Thursday, December 31, 2009

A Year's Worth of Lotsa

Don't worry, this post won't be a year's worth long! The other day, though, looking back on the year that's about to give way to another, I realised that an incredible amount of things have come to pass chez nous in the last 365 days. There were changes and more changes, ups and downs, bigs and littles, stranges and wonderfuls...  There was learning, adjusting and readjusting, dealing with and letting go, discovering and rediscovering... There was alot.


Thinking back and through it all, though, I kept coming back to one incredible three-day weekend that I spent with my three B. Boys this autumn. It was one of those times that encapsulates for me all of the good/wonderful, lovely/gorgeous, funny/hilarious things about those three, and made me realise once again  just how lucky I've been in love.

Which brings me to another point, which is really the point, which is:

Here's wishing happiness and love to all of our loved ones* near and far, in the coming year!

* and their loved ones, and their loved ones' loved ones, and their loved ones' loved ones' loved ones, and...

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Boxing Octopux

Yesterday was a rainy Armistice Day, so we went to the movies (Panda! Go Panda!—huge thumbs up from all four of us) and spent the rest of the day drawing or trying to make sense of the disorder of our household, depending upon the age of the individual. Frankly, I wished I were doing like the young 'uns, but had to allow for the fact that by organising things in my studio space, I could better be drawing in the near future. Today, for example.

Speaking of today: This morning, the boys were hilariously sweet about getting up at a godforsaken hour and all. I was helping them keep concentrated on getting their shoes on, when Leo suddenly needed more than anything else to prove to me that he could read the names on his* "person Dinosaur King cards". Which prompted Tomi to claim that he could write them without seeing them. He ran off and came back with a piece of paper that had "Zoé" written on it, as proof. This caused a mini scandal toot sweet, because... He'd written on one of Leo's drawings. He said he was sorry immediately (not a first, exactly, but rare enough to be noticed), and pointed out that we could cut that part of the paper off. I wanted to laugh. Leo was reasonable about it, but pointed out in turn that this wasn't possible, because... There was a full-page drawing on the other side. When he turned the page over, this is what I saw:



I couldn't imagine where he'd've gotten this idea, and tried to question without cueing him. Turns out he was thinking of a street party we were at about a month and a half ago. There was a boxing club who'd set up a ring at one end of the street, and were inviting people to have a gentle go. When asked if he'd ever seen boxing octopuses, he laughed incredulously and said, "Nho-o-oh!" (As in: "Uhm... Are you serious?") I'm still wondering, but am willing to be a be reluctant believer...

* Since we parents refuse all requests for Dinosaur King cards, Leo has been trading Pokémon cards here and there for the damn things. Ah, well...

footnotes
1 Note the person-legs on the gloved boxer
2 The mohawked-oct isn't wearing gloves because "he doesn't
    need them"
3 Tomi suggested that the plural of a boxing octopus be "boxing
    octopux", or "octopux qui buxent [sic]"

    Tuesday, September 08, 2009

    Back to School Daze

    After a long stint States-side this summer, we landed safely this-side; did a decent job handling jet lag; saw our newly-wed friends off for their Italian honeymoon; and came smack-bang up against Real Life, which had a few surprises, and all of it hurtling at us at once.

    So-so suddenly, it was September 3rd, and we were banging the alarm clock quiet, dressing still-sleeping boys, downing a coffee, making sure the snacks were in the packs, and making the long haul to the boys' new school.


    Then there was the greeting of the new teachers, and the long good-byes, complete with tears, sobs, and even a little uprising. (While Tomi's teacher addressed adults and children en masse, the sea of adults standing in front of Jean-Philippe and me began to sway and part, and suddenly a small, determined little mass of sadness and fury that very much resembled our little boy stood before us in the doorway, coat and bag in hand, saying, "Aller ! Je m'en vais avec vous !")* When we'd finally got him re-seated, we beat our retreat—with a few glances back, nonetheless. Leo was still looking lost, and fighting back tears; and Tomi's teacher was bent over him gently, talking...


    We parents had a coffee together at a local bistro, and began our new-home-hunting: scouring the streets in the area, looking for For Sale signs that don't appear in the ads or at the agencies. I was hoping that the walking would excercise that morning's demons; instead, it worked them into a lather. By the time we sat down for lunch, I was ready for a good cry.

    We love their old school, their teachers, the friends and acquaintences (big and little) we've made there, the lovely walk through La Petite France to get there... We love our home, with its ancient charm, the view from the windows, the terrace... We love this part of the city, with everything you could want or need within a 2-7 minute walk, including the butcher, the baker, and even a candlestick maker!

    It's not that we won't find lots to love about wherever we move to, in the end, but... well... I can't imagine it, yet. And anyway, we haven't found said place, yet. So Back to School Days turned quickly into Back to School Daze for kids and parents alike in this family.

