Andy Smallman

I had hoped to get this picture with Chloe in it, along with the three kids she has been watching from 8 until 5 each day this week (and for the rest of the month). But by the time I jogged over, thinking a glass of lemonade would hit the spot in the midst of a 30 minute jog on a sunny summer afternoon in Seattle, they were closing up shop. Apparently the kids had a karate class or something.

From lemonade stand to karate class. That sounds so something… American? Summer-like? I don’t know.

So, yes, Chloe is basically working full time this month, back to nannying and with one of the families she worked with before our year in France. The dad took me aside and told me just how impressed he and his wife are with Chloe’s ability with the kids and her conscientiousness around chores. She later reported she did 5 loads of laundry for them today, also using that as explanation as to why she shouldn’t have to help with tonight’s dinner dishes.

Argh. Can you make my lemonade a lemon drop?

Speaking of dinner, we just had a lovely one with our dear friends Julie and Margaret. Seeing our Seattle friends feels so, so nice.

In French, a men’s suit is called a “costume,” something to give most English speakers a good chuckle. For instance, Melinda and I both think it’s pretty funny. And when my brother Scott, there on the right, shook Romain’s hand this morning and told him he looked quite nice, Melinda had to explain they were both in “costume.”

Trick or treat.

So, yes, Romain spent a couple of hours this morning shadowing my brother at his office on the 50th floor of a skyscraper in Seattle. Scott is a stock broker and has been for quite some time. I think Romain was impressed by many things, including the corner office with its incredible view.

Several months ago I had mentioned to the Boudeaus that it might be possible for Romain to spend some time with Scott if he came back to Seattle with us. That was what started the whole idea of Romain coming, and lead to us helping set up other tours and visits for Romain. For instance, yesterday he spent several hours at Microsoft with our good friend, Anoo, a former Microsoft employee as well as a former teacher at PSCS.

But you should really hear more about this from Romain on his blog.

We could not find root beer in France. Well, truthfully, we did find it in one place, a store in Paris that specializes in selling uniquely American groceries to ex-pats and American wannabes for dollars on the penny. But just how many jars of Jiffy peanut butter, cans of Campbell soup, and boxes of Pop Tarts can one person stomach?

Wait, don’t answer that. I think someone in my hometown of Omaha may be trying to do just that…

My point is that for all practical purposes we could not find root beer in France. And it is so easy to find it in the United States, almost like there is some kind of conspiracy taking place to make sure you drink some. I blame the advertising industry. I’ve seen Mad Men.

My further point is that Romain had never had root beer. Now he has. And it’s not like he did cartwheels after drinking his first sip. But he was concerned when 14 year-old Ella pulled a bottle of said “beer” from the fridge and began drinking it.

After his sip, I think he came to understand about the alcohol content in said “beer” and that said “Ella” was not trying to get away with unsaid “anything.”

But do I REALLY have to get him to eat sweetened peanut butter, canned chicken noodle soup, and reconstituted brown-sugar cinnamon?

They go by many names, but today I’m referring to them as Christine’s Brownies (okay, Pin-Up Brownies, Kebob Brownies, Crack Brownies – learn more here). We pried the recipe out of Christine before we left France. And here is Ella with her friend Ivaly making them in our kitchen tonight.

Hold on, I’ll be right back. I think the first batch is ready for taste testers!!

Oh my gosh. I didn’t think it was possible. And I’m not saying these are as good as Christine’s, but they are mighty, mighty fine. Ella has said she has interest in being a baker. I think there may be something there. Maybe an apprenticeship with Christine?

In other news, Romain has been blogging about his experiences here in Seattle. So far the blog has been mainly in French but tomorrow he will post in English and write about his tour today at Microsoft courtesy of our good friend, Anoo. He said he had a great time (and interestingly, just like Jon did last week, Anoo took Romain out for an Indian food lunch).

Up until just a minute ago I felt like my adjustment to Seattle had been much better than I expected it would be in terms of missing Nantes, Yes, I’ve been sad and all of that, but that has all been tempered with being home. What tipped the scales is a link to a webpage that Melinda’s sister’s husband (Greg) sent me as I sat down to write tonight’s entry.

While this won’t mean much to most of you, click here. That’s a circulation map for the Nantes public transportation system. it includes live cams. And that’s what did me in, clicking on a couple of the live cams. They are marked on the map with eyes (yes, that’s an eye inside each blue square). To look at the two that got me, find the letter “I” in the center at the top of the map. Double click on the eye just below it. That will give you a view of Morhonniere/Petit Port. In the center of that picture is a crosswalk I would use on many of my jogs. The eyeball just below that one on the map is Michelet, the stop we used to get to Ella’s school.

I miss Nantes.

Today’s photo represents something that may be contributing to my feeling of homesickness. In downtown Seattle is the Boulangerie Nantaise, a French bakery started by a man from Nantes. Melinda and I went there this morning and bought two pain au chocolats and two baguettes. According to Romain, the pain au chocolat was very good. But the baguette? Even I could tell it was nothing like those we got in France.

The unpacking and resettling continue. And by unpacking I now mean finding spots in our house for the things we brought back from France. Case in point, the map featured in today’s photo. That’s the Nantes public transportation map, the Tan. Melinda and I used it just about every day while in Nantes. In fact, so important was it to us that we asked to be given a large poster size version of the map, as opposed to having just the fold-out pocket map sizes. We were pleased when one was given to us, and put it up in our house. This is that very map.

So while Melinda busied herself pressure-washing everything from our patio to the backyard furniture to the neighbor’s cat, I put up the Nantes public transportation map in our upstairs sitting room. Now I’ll know which bus to take to get from Commerce to Orvault, mighty important while in Seattle.

Some other highlights of the day include taking Romain to Value Village, a Seattle thrift store. That didn’t turn out to be as exciting as it could have been, but on the ride home I pointed out a gun shop. With whispers of Charleton Heston in my head, I took Romain inside, my first time inside a gun shop myself. I won’t bore you with the rest of the details, the enthusiasm of the clerk to show guns to a Frenchman, the ease with which one could buy an assault rifle, that sort of thing.

At last, some serious culture shock. Or was it just plain old everyday shock…

Melinda, Ella & I took Romain out tonight for Mexican food in Ballard (the name of the place, I can’t remember, but it’s that authentic Mexican place just off of Market). Chloe was babysitting Bess so missed out. No worries there, however, given she and Romain just reconnected and are about to head out with a group of Chloe’s friends.

We were told it would be at least 30 minutes until our table was ready so I took Romain on a little tour of the neighborhood. We were both excited to go into Bop Street Records, an amazingly huge record store with a tremendous amount of old vinyl. I didn’t know Romain would be so interested. His eyes bugged out, in fact, and just about popped out when he found a stack of Edith Piaf records. He told me he hopes to get a turntable for his 19th birthday and proceeded to buy one of the records he found (see photo).

At the register, I told the clerk that Romain had come all the way to the United States from France in search of Edith Piaf records. He knocked $2 off the price.

Back at home tonight I showed Romain my turntable, whereupon we played his Edith Piaf record, specifically her song “Non, je ne regrette rien.”