Five Dollars a Day

Hello dear friends!

Can you believe it's almost Christmas? Besides looking
at my calendar, I know this is true because our living room is now
adorned with a sparkling, colorful, gaudy and whopping five foot tall
tree and we only decorate in that fashion once a year. Yes, the
ceilings in this house are so low (6 feet/2 meters) that we no longer
enjoy the ginormous Christmas trees from our past. We're stuck with a
tree which would certainly have been cause for awe on the island of
Lilliput but here, it just makes us giggle and snort. The sole benefit
of having a tree this small is there is no room for big, expensive
gifts i.e. a 60" HDTV, stainless steel eight burner gas stove,
SubZero frigo or even a huge, stone water fountain adorned with angels.
(No offense, Mom.) Definitely a bonus. Lucky us, we have to stick to
smaller and more important gifts such as socks, chocolates and pajamas.
If Henk wore ties with any kind of regularity, I imagine they would
also fit nicely under our shrub.

Thank you for all the birthday wishes! I had a fairly uneventful yet
cozy day with Sjaantje and Henk. Since Henko is a better cook than
most restaurant chefs around here, I opted to let him create a menu for
me. Wise call - a perfectly cooked rack of lamb, sweet potato
croquettes, glazed small carrots (with the green tops still attached;
quite pretty) and spinach. Dessert is none of your business. Henk
also rented a film for our viewing after dinner. He was so thoughtful
to find a movie starring my favorite actress, Helen Mirren, and
co-starring with our favorite pinky-ring mafioso, Joe Pesce. Hey
friends, this movie was so awful it only adds fondness to the memory.
Which brings me to this story...

Henk had rented the movie from one of those "Movie Box" things outside
of most grocery stores and McDo's here in the States. These boxes are
really a treat because for only $1.00, you can rent a movie for 24
hours. When Henk returned the movie, the screen on the rental box
said, "Thank you for returning your movie. Five Dollars a Day."
Coming home all flabbergasted, Henk immediately called the number on
the "box" to ask why the movie was $5.00 a day when the "box" itself is
emblazoned with "$1.00!!!" stickers. After 5 or so minutes of Henk
questioning the poor operator/receptionist at the other end of the
line, I heard "Oh. My. God. Forget this call ever happened. Was this
recorded?"

"What what what?!", I asked. Come to find out the movie itself was
called, "Five Dollars a Day". Had nothing to do with the charge.

Since then, we've had some major appliance issues: the dishwasher decided it was much
more fun to spray soap all over the dishes than to rinse them, the wanna-be-a-French oven

went on strike, our vacuum stopped sucking and then the screen on our laptop turned irreversibly

over to the dark black side. So that has all been super fun.

 

To top that off, the new vacuum cleaner busted it's belt after 2 weeks of use and then I, having an

allergy fit, promptly smarfed wine on the new computer's keyboard - thereby making the keys stick

and resulting in us buying yet another new keyboard apparatus. 

 

Then there were the phone and email issues.  I don't even want to go there.  So I won't.

 

Aside from that, I fell down the stairs (twice!) and then stepped into a hole during our nightly walk-the-dog

ceremony.  (Apparently Henk, Sjaantje and Wuz knew the hole was there but for some reason I didn't.) 

When I remember to wear it, I'm now sporting a really cool knee brace.  Looks great with my holiday

dress!  I am a sexy goddess.

 

About one week ago, Wuzzy was doing his thing (relaxing almost comatose on the back patio, watching the stars

and no doubt finding certain constellations), Sjaantje was just leaving the guest house to come inside for the

night and I was cleaning up the kitchen.  Like a charging lion (in one motion which lasted

less than 0.5 seconds), Wuzzy was suddenly and literally climbing the fence.  Sjaantje screamed just as I came

outside...Wuzzy was busy catching an opossum who, unfortunately for him, was last seen walking along the top of

the fence. Wuzzy caught him, gently extracted himself from the fence and let the opossum go.  Imagine this, the opossum played possum

just before he scurried off, up the fence and away. That is probably the most excitement our dear Wuz has had for a long time. 

 

Knowing Wuz as you do (either personally or through this blog), of course he didn't hurt the opossum.  But try to tell

that to Sjaantje.  It took about 45 minutes for her to calm down.  She still relives that episode in France when the bull

mastiff attacked Wuzzy. Bless her heart, she thought the little critter was attacking Wuz.  No. 

 

That's most of my news. I wish all of you a very happy holiday!

 

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah and Happy 2011!

 

Big kiss-

Wend

 

 

 

 

 

Whirlybirds

Hello dear friends!

How are things where you are?  I know that is poorly worded question but you (plural), my friends, are scattered all over the planet and I'm very afraid that my vocabulary is being compromised by living in Hickville. In any case, I think of all of you for certain reasons (mostly good) this time of year. And I miss you.

Martin, how is school in London?

To begin my update, I'm a light sleeper. I often wake at 2:30 in the morning to any of a variety of sounds:  Wuzzy dreaming and lightly barking while simultaneously scratching his sleeping feet on the terra cotta floor, Sjaantje engaged in some bizarre conversation with nobody in particular while pinching invisible airborne pixies or Henk making a gentle "ronflement" as his soft palette ululates.  I promise you that I never wake up as a result of my own nocturnal pig sounds.  I swear I don't snore.  Never.

 

Anyway, the other morning I awoke at the above mentioned time and read for a while. At 5:00, I decided to take a quick nap before the brutal reality of actually leaving the bed materialized.  Besides, my book had just taken on a new theme of military, Homeland Security and helicopters which are three things that endlessly bore me.  What seemed like just a few minutes later, I became halfway aware of a helicopter sound.  I say "halfway" because at the time, I dreamily thought I was reliving some scene from my book.  But as soon as the sconces on the wall started to tinkle with vibrations and the wall itself began seizing, I was wide awake.

 

Brave as I am (not) and ignoring any possible danger, I whipped open the door to the upstairs balcony and amazingly was confronted by a helicopter about 10 feet above my head.  As if the noise, vibrations and Tramontana type winds weren't enough, two red lights, one blue-ish white light and a search beam convinced me this was not a dream.  For some reason I let out a yell, ran back inside and opened the secret place where we keep our gun.  Stupid, stupid, as if.  This time remembering to put on my robe, I went back outside (sans gun) and watched as this helicopter slowly continued on – hovering more than flying to the next two homes and then on to the commune – before I came back inside and made coffee.

