Tag: French Sabbatical

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.

I just caught my mom in the kitchen, as you can see. From the position of her hands, I think she may have been pretending to wash some large item, maybe a watermelon or something. Perhaps she was bored and trying to keep herself occupied. I don’t know. At least she is smiling.

Seriously, right now we are in the midst of fixing dinner. I had been planning to make chicken, potatoes and broccoli, what sounds very American to me. But my mom’s suggestion clearly put it over the top in terms of making it an American meal. In fact, I dare say we may be the only people in all of France who are having chopped chicken breast that was coated in a bag of potato chips crushed by a rolling pin. Cue laugh track.

Chloe walked in while my mom was crushing the potato chips and asked her what she was making. My dad replied, “Crumbs.” Cue laugh track again.

Perhaps now you will better understand my fascination with old American TV shows. I grew up in a situation comedy.

Like many “older” people in France do, this couple was spotted in our neighborhood today pulling their caddies down the street. They were undoubtedly on the way to the grocery store for supplies. Overhearing their conversation, it sounded as if they were low on beer, which seemed to be distressing the gentleman. I wonder how much he can put in his caddy before it gets too hard to pull? Indeed, this is a matter of consequence. The woman was trying to tell him that there are more important things than beer (just look at her expression) and wanted to find out if the store sold ground turkey. Ground turkey? Who in France has heard of ground turkey? What’s next, ground rabbit? Crazy.

Melinda and I followed along behind them and I took this picture. We even got on Line 2 of the tram with them and showed them how to get a grocery cart and stow their caddies at the large grocery store at the end of the line. I tried to explain that I have not seen ground turkey in France. I pointed out all the ground beef varieties, even the ground veal and pork. But she seemed to have her heart set on ground turkey. Fortunately, recommending beer was much easier. The monsieur was quite content with my recommendation of Pelforth Brune.

Taking pity on this couple, we invited them back to our house for dinner. But I had to sneak away to post to the blog tonight. You see, they’re quite talkative. Well, the woman is, anyway. The man is pretty quiet. But they seem to think they belong here, like they’re family or something. Oh well, we’ve got a little extra space and they do seem nice enough. I’ll keep you posted on what happens next.