Trip of a Lifetime-Day 2

Our bus for France- heading to St. Affrique

Just one night in Toulouse and we had to get on the bus. It was early and we were tired but we had to get to St. Affrique, check in at the hotel, rehearse and then get to the village of Le Truel for a 9PM concert. This was our first meeting of Jose the bus driver. He spoke only Castillion Spanish. His abilities in English amounted to the word "no".

French countryside in Tarn and Avyron

The drive out of Toulouse was on a major highway until we got to Albi. There a right turn into rural France. Some of the most beautiful areas that echoed our California rural areas when there is sufficient rain! Lots of small farm plots, no huge acreage covered in one crop as we do here. We found out that the French do not import food so everything you eat is grown close to home.

climbing into the Mid-Pyrenees

Lark at the WC

We finally had to stop at a small village for a "short" break. In Vocal Arts there are no "short" breaks. The public WC (bathroom) must be located and used by 40+ people. There must be a source of libation and consumables. And short exploration must happen.
But first, the WC.

European squat toilet

To be fair, this is the only one I saw on the entire trip. But after relief comes the exploration.

 And a wonderful discovery.

Bastille Day

A tiny village shows up to pay homage to its past and those that died in defense of there country.

Every town and village that we visited had a memorial to those that died in WWI and WWII.

Then it was back on the road. More gorgeous landscapes and isolated houses.

And finally St. Affrique where we rehearsed in their church,

 

and explored,

and eat

Chicken tetrazzini

Jessica

salmon quiche and fresh salad

This was an amazing restaurant. Called Terres du Sud, it is the dream of a woman and her partner. He asked me not to print their names or their pictures to Facebook but asked that I show the food. You can find them on Trip Advisor.  They spoke no English and we spoke little French (Melodie was trying to remember her college French!) But the language of food was sufficient. I had purchased some yarn and left it in its bag by the table. The next day (yes, I am getting ahead of myself) we went back and she had saved it for me!


And then we are off to sing. I was a bit brain dead and forgot to take my phone so you are stuck with my descriptions. The village was Le Truel. Look it up on Google maps and use the street view. Getting there was a real adventure. Jose managed to get that bus down a steep road that makes Tioga Pass seem tame. But he couldn't get us very far into town. The roads were too narrow for a bus.

But the festival organizers were right there leading Jose to a parking lot by a town hall. In the hall, where we would eventually change into our uniforms, were festival staff with bottles and bottles of COLD water. The heat was really bad and we were sweating buckets so hydration was of chief concern.

The concert was scheduled for nine in the evening. So about 7:30 we change and head up to the church. Up a flight of stairs, down a narrow road and the church appears. It is overlooking the river and valley below and is exquisite. Made of stone in ages past it has a natural reverberation that was perfect for the songs we would sing.

To be honest, I didn't expect much of an audience. I was wrong.

The church was full to capacity. These people wanted to hear us. And we gave them a great concert. And they gave us a standing ovation! They stayed afterwards and communicated that they were emotionally affected by our music. They kept describing "goosebumps". They called it "chicken skin"!

Afterwards, their festival committee feed us pizza, smoked meats, cheeses, salads, bread, and deserts. And we sang for them. So much fun and such friendly, outgoing people. We were stunned and humbled.

Then it was back the hotel. I use that term VERY loosely. It was a converted dorm. Without air conditioning or fans. The tiniest of bathrooms (if you bent over in the shower you shut off the water!). Linoleum floors. Oh, and a nice patch of mold in the bathroom.

But it had a pool. Thank whatever.

In that pool, three of our bathing beauties performed Ode to a Grecian Urn. Marvelous!

But again, I get ahead of myself. That was on day 3.
 

Trip of a Lifetime- Day 1

It began with a bus trip. Relaxed but very excited. I have promised to keep the identity of this person a secret. (yeah, right, John!) Our destination was LAX and a flight to London, England and then on to Toulouse, France. We left SLO at 1PM on July 12, 2014. Our destination would be reached at 11:30 PM the next day (with a difference of 9 hours!)

But first you must always wait.

Our fearless leader, Gary Lamprecht

Waiting

And then we got a look at the aircraft. Holy whatever!!!! Please note the scale of the next picture and ask yourself the question I asked.....How does that thing FLY?

British Airways Airbus 380 (I think)

I never took a picture inside this behemoth because, well, we were in the sardine section at the back of the plane. Getting up required certain gymnastic skills. I slept very little on this flight. Excitement, adrenaline or maybe all the coffee I drank while waiting......Ya think???

Gotta tell you that airplane food on British Airways is pretty good. As a vegetarian I got my food first. Couscous and eggplant, peaches in cherry sauce, fresh apples, and other goodies. 

A four hour layover at London's Heathrow Airport resulted in more food, a chance to talk to everyone and a little window shopping.

Then two hours after we boarded the plane to Toulouse, France, we were there. I was lucky to have a window seat and watched the fireworks from towns and villages celebrating Bastille Day. Really beautiful.

Our hotel was almost ready for us. A bunch of tired, excited Americans who were met my members of our choir who had arrived before us. The wine began to flow. Our next day would begin with a bus ride to St. Affrique. I think we all headed for bed and a little, well earned, nap.

Waiting for our room assignments

Mercure Hotel in Toulouse

Just for continuity I should mention that Melodie was "in charge" of wrangling. Her duties included making sure all parties had the necessary information to get from point A to point B. She deserves a Congressional Medal of Honor. At LAX it quickly became evident that even with proper instruction.....well, let's just say some of our people could be easily distracted.........

Day 2 to come soon.

Rearranging........

