The Little Words Mean the Most

Speaking in Italy at the FFR, Day 2

L-r: settling in. It's a spa. You get flipflops and bathrobes. And you sun, glorious sun! Then, if you're presenting that afternoon, you get a lipstick check.

Speaking in Italy at the FFR, Day 1

Valerio and Carlotta have done us well. We are in Castrocaro, a hilltop town with medieval fortifications at one end and Renaissance fortifications at the other. The tumult of former times is gone, replaced by a record crowd of Italian fundraisers come for this 4th edition of the Festival del Fundraising, which invites a heaping handful of internationally recognized experts to come and speak. L-r: a walk around town at sundown; the terrific little restaurant where we ate dinner (that's pasta with spinach and sausage) under brick vaulted arches; the private elevator to our suite: and, yes, it is the Mussolini Suite. Valerio honored my interest in WWII history. This spa was one of the dictator's Art Deco projects, the only spa he finished I'm told. I'm also told he never actually slept here. Click any photo to smell the homecooking.

The doors of Nézignan

A neighboring town we walk to often. Trés cute.

We have the stage set for Romeo & Juliet INSIDE our house

L-r: the sunning/dining patio; the resident false cherub; the Romeo & Juliet set (our kitchen light well); click any photo to enlarge:

France Spring 2011: Day 14 (New beauty shots...)

We have new furniture. A new bathroom. A terribly disturbed birds' nest.

But I'll never repay this

Add this to my karmic debt: I went to remove a sparrow nest from behind a gutter. The tiny birds poop big time everywhere on our small French patio, where guests sun and eat; quite unsanitary. I banged purposefully up the ladder. Donned gloves. Started yanking apart the nest. Until I got to the cup in the center, where 3 blind hatchlings cowered; barely on this earth. Stop! Shove the cup back. Hasten down the ladder. Drown my shame: it's a two-cocktail night. Confessed to Simone. "So you threw them in the trash, right?" she said. She let that settle uncomfortably for a few seconds. She cracked a smile; we'd been talking earlier about how hard it was for other animals compared to humans. I only hope the birdies survive.

I have paid for my sins

I went shopping for towels and bed linens. We do this a lot in France. With renters, things mysteriously disappear. Like wash cloths. Converting temps from F to C, OK. Bed linens in centimeters? Hand me the nail gun; I want to shoot a board.

France Spring 2011: Day 13 (Planets collide...)

L-r: Our last family act together: make the IKEA furniture. They outsource assembly to the customer. The stuff looks good. Let's see if it holds up to renter abuse. That's the morning. Then it's off to the airport in Montpellier, to deliver Alain. Just as we're about to exit: BOOMslapslapslap and people pointing. We have a flat in our new car. Pull off to the side of the toll way. Alain's running tight on his plane. Whip open the trunk. Spin out the spare. Alain hits the jack. And suddenly an angel in a reflective vest shows up (not me). A toll road employee assigned to patrol for break downs. But by then we're already changed. The smiling young man jogs back to his truck to fetch heavy duty wipettes for us. Alain makes his flight. Simone and I head back to buy a new vacuum, a new rug. Exhausted, I sit down at our patio cafe set, newly spray-painted burgundy so you don't see the wine stains. To see the explosive details, click on any photo.

I want this job (really)

Things just did not go in straight lines today. We had loaded up the car for one final run to the dechetterie (the dump). But when we arrived, the manager was turning everyone away because the bins were too full; he risked being fined. OK, he said, go to the Pézenas dechetterie. Where we'd never been. Five minutes later we rolled in ... and, oh my, the paradise of dumps. Not only did they have many more bins, they had weird machinery. Like this cardboard crusher. I could do this job. You take a huge piece of machinery, and you crush the air pockets out of cardboard. It's useful. It's ecological. It deals with paper and, by extension, trees. It's repetitive (good thing). It's destructive, but in an admirable way. And you feel like a modern, comic-book-driven, all-powerful robot! See it in all its glory. Click to enlarge.

We done it: new bathroom in France

Hence, a triumphal walk through Pézenas; beginning with a death in our neighborhood; then a quick visit to the Emmaus for second-hand books; then treading the artisans' quarter, where vinyl records are for sale; amazing fine leather goods (those roses are purses); a delightful bead store, arranged by colors; an overhead passage between apartments; tin signs; book store; hat store; a weaver from Damascus who makes silk ties.... Click any image to enlarge.