Day 18

"Never judge a book by its cover" . . .My eldest has taken to making lessons for the day.  This was today's lesson.  I suspect todays lesson may have something to do with the lunch menu at School.  We have always taught both of our kids not to judge or summarily dismiss anything based solely on it's appearance.  This is particularly true with food.  As a result, both of our boys will try damned near anything . . . at least once.  That being said, sometimes stuff tastes as shitty as it looks.  In their lives, their successes have overshadowed their misgivings when it comes to trying to new flavors.  Eventually though, you are bound to get stung.  I think he is struggling a bit with the realities of that concept.  He is an open minded lad, but the chow is bringing him down.  I can't say as I blame him though, mystery meat is mystery meat just about anywhere you go.  You couple that with an unknown veggie and you have the recipe for dietary disaster.  This is also a lesson my wife is learning this week in her travels to Thailand.  It was recomended that she drink whiskey after each meal to kill all the parasites.  Yummy.

It was a really an uneventful day today except for the re-check on our rental property.  Today was our secondary inspection to make sure that all agreed upon repairs were made so that we could take possession.  Fortunately there were no disappointments today.  Everyting ran smoothly and the place looks great.  The garden is sorted and the house has been cleaned.  All that is left is to finish up on a little painting and we are ready to move in.  All is well that ends well.  Maybe I will suggest that for tomorrows "lesson of the day".  The truth of the matter is, the older boys lessons have really opened a nice discourse between he and I and has allowed for some very deep philosophical conversation.  This has always been our way, he and I.  For when I look back at my life, my fondest memories will be those times spent with him sorting out the meaning of life in the 15 minutes between school and our own front door.  We started that process back in the States and I am pleased that it has returned here in France.

Quite ahead of schedule, as he always has been, I think he is coming to terms with just what it is that we are doing here and the profound influence it is going to have on the remainder of his life.  Pretty damned impressive for an 8 year old.  He humbles me everyday.  He is my better and I know it.  Today we had lessons in diplomacy, perspective and above all patience.  At school he learns the nuts and bolts, at home he learns theory and above all, heart.  The kid has one (a heart that is) like a nine pound hammer, both physically as most know, but also emotionally.  He is the calm in the storm.  He is what my father taught me to be.  He is the best of me and I am greatful for the chance to know him, not as his father but as his pupil.

All the philosophy of the day brought me back to my own observations that have been accumulating over my time here.  You have heard many of the highlights which often point to the ways in which we have failed on the otherside of the pond.  Walmart and super sized fries for example . . . dear God don't get me started.  There are failings here as well.  The man purse for example.  European carry all my ass.  The damned thing is a purse, and this is one custom of our new home that I will not be adopting.  A grown ass man has no business prancing around with a purse on his shoulder.  They are everywhere and they make me terribly uncomfortable, sort of the way clowns make other people uncomfortable.  I would be affraid that if I carried one I might get it snagged on something which would cause me to fall down and break my vagina.  For now I think I am going to go ahead and stick with my wallet.

While I am still channeling Dennis Leary, I am going to go ahead and rant about my new French cell phone.  It is a marvelous device, don't get me wrong . . . and despite my recent falling out with Mr. Gates, I chose a Windows based phone.  It is simple in design.  It functions as it should and does so in a simple and easy to use format.  No need for a bunch of meaningless "apps" and gadgets that do nothing but eat up battery life.  I am quite pleased with it over all, but I have a hard enough time setting up my voicemail without the process being in a foreign tongue.  If you are like me, you re-record your voice gretting at least a dozen times before you are satisfied that you have changed your natural voice enough not to sound like a nerd or a pervert.  The whole time I sit there and think to myself, "is that REALLY what I sound like, cause that ain't how I hear it in my head".  All this is really just a diversion from my real gripe.  I don't care where I call in the the United States, I always get the option to choose a different freaking language.  Usually Espanol, but none the less, we give you the option.  No option for English here.  I have three pending voicemails and no clue if I will ever get to hear them.  I am really rather concerned that the calls may be about the millions of dollars I just won or my trial membership at the hair club for men.  I am an important guy and I have important business to attend to.

For now, you best email me, cause the French dude on my cellie ain't speakin my language and I haven't gotten to the "setting up your voicemail" portion of Rosetta Stone yet.  Until tomorrow's lesson, I bid you all a good night.