Conjugations be an issue

Hello friends!

The spirit of the Tramontana lives on in Texas! But only in my air conditioning ducts. Typing this, I'm surrounded by two rather large grates which relentlessly spew ice cold air onto my back side and, although I'm decked out in Henko's super warm bathrobe, I am annoyed. Admittedly, I could think of worse things but at this juncture I want it to stop and I have no problem shutting the air off completely so that I can entertain you once again. Of course, nobody else here likes it when I do that but that's their problem.

I trust your week was good - I'm hoping it was anyway. I know some of you are traveling, others entertaining travelers, pilgrims and students and still others biting your nails just watching the computer for my newest update...Yeah, right.

To begin, in addition to screw top wine bottles, toothpicks in mouths, mammoth sized mud splattered pick-up trucks and the tennis shoes/tall white socks/cut-off-jeans combo a-plenty, I must add local language skills to the list of 'Things that Make Me Feel Like I'm in High Society, please Alex, for $500'...

"We was out there yesterdee (sic) watchin' them deer. Them was eatin' that there grass like nothing I aint never seen 'fore!" (thank you, Colin, for reminding me of the delight of triple negatives!), and then "Jimmy Bob be riding that ol' mule and he done fell off" or, worse yet, "Her said you got you a snake!"

At times, Sjaantje/Emile has a little problem with English. Although I'm her mother and am apt to make excuses for her, she did grow up in France and, as any student in France would, learned proper grammar. The only problem was that sometimes she translated from French to English ver batum: chat noir = cat black. And things like that. Barring Sagey, the only people who spoke English to Sjaantje in France were Henk and I, the Llauro clan plus various adult family and friends who came to visit. As a result, Sjaantje/Emile developed an amazing English vocabulary - on the adult level - but tended to (and still does) mix those words into a more juvenile sentence. Moreover, she tends to create her own verbs. My favorite example is: Stop it, Mom! You're UNCONCENTRATING me.

And now, referring to the paragraph just above the paragraph above this one, Sjaantje is saying things like, "Stop it, Mom! Don't be unconcentrating me!" Concerning to say the least. In her defense however, I must tell you that sometimes I do misinterpret her vernacular. Like the other day when Sjaantje said, "My me is not having a good day." I, being frustrated, reprimanded her choice of wording. With one eyebrow raised and her voice quite serious, Sjaantje said "Mom. I was talking about my Mii on the game. Not ME."

I had forgotten that we were playing a game on the Nintendo Wii (which clearly I was winning) - a computerized game where you create a person resembling you who then plays the games. That created person is called a 'Mii', pronounced 'me'. Oops.

Hey! Great news! We now have a new critter! A medium size turtle, called Shelly, has stolen our hearts. OK, that's a bit of an exaggeration regarding the 'stolen our hearts' part. I mean he/she is just a breakfast plate sized turtle who doesn't exactly ooze personality. Perhaps I'm biased towards fluffier things. Nevertheless, Sjaantje and Wuzzy are endlessly entertained watching this shell-bound critter slowly meander away in fright - trying to get away from them I think. It's all very exhausting for Wuzzy and he tends to just assume the horizontal position and deeply sigh. Whereas Sjaantje is spellbound by Shelly's every occasional move. But one day last week, Sjaantje came to me and very seriously said, "Mom, I think there's something wrong with Shelly. She's not as frisky as she used to be." A frisky turtle?

Speaking of critters, and referring to my previous blog, the snake returned. Three days ago or so, Sjaantje ran into the house and told me that the snake was swimming in our primordial soup pool. Just great. With pool skimming net in hand, Henk went out to deal with the situation. After lightly pummeling the snake on the head with the handle end of the net, Mr. Snakey seemed to pass out. Personally, I think the evil monster was faking. So using the net, Henk put Mr. Snakey on the patio so that we could see his markings, scrutinize his head shape (to determine if he was poisonous or not) and marvel at my hunter man's finesse. Typical hunter, Henk said, "I think I'll just cut off his head and then take it to the pharmacy to see if he was poisonous." (Side note: You can take mushrooms to the pharmacies in France to find out whether or not they're poisonous but I seriously doubt you can do that with the heads of snakes in Texas.) Henk never cut the head off because he's too much of a tender heart. Instead, he just put Mr. Snakey back into the pool.

A few hours later, David stopped by and Henk told him about the snake. When they looked in the pool, Mr. Snakey was swimming and flicking his tongue like a crazy person. Being a more serious hunter than Henk, David simply yanked Mr. Snakey out of the pool and then stomped on his head (the snake's). David said, "That snake is too big and I think he's poisonous. Well, WAS, anyway."

