Day 47

Hookie with a machete.

Kept the eldest home from school today.  Complained of stomach ailment this morning, but I think he just needed a good poop.  Either way, I kept him home and let him have a bit of a break from the grind.  I think he has earned it given his stellar adaptation to life here in France.  In an effort to keep both kids from vegitating on the couch all afternoon, I drug them into the garden for a bit of lawn maintenance.  Much of the vegitation around the edge of the pool needed a bit of trimming.  There weren't just weedes, but rather some fairly large shrubs that needed a little TLC as well.  I don't believe Madam Chabou was too keen on groundskeeping after the divorce.

So, off to the shed I went in search of some shears to remove some of the larger limbs and tangled undergrowth from around the pool.  Unfortunately none could be found and the electric chainsaws left behind appear to have seen better days.  A more exhaustive search of the garage uncovered a brand new machete.  I will just go ahead and say it now . . . perhaps weilding a machete in shorts and a pair of flip flops is not the best idea in retrospect.  I am pleased to report, however, that all the hedges have been trimmed and undgrowth have been removed the bushman way.  Besides, at least 4 of your toes are completely useless anyway.  I doubt seriously that I will miss them and it certainly makes shoe shopping easier.

Day 47 would also be the day that I went truly mad.  Frustrated with the lack of French lessons, I decided to take matters into my own hands . . . the "Into the Wild" way.  Don't worry, I am not planning on moving my family into and abandoned school bus or anything like that, but in all the madness I decided that you must "Call everything by it's right name".  With pen in hand, I began to furiously scratch the name of all of our household items onto note cards and faithfully translated them into their French equivalent.  Two rolls of scotch tape later, the entire house is covered with notecards.  It looks like a nut job lives here, but perhaps we will all learn a bit more of the language from this certain insanity.

Now, I will make every effort to sit down tonight to write my thoughts for this day . . . so hang in there little old lady from Boca Raton, I will not fail you once more.