    There was a glimmer of hope on Day 2, when we took the boys up to the doors and said our fare-thee-wells. Tomi began to melt, but the following conversation ensued:

    Mom: You can do this! You're a brave little button!

    Tomi: No, I'm not brave!

    Mom: Yes, you are. And you proved it to us, just this week!

    Tomi: How I did proved it to you?

    Mom: Remember when you shucked your armbands off at the pool, and started swimming before my eyes? You knew you could do it, so you plucked up your courage and DID it. You were SO brave! If you can do that, you can do this.

    Tomi: (whispering, with a shy look of pride growing on his face) Yeah!

    Jean-Philippe had been seeing Leo off as this took place, and came over with a smile at this point. Tomi gave us each a kiss and walked right into the room.

    But in the few seconds between his parents' hugs, Leo had had the time to take in the full extent of the situation. By the time I got to him, the bottomless Sob Pit had begun to disgorge its convulsive gaspings. Soothing words were proving useless, and the bell had rung, so I hugged him and said, "You've got to go in, now, hon." He answered, "I-hi ca-han't g-gho ih-ih-ih-hin!" Me: "Why not?" Leo: "Bhe-he-cause I-hi ca-han't s-s-s-st-hop this (he indicated his heaving torso) this... this cr-cry-hing!" So I borrowed from Obama: "Yes, you can," and added, "It just takes time." We hugged, and his teacher came out, and the school day had begun.

    As I mentioned in a note on Facebook, the change of schools is good, in that they are in an international school, with a bilingual program in English (among other languages). But the change was bound to be brutal for them, because the school's all the way across town (= MUCH longer days, for several reasons), and much bigger and less beautiful than the old school. But more importantly: their friends weren't changing schools with them! And then, preschool & kindergarten are much less demanding than elementary school. When asked about their first day, their first response was, "We didn't play! We didn't draw!" Which made me laugh at first, but then made me reflect once again on all of the massive changes that they are going through right now, and how hard it must be, coming all at once as it is.

    Ach!

    * "Let's go! I'm leaving with you!"

    p.s. Hopefully, I'll find the time to blog about the other big and little things that went on in our lives this summer. But the chances are slimmer with every passing day. I started a blog post about our three-or-four-part vacation in the States, for instance, but the sheer number of things that we had done made it impossible to decide how to blog about it, and which stories and images to share. Ach! again...

    Tuesday, June 23, 2009

    At Long Last!


    The book I've been working on frantically for the past few weeks and more has, at long last, been sent to the printer! If you'd like a look at a few of the pages within, as well as a bit of an explanation as to how and why this project came about, feel free to take a look at my work blog, either by clicking on the link on the right side of this blog, or by clicking here.

    Friday, May 29, 2009

    More Fun With Bugs

    A drawing done the other night, from the day's memories...

    Above is a fleeting moment in the lives of two boys who love bugs. Or, more to the point: bug hunting. And bug sequestering. And so on. Every once in a while, they also love bug squishing. But for now, they are generally very good to the bugs they find. They feed them and add little extras - leaves, twigs - to the bug containers, to make their captives' lives that much more comfortable. If it's weevils, though, they scream, "MO-O-O-O-O-O-M! There's a BAD BEETLE! QUICK! SQUISH IT!"

    Interlude: Why is it that Moms are always given the most thankless of tasks? I ask you.

    The other day, we were slo-o-o-owly making our way home from school, with Tomi stopping at every tree and searching... searching... searching... I can't imagine what took me so long to figure out what it was that was so interesting at the foot of the trees. Ladybugs, of course. Tomi claims that the trees are usually full of them, though this is the first I've heard of it. In any case, we got to the very last tree of our homeward path, and Tomi gasped with delight: "A LADYBUG!" He scooped it up and carried it all the way home, despite the relentless tickling, where we sequestered it - of course. The next morning, Tomi gasped again and cried out, "EGGS! SHE LAID TWO SETS OF EGGS!" And sure enough... So we gave her a leaf full of aphids, to encourage her growth and that of the eventual larvæ. We shall see what becomes of this experiment...

    In any case, excitement abounds! Heh! heh!

    Thursday, May 14, 2009

    Weevils Wobble...

    They really do! Not that I think you wanted to know that. I didn't want to know that, either. But when you've whacked upwards of a hundred of them (and that's not including their larva and the pupæ), you start to know these things. And more.

    But hang on. Did you even know that weevils exist? Because I didn't. But they do. And there is a huge nest of them on my terrace. I used to think they were dung beetles of some sort. (Don't even get me started on the pigeon nest under the terrace. Or the view from our neighbour's hallway window...) Then, when my parents were visiting last Xmas, we went to the Natural History Museum, and what to my wonder?! but the little beggars were pinned in there with so many more worthwhile subjects, labeled Otiorhynchus ligustici. I noted it down, but was told by a guy at the nursery not to worry about them until May-ish.

