPress, and then the "perfectionnement" level for each.

I really want to do this.  Thing is, because my unemployment is voluntary, I have to pay the 2200€ tuition fees for the six modules.  If I'd been laid off or something, it would be a different story. 

For Those of You Following Along At Home

Today was a great day.  A great, lazy day.  After a lazy morning, Allan and I ate lunch at the other café up the street.  Then after an hour or so back here, we took our books up to the café we usually go to and had coffee.  Then a soft drink.  Allan spent the three hours we were there reading Harry Potter.  I came and went and read the Chicago Manual of Style, wrote some bits of an article I'm preparing, and finally took off to the press shop for a plethora of girly magazines.  Cosmo, Marie Claire, DS (say Day-Ess, or déesse: goddess in French), and Harper's Bazaar.  (I can't believe that the French magazines don't have their own sites). 

Mags like that are one of my secret pleasures. And did I mention that it was a lazy day?

Skeptical

There's a brownout at one of my favorite websites. 

It will cost money to get the site back online, and donations are needed.

I wonder if the brownout is not deliberate, in order to get people to give money.

I'm probably going to get flamed for saying that out loud. 

I don't care.  I'm saying it.  OUT LOUD. 

Heh*

*That'll learn me.

I've spent the past hour or so linking to particular entries of mine from a year ago, just to remind myself (and you!) of my state of mind back then.  My doctor had ordered me off work at the time.  I'd linked to some of the more entertaining entries I wrote. 

But...one of those weird computer things happened.  And I lost my post.  It's like, I should know by now, but I still goofed up.  Anyway, if you are interested, here is a link to my September 2004 archives.  Upside down. 

Some Photos

In my last post I mentioned Pascal and Stéphanie.  They kept Cookie and Slick while I was in the States.  For five weeks.  And they just took that Cute Little Fleabag aka Alf, for keeps.

I met Pascal three years ago during my first student teaching year (yes, I had two, and I will link to a journal entry about that just as soon as I can).  His easy-going manner and sense of humor helped me survive that year. 

As it happens, I now live less than ten miles from Pascal and Stephanie.  I knew this last year when I moved here, but then fell into that dark hole they call depression.  I even saw Pascal walking in a nearby town one day, but I didn't say hello.  It would have taken too much energy. 

"Time heals all wounds," says common wisdom.  Perhaps that is true.  In any case, I am in a much better place now than I was a year ago.  I am glad that I have friends from "before" nearby. I say "before," but truth be told, they never really knew my ex.  Bref.

I'll stop writing and post the photos I promised in the title of this post.  Everything is cropped to protect privacy -- but you'll still be able to see what lovely people my friends are. 

Meh.

Feeling dry.  No.  That's not the word.  I don't know how to describe what's happening here.  I want to blog, but I feel so tired.  My kids are here this weekend.  It's been raining since last night (and really, that is a good thing for the parched earth in this corner of the world), but the rain means that we haven't gone out today.  And I sit here and teeter between Allan and my kids.  They are still not ready to have a conversation with him, and I can't push it. 

   

Cat Blog Friday

   

Click image to enlarge.

   

Slick-a-Leekie!

Overheard in SmallTown, France

Last evening we had a beer with Ken (age 79) and Lilian (age 68), two members of the English contingent (and fixtures at the café).  Ken was talking about an engineering project he had worked on a number of years back:

Ken: So we was working right next to this sex shop...

Lilian, to Allan: He didn't bring me anything!

Ken: bla bla bla (I have no idea what he was saying at this point).

Lilian: If I'd known, I would have bought the whole shop! 

Update

By popular request Because ColdBear asked.

Hmmm.  What can I tell you?  So far Allan and I haven't traveled to exciting places or taken too many photos.  We have taken walks around town, talked an awful lot, cooked simple but delicious meals, and spent time at the local café yesterday (where I worked on editing my brother's thesis and Allan read Harry Potter 6).  In fact, we went there for coffee (+thesis and book) after lunch today and stayed for an hour or so.  Early this evening we went back there for more reading, work and a couple of draft beers.  And we ate dinner there as well. 