 

Many things bothered me about that episode.  1.) There are absolutely NO street lights on our road plus we are surrounded by trees and power lines.  This helicopter was 10 feet above the upstairs balcony, hovering between a rather large oak tree, some power lines and the roof of our house.  Imminent danger, especially in the complete darkness.  2.)  What about the "noise abatement" laws?  3.) Were they the herb police, checking out the tarragon?  4.)  Why does Henk think I was dreaming?

 

Well, justification for the last query was satisfied a day later when Dalana showed me an on-line forum where people were discussing the "Whirlybirds" and the "5:30 wake up call".  Ha.  I knew it. Unfortunately I found no excuses or reasons for this intrusive whirlybird, but the comments were fun:  "Whooee!  They sure was loud!"  and "Could'na been the po-lice, they's too drunk at night to work."  And the best, "T'wernt no Black Hawk.  Them's too big.  Was aliens.  I heard'em on my phone the other day."

 

This comes after a week's worth of traveling to sunny California for Thanksgiving.  Ah, the people of California. And the houses!  Opulence and beauty.  Actually, the same thing goes for those in Scottsdale, Arizona.…

 

We drove from our Hillbilly Junction to just outside of Los Angeles, a city called Altadena.  On the way, we stopped in Arizona to visit a college friend of mine whom I hadn't seen in, hmmmmm, 13/14 years.  My friend, Jenderna, is married to a rather tall and handsome architect who designed and built their home.  OMG.  Jen and her husband Andy have triplets, a pool, plenty cacti and double-paned beveled glass to adorn their incredibly artistic home.  Beautiful Jen is one of the few people in my life who make me laugh like a dork, such is her personality. Plus, Jen and Andy were the beginning of the recurring motif for Thanksgiving:  the Keurig Coffee machine. 

 

Then it was on to Rudie and Cynthia's house in Altadena, CA.  Rudie is Henk's lovely brother and his wife, Cynthia, makes me laugh at myself only because she is laughing at me and wanting me to join in. She's contagious.  We spent some time marveling at their beautiful home and garden, shopping, eating, canceling our order for $18.00 margaritas and wiping LA pigeon poop off my leather coat.  Fun times indeed!

 

Rudie and Cynthia have a Keurig coffee machine.

 

For Thanksgiving, we went to San Diego to visit Cynthia's sister Kris and her husband Joe. The house was extraordinary, on a hill, overlooking absolutely everything.  Sjaantje was amazed to see two authentic elephant tusks, real zebra skin rugs, a cute little white dog named Maggie who has not yet been made into a rug and to eat pumpkin pie.  Henk absorbed the garage where Joe keeps a collection of twelve or maybe sixteen cars – Porsches, old "hotrods" with wispy fire painted on them a la ZZ Top, classics (the names of which I do not know but old cars with what I would call horn rimmed glasses) and each with a personalized license plate:  Joe Cool, Joe Fast, Joe Sexy, Joe Fun etc...  The irony is that Joe is legally blind and cannot drive. 

 

Kris and Joe have a Keurig coffee machine.

 

The most notable thing about our drive from Texas to California was the unfortunate roadkill.  As I've told you before, in this part of Texas there are way too many dead deer on the side of the road.  In west Texas, we saw plenty armadillos.  Further on in New Mexico and Arizona, the road sides were decorated with coyotes but once we hit California, the patina of roadkill changed to strictly cars, fancy ones at that.  This is something Sjaantje commented on and is in no way meant to be funny.

 

Culture shock again upon our return to Hickville, I went to the store the following morning.  Pulling in to the only vacant parking place, I noticed a rather large man lingering five feet away.  Outfitted in denim overalls/coveralls/hogwashers and no shirt, this hefty gentleman sported an exceptionally long golden coif plus a matching beard which went all the way down to his fat-fold laden navel.  (I don't mean to sound judgmental; I'm just trying to give you an image.) Anyway, this guy had radar locking eyes that honed in on me and my car as I parked and thus feeling uneasy, I said "Good morning" as I went into the store.  Ten minutes later when I came out, Goldilocks was slowly and tentatively walking to and fro around my car. Here came the eyes again and he said, "That there a Mar-Say-Deez?  Them's a good car."  Of course I agreed on both counts.  "I gotsa friend, he got him a Marsaydeez.  Been the best car – better'n a Chevy – for 'bout 10 years."  Wow, I said, what a coincidence.  My car is 10 years old as well. "Yep.  But this'n looks better than Billy's. Hizziza S. This here's a C."  Breaking into colloquialisms, I said, "Yep, this is a C class."  Then remembering my first encounter with the butcher here, I added "Have a nice day then."  "Yep, you too.  Take you some good care with that there car."  I'm still struggling to find out if this was a guardian angel of some sort or just some nice albeit hillbilly guy who didn't pass his English class.

 

After telling Henk about this meeting of the minds, he decided to put our Dutch tags on the front of the car in order to confuse the locals even more. I simply cannot wait for my next encounter.

 

So about this Keurig coffee machine: it makes a great cup of coffee. Look it up on line – it would make a great Christmas gift. 

 

Lekker zoentjes.

 

Wend

Piderman and Nakes

Hello friends!

 

Time flies.  Wow, you have no idea what's been going on with us here in Texas because I have been a bit lazy about telling you.  Not actually lazy, just pre-occupied with things such as my new writing job, an additional writing job, my daughter, husband, my new little boyfriend, a freshly permed poodle-esque disgusting hair coif and way too many dentally challenged ejits.  The "missing teeth phenomenon" is so rampant here, I am reluctant to visit any office of dentistry in the Hill Country.  Surely there is a vast left wing conspiracy re: dental care.

 

A few weeks ago, Henk and I were once again graced by the presence of a battered and smoking car in our driveway.  The dude that exited the vehicle at first looked like a retired caucasian basketball player who, for a second career, signed up to be the bass player for Lynyrd Skynyrd.  Skinny and seriously tall with seriously long hair to match, he exited the car holding what Texans call a "long neck" (a Lone Star beer with an extended neck on the bottle) at 9:30 in the morning.  Remembering "Night of the Living Dead"  I repeatedly yelled, "Go away!" from inside the living room while Henk went out to inquire the dude's business here.  Of course, the dude was looking for someone else. 

