Home again home again Jiggety-Jig...

I thought that title might be at least a little original for a blog entry. Not according to Google. Silly me, I should remember that there is very little, new and original in the world. Just a lot of re-worked, re-interpreted, re-runs.

Here in Montpellier, home to me, I am re-cuperating from 9 days of the to-and-fro required by a work project in the southeastern heartland of the USA.

I am not exactly sure when the transition from thinking of the USA as home to thinking of France as home occurred. Maybe after the twins were born. But in any case, for the last couple of years, there is no question. I begrudge every minute I must spend there, and bask in the relief of my return.

Of course it doesn't help that the trip did not include seeing old friends or family, but it has become glaringly clear that I now feel more comfortable here than there. Even if you discount any curmudgeon factor resulting from jet lag and airline food.

Every time I fly I tell myself I'm not going to eat the food. Sigh. Next time, for sure, I am not going to eat the food. Next time, I'm going to take a sleeping pill, and if the plane has to make an emergency landing in Iceland, they can just carry me off the plane. (That happened to a friend of mine... really. Confirmed, I don't have any original thoughts.)

So it always takes me a couple of days to pull myself together after one of these trips. And since I can't clear the fog away enough to do something billable, then I should really stop by the blog and give a belated shout out.

( Insert gif image of stick figure jumping up and down, waving arms, with a text blurb "Hey Everybody" )

Note to self: Don't forget to creat the gif.

Note to everyone: DON'T FORGET TO VOTE.

Nothin' Much To Speak Of

Two weeks and I can't really say what I've been doing. It isn't a secret; I just don't remember. Does that say more about me, or more about my life? I have to really sit down with the calendar and try to retrace the days to figure out what happened. My main excuse is that I have been transfixed by the theatrical display of politics and economics back at the Mother Ship. Even from here in the back row of the balcony it is quite something to watch.

(It is certainly USA-centric in perspective, but being an American living in Europe does feel a bit like sitting in the back row of the balcony while all the real stuff happens on stage. You can see and hear the plot unfold, smell the perfume of the lady next to you, and feel the chewing gum under your seat, but the action seems way far off. At least until you look at your bank account.)

These are supposedly the leaders of the free world. Sigh. I think my sister said it was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. I know that is a rather over-used metaphor, but it is an apt way to describe vacillating between boredom and horror.

So we need a diversion... The only photos I took during the last couple of weeks was the weekend of Journées du Patrimoine (sort of Architectural Heritage Days). And when the kids got pony rides.


That is, or rather was, one of the entrances to the Palais du Rois d'Aragon around the corner from us. I know, not very intersting unless you are a 14th century history freak. It wasn't even one of the buildings that you get to explore once a year during the Heritage Days. And actually the red doors themselves are probably not much more than a 100 years old. But the stone archway is the real deal. I promise.

At least I'm making an effort.

I would have used a photo of the girl since she is the one crazy about horses, and usually more photogenic, but she was pouting because her pony wasn't the biggest