For a very reasonable price, we had a four-course meal.  (Well, we stretched a three-course meal by sharing the fromage ou dessert option.  Allan got cheese and I got dessert--raspberry mousse, yum--and we shared).  For starters (or l'entrée, in French), Allan had langoustines and I had a seafood platter, with raw oysters, bulots (sea snails), shrimp and langoustines.  For the entree (plat principal), he had duck confit and I had dos de sandre. Both were served with lightly seasoned, tender vegetables.  Then came the cheese course.  We had a choice, and since we were sharing, our waitress let us choose four kinds instead of three.  We enjoyed slivers of camembert, roquefort, Rouy and Mottin charentais.  (I've looked for links for Rouy and Mottin -- not much is out there, but apparently Mottin is popular in Japan.  Who knew?)

As I said, we shared a creamy raspberry mousse for dessert, and finished our bottle of Domaine du Taillant, a local award-winning red wine.  Coffee was served, and by that time we were the only people left on the restaurant's balcony. 

Tomorrow we're going to Rochefort. 

And now for something completely different:

It's Great...

...to have Allan here.  I picked him up in Bordeaux yesterday morning.  Luckily his flight was late, because I was caught in a traffic jam for an hour.  In the end, he only waited about 10 minutes for me. 

Cookie and Slick have adapted to his presence, but crazy Sumatra doesn't want to have anything to do with the "interloper."  And speaking of interlopers, there is a fourth cat here for the moment.  I'm playing middleman, and agreed to find it a home (but the friends who said they wanted it aren't answering their phone).  The kitten is a cute little punk; Allan posted a picture of it on his blog.  But...I can't keep it, even though my daughter wants me to.  Three cats is enough.  Four means that I'm perilously close to the "crazy cat lady" limit. 

Instant Messaging

Amber: between you and me...
Ali: oui?
Amber: [deep dark secret]
Amber: hehe
Ali: (thank you for not saying "between you and I" -- the English teacher in me hates that).
Ali: Hehe.  [deep dark secret]   
Amber: it bugs me too... I suck at spelling but i get all geeky when it comes to grammer
Ali: That's grammar, dear.   
Amber: LOL
Amber: i tried that first and didn't like the way it looked
Ali: I feel like blogging that little exchange, anonymously of course.
Amber: feel free
Ali: Cool.
Amber: those who know me would love it
Amber: hell you can put my name to it if you like
Ali: I wouldn't use your name unless you agreed.
Amber: everyone knows i cant spell for shit
Ali: LOL

Aaaaarrrrr!!!!

Here I am, alone at last after seeing my kids off and having a drink with my English friends. 

I'm going batty. 

Allan will be here in the morning.  I'm leaving very early to pick him up at the airport.  It's too early to go to bed.  (Although I did wake up just after 7 a.m. this morning -- rare for me on a Sunday on any morning). 

I'm even too antsy to blog about last night's festivities here in SmallTown.  I will post a photo, and perhaps tomorrow Tuesday I'll post some others and provide commentary. 

LOLOMGWTF!

My dad sent me this in an email.  You've probably already seen it. 
As it happened, I had to get gas yesterday.  At 1.33€ per liter, it cost me about $6.50 per gallon. 

That price of premium up there?  It means "Welcome to France."

Cat Blog Friday

Click image to enlarge.

Kitties, wondering where I am going.

In Flux

This afternoon I had a moment of introspection. 

Okay, so maybe it was more like seven hours is still happening.

I was all fired up to write this blog entry, but I seem to have lost my élan. 

I suppose a good way to sum it all up is to say: I left a job I hated.  Why would I even pursue a job I'm not really interested in, now? 

I need to work.  But I'd honestly rather be pruning vines to make ends meet than settling for a job I'll only half love.  At least pruning vines is good, hard, physical work.  The jobs I've been searching for involve bidding (so no guarantee of work), are highly competitive (ditto on the no guarantee), and will probably spill over onto my personal time. 

More later, most likely.

Mystery Solved

The spotlight outside my apartment is indeed for the Journées du Patrimoine, which is this weekend. 

And guess what?  So are the magenta lamps. 

Order will be restored next week. 

In Which I Just Shake My Head And Say:

"Welcome to France." 

Last week I was on some errand in SmallTown, when I came upon a truck with a personlifter (what are those things called?).  A man was up at streetlight level, and he was placing sheets of transparent magenta plastic in the four panes of the lamp. 

Over the next couple of days, all the streetlights were outfitted in hot pink.  It looks kind of neat during the day, and at night there's a sort of "Amsterdam wanna-be" feel.  I have no idea what the purpose of this decoration is (just like I don't know what the fuck that spotlight is outside my kitchen windows).