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Let’ see. There have been a lot of these, I think, and by that I mean a lot of really significant projects on which Melinda and I have collaborated over the years. I’ll start by mentioning the project known as Chloe. Unveiled in 1993, this project turned 18 recently (as you know) and will be attending Quest University in British Columbia, Canada this fall.

Soon after Chloe came the project known as Puget Sound Community School. Unveiled in 1994, PSCS is the most brilliant middle & high school on the planet, the school you wish you attended when you were a teen.

In 1996 we unveiled another of our projects, this one known as Ella. This project is extremely kind-hearted and has an affinity for fan fiction, as I mentioned yesterday, Glee, and Taylor Swift. Were these things in the project blueprints? No matter.

And in 2011 Melinda are about to unveil our latest project, No, no, she’s not pregnant! Geez. We are collaborating on expanding and hopefully monetizing all the online kindness class work I’ve done over the years. As she did with the projects mentioned above, Melinda named this new one, calling it Kind Living (with the tagline “Enhance Your Day”). Today’s photo is of her hard at work at one possible website design and template for an email that will be sent in the next day or so (sign up here to get the email). I write the content. Melinda makes it look pretty.

Was that the formula for Chloe and Ella, too?

That’s the first line Ella has to perform tomorrow in a very short school play in her French class (which is like an English class in the US, you know). Partners were chosen and each duo wrote their own script. Ella’s teacher both wisely and generously allowed her to be part of a three-person team, understanding that the exercise was a little over her head. So Ella’s two partners wrote the script and included three lines for her to memorize and recite. They were rehearsing today.

So just what is Ella saying? Well, if I understand it correctly, this first line means, “What’s going on here?” To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what’s happening in their play (making this line quite apt for me to say, perhaps). I think it may have something to do with a handbag or a wallet or a purse or something. Apparently Ella’s character doesn’t think much of this item as her second line is, “Cette pochette ridicule.” (This bag is ridiculous.) But her best line is the last one, which she is supposed to deliver with an angry tone. She says, “Il y a des choses inutiles et imbécile, comme vous!” (It is something useless and stupid, like you!).

In the foreground of today’s photo is the handwritten script tucked neatly in Ella’s school binder. She looked up from reading Harry Potter fan fiction (or something like it) on her iPad for me to snap this picture.

In my sports experience, there is nothing like it. I encourage you to visit Canada and say these two words, “Playoff Hockey” and judge the results for yourself. At its finest, for me hockey is the most entertaining sport to watch. It’s fast and hard-hitting, yes, but it requires grace and coordination, too. And the playing surface is small enough to easily see all of the action. As I said when I was a kid, “Hockey is my favorite sport.”

As I mentioned way back in early October, I was literally stunned to learn that Nantes has an ice hockey team. I just did not expect to find this in France, let alone four tram stops from our house. We missed their first playoff game last Saturday, a game in which the Nantes team, the Corsaires, won 7-1. Now they are in the second round, with their next game scheduled for Saturday night. I fully intend to be there.

Today’s photo is of the sign outside the arena promoting Saturday night’s game. The opponent is Annecy, a town in the French Alps (and a possible site for the 2018 Winter Olympics). Had I known we were so close last week, I might have suggested a scouting trip…

“Printemps” is French for spring. And walking home from taking Ella to school this morning, I spotted some workers prettying up the round-about near our tram stop, less than 350 steps from our front door (remember, I have a pedometer). I know it’s hard to see them with this cell phone quality photo, but click on it to see a bigger version. Anyway, I’ve seen flowers planted in all sorts of public places around town. This is serious work, as I think it is in any city. But somehow it seems higher on the To-do list in Nantes than in Seattle. Maybe I just have the time to notice it more?

And, yes, that’s my beloved Ligne 2 (Line 2) of the tram heading toward our stop. Reviewing this picture I started thinking, “If Ligne 2 was a woman I’d ask her to marry me.” Then I thought, “Wait a second, I’m already married!” Then I saw the men planting flowers and thought, “That’s right, it’s spring, the season of romance,” and realized that I was just letting the longer days and warmer temperatures carry me away. I forgave myself, but made a mental note that perhaps I should be getting some flowers for Melinda.

Yes, so I’ve been hinting at this incredible dinner we had with the Boudeaus last Tuesday night, the one in which to get to the restaurant we had to put Romain and Manon in the back of the magic car, the Boudeau taxi. Earlier in the day, Laurent and Frédérique pointed out the restaurant to Melinda, Chloe and Ella from high above it, on the ski slopes. Location-wise, it’s about halfway between Les Carroz and Flaine, kind of out in the middle of nowhere, although there is a ski lift next to it and you can ski through a tunnel under the road right by it, too. The restaurant is called Chalet Les Molliets and their speciality is cheese.

