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Melinda Melinda bo Belinda! Banana fanna fo Felinda! Fe fi mo Melinda! MELINDA!

For quite some time I’ve had this idea to dedicate a post here to each of our names. The idea came to me when I saw Chloe’s name up on a billboard promoting perfume or something. I hinted at this with food names that contain the letters E, L, L & A (in order, of course). Finding my name proved easier than I thought. The tough one was Melinda’s. Having found it, it’s time to start the series.

And having found Melinda’s name most recently, I’ll begin with hers. This photo was taken last Sunday at a gift shop in Le Croisic, the city on the coast we visited with my parents. Indeed, that’s Melinda’s name on this bowl, although the use of it is less for something like soup or cereal and more for your morning warm drink. You know, you need a bowl of café au lait to get you going in the morning, right?

What also made finding this particular bowl with Melinda’s name of it so surprising for us is the one underneath. That’s Melinda’s mom’s name, Michele, spelled correctly with just one L. And given all the times in her life that people have wanted to call Melinda Melissa, the bowl above seemed apt, too.

Having gotten this started, it’s time to sing now. Can’t figure it out? Here’s some help.

We shipped Granny & Grandad back to Seattle this morning, sneaking them out of Nantes well before the sun was up. I’m not sure what it was they did that required the clandestine getaway and that’s probably for the best. When I’m called to testify I won’t know anything. Oh, a big tip of the hat to our neighbor John who drove the getaway car. And a big thank you to Granny & Grandad for their visit. You are great house guests!

To adjust to life in Nantes without Granny & Grandad, I made southwest duck legs for dinner. What made these duck legs southwest, I’m not sure. Maybe they quacked with an accent or something. And truthfully, all I did was heat them up in the oven. We bought them during our trip to Picard earlier this week (you know, the gourmet frozen food store).

I wanted to try this dish ever since the incredible dinner we had at the Boudeaus last Thursday. Frédérique and Laurent invited us over to meet my parents and show them some French hospitality, and Frédérique served something similar (her southwest duck legs were much better, by the way). Frédérique, Chloe wanted to know where the fruit course was tonight. Like a good father, I turned the question back on her. She has hands and knows how to use a knife.

If you liked yesterday’s post, I managed to post the video I referenced. Check it out here and pay attention to the second rower from the left at the 7 second mark, poor girl.

This photo was taken by my mom this morning just seconds before Ella’s team crossed the finish line in their first heat at today’s rowing competition. That’s Ella in the bow (nearest to us), showing off her good form. And you Washingtonians will appreciate knowing that Ella was wearing a University of Washington sweatshirt throughout the races.

The team was desperately trying to overcome a big challenge that had come up just seconds before. The girl second from the left got bonked in the nose with her oar which threw off the whole team. I was downstream from the finish line, on a grassy knoll, taking a short video when it happened. Reviewing the footage, I swear it looks like the JFK assassination home movie, what with the way the poor girl’s head flies back when she’s hit. There seems to be some question of whether she was hit once or twice and whether the blows both came from the same direction. Oliver Stone is already planning the movie adaptation of the race and subsequent conspiracy.

The conspiracy surrounds the fact that they didn’t win this heat, nor their second. What forces were at work today to keep them from showing their best effort? I heard mumblings that it had something to do with an American ringer being on the team…

Yesterday I told you about Frozen Granny, today I present a restaurant in Nantes named after my mother. Included on the menu are rolls, angel biscuits, chocolate chip cookies, apple pie, and Waldorf salad. The Waldorf salad comes with a disclaimer that says, and I quote, “It’s not that bad.” People always say that they don’t travel all the way to Le Carib for food that is “not that bad.” Laughter ensues.

A section of the restaurant is devoted to gluten-free foods and another part of the restaurant is devoted to playing Uno. A Winnie-the-Pooh train is kept under a couch and is pulled out when a small child wants to play with it. Out back is a small creek with a tiny bridge, perfect for playing “Pooh Sticks.” A nice touch to the decor is a collection of Hummel figurines.