    And now it is May-ish. And we are being overrun. Overrun, I tell you. So I started whacking yesterday. The boys loved that. I didn't. Then, after a bit of a web-hunt this evening, I went on a weevil hunt. Dug out the old pine that was languishing against the wall in the back of the terrace, and found, to my horror, absolute masses of the creatures and their spawn. More whacking. Ugh. Went out about an hour ago, and, well... had to start whacking again. So...

    Tomorrow I'll be off to the nursery again, to buy me something nasty (but organic). I'm not really for this kind of thing, normally, but I can't keep the whacking up. It's got to stop. And these beasts are eating all of my lovliest leaves.

    There's one for you: Did you know that weevils eat only the tenderest leaves? I did; though, as I've already taken pains to explain, I didn't know it was weevils until this afternoon. I also figured out all on my own that they are creatures of the night. And that they are extremely tenacious. They can hold on to the side of a flushing toilet for half of the flush, for instance. But when they "get it" (and if they are not in a toilet bowl that is being flushed), they drop and play dead. This took me a while to catch on to, unfortunately.

    Okay, I'm all weevil'd out.

    One last thing, before I head to bed, though:
    I was reading to the boys last night, when there was a strange sound, as though someone were hurling pebbles at the windows and missing (thankfully). We ran into the kitchen as Jean-Philippe was calling to come and see, and saw the above. The boys pulled on sweatshirts as soon as the hailstorm had ended, and began a frantic race for ice-rocks, which we stashed in the freezer for... what? Later? I dunno, but it was cute. And then it was over. And so was the Little Golden Book. And lights went out. The end.

    'Night-'night!

    Sunday, May 10, 2009

    Making What?

    Above Bat Cat and Dr. Archibald Techt (it's not easy to see, but Leo'd made a whole series of bridges out of dinosaurs, so that the Pokémons wouldn't have to touch the water and risk getting eaten by sharks (?! Frankly, I'm not sure which would be worse: shark bite? dinosaur bite? shark bite? dinosaur bite? The debate rages on...)), last October 20th.

    Was cleaning up my studio space (a good-sized corner of the living room in our apartment) this afternoon, and came across one of the trillions of little notes I've scribbled out and lost over the past 39 years. This one was from 20 October 2008; not as far back in the mists of time as others I've found over the years. Anyway, it made me laugh (again)...

    Leo
    Can you print some Pokémon pictures?

    Mom
    Not now. Right now I'm trying to clean up this house (indicates the table, piled with life's important documents and detritus), clear some space...

    Leo
    It's what, "clear some space"?

    Mom
    It's "cleaning up an area", "making..."

    Tomi (in a sing-song voice, from their "workspace")
    ...making babies...

    Mom & Tomi
    ha! ha! ha! ha!

    Thursday, May 07, 2009

    Scalawags!

    (pre-script: translations at the bottom of the page)

    So... The boys peed and got their hands, faces and teeth brushed tonight, and we settled down to read. One of the things I read was A Busy Year, which Gramma gave Leo for his first birthday, and which I hadn't read in a few months. As we got towards the end, Leo said, "C'est l'automne !" and Tomi said, "C'est presque Christmas ! Le père noël va venir !" and Leo said, "Yeah, an' he's bringing caca !" to which I absent- and motherly-single-mindedly (as in: we-are-reading-a-book-let's-concentrate-on-the-book) said, "Oh, Leo, come on."

    And then we got to the last page:

    December came... and then it was Christmas. Winnie stepped forward to give Woody her present. "What is it?" asked Willie. "Manure!" said Winnie triumphantly.

    Leo and Tomi collapsed in one of the most startlingly hilarious fits of giggles they've had to date. They certainly couldn't have heard me read:

    But Woody laughed. "Fertilizer is just what I need." And she meant it.

    They are such a gas.

    Oh, and speaking of which: when I kissed him good-night, Tomi giggled, "I farted!" ...and they collapsed again.

    Like mother, like sons, I guess!

    Speaking of whom...

    Above are a couple of pictures of Puck and Peaseblossom, (a.k.a, Christopher Robin and Robert Louis, a.k.a...) taken on the sands surrounding Marseille and the Island of Frioul. I'm going to try and blog about it all, but we had an absolutely excellent time in Marseille, visiting friends - notably, Agnès, our aulde guardian speed roadster demon friend-of-friends - and soaking in the sun, being flung about by the mistral, walking to break Rimbaud's records, eating and drinking copiously of all things local...

    ****************

    translations: "It's autumn!" "It's almost noël! Father Christmas will be coming!" "Oui, et il va amener du poop!"