 

And then I was verbally assaulted by an equally if not more toothless meanie at a local restaurant - all because I asked a simple question along the lines of "Could I borrow the salt?".  Spittle and F- bombs flying, the intoxicated-beyond-blood-poisoning creature had apparently decided it was much more sportive to attack a poodle-ish looking blond than to just pass the damn salt.  After my semi-recovery from this onslaught, I again pondered the biggest question in my mind: Why did we move here?  Only this time I said it out loud many times.  Kind of like a broken record.  Or a mantra, except I didn't find any peace when I chanted.

 

To be fair, all is not completely disgusting here...

 

 October 31 was Sjaantje's first time to experience Halloween in the States when she was/is old enough to know what was happening.  So for Halloween and the inevitable 'trick or treating',  I joined my new friend Misti to take the kids out for a fun and candy filled excursion.  Misti is the mother of Sjaantje's friend Lauren, her sister Samantha and the cutest little 4 year old fella ever - Jacob.

 

Jacob is talented in many ways:  1) facial expressions - he can crease his brow, quizzically cock one eye up or give you the sweetest smile, usually all 3 at the same time; 2) he is a natural with writing hieroglyphics, more so than any other 4 year old I've ever met; plus only he can decypher them; 3) Jacob already rides a bicycle, often over to visit us and then informs us of things like "I goy be Piderman. Fo Allowee." or "Daaay gau-ah nake one".  Henk and I absolutely love this little guy.  You would too, if you could meet him.

 

Henk had an inkling to make some Dutch pickles last weekend.  The only problem being we didn't have a jar to put them in.  No problem for Henko, he went shopping to find "the perfect jar".  After perusing 2 or 3 different local stores, he finally found a vessel that was at least attractive but not really functional. (Imagine a 14 inch tall, 2 inch square rectangular jar that has been slightly twisted. Beautiful jar, indeed.  But for pickles?  How are you going to retrieve them?  With a skewer?)  The uber-friendly clerk tried to counsel Henk on his choice of jars.  After having no success, she said "Lemme just give you uh jar uh pickles my brother and me just done made.  Then you keep you the jar and use it for your there pickles."   When Henk came home and showed me the two glass vessels - one with pickles, one without - he unthankfully said, "I can't believe she put dill in those pickles!  Just look at that!"

 

Regarding Sjaantje Emile's progress in school, she's doing fine.  So fine that she actually got in trouble a few weeks ago.   

This is the note we've been waiting for from Sjaantje Emile's school, for too many years...

 

Mrs. Tilleman,

 

We've been having a few challenging days lately.  Emile is talking a bit too much at her table and is missing instructions.  Please talk with her about this.  Thanks.

 

Yes, I actually cried and Sjaantje thought it was because she was in trouble.  Selective Mutism be damned!  Gone and forgotten.  Apparently. I gave Sjaantje $10 and we watched the movie "Big" that night, just to celebrate. Am I a bad mom who encourages misbehavior in class?

 

With the tour season not happening yet, Henk is again bored. He's actually going to take some classes at the local college and get a different medical something or other.  I told him that soon he'll be able to get two discounts at the movie theaters and museums: one for being a "senior citizen" and also a "student discount" - he didn't think that was too funny.  However, I thought it was hilarious. 

 

Big kiss to all of you -

 

Wend

 

 

 

 

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Thanksgiving poem

This was a school assignment for Sjaantje Emile. I've typed it just as she wrote it, misspellings included. I think it's worth a post in any case.

I am thankful for...

...for my mom for letting me make chocolat chip cookies all by my self. For my dad for getting me a very cool bunk bed. For getting my first dog in my life. For having animals all over the world so we won't be alone on the planet. For having friends that help support each other. For having food and water so we don't starve to death. For having houses to keep us shelter. For having weekends to spend time with friends and family. For having chlothes to keep us warm. For having swiming pools to help us cool off in the summer. For having hershy's syrup to help chocolat milk taste better. For having LIFE!!!

I cannot think of a clever title for this one

Hello all,

 

It's been a while since I updated my blog so it's time for some news.  October is always a busy month for us with birthdays, Henk and my anniversary, Halloween, travel and life in general.  To top it all off, I now actually have a job. (What is this world coming to?!) Just as I had Henk trained to let me cook every night, little by little he's been usurping my kingdom; taking full advantage of the fact that my time is now more limited.  What nerve!  I must punish him severely.

 

Sjaantje celebrated her 11th birthday this month and Henk and I our 10th wedding anniversary.  (Hmm.  Can you tell I didn't major in mathematics?)  Sjaantje had 8 little chicas here for a sleep-over party.  They of course played games, made soap, destroyed the inside of the guest house, painted their fingernails, created their own pizzas, roasted marshmallows over a bonfire and annihilated a pinata. The girls seemed to have had an excellent time until 2:30 in the morning when I found them (heard them, rather) outside, scantilly dressed as cave girls, cooking mud pies over the newly resurrected fire. Short of etching prehistoric animals on our walls, their cave girl impersonations were quite convincing. Wuzzy was clearly frightened of them but did help me herd them back into the guest house.

 

Henk and David went to Costa Rica for a week, supposedly on a business trip.  Since when was the word 'business' defined as "going to a foreign country, checking out the beaches, restaurants, volcanoes and doing a little shopping"?  I promise, I've looked the word up in the dictionary just to be safe and most assuredly the true definition is nothing like that.  So why is it that Henk wants to convince me that his trip to Costa Rica was a 'business' trip?  I'm open to your thoughts on this one. 

 

The 5th grade at Sjaantje's school organized a "Teacher Appreciation Luncheon" for, you guessed it, the teachers.  Not to bore you with the details of that amazing event, I'll just say that I've never seen that much pasta in my life - even when in Italy.  Spaghetti with tomato sauce, spaghetti with meat sauce, chicken spaghetti, lasagne with meat, vegetarian lasagne and pasta salad...too, too much pasta!   The only reason I mention this is to share a newly discovered lasagne recipe with you: "Boil you some lay-sag-nuh noodles.  Then you just get a can of Rotel tomatoes (canned tomatoes on the Mexican side of spicy), some Velveeta (a 2 lb. brick of American processed cheese) and slap some'uh both between the noodles.  Bake it - and you cain put some more Velveeta on the top." Yummy, yummy.

 

In addition to my new favorite recipe, I learned a technique for cutting those cloy, fake whipped creamy store bought pie things:  If the plastic knife you're using to cut the pies becomes a bit loaded with gunk, simply lick the knife before you cut the next slice.  Works like a champ!  Times like these make me realize how fortunate I was to never get a teaching certificate.