Chloe and Ella ordered what I would call traditional fondue. They were served a huge basket of bite-sized pieces of bread and plates filled with thinly sliced meat. Then a big pot of bubbling hot cheese was delivered and placed in front of them. They would dip the bread in the melted cheese, transfer it to their plates and then mix in the meats as they desired. Laurent, Frédérique, Melinda and I all ordered the same thing, the name of which I cannot remember. It involved having a HUGE bowl of cooked potatoes delivered, along with plates filled with thinly sliced meats and trays of cheese. A massive burning hot metal device was placed in front of us on our table, a cheese tray fitting perfectly in a slot on its side, one at a time. So we’d take turns melting a layer of cheese on our trays and then pouring it on our potatoes, meats and bread. As the meal ensued, we got warmer (it gets hot in the restaurant with all these burning hot cheese melters on people’s tables) and fuller.

Today’s photo features the raclette cheese and its heater, what was ordered by Manon and Romain. That’s the heating element on the right on the cheese, momentarily moved slightly away from the heater so Romain can slide some melted cheese onto his plate, on the left.

I’m getting hungry just thinking about it, and am imagining the horror on my brother’s face when he reads this post. Funny, I feel a strange satisfaction considering both of these things.

It’s funny for us to realize that returning to our Nantes house after two weeks away feels like coming home. In fact, it is EXACTLY like coming home. But it’s odd, considering our real home is in Seattle. Yet here we are feeling so much at home in Nantes, both in the city and in our house.

For instance, it felt great to sleep in own our beds last night. Everyone knows how comfortable this is, returning to one’s own bed, what with everything about it being so familiar. It’s one of the great things about vacations, and on both sides of them. On vacation you get the wonderful newness and change of pace. And then back home you get the comfort of familiarity. Similarly, Melinda and I hopped on the tram this morning to ride into town. I got a little giddy hearing the familiar recorded voice call out the stops. Silly, I know.

What is also interesting when returning home after being away is to see the changes made. Life goes on without you, it turns out. In our case, the facelift of our neighborhood grocery store continues. The big change is the black paint and the gray posts, adding to the elegance of the new entry. We are curious to see what will be attached to those vertical studs pointing to the sky on the left side of the photo.

Hmmm… I wonder what it will be like to go home to Seattle in July. I wonder what it will be like to sleep in our Seattle beds. I wonder what changes will have been made in our absence. But I don’t want to think too much about that. There is too much living yet to do here at home in Nantes!

This photo is from Tuesday night when the 8 of us went out for the cheese-related dinner I mentioned before (and of which I still plan to post a picture here – perhaps next week). The title of today’s post refers to two things, the fact that all 8 of us all fit into the Boudeau’s car that night (see the picture for a little story about HOW we all fit into the Boudeau’s car), and the fact that on the day we arrived in France last July, with all of ours huge bags, we managed to fit everyone and our bags in two cars, mostly because the car in today’s picture is the MAGIC CAR (la voiture magique).

Actually, la voiture magique has another name, le Taxi Boudeau being the other. This has to do with all the times Laurent has schlepped us around. For instance, when we arrived in Les Carroz last Saturday, Laurent met us at the bus stop. He pulled up on the curb to pick up us and our bags, hopped out of the car and exclaimed, “Taxi Boudeau!” A police officer heard this exclamation and came over to inquire about Laurent’s status as a taxi driver, given his car is not so marked. Laurent had to do some fast-talking.

So, yes, the car is both magic (think Hermione’s bag in the recent Harry Potter movie) and a taxi. But the magic all stems from the quality of the Boudeaus as a family. Just look at the big smiles on Manon’s and Romain’s faces, only too happy to be crammed in the back of the car. The big question Laurent and I had upon our return to the Les Carroz apartment on Tuesday night was whether or not we should let them out again. They looked so happy back there.

You’d think Manon’s aim might be a little better than this, given Laurent’s point-blank status. Clearly, that snowball is going to miss him. Instead, though, I am attributing this to Laurent’s super-fast fatherly reflexes, his left hand deftly coming up to knock Manon’s throwing arm off-target. We fathers do need to stick together, hence the credit going to Laurent (besides, Manon needs an excuse).

This photo was taken at lunchtime today during a break from the gang’s final day of skiing. Melinda and Ella departed early, heading back to Les Carroz to meet up with me. That left Chloe, Manon, Frédérique and Laurent to fend for themselves, and the fending involved a snowball fight. From what I’ve gathered, Laurent was a common target throughout the week and rarely, if ever, retaliated. There is another photo from a few days ago in which he is sitting quietly eating his lunch, snowballs raining down upon him. So in paragraph one above I imply he has something akin to black belt status. And in this paragraph I am suggesting he has the patience and concentration of a Shaolin monk.