    Thursday, April 23, 2009

    La fleur de vie*


    One of the boys' favourite movies is The White Serpent Enchantress, a beautiful love story, based on a Chinese folk tale and set to animation by Taiji Yabushita in 1958. Yesterday, while little Tomi recovered from yet another bout of bug, he watched and drew and drew and drew. When he was done with this one, I was talking with him about the lovely colours, and he asked, "Est-ce qu'on peut le print it?" ("Can we l'imprimer it?") He wanted to make copies to send as cards. So we scanned it, and... It turns out that flourescent markers (used for half of the colours, here) don't scan well at all. It was such a let down for both of us. But I reworked some of the colours and promised him a page on the blog. We might get around to printing, one of these days before the boys turn 18. You never do know. Seeing as how I can't even get a photo of the little guy with a crown on his head, though...

    But! I did get a few photos this week, including:

    Two happy boys in short-pants-cum-shorts made by Gamma with heart. And talent! They LOVE them. So do their parents. And we also love the fact that they are made to fray, but only so far: if you look closely, you can see where she's stitched the hem, in order that they not fray too far and get gross. Class!

    One sick boy and one well boy, reunited after school and up to their usual imaginative ways. While I made dinner, they took a box that was in the recycling pile and turned it into a beehive. Then they drew bees and spread them on the floor around the hive. Then they cut a hole in the hive, so the bees could enter. And then they decided that their Pokémons, Etc. were honorary bees for a day. But when they pushed the Pokémons through the hole, they flew out of the designated 'hive space'. So the boys backed the hive up with other boxes. Here they've rearranged things slightly for the picture. The little orange dinosaur is the Queen Bee...

    * la fleur de vie = the flower of life = an important part of the film, one of which you can see in this drawing

    Tuesday, April 21, 2009

    A Little Ditty...



    ...for Ellen - and for Donnie and Gretchen, too - since the package is as late as ever. I found this by accident this morning, and immediately thought of you all. Happy Birthday, Belle!

    (from Whisper of the Heart, a film by Yoshifumi Kondou and Hayao Miyazaki)

    Thursday, April 16, 2009

    ahh... spring... and sproing! heh! heh!

    Above are a couple of springy corners on our burgeoning terrace: the crabapple tree and my forgotten-name beauties, with their attendant insect friends. The boys loved this picture, by the way, because they could spot at least four of their new-found buggy buddies. Can you?

    Tomi and I were making a crown tonight. He'd coloured in some cute birds at school and cut them out to make a kind of tiara headpiece. After supper, we started making the headband (p)art, and he decided to go with an animalia theme that went from cute to really freakin' funny. At one point, he asked me to do a "kangaroo mommy with a baby in his pocket." I wasn't too sure of myself, so we Google-imaged "kangaroo." When Tomi said, "Waow!" Leo came racing over, and proceeded to come up with this little ditty, above. It was a frantic, tight squeeze behind my desk for a while, not least because the boys knew they'd be summoned to bed in no time at all. But they were enthralled. And when they're enthralled...

    I'll try to get a photo of Tomi in his slightly-too-small-but-oh-well-it's-still-so-cute crown tomorrow...

    Monday, April 06, 2009

    April Showers...

    ...or Already May Flowers?

    Well, there was the Nato occupation, yes. But the weekend in question was otherwise lovely. Really lovely. Nato actually accidentally brought home a dear, dear friend. One point in its favour. And it didn't manage to stop two other dear friends from getting married and having the wedding picnic to beat all. For this Nato gets half a point, since it had nothing to do with bringing us all together; but then again, it didn't intervene, which was a happy shock to us all. And it was sunny to set all records. No points for Nato for this one, though, for obvious reasons.

    (above) Three of we four, watching the parade of Very Important People cross the Rhein, step out of their vehicles, be snubbed by Berlusconi, get their pictures taken and zoom off to the next thing on their Very Important Agendas. We were also, incidentally, looking for Härry. But he was nowhere to be found. Ah, well! We could (hardly) wait...

    (above) The happiest, most well-found couple I've ever known forges ahead and into the future. Meanwhile, our escorts wait outside. (The scene, as we entered, was really funny, with radioed messages of the "shppttft! - yeah, looks like our party - pfftshtff! - three adults two children - psstshshtsht! - party entering - ssztpfft! - party taking the stairs - pshshtftft!" like. We were the last to arrive, and the gendarmes were visibly relieved.) Once inside, there was only us, a few gendarmes, the mayor and a few of his colleagues in a beautifully lit room that was like something out of a movie set in the 70's. Too good to be real. But real it was, and so was the exchange of vows and the kiss that sealed it all...

    (above) Bärbel's loving escort (they are really and truly envious of Felix's luck. It'd be heartbreaking, if it weren't so funny); setting out the fabulous picnic; and, "Here's to the future!" ho-HO! The 'real' party's at the end of the summer. If it's even half as good as this day was, it'll be nirvana-esque.