 

There is a new butcher shop in town!  Appropriately called "The Butcher Block", it's the only place besides Central Market where we can find veal.  Their prices are competitive and they have quite a wide range of meats - gotta love it, Lyle! They also smoke some meats and sausages on the premise.  But what is it with cheese and crackers here?  When we went last week to get some veal shanks for Osso Bucco, one of the workers kept shoving pieces of smoked pork tenderloin at me and telling me how great it was when served on a cracker with some cheese.  That onslaught left me so exhausted that I had no energy to quiz her on why one would want to obfuscate the flavor of the pork with a cracker and some cheez-whiz.  That's the thing about immersing yourself in another culture:  You are constantly amazed yet somewhat confused, often entertained but a bit judgemental.  A real brain exercise. Kind of like visiting a freak show in the 19th century, I would imagine.

 

Beside cheese and crackers, the other "recurring motif" in this town is the name DAVID.  First, we have David Fountain, Henk's friend and our reason for moving here in the first place.  David has a son-in-law named David plus a step-son named David who, when they visit, create a cacophony of confusion.  Then there's David, the arrowhead hunter from a previous blog. David, the husband of Henk's late sister lives nearby. The father of Sjaantje's new friend, Lauren, is David and that David's brother-in-law is yet another David.  The air conditioning repairman is David, his partner the same: D&D AC Repair. And now I find out that Dean's brother is named (take a wild guess)...DAVID!  (David Tolfrey, do you now understand why I insist on calling you 'Davey'?  So much less confusing. Plus, you're just a little fella and the name fits.)

 

This last David is the owner of the moonshine factory I mentioned in another blog.  OK, it's not actually moonshine - it's rum.  And for my new job, I simply had to go interview him, take the official tour.  When I publish the story in two or so weeks,  you'll get to learn more about this particular David.  Although I have an anti-magnetism to rum,  it was a fascinating visit and David's product is stellar, thankfully tasting more like Calvados than rum. 

 

I should mention my new job - for those readers who don't already know -  I am the Austin Culinary Travel writer for an on-line publication called Examiner.  Go to Examiner.com, the city is Austin, Texas.  Click on 'Lifestyle', then 'Travel'.  My articles are listed there, under my fantasy name: Wendelyn Tilleman. (Sounds cool, yes?)

 

As predicted, the eggs of Petunia the pet spider have hatched and the offspring have grown though Petunia is nowhere to be found.  At last count, we have 6 new inhabited cobwebs on our front patio and unfortunately one on the upstairs balcony - right at face level, which I found out the hard way yesterday.  To add to our Halloween decorations, Henk and Sjaantje carved a couple of jack-o-lanterns and with that particular combination, I'm sure we'll scare away any possible trick-or-treaters. 

 

I'm sorry to tell you that I have no Dean and snake stories for this post.  Dean is in New Mexico (or somewhere else further west) with a couple of friends, riding horses for 5 days.  He did, however, promise to return with lots of stories hopefully involving snakes.  Just before he left, he gave me and Henk this advice, just in case we ever went on a 5 day horse ride: "Take you a bunch a'them baby wipes.  Cuz being clean?  S'impossible.  Them baby wipes gives you that moisture ya need plus they keep ya clean. Since ya only got that one box there, you gotsta not waste 'em.  In the mornin', wipe your face with one - then when you go to the bushes, you use the same one again.  Just make sure you be doin' it in that order."  Cowboy wisdom. 

 

A friend of Dalana's stopped by the other day.  A very nice, small of stature, tatooed and dentally challenged yet very talented guitar player, Stephen needed a phone number which apparently I had.  Wuzzy, assuming his normal catatonic position, suddenly raised his head as Stephen walked past.  To put it mildly, Stephen then jumped back about 12 feet, completely frightened.  When he caught his breath, Stephen said, "Wooaa!  I thought that there was a bear rug!  But it's alive!" 

 

Yeah, well, that's about all of my news. 

 

Bisoux -

Wend 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thilk

Hi friends!

 

I hope these past two weeks have been as interesting for you as they have for me.  Personally, I've learned a few jokes, been instructed in matters pertaining to health as well as recreation, observed various hobbies and decorative styles and remain thrilled with the many nuances of the English language. Oh, and I have another snake story.

 

Sjaantje had a homework assignment on 'Idioms' a few days ago which, by the time she finished, was about as much fun as a rousing round of 'Holiday MadLibs'.  For me anyway.  OK, I admit it: Bless her heart, Sjaantje has a small problem understanding American sayings.  Her assignment was to fill in the blanks in sentences, using a list of given words and then explain what each phrase meant.  Her confusion in the meanings was understandable - considering that she filled in some words incorrectly in the first place.

 

His tongue is worse than his bite.  (That means he needs to brush his tongue as well as his teeth.)

The new student spoke in a foreign bark.  (He's obviously upset about something.)

Don't count your chickens before they hatch.  (Count the eggs.)

You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. (Honey is sticky, vinegar is liquid.  The flies might drown, though.)

 

Quite frankly, Sjaantje's interpretations are completely understandable if you consider her background...In France, when an English phrase is translated into French and then that French translation is ver batum translated back into English, the result is this, for example:

 

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush - English

Un tiens vaut mieux que deux tu l'auras - French translation

A hold is better than two you will hold it - back to English, from the French words

 

Sjaantje did correct her mistakes before she turned in the assignment - episodes such as this only amuse me.  Besides, it is not important/ca ne mange pas de pain/it does not eat bread.

 

One day last week, as Dalana and I were enjoying a chitchat and a cup of coffee, a man sitting next to us said, 'Thpell thilk 3 time' thin a row.'  'Spell what?', I inquired. 'Thilk.'

 

My response was 'T-H-I-L-K, T-H-I-L-K, T-H-I-L-K', which apparently was the correct answer and unfortunately encouraged the jokester to ask another question: 'Wazzacow drink?'   Not wanting to engage in this conversation any further and hoping to baffle the jokester with my matter-of-fact-ness, I replied 'Ponds'. 

 

If there had been more teeth and less hooch in the comedian, the joke would have gone like this: Spell 'silk' three times in a row. S-I-L-K x3.  What does a cow drink? And the answer that would most likely pop into your head would be 'milk' (and 'tis true for baby cows) but the answer should have been water.