Christmas is a big deal at Le Carib. No one knows what they’ll be eating but are given an envelope with clues to find their meals. They have to hunt all over the restaurant to find every course. Someone named Tammy never finds one until the following spring and another person named Stephanie declares that she did not get one thing she wanted at this restaurant. And at the end of the holiday meal people find lottery tickets under their plates. Don’t ask me why. It’s a tradition.

I hereby dedicate this posting to all of my parents’ grandchildren, Jessica, Stephanie, Nick, Tammy, Chloe, Ella & Olivia (although something tells me that Tammy will get the biggest chuckle out of it).

Melinda, my parents & I just returned from Picard, the grocery store that sells nothing but frozen food. And this is not your grandmother’s frozen food, let me tell you. No fish sticks and Swanson TV dinners, for instance. If such a thing exists, Picard provides gourmet frozen food. Anyway, as we were getting ready to check out, loaded as we were with our frozen duck, our frozen molten lava chocolate-caramel cake, and our frozen artichoke hearts, my dad appeared with this item. I called my mother over to have her pose for this photo (note, I cropped out her head in order to better ensure you could read the container). Yes, we found frozen Granny (sorbet). I don’t know how many Grannys it takes to make a container this size, and I assume the sweetness factor is determined by the character of the Granny being used. If you read carefully, you’ll notice that this one even comes with pieces (avec morceaux) of Granny. I suppose you can blend it if you prefer your frozen Granny to be a little smoother.

Also, this particular variety is an off-green color. Undoubtedly, if we made sorbet out of our Granny, it would be purple.

I know what you’re thinking and it doesn’t look good for Ella. Just look at her, quickly packing the cannon for a shot at Grandad who, clearly, is an easy target. Do you think my parents have worn out their welcome? Did my dad say something that offended her? Just what is going on here?

And look at my mom in her purple jacket and white hat & gloves. Is that a smile on her face? Could she have put Ella up to this? Perhaps 52 years of marriage has taken its toll and she somehow possessed her granddaughter to take aim at her husband. Again, just what is going on here?

And off in the distance is Melinda (you may have to click on the photo to enlarge it in order to see her). Her back to the unfolding drama, could she be feigning indifference to what is happening behind her? Upon closer examination you may be able to see she is reading a sun dial. Perhaps she is trying to record the exact moment of this terrible action in order to construct an alibi? Just what is going on?

And what about me? Have I got nothing better to do than take this picture of my daughter as she engages in this most despicable act, that of annihilating my father? Shouldn’t I be dropping the camera and running to his aid while doing something parental with my obviously confused daughter? Indeed, just what IS going on?

Oh, Melinda had the idea that we should say goodbye today to rainy and windy Nantes and all take the train to the coast. So Ella, Melinda & I took my parents on a day trip to the town of Le Croisic (Chloe was babysitting).

And when the officers come and ask what was going on today I will tell them what I will now use to close this blog posting, “I refuse to answer on the grounds it may incriminate me.”

So about an hour ago I met Chloe at the house of one of the families she babysits. That’s Luce in the foreground and Zacharie in the back. Luce is 3 years-old and was quite excited to tell me many things in French when I arrived. It was raining and I was wet when I arrived so I stood on the porch and “chatted.” Luce, like I said. had a lot to tell me. I didn’t understand much but I do think she referred to me as “monsieur.” Zacharie, age 5, was quite excited because he just got a camera and was really wanting to tell me about it. I thought I might engage him on the subject of photography and quickly took out my cell phone to take this picture. But he was gone seconds later, only to return with a pillow. I learned from Penelope, Luce’s and Zacharie’s mom, that there are different words for a pillow you place on your couch and one you sleep on in your bed.

Changing subjects, we had chili for dinner tonight, courtesy of my mother. She has been emailing my brother, Scott, for his recipe as it one of Ella’s favorite meals. She has asked repeatedly if we could make “Scott’s chili.” While tonight’s dinner was good, it didn’t meet the “Scott standard” so, Scott, your favored chili status is intact.