    (above) And last, but most certainly not least: our old, dear friend Härry, (and Jean-Philippe, Anne-Sophie and me) on the terrace at 2am - hence, our Sleep Series. Almost every time we're with Härry, we end up with a good series. This one was accidental, though. We wanted for all four to be "sleeping," but in every picture but the last one, a lone pair of eyes was gazing up at the camera. In any case, we're already looking forward to the next Härry sighting, perhaps next year, in Kiev...?

    Sunday, April 05, 2009

    Ciao! Nato, ciao, ciao, ciao!

    Where to start? Well... the beginning is always a good place, I guess. And for me, the beginning is about two months ago, when we were chatting with a friend who works with Jean-Philippe, and the subject of "passes" "in order to go to work" came up.

    Passes? To go to work? says I.

    During the 60th anniversary Nato summit, says they.

    They also says that they work in a "red zone." This is the first time I've heard of zones in Strasbourg, with or without Nato presence. It doesn't yet strike me as of particular consequence. And the truth is that the extent of the consequence doesn't strike me until Friday the 3rd. But I'll come back to that.

    From here on out, the thing starts escalating. A friend emails to say that she won't be able to attend a little gathering at our place that weekend, because she's fleeing the city to avoid the mess. More and more people are talking of leaving the city for a three- or four-day weekend. A wave of mass hysteria seems to start, first in ripples. Bits of information are filtering through the webs. Rumours begin circulating. And the funny thing about the rumours is that more of them seem to have been true than untrue. They also seem, for the most part, to have been but tiny little tips of the iceberg.

    An example of iceberg tips: First there was whispering about snipers on our roofs. Now, given the more-and-more apparent escalation of security, this didn't seem surprising; more like inevitable, albeit horrifying. But then I run into an aquaintence on the 3rd, whose friends were ousted from their appartment for the weekend - firmly, however politely - in order to provide a roost for the sharp-shooters. Their neighbours all along the quay were similarly ousted. And why were these people chosen? Because they live across the River Ill from the Rohan Palace, where the leaders of 20-odd countries were going to be entertained.

    Party on.

    The helicopters started circulating a few weeks ago. They came in fits and starts, whirring around, hovering, at first amusing the children, and then, surprise-surprise: the children started worrying. As the summit approached, we were being hovered over with more and more insistence, at all hours of the day and night. In a final rallying effort to wake the masses from their sleepy stupor, a helicopter cruised directly over our heads at 2:30am this morning. Our boys were having more and more trouble falling asleep this last week, worried by the incomprehensible reasons for the noise.

    They'd have worried more, had they known what else was flying - though ever so much more lightly - over our heads. While walking to our friends' wedding on Saturday, I was sure I saw a drone overhead. But of course, there can't be drones in the Strasbourg skies, now, can there? So I brushed the thought away and ambled on, convincing myself that the mass hysteria had finally got to my head, too. And then, that night, a friend who works in the diplomatic corps said, "...drones in the air, too..." Ugh.

    Anyway.

    I managed an invite to Barack Obama's "Town Hall Meeting," which was anything but (a town hall meeting). It was actually a let-down in more ways than one. But it did allow me a brief look at the city centre on that oddest of days.

    To be frank: it was appalling.

    We live in a Green Zone on the edge of the Orange and Red Zones. But I walked out the door at 10am and into a ghost town. Even the tram hub - normally a bustling centre of activity - was deserted. A few businesses were open to the 1% of usual custom that they would have. Many of them, open or not, were boarded over in anticipation of violence.

    The tram hub, 10am, Friday, April 3

    To get to the buses that took us to the meeting, you needed to take a tram. But to take a tram, you needed to get to one. And the tram line had been cut off on the outskirts of the Orange Zone. To get to the next operational tram, you had to walk the perimeter of the red zone. It didn't look like the hour I'd given myself for this ten-minute-on-a-normaI-day-trip was gong to be enough, so I explained my predicament to one checkpoint officer, who sent me along the perimeter to the next checkpoint...

    (1) the first checkpoint (2) the second checkpoint (3) view from the edge of the perimeter

    ...and so on down the line, until one of them took pity upon me, saying with a smile that made me think he was kidding, "This is your door in." I really did think he was joking, and he could see it, so he smiled a smidgen of a bit more broadly and said, "The door is open," and ushered me through.

    My door in...

    It was an odd feeling, walking through this barricade. I knew this was the only chance I'd have to get this far, since I had no pass, only this ticket for an official event that would effectively expire at 11am. There were so many things to photograph, but I was in a hurry. Silly me. I'll regret having given up some of those photo opportunities for the rest of my life.