 

 

Henko is an excellent cook and when he does, he listens to the music of Norah Jones at full iPod speaker volume. Not at all a slap to Norah but Henk is fairly deaf in one ear and pretty much can't hear out of the other. (Exaggeration perhaps with the deafness, but also a main point of my story.) So, the other night as Henko was cooking, Sjaantje and I decided to go out on the upstairs balcony to look for deer.  The balcony door slammed shut, followed by this fateful clicking noise.  After glancing at each other momentarily, we both grabbed the door handle in an attempt to go back inside.  Nope.  Stuck outside, in the cold, about to rain, wearing our pajamas on the second floor balcony. Having the extremely long legs that I have been blessed with (no), I slithered my appendages through the balcony railing and attempted a minuscule toe tap on the dining room glass. Go figure, Henk didn't hear it.  We could see him chopping, sauteing and sort of dancing in his own primitive way with the music.  No chance he's going to look over to us.  What other options do we have but to start yelling? Needless to say, that was a futile attempt. But we did manage to scare off the deer.  Nearly an hour later after the dinner was served and shocker, no one was at the table, Henk finally ventured upstairs to find us.  

 

And now for a health tip which may be news for you:  If you suffer from arthritis, the best way to cure the pain is to catch a bee in your hand.  Then, cupping the bee in your palm, simply place your hand (and therefore the bee) on the pained joint.  Once the bee stings you, the arthritic pain simply goes away.  Who would've thought?

 

While briefly using one finger to apply gentle upward pressure to the tip of his nose, Dean shared yet another snake story with us a few days ago...

 

'You know when Scott and me was out there clearing some brush at the cabana, Scott found him a puff adder snake.  S'also called a hog-nose, like this (demonstration).  Anyways, Scott knows them are harmless snakes and this poor snakey fella was downright scared of us!  So waz Scott do?  He decides to give the snake a bath - he didn't use no soap or nothin', just his hands, a sponge and the water from the crick.  Then he was just petting that there snake, rubbin' it's belly and cuddlin' it like a newborn kitty.  Next thing ya know, that there snakey fella just died - of FRIGHT! (pause, as in a moment's reflection) So I's told him, "You don't need to be doing that to the snakes!  You done killed him!" Reckon he won't be bathing no more snakes when I'm around.'

 

God bless our friend Dean.  You really must meet him. 

 

Let's see, what else....

 

Last week, Sjaantje asked Henk, 'Dad, what exactly is margarine?'  Henk obviously replied, 'Fake butter.' Bewilderedly, Sjaantje replied with 'What the heck is fake butter?' She did not like the answer. 

 

Do you know that some people here refer to a Pinot Grigio as 'Peanut Gringo'?

 

We met a man who picks up roadkill and takes them to the taxidermist.  He then decorates his house with the masterpieces.

 

I guess that's all my news. Hope all of you are doing fantastic! 

Missing our European friends and family and enjoying our Texas ones -

Big kiss,

Wend 

 

  
  
 
  

Overcoming our phobias - or not

Hello dear friends!

My snake phobia grows. Last week, thanks to Tropical Storm Hermine, we had a little respite from the heat. But with that short-lived luxury came 12 inches of rain and as cozy as it may sound, in this part of the world that loosely translates to 'flash floods' and Wuzzy banging his head repeatedly on the pantry door at 2:00 am. I think I had mentioned before that there are 2 or 3 rivers or creeks running through our town...this was before I found out there are actually 5. No biggy except most of them flooded which made the chances of major damage, accidents and drowning very high. Fortunately, I heard of no major issues in town but you should have seen the snakes that were beached. What kind of a mother AM I, letting my daughter swim in those cesspools of slithery things?

Our friend Dean found a 3 foot long coral snake at his gazebo. Still quite alive and sneakily coiled under the river floats in the children's outside play area (the snake, not Dean ), the creepy poisonous reptile decided to challenge Dean to a fight. Dean won, thanks to his boots and a shovel. Being a typical Texan and knowing that snakes like to 'play dead', Dean whipped out his pocket knife, lopped off the snake's head and hung the carcass in a tree. I'm not sure what he did with the head but the yard was apparently much more festive.

You think that's bad? Guess what then happened to Dean...An hour or so later, he told his friend about the snake. Mr. Friend said, 'Dude! Ain't ya got no bucket?' Dean said something similar to 'No.' Mr. Friend said, 'Man, you shoulda just throwed that Daddy in a bucket, took it to that Science thingy over yonder. They's gonna pay you one thousand buckeroos for that there critter. But he got's to be alive. Venom, you know. Like my ex-wife.'

I'm sure you remember our new snake in the primordial pond. You know, the one who hangs out with toads? Well, we drained the pond to sort of force them to find another habitat. And then the rain came and the pond was overflowing. Honestly, I couldn't tell you what lurks in that mosquito factory right now but I do know that Wuzzy refuses to go near it. And if for some reason Wuzzy does a tentative sniff test of the pond, he then bolts right into the sliding glass door. Although now he's only smarfing the glass with his nose and tongue, Wuzzy's going to break that door one of these days but I still refuse to keep it open...snakes, toads, frogs, opossum and who knows what else...

...Probably spiders, actually. Big, yellow and black striped, 3 inch long hungry spiders called 'banana spiders' or 'zipper spiders'. Yes, we have one of those now. Oh, joy. She has made her beautiful and rather large web (3' by 6' or 1 meter by 2 meters) on our front patio. We call her 'Petunia' and she spends her mornings, afternoons, evenings and presumably throughout the night hanging upside down, waiting for a cricket or grasshopper or an unfortunate gecko to become trapped in her dwelling. As Henk is still somewhat a fascinated scientist and Sjaantje has no real fear of any critters, the two of them often catch large bugs and pitch them into the web. At which point it takes about 15 seconds for that unlucky insect to be completely wrapped in spider silk and 0.5 seconds for my skin to become a series of pimply looking bumps. You probably know what happens next. The best part about having pet Petunia is that she was - emphasis on WAS - pregnant. She left for a day to lay her egg-sac, or whatever the correct terminology is, and returned as a much smaller bellied fiend. I mean friend. An egg sac = 100 babies. Maybe 1000. I'm not sure of anything other than I really hope they all hatch and make vast webs across our house facade in time for Halloween. That will certainly cut down on my Halloween decoration expenditures.

To abruptly change the subject, we received Sjaantje's first academic progress report! On a hundred point scale, Sjaantje scored: 100; 94; 92; and 89 in four different classes; the 100% was in her Language Arts class. The Music and Home Room grades were not listed, but I seriously doubt there is a problem. Can you say 'proud'?