All in all, it’s been a pretty lazy Saturday in Nantes. It continues to be rainy and windy so we’ve taken it easy. Other than Chloe’s babysitting, the big event of the day was my dad and me venturing out to the centreville library to pick up a Harry Potter book in English for Ella. You know, the new movie will be out in a couple of weeks and she is getting fired up.

So my dad and I accompanied Melinda, Ella and my mom on a trip to a large mall in Nantes that I’ve nicknamed “Bellevue Square.” Why?

Hmmm…

WHY do I call it “Bellevue Square” or WHY did we accompany them? Both are reasonable questions, although I’m STILL trying to answer the latter. As such, I’ll focus on the former. I call it “Bellevue Square” because of the “upscaleness” of it, just like the huge mall near Seattle with that name. Also, it’s large and new and just has a Bel-Square feel to it, not that I’m all that familiar with the feel of upscale malls.

Obviously, though, this has nothing to do with the title of this post nor the photo, although both of these things have something to do with the latter question. Confused? Me, too.

Anyway, Melinda, Ella, and my mom went clothes shopping today in a large mall in Nantes and my dad and I went with them. Wisely, he and I found a place in the mall that serves beer so we sat down. We ordered two glasses of 1664 (see glass). And, Senator, 1664 is no Pelforth Brune, let me just say. On top of that, the two beers cost 5,40€, highway robbery.

I hope it’s all clear to you now.

Here in France, and in many parts of the world, it is Armistice Day, a national holiday. At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month, World War I officially ended. If the weather was not so blustery, Melinda and I would have taken my parents to a WWI memorial in town. Instead, we’ll save that for another day.

What we did do is ride the tram out to Leclerc for another round of shopping. Plans are in the work for my mom to make a couple of apple pies, something for which she is famous in my family. Melinda made the request and my mom is eager to fill it. Last night they put together the shopping list and then around noon today, with Chloe and Ella snug at home, we ventured out into the rain and wind. I had no idea that ingredients for an apple pie included jeans for my mom, slippers for my dad, and some small wheeled suitcases for Melinda, the girls and me to use in December. I’m pretty sure apples are among the ingredients. Thank goodness we remembered those.

Today’s photo was taken while we were waiting for the tram to take us home. The wind kicked up and the rain came down and this photo opportunity presented itself. Three weather-beaten logs. They seem happy enough (getting Al to smile in a photo takes some work, let me tell you – it could be the Paris-Turf newspaper he has stashed securely under his jacket that did the trick).

We’re heading to the Boudeaus for dinner tonight, Frédérique and Laurent having extended the invitation upon hearing my parents would be visiting. I’m posting early as I don’t think we’ll be home until late.

Probably not. While I’ve got the hat, I don’t have the chiseled and dark features of a Don Draper (or whatever his name is). Would he sip a purple cocktail? I think not. How does he wear his scarf? Outside of his fancy coat, I believe. Mine is tied and under my coat.

Additionally, I’m not the least bit angry. In fact, I’m quite pleased with things. It’s been a fine day. Mostly sunny, albeit chilly. Still, I walked with my parents to the library and back. And my dad and I spent another afternoon at the racetrack. We had free admission courtesy of our new friends at Le Petit Jockey, my dad was given a PMU hat as a souvenir to show off back home, and we were winners on our lone bet. As I later told Melinda, my dad and I used “sound handicapping principles” to pick the winner (and I’m not being sarcastic!). We looked for a bet-down horse with recent form near today’s level. Our 2€ returned 9,40€.

On top of all that, we’re about to have one of my favorite dinners, lentil & sausage soup. And then we’re going to watch an episode of the TV show “Mad Men” (the inspiration for this post, if you didn’t know). Tomorrow is a holiday so we’re sleeping in.

No, I’m not mad at all.