    One instance, among many: A little old lady walked up to a gendarme, standing erect against a lightpole. She was worried, because she'd been told that access to her front door would be impossible for the time being. Nobody had told her, when she left to do some shopping earlier, that this would be the case. She had medications to take... As I listened in on the conversation, hurrying to catch the last tram that would take me to my destination, I glanced down a side street and saw six enormous armoured vehicles, blocking any passage at all down that street (more like an alleyway, actually). I was reminded again of a scene I'd witnessed in Derry so many years ago. A hollow feeling came over me. How easy it is for authority to be misguided, misused and destructive. How easy it is for a population to be frightened into submission.

    (1) at one of the tram barricades, three mail carriers come up against yet another problem (2) while a group of journalists? delegates? waits in vain for a tram that will never come (3) and the only vehicles for another kilometre go whizzing by...

    I made it to the "town hall meeting." It was held, not in anything like a town hall, but in a sports centre in a Red Zone. After alighting from our buses, we were curiously corraled into a hall on the other side of the road. Nobody seemed to know why or for how long, least of all the organisers. So after a while, we just walked out and across the street. Some security, but not too much, since camcorders and bags had been strictly forbidden, and this was the third or fourth stage of security. Once in, we tried to find decent seats, but there were too few of them, and we certainly weren't the first in there, so... In the end, most people were either too far away to see Barack Obama, or they were sitting directly behind him, and only got a glimpse or two of The Man. His speech was good, but after a while, he came to the question of economics and responsibility, and once again, I was reminded of who had brought him here, and at what phenomenal, unbelievable cost. And for what?

    A photo opportunity. A symbol.

    The violation of basic democratic rights that most of the protesters were here to bring attention to is bad enough. But the thing that has bothered me the most throughout these strange couple of weeks is this: Above and beyond the above-mentioned lack of respect and the unbelievable mess that this has created for many people, none of whom were consulted as to the eventual use of their home town as a stage / military parade grounds / photographic backdrop, there is (I repeat) the phenomenal, unbelievable amount of money that was spent. Hundreds of millions of Euros. Hundreds of millions. For a symbolic photo opportunity.

    When the world is experiencing an enormous economic crisis, when millions are still dying of disease and starvation, when millions still lack even the most rudimentary of education, an international organisation's leaders are telling us that "we've just emerged from an era marked by irresponsibility," and spending hundreds of millions of euros to say so, take a few pictures, and move on out to prepare for the next photo op.

    Looking at those two days of Sumptuous Summit for Some from another few angles: During those 24 hours, approximately 16,000 people died of AIDS; 80,000 people died of starvation; and more than 100 million children continued to lack access to any form of schooling.

    I'm just sayin'.


    Oh, and while I'm at it:

    When I finally got back from the sojourn to see my president, Jean-Philippe (who had a pass, remember) picked up the camera and flew out the door to see what he could see. At one point, just after taking a superbe photo at one of the checkpoints, a policeman accosted him, getting extremely red in the face, and threatening to take him to jail if he didn't erase the photo. As you can probably imagine, none of Jean-Philippe's protests for his rights (he'd checked on this beforehand, of course) had any postitive effect on the man, who simply got redder in the face, and much more threatening. So the photo was erased. My, "What could he have really done, had you just turned around and walked away?" was answered with, "Anything he wanted to."

    Gotcha.

    We heard a lot of grandiose talk about democracy this weekend. But one has to wonder where democracy goes at times like this.

    Thursday, March 05, 2009

    Funny Episode #8,752,324

    I have often wondered about what constitutes "weird." My friend Amy and I used to say, "You're weird! That's a compliment!" as though it were another way of saying, "Hello!" And my Color 101 teacher once looked at me and paused before beginning her answer to whatever query or comment I'd made with, "You are one weird kid, Jennifer." She went on to explain that this was a compliment - and to be honest, that was how I'd taken it. But still... Though I don't remember what exactly we were talking about when she said that, I do remember thinking, "What was so weird about that?"

    And now I'm the mom of twin five-year-old whippersnappers. But another W-word comes to mind often, when confronted with their questions, responses, stories and, well... this kind of thing:


    And please believe me, it is no coincidence that there are two oranges in two different, though identical containers with two 'name tags' on them next to the piece of paper with the boys' names and two arrows. No, this was a carefully constructed piece of conceptual art. And the artist made sure that he knew what was written on the 'name tags' before he decided which one was him and which was his brother. Leo thought that Pamela was a beautiful name, and so his brother inevitably got taged with 'Bio' (Eng = 'Organic').

    We are reading James and the Giant Peach, now. A few chapters at a time. I let them watch the movie before we read it together, because I wanted to be sure that they understood the story, so that we could work on their English at the same time. I am learning to be sneaky about 'teaching' them English. They don't like for their parents to be their teachers, it seems. So sneaky I must be. Anyway. We spent a lot of time on the question of what happened to his parents and why. They were truly terrified at this part of the movie, and we ended up spending about an hour and a half on those few lines in the book. But what gets me is how utterly accepting they are of the absurdity of the story - how much they LOVE the absurdity, in fact. They laughed so hard at (our reading of) the Earthworm's shark shouts and so on, that I thought they would pee their pants!