Henk had an interesting meeting with some people who just decided to pull into our driveway the other day. In a super old rusted Buick with bumpers falling off, gas tank door as well as the keyhole closure on the trunk in the open position, muffler spewing black smoke, busted out back window, bushy bearded and haired snaggle-teeth (both the man and woman) plus a sad dog in the back seat, they stopped to tell Henk that the bank was closed and they needed to cash a check. "You got $20?" "What?" Deliverance?

On Saturday, Henko bought a meat smoker! He hasn't had one in what, seven years? Thinking about the Fourth of July, Henk wanted to smoke some ribs which admittedly was/is one of his specialties. Succulent! Anyway, Henk was explaining to Sjaantje that 'this cut of meat is called baby back ribs'. And Sjaantje? She immediately made a face expressing both horror and disgust. "I AM NOT EATING THOSE!" Poor daughter of ours has been subject to all kinds of weird or exotic foods from a child's perspective; therefore when hearing 'baby back ribs', she assumes the worst. However, after an explanation and the subsequent eating of the ribs, she now loves them. Rightly so.

As you know, Sunday was the Fourth of July, aka Independence Day. Sjaantje had asked me a few days ago, "Why, in France, do they celebrate Independence Day on July 14th instead of July 4th? " When she didn't believe me that the French were just a bit behind the ball, I had to explain to her - as I've had to explain to some silly Americans why the French don't celebrate Thanksgiving - these are NATIONAL holidays for a specific nation or country. Holidays are not necessarily universal. July 14th in France is what Americans know as Bastille Day but the French refuse to call it that; instead it is 'Fete Nationale de la France' or 'Fete d'Independence'. But I can understand her confusion, yes?

For the holiday celebrations, our town had a rodeo which, darnit, we couldn't attend because we had to watch the fire on the smoker. (Can you imagine Henk showing up at a rodeo wearing his Italian woven leather sandals? For that matter, Henk going to a rodeo at all?) And on Monday there was a parade downtown. I had heard that the people on the parade floats were going to throw candy at the children on the street. Thinking this was a bit too violent for Sjaantje and Henk, I neglected to wake everyone up in time for the pummeling.

Oh, the breeder saga continues. Keep in mind the only reason we're considering breeding The Wuz is to ensure that one day the world will be full of Wuzzies. In addition to the upcoming 'collection' for the sperm count, Wuzzy must be sedated in order for the Vet to take x-rays of his hips and elbows. (How exactly are we going to get him back into the car?) Plus, he must have a cardiological exam which includes us taking him out for a run during the test (we don't run) and possibly an ECG (on both Wuzzy and Henk after the run), DNA swabbing and then testing for certain genetic diseases via a sample of his urine. This all must happen before he is again 'collected' for the breeding - which will be shipped overnight to Arkansas. And before any of those tests are certified, I must finalize his AKC application which, by the way, is fairly strenuous. In addition to Wuzzy's info, I must submit some other Dam Information (that's actually the info for Wuzzy's mom) and Sire Info, complete with micro-chip numbers, registry numbers and all kinds of what-not. My Dutch language skills are at most adequate but interpreting Dutch bureaucratic certificates complete with numbers and catagories leaves me more than confused. Not to worry! I spent 3 hours on the phone yesterday with the AKC while I attempted to fill out Wuzzy's application. Nobody knew exactly the same things I didn't know. (Great sentence!) However, I was referred to one woman, whose name I won't tell you, who specialized in Dutch dogs imported to the USA. She wasn't there but I did get to leave a voice-mail on her machine. What worries me is her voice-mail message: Hi. This is so-and-so. I ain't at my desk. Maybe I'm on the phone or at a smoke break. If you got any questions to axe me, leave me a message.

As the travel business is a bit stagnant right now, I've been contemplating finding something to occupy my time. Vacuuming is always fun and rewarding, but I feel I need something a bit more challenging. Returning to personal chef-ing will have to wait until I get a decent stove, not to mention a vent-a-hood. Luckily, I found a possible new part-time career! When I first saw the huge 'NOW HIRING' sign below the marquis 'Hired Killers', I must admit I was intrigued...perhaps I could hone my gunslinging accuity, utilize my kitchen knife skills and, assuming I'd get some exotic assignment, I could even practice some foreign languages! Unfortunately I realized I was underqualified for the job about the same time I realized 'Hired Killers' is a pest control and gardening company. At least that's their cover story.

Before I close this, I have to tell you that Wuzzy did fine with the inevitable fireworks on Sunday. Henk didn't buy any fireworks afterall but SOME people obviously did! We could see them from the front lawn. Impressive and not nearly as scary as some other things I've seen lately.

Gros bisous/Big kiss -

Wend

P.S. Did I forget to mention the man who asked to borrow about 20 books? Not to read them, rather to put them in his empty bookshelves in order to impress the chicks.