Sjaantje's music teacher at school will begin teaching the recorder/flute to the kids in January. Yesterday, Sjaantje decided she wanted to show off her flute playing skills (can you believe that?!!) and took her flute, along with her old music notebook from Mr. DeBombourg's class, to school. After explaining to her teacher how and what Mr. DeBombourg taught her, how some songs she learned were actually in English and then translated into French (i.e. 'We are the World'), she then played a few samples. The teacher wanted to keep the notebook to see how the French teach flute! This was all Sjaantje's idea...actually instigating a conversation with a teacher, playing the flute and then showing off! I cannot express how thrilled I am. What a change!

I swear, Sjaantje is one of the most clever and interesting young chicas to ever come along. I know, I know...I'm her Mom. But tell me this: Did your child ever write a word backwards just to make sure it fit on the line? No, it's not Satanic. It's logic and takes an exceptionally organized brain. Sjaantje had to spell out 'The International Double Dutch Society' on some homework last night - which dealt with anacronyms. When I reviewed her homework, she had forgotten to insert the word 'international'. So instead of starting at the left margin (to squishily fit the word in), she started with the 'L' just before the word 'Double' and worked her way backwards - to make sure the word fit in the margin. Artist!

I've recently learned about a new unit of measure: a cayan. Admittedly, first I assumed it was a cayenne, as in pepper, but after listening to a verbal recipe I realized it's a different thing altogether: 'Just add you a cayan uh cream uh cel'ry, then a cayan uh cream uh oneeon to that bird pan. Slop you another cayan uh water and cook it! Easy as pie!' (Frankly, I find making a pie extremely challenging.) I'll be rushing off to the nearest Sur La Table or Williams Sonoma this weekend, without a doubt, to find this new culinary tool. Have any of you heard of it?

Henk and David are going to Costa Rica next month. Sjaantje and I are not. Meanies.

That is the extent of any news around here! Other than Sjaantje has signed up for a 'cheerleading' camp which includes a performance at the local football game this coming Friday. Diving head first into Americana, her first practice was Monday night. Since the object of being a cheerleader is to scream at the crowd and engage them in silly chants and antics, Henk and I are interested to see how that pans out with Sjaantje. It also reminded us to purchase a health insurance plan for her.

After the practice last night, the parents received a little 'Reminder' notice for the procedure at the football game. Very helpful, indeed: 'There will be signs up and JV & Varsity cheer moms around to help direct parents of wheres to drop off and pick up little cheerleaders.' Is it any wonder Sjaantje has a 100% in Language Arts? Maybe she should teach the class.

Gros bisous and take care,

Wend

P.S. Dean told me the other day 'I had a steak last night that tasted like a shoe.' When I asked 'What cut of steak?' he replied, 'Cow.'

Cheesus and Crackers

Hello friends!

I have spent the last few hours remembering each of your distinctive laughs...Some examples: Jill - a wholehearted and hugely smiling reaction, even your ears smile; Trine - giggling enough to make everyone else around you feel the same way, whatever that is; Viv - at first a contemplative laugh, followed by full bellied delight; Corinne - snickering, smiling and always with a twinkle in your eye because you know something that the rest of us don't; Peggy - scrutinizing and then cracking up with that gorgeous smile of yours and ending your laugh in a 'ha ha' with the second 'ha' being slightly higher pitched than the first; Ross - chuckle, chuckle and blush; John - boisterous and jolly; Ted - no hesitation, gut wrenching hilarity; Davey - smiling and then saying, 'Wendelyn, there is definitely something wrong with you.'

So there's that. Other than fending off wildlife, I'm obviously not very busy at the moment.

Just as we thought we were critter free, a new snake decided to stake his claim in our now drained primordial pool. He/she has two toad friends and this threesome seems inseparable. How cute! No. I want them to go away. I accidentally on purpose dropped a big rock in their general location, missed them completely, and now they use the rock as a shady hideout. There is not a snowball's chance that I'm going to pick up the rock and try again. As if that wasn't enough for my weekly quota of amphibia and reptiles, there is also a huge 16 oz. coffee mug sized bullfrog who likes to sleep on our outside doormat. It doesn't bother me that he sleeps there; what is unnerving is opening the door at 6:00 am (my new truly horrid schedule) and sleepily stepping on the slippery mass 3 mornings straight. (Fantastic alliteration, eh?)

In addition, we are inundated with cicadas/cigales. They're on the walls, sidewalks, patio and if I don't pay attention, they kamikaze themselves right into my newly permed coif. Freaky, freaky, freaky. Frogs, locusts...I'm starting to feel like Job from the Old Testament. To top it all off, as I was washing my freshly slimed foot and at the same time making coffee Tuesday morning, I glanced outside and saw what I thought was the world's largest and boldest rat. A shoe box sized critter was walking along the sidewalk, picking up the cicadas and taking a big chomp out of them. Good ol' American breakfast on-the-go. Once I put my glasses on, I realized the critter was an opossum. He actually was very cute and I instantly liked him because he was ridding the sidewalk of the crunchy cicadas. If he'd seen this, Wuzzy would have completely freaked.

To keep you updated on the goings on here, I'll be brief...

1. Sjaantje passed both her vision and hearing tests; Henk did not pass the hearing test. Sjaantje does not have tuberculosis.

2. Sjaantje started school two weeks ago and so far has had two tests, scoring a 95 on one and 115 on the other. That makes her average, what..105%? Wow, wow, wow! Everything is bigger in Texas.

3. She rides the bus to and from school and the first morning met a girl who also rides the bus, lives just around the corner and is in the same homeroom class as Sjaantje. The two (Sjaantje and Lauren) have become fast friends and as Lauren says, 'Study Buddies!' Gotta love it.

4. Sjaantje eats lunch at the school cafeteria where the menu for the first week was: cheeseburgers, tacos, pizza, chicken nuggets, nachos. Admittedly, this week they've changed it a bit: tacos, pizza, grilled cheese sandwich, hamburgers, calzone. The funny thing is the weekly menu is decorated with pictures of cauliflower, courgettes, beets, asparagus, tomatoes and cows. With the exception of the cows, I have yet to see any of those yummy things on the menus. Truth in advertising. Getting wiser by the day, Sjaantje has decided that she absolutely despises Tator Tots and would prefer to take a homemade lunch 3-4 days a week. We bought a lunchbox this weekend.