    Which reminds me of the Story of Peas. But that'll have to wait for the next blog post, because we're about to leave to go hiking... Ciao for now, and a happy weekend to you and yours!

    Sunday, February 15, 2009

    Oh My, Valentines!

    Okay, so my Aunt Peggy's scored big on the boys' list. Big-big-BIG. A small package with big punch arrived late last week, and the boys opened it to find everything their little hearts could desire: candies, talking-giggling Valentine's Day cards, and... POKÉMON CARDS! It was a very happy end to an otherwise grey day.

    BIG THANKS to Aunt Peggy from the boys! What a great surprise!

    The pictures from the past few weeks haven't turned out so well, but above are a couple from that evening. (Leo was not happy that he was covered a bit in the last one, but it was the last on the memory card, and I think it's funny, so...) They spent the whole evening "playing" Pokécards. I was laid out on the couch with the stomach flu, so they brought the game over to me, and explained their take on all of the new cards. It was a lot of silly-happy-little-boy fun.

    On the actual Day, we all woke up at pretty much the same time. The boys came in to wake us up, and did some silly-happy-little-boy moves on, over and under our covers and legs and torsos and so on. Until suddenly: up jumped Jean-Philippe, and trailed the little ones behind him. A few minutes later, I galumped up, myself, and followed them into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewing coffee leading the way. It took me a drowsy minute to get it, but when I did, I saw that the house had been covered in Post-It notes. A home-sized Valentines Day card!

    That wasn't the end of the celebrations, though! A big, afternoon-long lunch had been planned with the family to celebrate Pépé's 70-something-st birthday. The big 'uns ate and drank too well, as always. And the cousins showed off silly-happy-little-kid-tricks to one another and glued themselves to cartoons, not really showing themselves at the dinner table until somebody mentioned "cake"... ho! ho! Needless to say, we rolled our way home afterwards...

    Thursday, February 12, 2009

    We Sick

    The boys, several days ago, in the midst of several artistic and otherwise ventures. Leo wrote 'Tomi' with the blocks, and Tomi said, "Thank you, Leo! That's so cool! I like the way you did that!"

    It's been a rough week. First my computer went down, thanks to a download that went awry. Then I got the stomach flu. Then Leo got the stomach flu. And my flu persists, despite yesterday's optimism about the subject. And I think Tomi's coming down with it, too. But he seemed alright this morning. So he's at school; Leo's in bed (after having watched Jungle Emperor and Over the Hedge); I'm huddled over my work with cramps and worry; and Jean-Philippe's peddling my theatre ticket off to friends and hoping for the best. Ugh.

    There have been some bright spots on this greyish day, though.

    First, there was sleepy little Leo's wake-up twittering.

    "Mom! Wake up! Then we can be the first ones up, after Daddy! I'm the first one up! I'm never the first one up!"

    Then there was our sweet little Tomi's chirruping, as he got ready to go to school. He was extra chirrupy today. And chirrupy on a school day is rare enough; but when one of them knows that the OTHER is going to stay home from school?! Never. Until this morning, that is.

    And then, as Leo sat out a bout of you-know-what on the toilet, I suggested I read him a book.

    Leo "No, I have lots of stories. I will tell you a story!"

    Mom (settling down on the bathroom floor) "Great! I love your stories!"

    Leo "Hm. Let's see. There are so many! Which one would you like?"

    Mom "How about if you choose?"

    Leo "Okay, I will tell you the story about the snowball who went to the sea."

    Mom "Great!"

    Leo "Uhm... Okay, but there are some 'bad words' in the story."

    Mom (raising her eyebrows a bit, and not a little intrigued) "Well... If they're a part of the story, you can tell the story anyway, and we'll talk about the bad word parts afterwards."

    Leo "... No, I will tell you another story. There are lots of stories without bad words. How about... The Mouth Who Couldn't Find Its Body?"

    Mom "Sounds like a great one!"

    Leo "Okay, but how about if you tell it?"

    Mom "Alright. But you can help me, okay?"

    Leo "Okay."

    And so we began. And a pretty good story we came up with, too!

    Tuesday, February 03, 2009

    Bubbles & Weenies

    Tomi & Leo, preparing for a walk - Wormy has been lost again, so Goo-Goo and Ennen Cat have been extra-cuddled of late...

    Even on the tired days of falling eyelids and fizzling nerves, all it takes these days is a giggled phrase or a soft, caring look and a wee hand on the shoulder from one of our boys to take away the sting of the day and send us into la-la land. They bubble, they glow, they let us know every day, in one way or another, that we couldn't have done without them.