Switching gears, I’m writing inside the apartment an hour or so before our last dinner in Les Carroz. Manon and Frédérique are folding sheets. Laurent and Melinda are transferring photos from the Boudeau’s camera to Melinda’s computer so we can have them for our family archive. Ella is packing and Chloe is taking a shower. It’s that melancholic time in which you know your vacation is just about over. Before you is the packing and cleaning, and, hopefully, one more little blast of vacation fun, a bonus, if you’ve planned well.

Our bonus begins shortly with the apéritif, courtesy of Laurent. It involves saucisson and red wine. Ah…

Read the title of today’s blog posting carefully. Do you hear my first name in it and not just a World War II reference? If so, you will start to understand the terrific pun Laurent made in English today, so good that I made it the title. I’ll try to explain it here, but, like most puns, to fully get it you probably needed to be present with us over the last couple of days.

First, on our walk yesterday, I told Laurent of my interest in visiting Normandy and the D-Day beaches before we leave France. Now temporarily file that little bit of trivia.

Second, at dinner last night Manon made an impassioned speech in English in which she asked me to join the rest of the group in the nearby town of Flaine for lunch today. They would all ski there, of course, following their normal route, one which takes them to high elevations and provides some of the loveliest views in the Alps. For me, this would involve being the first out of the apartment in order to catch the morning bus to Flaine from Les Carroz, a 35 minute ride along a steep, winding road through the mountains. Once in Flaine, I’d wait for them to arrive and then, based on Manon’s proposal, accompany them on a 10-15 minute ride in the “Grandes Platieres” télécabine. Yes, she was suggesting I dangle above the ground supported by nothing but flimsy cables in order to get a view of Mt. Blanc.

Did I mention I don’t like heights. I mean, I really don’t like heights. I get all weak in the knees and lightheaded (kind of like meeting Melinda for the first time?).

Anyway, I did it. I took the mountain bus to Flaine, trying all the way not to look over the side of the road (which is harder to do when the bus driver is busy passing little sports cars on the straightaways). I hung out in Flaine until Melinda called. And I let them convince me to ride the “Grandes Platieres” télécabine. The ride up wasn’t so bad, packed as I was with my entire family, the Boudeaus, and several skiers not the least bit nervous about the experience of being in a tiny box floating through the sky. But let me just say that the ride down was somewhat tortuous, as you might gather if you carefully study my face in this self-portrait taken about a third of the way down. Ella came with me, which was nice, but it was just the two of us in this cabin intended for 2 or 3 thousand, I think. And you kind of start to sway at times. And you’re really high up. And every so often you come to a place where the cables shake and make a loud noise, probably the same sound they’d make just before snapping. And you’re really high up (oh, I said that already). And it’s a long way down. And below you are trees and rocks (and the little bitty town of Flaine). And you’re swaying and stuff.

So, you see, when we all were safely back in the apartment late this afternoon, Laurent christened today as “Andy Day.” “And D-Day.” Get it?

Melinda reached out to take this picture of today’s skiers this morning while they were riding a télésiege (chair lift) that can seat 6 across. Yes, you are correct in noticing that Laurent and Romain are absent. Of course I’m not there because I’ve never in my life been on a télésiege, or a télécabine, or a téléski, or a télé-fill-in-the-blank, for that matter. Well, come to think of it, I have been on the telephone and even on the television, but both of those words are missing the cute little French accent marks above the letter E.

You might say I’ve digressed.

Laurent took Romain to Geneva today so he could catch a plane back home to Nantes. School keeps Romain busy and with it resuming on Monday he wanted some focused study time in an empty house in order to be as productive as possible. I would have said that the car trip to Geneva from Les Carroz is 45 minutes, but Laurent returned to Les Carroz a little late and with a story to tell. At the France-Switzerland border he was stopped and told he needed to pay a 40 Euro toll to continue on the road to the Geneva airport. He balked at that, turned around, and took a path through France that doubled the travel time but saved him the 40 Euro toll.

The short of all of this is that the skiers who departed from our apartment this morning were female. Ella again skied until just after lunch, then rested in the apartment. I did a little reading and then went for a 3 mile run before meeting up with Ella. Once Laurent returned, he took me for a little walk before we sat down in the afternoon sun for a beer.

On a side note, noticeably absent from the blog so far is anything having to do with last night’s incredible dinner. We went out to a restaurant that serves melted cheese in a variety of styles and fashions. If I don’t say more about this soon, I at least want to have this record of last night’s dining experience here, dedicated to my cheese-hating brother, Scott.