5. Unfortunately, one evening Sjaantje had an urge to try macaroni and cheese - which is truly an American icon. I broke down and bought a 'box dinner' of Kraft Mac and Cheese. Does this slogan make you cringe or is it just me...'Classic Cheesy Goodness!' Cheesy it was but salty it was even more: 720 mgs of sodium per box. A box makes 3 servings.

6. What we thought was rosemary/romarin growing in one of our herb pots turned out to be a weed. Something just wasn't right when we put it on our veal chops. Of course we know what rosemary is supposed to look and smell like; we just assumed these were the immature sprouting of the herb. Wrong answer. After plucking the weeds, the rosemary is now growing.

7. I've heard from other parents here, plus read on the news that American/Texan schools no longer teach the students how to write in cursive. The main focus is computer keyboard skills. Thank God Sjaantje learned the art of writing in France.

8. Henk is now a consultant as a plumber: designing and constructing an outside shower for a client of Dean. This is very good practice for when we build a shower and WC for the guest house. I'm going to buy him some very special, low riding work pants.

Speaking of Dean, he and Dalana came over the other night and we spent the evening swapping silly stories about our various experiences. Dean is a retired professional bull rider and his stories centered around bull riding, the 'buckle bunnies' (rodeo groupies) and squirrels; Dalana stuck to stories about cockroaches and their demise via gun usage in the house; Henk and I talked about Auchan and life in France. I haven't laughed that hard since our last get-together in France! That must be why I thought about each of your laughs - they're so etched in my brain and very missed.

Now for some local folk stories....

Out of the 3 times I've been to the new grocery store (about 12 miles away), I've been accosted twice. The first happened as I was checking out the cheese section. The new HEB store has mucho mas queso than our local Brookshires Grocery...REAL Dutch Gouda from Gouda as opposed to Dutch Gouda from Wisconsin, authentic Camembert - also not from Wisconsin and even Halloumi - that wonderful Eastern European cheese that you can actually fry in a skillet. As I was absorbing the vast selection, a woman approached me and said, 'You look like you know about Jesus. I'm having a Jesus and cracker party but I have no idea what to buy. Can you help me?' At first I just stood there looking at her, knowing that I had a great education in the teachings of Jesus but ironically and most likely I was exhibiting the same blank expression as those other people I've mentioned before, and wondering what Jesus had to do with crackers. 'Oh! Cheeses!' For a moment I was confused but thus began my first teaching lesson regarding cheeses. It was quite fun to talk about cheeses - what varieties to serve, with what crackers, a little background on certain cheeses and don't forget the olive oil with freshly ground pepper for dipping, etc... As she left, she (since I never got her name) said, 'What the heck are you doing in Wimberley?!!' I'm still working on an answer.

A week or so later, as I was scrutinizing the veal chops at the HEB store, a voice beside me said, 'You smell real good like.' Thinking I was suddenly transported into Napoleon Dynamite's friend list, I again adopted that bemused and somewhat vacant expression - only to find I was looking at a very nicely dressed and coiffed middle aged woman. My next teaching lesson was on the benefits of Jo Malone - whose products, I told the woman, I had applied 6 hours earlier. After telling me that her preferred perfume and lotion line had just been discontinued, the woman wrote down the info on Jo Malone and walked away happy.

Along the same lines but maybe from a different angle, Henk visited an entirely different store last week on a quest to find some wonton wrappers. The store is directly across the street from the new HEB and subsequently is suffering for patrons. Henk said that he was one of exactly 4 customers in the store. Although the store guy hunted and hunted, they no longer had any wonton wrappers. To make up for the lack of wrappers, they simply gave Henk an Almond Joy candy bar, for his trouble. I love Almond Joy candy bars! Do you think I'm bad if I go back to that store and ask for wonton wrappers?

Gros Bisous! Big kiss!

Wend

Smiley Faces

Hello everyone!

As I write this, I'm wishing two things for you: 1.) You're not suffering through 40 C/104 F degree weather with no end or pool in sight and 2.) you had an incredible week. For many things concerning Sjaantje, this was a truly amazing 7 days! Where do I begin...

Oh, I know! School! Forgive me if I sound like a bragging Mom but it cannot be helped. We had to register Sjaantje for school last Wednesday and, at the same time, she needed to take some placement tests i.e. reading/writing in English and Mathematics. The registrar and counselor wanted to see if there were any 'holes' in Sjaantje's education which, they said, is very likely considering the 'French schools'. That comment nearly made me blow a fuse but in the long run, it wasn't necessary because Sjaantje completely rocked. She easily passed both tests - finishing the Mathematics portion in record time (40 problems, 35 minutes) and only missed one question simply because she didn't know the English equivalent of the names of triangles. Ironically, I believe they're the same words in French. The problem was she was trying to think in English and didn't quite make that connection. So thank you, Mr. DeBombourg and L'Ecole de Fourques for the math skills! The reading/writing portion was no problem either and when the testing was finished, the counselor said, and I quote: 'Looks like Emile is going to be ahead of her classmates! And that's great so she can spend this year acclimatizing to schools in the US and practically not even worry about her grades!' Pooh on their attitude about French schools.

OK, so that was the main academic obstacle. But guess what else? You're never going to believe this one...As we walked in and introduced ourselves to the secretary at the school, she immediately honed in on Sjaantje and began asking her questions. SJAANTJE EMILE SPOKE! IN A SCHOOL! Not only to the secretary, but also the counselor, her soon-to-be science teacher, the school nurse and any other random person who asked Sjaantje a question. At first, her answers were single worded but after about 15 minutes of interrogation, Sjaantje even used sentences. In fact, the counselor came out halfway through the math test and said, 'Emile just asked me a question about triangles. She said she was confused about the terms. Did she not learn about triangles in France?' Can you imagine: Sjaantje asked a question! I had to leave to compose myself and let Henk answer that inquiry.

Later, as we were given a tour of the school and Sjaantje was still responding verbally to questions, she grabbed my hand and squeezed it like a vice grip. As if she was saying, 'I'm doing it, Mom! I'm doing it! But I'm exhausted now.' She didn't let go until I opened the car door for her. Go grab a tissue.

Thanks for letting me be a bit sappy for a while. But if your daughter was ten years old and had never spoken a word or even uttered a grunt in a school in Texas, Holland or France - wouldn't you be a bit sappy?! Encroyable.