    The other day, for example:
    It was a cold, grey Sunday. But the four of us were utterly content all day, separately and together, doing this and that and the other thing. Mid-afternoon, Jean-Philippe and the boys were bundling up to go outside and kick the ball around. I was zipping up Tomi's jacket, when Leo zoomed by, crying out, "I'M THE PEE-PEE! GOING SO FAST! WHO'S ON MY TEAM?!" Tomi laughed and said, "I'm the caca*! Go-ing-rea-lly-slo-o-ow!" But there was still the question of teams. We all changed teams several times before the family's male contingent got out the door. There was a brief moment of genial ganging up. I think I ended up being on Leo's pee-pee team, though. Not that he noticed. He was too busy zooming out the door and down the steps to the makeshift soccer field, below. I could hear them screeching with delight for the next hour or so, as the bread baked and was brought out, and the Leftovers Soup bubbled away...

    p.s. The day was brought to a lovely close with the impromptu visit of a couple of friends, followed by a not-so-good concert (Of Montreal) and a friendly debate (with the friends who weren't enjoying it, and followed me out to the bar for some fresh air - heh! heh!), concerning what, exactly, it was that we didn't like about it.

    * caca = poop

    Tuesday, January 27, 2009

    A Disasters Emergency Committee (DEC) Appeal

    For those of you living in the United States, I know that it is hard to get past the religiously-saturated political quagmire, and in fact much easier to avoid the subject of the conflict in Gaza altogether. I hope that you will watch this appeal, though, and give the conflict some thought from another angle or two...

    Thursday, January 22, 2009

    Waking Up, Smelling the Coffee

    fyi - pictures have nothing to do with the text

    We woke up on Inauguration Day to the usual radio voices. Or rather, we were waking up to them, when I heard a voice chirrup from the boys' room, "They said, 'Barack Obama!'" and then, "They said, 'Barack Obama' again!" and then, "Oh! They said it again!" And then another wee voice piped up, "Why-y-y?" And the first one answered, "Because he's The Good Guy!"

    Later that evening (Washington, DC time + 6 hours), we settled into the couch with apples and oranges and lots of blankets, and I pleaded with the boys to keep their questions to a minimum and low-pitched until the end, so's I could hear the voices on the TV. They complied the best they could. And they spontaneously held my hands and cuddled close. At one point, one boy raised his hand. I called on him, and he leaned in and whispered, "Mommy?! They're talking at the same time as Barack Obama! I can't hear him!" The translator's wishy-washy, loud job was bothering him, too! ha! ha! (continued below...)

    smoking at the diner - thanks, Disney

    (continued from above...) Then the other boy stood up and said, "Can you pause it? I have to pee-pee!" My boys aren't used to watching TV (though they do watch movies, and with gusto). Later, when a visibly moved Bernard Kouchner spoke about his impressions of the day's events, the boys asked, "Can he see us?" At first I was a bit flummoxed, but then I realised that they've only really ever watched stories, and not actual events or people answering questions from off-screen. It was funny; made me think of the scene in O Sullivan's Twenty Years A-Growing, when he's arrived in Dublin, and his friend takes him to the pictures. (Oh my gosh. I just found it on the internet. If you're interested, click here.)

    But back to Washington, DC and Strasbourg, France, on the 20th of January, 2009. The boys and their mom are still in front of the TV, watching an extraordinary, historical moment unfold before their eyes. And at the end, when the Obamas and Bidens were standing on the tarmac and waving, one boy knit his brow and held up his palms, asking, " "Why are they waving?" I explained. He asked, "Why are they doing that for so long? They can go now! The other guy, he's a BAD GUY! [And] he's GONE!" I had to cede the point. But was forced to explain the idea of decorum, nonetheless.

    I am so relieved. But still, of course, anxious to see how things pan out... Eek!

    Monday, January 12, 2009

    Sunday, January 04, 2009

    Happiness, Health and a Warm Hearth

    All of the above to all of you from all of us -- though if you're living somewhere warm, we wish you a variation on the theme; say... an Iced Drink?

    We rang in the newest year high up in the Vosges with our beloved parents/grandparents/parents-in-law, seeing the old year out with a hike into the heights and the snow; a round of Riesling and pie wedges in a chalet way up thar (not pictured below); a walk back down through the mountain's layers of snowflakes, then snowdrops, then rolling fog; a well-earned return to the warmth of the farmstead; a light and luscious meal; a dance to the lively music the radio's classical station offered us up, and which Tomi inspired us all to take up on; the crémants we'd got at the organic winemaker's in Andlau the day before; and (also not pictured below) a bouquet of fireworks as the fog closed in at midnight, turning the last page of another year's chapter in our lives.

    Here are a few images from the above-described last day of the year: