Day 85

Well, what do you know, Day 82 and 83 are back.  I guess the fine folks at Google are in fact true to their word.  They indicated that the lost posts would be restored and sure enough, here they are.  Mom returned on Day 84 and we celebrated the promise of a longish tour of duty at home with a bottle or two of wine.  Unfortunately, my head would hurt for most of Day 85 as a result.  The headache would intensify as the morning carried on.  We are nearly on the eve of our eldest's trip to Wales.  Given the week long excursion out of the country, we thought it prudent to arm the lad with a mobile phone in the event shit got hairy.   This came at a fair price since the store isn't necessarily that close from our home.  As with most of my endeavors, it all turned into a cluster fuck that ended with me traveling back and forth from my home for additional documentation, not once, but twice before the deal was finally said and done.  Alexandre (our tech guy) was quite appologetic, but it wasn't his fault and he had in fact done a magnificent job in helping the silly Americans due to his fairly proficient English.  It is actually becoming much easier to communicate these days.  My understanding of French is getting strong enough that when we have to cobble together a FRENGLISH conversation, they don't have to translate every word to convey their meaning.  I consider this progress.

It is of course against my better judgment to allow my 8 year old to have a mobile phone, but as with everything in the technology world here, they have figured out a solution.  They refer to it as "bloquee".  The same concept as a prepaid phone except with the benefits of a contract and a very limited number of hours to work with.  The price is of course rediculous and he came out of the store with a very nice smart phone with all the bells and whistles for 1 euro.  Now, mom and dad aren't dumb, so the mobile web feature is not available to him, but can be upgraded at a later date.  He of course is quite excited and continues to carry on an on about the features of his new toy as if his mother and I have never even seen a mobile phone.

I can't say as I blame him though, it is a big deal at his age and is another step toward adulthood.  I would of course prefer to keep these steps from occurring, but they are inevitable and unfortunately quicker to arrive now than when I was a kid.  It is clear however, that we will have to keep a close eye on this kid as I noted a young girl eyeballing him pretty heavy at the grocery store this afternoon.  I would put money on his new cellie being stuffed full of girls numbers within a month or two.  As funny as it seems to me, he has an advantage with the french girls . . . he is exotic and mysterious.  My evening would be relatively quiet, but his would be in fact be spent in the company of a young french girl.  He and my wife had toured the school down the street from Madam Chabou's and had made friends with the head of the PTA.  After a week of exchanging emails, my wife and this gal had set up a meeting this eveing to get the kids together and welcome us to the neighborhood so to speak.  Her daughter is of course my eldest son's age and was one of the girls who crowded around him so feverishly when they took their tour of the school.

We were all supposed to attend this social gathering, but my patience for such an event was short and our youngest was in no mood for an away game either.  That being said, we decided the youngest and I would chill at the house while my wife and older boy ran to the play date.  Apparently all went swimmingly since they didn't appear again for hours.  They were just short of my having to turn the dogs loose to go looking for them since it was getting toward dark and they were on their bicycles.  They did finally return safely and had a swell time.  Since I am just now coming out of the wine induced fog that held me under its thumb for much of the day, we decided an excellent activity for our Sunday would be a winery tour or two  . . .  or three.  We will see how this all goes, but I suspect Monday is going to SUCK.

Given my Father's continued battle with what we call our American Democracy.  I am going to dedicate this evening's musical selection to him.  The song is "American" by Sean Rowe.  I am pretty certain this guy suffers from some mental ailment or is at the very least homeless and playing for pocket change at the local subway station, but I love it nonetheless.  As always . . . until tomorrow.