It's almost impossible to know where to start, so I'll do so by a virtual underscoring the title of this blog post several times in red. & there you have it: we had a wonderful time with Ellen and Donnie (and Sheldon-getting-bigger-and-bigger). It all started on the 20th, when the boys spotted the Lufthansa bus and began running pell-mell towards their long-awaited meeting-up-again with their aunt and uncle (& cousin). The boys were way-over-excited and Ellen and Donnie were way-under-slept, and the day ended in Ellen's calling over her shoulder from the terrace: "Uhm... is this a common occurence?" When I peeked around the door, I saw the Belgian Manikin Piss boy aiming well and exhausting his bladder on one of the terrace stools. "Ah... no!" The boys were shuttled off to bed; the adults ate; the aunts and uncles scuttled off to bed; the parents packed... And the next morning, we were off! Arriving late-ish in the afternoon at our guesthouse in the tucked-out-of-the-way, charming village of Couches.* Ahhhh...! Just what the doctor ordered...
We walked alot the next day, tasted a few wines, and sat down at last for a few minutes at a Medieval-style fair at one of the châteaux (uh-oh! here it comes: "Oo-là-là-à-à!") in Meursault. We left there with our arms full of various products to make a lovely dinner, and rushed back to our cottage to eat, drink and await the results of the first round of the French elections... (Neither Jean-Philippe's nor my candidate made the first round, but we were infinately releaved to see that the choice would not be - as it was the last time around - between the right and far right. Jean-Philippe was sure that history would repeat itself; thus the joyful reaction recorded here. The reaction at our place last Sunday, however, looked nothing at all like this. More about such things in blog posts soon to come...)
The next day was spent idly, sunnily, with stops here and there, dolmens, encounters with cats (Ellen and the rest of us adults spent alot of time trying to teach the boys about respect for Animalia, with mixed results), dandelion wishes and - last and very much least - the worst meal... ever. (Heh. Heh. Uhm... I wish I could say taht I had nothing to do with this one, but...)
The next day was spent at Cluny. Another lovely day which ended with yet another evening of food and wine and the chirping of millions of insects & hundreds of birds, the near-by neighing of horses, the distant moaning of cows...
Spent the next day traipsing through Couches and the villages and countryside around it. We found yet more fine wines chez Prost, and had a great time talking with the proprietor and his mother - and the village boys, too (without whom we never would have found the matriarch, without whom we never would have found her son, without whom we never would have tasted of the family's fine wines, without which... Well, you get the picture). Ellen and Donnie did some fine dining in town that evening, while the B Boys and I lounged and supped on leftovers (which were - against all odds - better than they were in their original state, the night before) at the cottage. Looks like there IS some rest for the wicked, after all!
On Thursday, after a lovely meal in St.-Romain-le-bas (which, despite its name, is very high, indeed. And which is preceeded on the windy, treacherous trail up the mountain by villages with names like Evill and Vasten (Ge'lost). And which can only be got to by traversing Evill twice, losing your way in Vasten thrice, then crossing oneself with a garlic butter loaf and saying, "J'adore vos lapins !" several hundred times with your eyes askew. But I digress. After that lovely, fine meal in St.-Romain-le-bas) we headed up the mountain to St.-Roman-le-plus-bas... nah, just kidding. We headed up the mountain to St.-Romain-le-haut and found a church well worth its while, a romantic path and a lovely viewpoint. Oh, and that's St. Hilarious. Just so's you know...
Later, we found... well, we all found something to love at the (I forget the name) museum. Please keep in mind that this museum is housed on the estate of an impressive (ahem!) château. And no, that isn't a Black Lightning, but it's the next best thing: a Black Shadow. Or a Blach Shadow, whatever trips your ignition. And Donnie had just called to Ellen: "You got a picture of this one?!" 
When we got home, we let Jean-Philippe relax his driving muscles, as the rest of us chased cats, kicked balls & made a delicious fish dinner...
Spent a nice, lazy day in Tournus on Friday. Don't let the lack of images deter you: it's well worth your while! We dropped in on Hubert Chavy on the way home (sort of), got a mouthful of wine, an earful about his Cialis prescription and his run-in with the cops onthe way back to the house after his doctor's appointment, and a look into father-and-son relations 'twixt Chavys. In other words: business as usual at the Chavy vinyards. We're addicted.
The gig was up the next morning. The boys were desperate not to leave "their" Couches* - but leave it we must. And so! We were off to Fresse, with a stop in a wee-tiny village that contained a large, crumbling castle that was inhabited by a grumpy castle keep who sicked her dog on us and told her to come back after the lunch hour! Needless to say, we decided to keep our 16 Euro entry fee to ourselves and picnic on the slopes with a view to the castle. A gorgeous place, despite Her Grumpiness. Here are my companions, shading themselves in front of the dovecote.
And here we all are, on our perches at the guesthouse in Fresse, enjoying a few moments of "quiet time" (after a not-at-all quiet, entirely frustrating, unsuccessful attempt to get the boys to take a much-needed nap...).
The road back to Strasbourg on Sunday led us to the foot of the mountain upon which sits our beloved, organic Entzheim inn. The food wasn't quite up to par this time around, but the weather was with us, the drinks were fine and the view was magnificent. We sat, idly eating, sipping and chatting, for three or four hours before heading back up the road to Strasbourg.
A tempest was brewing in the north as we made our way down the mountain to our car and out on the open road, but we made it back just in time. Well... more or less. Jean-Philippe got caught in the lashing rain as he walked back from dropping the car off a couple of blocks away. He dried off and watched the boys that night as the other three of us went out and got the tarte flambée we'd been wishing for as a Farewell Dinner. Not one of the Best of, but worth the refreshing walk and the good talk.And then... it was 6am, and time for Ellen, Donnie & Sheldon to head back to the Lufthansa bus stop. Snif!
It was understandably hard for the boys to understand that Ellen & Donnie wouldn't be able to just pop over and hang out with us for a while. For instance, the following scene, which took place that Monday at around 11am:
(Doorbell rings, boys jump up, laughing with glee, and dash for the door.) "YAY! ELLEN AN' DONNIE! ELLEN AN' DONNIE COME OVER!" After having rung the postwoman in and put the intercom receiver back down, I turned to them and began explaining: "No, boys, it's not Ellen and Donnie. They left early this morning to go to (their) home, but we'll be seeing them again soon. In fact, we're planning on seeing Ellen and the baby at Christmas!" After a few more, similar sentences were exchanged between us, there was a pause, an arched eyebrow... and then, "An' Donnie, too?" "Well, probably not this Christmas. He's starting a business, and it'll be hard for him to get away that soon. But we'll see him as soon as we can, we promise!" A look of shock and disbelief followed, and then a shout "NO! I SEE DONNIE, TOO!" The other one chimed in, "AN' ME, TOO!" Snif! again...
In other words: we're already looking forward to the next time!
And for those of you who haven't seen her, yet: Ellen wears her pregnancy like a field of flowers wears its butterflies. Lucky baby, to have those two as its lovin' parents...!
* Euh... for the French speakers among you, I feel compelled to add that after leaving Couches, we drove through Change to get to F(r)esse. There was many's the snort over that one.