The school is called Jacob's Well Elementary and was built in August, 2009. Basically a brand new, huge, clean school. Sjaantje was amazed by the gymnasium (with 8 basketball goals, bleachers and shiny floors), the cafeteria (which is bigger than the entire Foyer Rural in Fourques) and the music room (about the size of the Foyer Rural). Also there are 10 computers in each classroom in addition to the Computer Classroom which has 30 computers.

There's only one more thing I'll tell you about the school and/or registration process - besides the fact that Henk and I couldn't remember our new cell phone number and gave an incorrect one. (Duh!) Sjaantje was grossly behind in her inoculations. The school nurse, who kind of resembles the Incredible Hulk minus the green skin, was not pleased. She too had something to say regarding European schools...something like 'Don't they vaccinate the kids over there?' Always subtle Henk responded, 'Not if that disease has been eradicated from the population and therefore the continent. Why? What sort of diseases still linger in Texas that the rest of the world doesn't suffer?' Well, Sjaantje needed about 11 inoculations which included a Tuberculosis test.

Given her history with dentists, I made sure that Henk took her for the shots. The mere sight of a needle getting anywhere close to an arm makes me puke. Especially my daughter's arm. Henk and I had a discussion that went something like this: Henk - 'Oops, I'm going to be in Dallas this weekend.' Me - 'Well I'm going to Mexico and obviously you're going to be closer.'

Here's another one you're not going to believe: Saturday morning Sjaantje Emile suffered through 6 pointy needled shots plus a TB test (which uses a needle to inject some gross germs and then creates a bubble with the aforementioned demon needle) and never even yelled. Sure, a few tears spilled out but she toughed it out and came home with 7 different Bandaids on two stiff arms, one of which was carrying a huge donut which she couldn't quite raise either arm to eat. (Dante?)

I hope the Incredible Hulk will be satisfied when she reads Sjaantje's TB test tomorrow morning. In addition to that, the nurse will be giving hearing and vision tests to Sjaantje. I think that's great! Really the nurse is nice enough, just has quite a few rough edges, is built like a powerhouse and her word decides your child's fate. Henk and I talked about this peculiar attitude and realized that it's probably a good thing for the students as well as the nurse's own sanity. I mean, who likes to deal with whiny kids or worse yet, overprotective and indulgent parents who make excuses and try to rationalize the lack of inoculations? I mean, geez, parents like that...

Oh, the other four shots come later. Two of the given ones are the beginning of a series of 3. Mexico is calling.

This week, Sjaantje wanted to make some money so we decided to put up a lemonade stand. Sounds simple enough, but you try squeezing lemons for 3 hours a day. Sjaantje made cookies and brownies to go with the lemonade in addition to all kinds of signs which, regrettably, I told her was a great idea for publicity. 'Mom, I cannot stand on the side of the road in the blaring heat and hold up the sign if I am the one serving the lemonade! That's your job!' At least I finally had a job and clearly am working on my ozone tan.

But regarding the signs, the first day of the lemonade stand I took Sjaantje and her friend Hannah to some neighbors' - about 100 meters from our house in either direction - to ask if we could hang our posters on their mailboxes. Everyone was thrilled with the idea and promised to stop by for some yummies. Correction, everyone except this one place which is fairly well known as some sort of an inbred commune.

Five houses, 9 vehicles (some rusted with no wheels, some with 2 completely flattened tires and one belonging to the Domino's pizza guy) and many dogs running around - it's a compound for a particularly strange family, bless their hearts. First we approached the house closest to RR 12, knocked on the door and after a few silent seconds, we went on to the next house. At the next house (right across the sidewalk), we waited as an old woman - bless her heart - came to the door. After a 'What?!' followed by 'What?!' and then 'Lemonade? Wheres?!' , I let the girls explain. I couldn't tell if she was looking at the mailbox where we wanted to hang the sign or at the road but eventually the woman said, 'OK.'

At this point I was thinking perhaps she wasn't the big decision maker in this commune, so I opted to ask the guy in the car who was apparently trying to leave. Chivralic him, he stopped when he saw the damsel with the two young girls flagging him down. His response? 'Lady, I dunno. Wouldn't bother me but I just deliver pizza. There's two fellas in there; ask 'em.' Knock, knock on the flapping screen door. 'WHAT!' came the response. Little Hannah, who has a way with words - mostly using a lot of them at once - bumfuzzled him enough until he said, 'Oh. Go ask Uncle Jed.' Uncle Jed said, 'Axe Junior.' Junior said, 'Wha's Mama say?', at which point I explained (assuming Mama was the older lady at the beginning) that Mama said it was fine and wanted to know where the lemonade stand would be. Junior then creased his brow and looked off into the distance, like he was channeling some Confederate soldier scout or something. Then 'You wants to put it on the mailbox? That's across the street. Need to talk to 'em.' Keeping my exasperation in check, I explained that they, too, had a mailbox. 'It's right in front of your complex. On the side of the road.' I couldn't even describe the look he gave me. Then came the yell: 'MAMA! Wha's you think about Lemonade?' Followed by What, What, What, Lemonade, OK, What, OK, Girls, Mailbox, Where's? Eventually, Junior said it was 'alright'. I definitely sent Henk to hang the sign on the phantom mailbox.

The lemonade stand was quite successful and different. So much so that the newspaper reporter caught wind of Sjaantje's endeavors and stopped by for a quick beverage and cookie. Sjaantje was featured on the front page of the paper along with Hannah and The Wuz. Cuteness!

There were many interesting things that happened in regards to the lemonade stand. Such as: 1.) Husband of a pregnant women buying a dozen cookies and/or brownies for the mother of his future child; 2.) Same guy came back the next day; 3.) And again the third day bringing his pregnant wife who, I swear, was a Sinead O'Connor look alike; 4.) Caregivers for seniors making the golden oldies walk from the car to the lemonade stand - for exercise; 5.) Sjaantje labeled her cookies and brownies for sale at the low price of 25 Euros - she didn't yet know the sign for American cents; and 6.) 'Mom! Somebody cheated!' - That's what Sjaantje said when she counted her boon from the sales. Someone had slipped in a few Mexican Pesos. Doesn't bother me though - Mexico is calling.

Gros Bisous! And a special gros bisou to Mr. DeBombourg and all the teachers and staff at L'Ecole de Fourques. Thanks for all you did for Emile. We're proud to have been at your school.

Wend