I got a new loom.

It is beautiful.

But where I thought is would go wasn't going to work. Seems you have to put the threads on the loom in order to weave!

So...

The call went out to the kids. They picked up my curved oak desk from the lonely storage place where it had been residing for a couple of years.

In pieces. And probably feeling like Puff when Jack Paper came no more....

They delivered it this morning so the rearranging had to start.

Two tables left for the used furniture heaven (Goodwill). LOTS of STUFF went to the shed. (More may have to go!)

I put together the desk (Yea! ME!) (ok, spouse had to show me the ins and outs of a ratchet.)

Then things had to move.

Cat trees--in the bedroom (where the freaked out cats had taken residence UNDER the bed)
Cat food table--in the hallway.
Yarn and sewing boxes---on the bed
Cat boxes--to the bathrooms (wish they really fit there....)

And the rest moved in a circle. Desk to the left, matching drawer sets, to the left, loom to the left. and left and left and left.

But some 4 hours later....

A workable work space. OK, its for net surfing and associated games and things. Note the cat trees in opposite corners. Territory maintained!

A workable weaving space. Easy to get to the parts that I need to get to.

And a WORKABLE cat space. (All of their accoutrements must be higher than dog. She likes cat food, too.)

I am thinking of putting up some shelving for the knickknacks that I had on the other furniture.

It is a work in progress but I least the cats aren't fighting......

Besides, I have to get to weaving!

Them's Fightin' Words

There are two words that, after almost 23 years of marriage, tell the other person that they are getting close to reoccurring, offending behavior. 

1. Screwdrivers---This comes for either being overly helpful or from deep seated control issues. It arose when one spouse was putting together a piece of furniture using the aforementioned tool and the other, without verbal communication, took said tool from first spouse.

Subsequent discussion was, well, a little on the warm side of the stove.......

I give this no gender assignments but I don't think it takes a rocket scientist or a carpenter to figure that one out. 

2. Checkbook---This comes from a road trip to Las Vegas. I admit to being the offending party.

You see, I was never good at arithmetic. I did really well in algebra and geometry. I can add, multiply, divide and work out equations. But ask me to subtract...... I really don't know what happens to my brain.

So on this road trip, spouse is driving. I am requested to figure the balance in the checkbook as the last several checks have not been eliminated from the balance.

I take the checkbook and, in short order, give the total. I am, of course, quite pleased with myself.

Spouse, in a tone of astonishment, says, "That is NOT possible."

I insist that I am correct. I have done the arithmetic several times. Discussion ensues.

Spouse, not so quietly, explains that the balance was SIGNIFICANTLY less BEFORE I eliminated the checks from the balance.

I had added the checks into the balance as opposed to subtracting them. I did it three times in a row. (I was checking my work!)

Needless to say, this is a sore subject with me.

The advent of small calculators was a life saving event for me.

But those lovely instruments don't work if you don't feed them the right information.

So today, as I am beginning a new weaving project I added in the stuff I was suppose to subtract. The project DOUBLED in size.

The lovely scarf I was going to make is now going to be dishtowels.

At least it is cotton. That can absorb water.

All I could think about was "checkbook".

Spouse knows better than to say the offending word, but I hear him mumbling something.......

What Have I Become??!!

As I have said before, and I now say again, I was not meant to be domesticated.

In school I was always the competitive, athletic tomboy.

I played baseball and football and basketball.

But custom dictated ( through my parents) that I wear dresses and skirts.

I learned how to cook fancy meals (but couldn't make pancakes or mash potatoes).

I REFUSED to admit that I could type.

I REFUSED to admit that I knew how to clean a bathroom.

I REFUSED to admit that I could cook ANYTHING.

I wasn't that kind of girl.

I was headstrong, determined, and I was gonna be just like the boys. PERIOD.

Eventually, I became a lawyer and played in the big-boy courts. I had other people clean my house. I ordered a LOT of pizza and Chinese food. I even (at one point) sent out the laundry! I was just as busy and harried and impatient as the big boys.

Then I quit.

And something has been happening.

Take today.

The KIDS were coming for dinner.

So I got up and made home-made Cheez-its. And clam dip. 

While waiting for the home-made Cheez-its to finish baking, I made the salad and the meatballs. I warmed (very slowly) the spaghetti sauce. I made sure the lemon pie was perfect. Then I made the garlic bread. I set the table with place mats and napkins.

And while I had a minute or two between those chores, I finished Melvin's scarf.

 
 Oh, I typed out this little missive.

WHAT HAVE I BECOME???!!!!!

Yeah, I'm happy.

Harley Boos and the Mueller Dogs

LadyBug, Zelda and Mohawk

When we moved to the Central Coast we had a plethora of pets. The dogs (Mohawk, LadyBug and Zelda) and the cats (Diamond, Putter and TeezaButts) had always had a great vet in Bakersfield. Dr. Lohr was amazing with them all (and their predecessors).

But we didn't know any vets here. And I am pretty picky about vets.

The first week we were in our new home, we had a fence contractor come to put up the necessary dog fence. He did a fabulous job, didn't charge us an arm and a leg AND he raised dachshunds. Miniature dachshunds! And he brought them with him. They stayed in his truck and you wouldn't know they were there except one peeked out the window as I walked by.

I asked about the dogs. (Geez, they were cute!) In that conversation I asked who his vet was.

His answer was (and I quote) "I wouldn't take my dogs to anyone but Harley Boos."

The first time I walked into the Arroyo Grande Pet Clinic I had three dogs in tow. All three were somewhat traumatized by being in a new place. And the staff at that place made them comfortable. They were quick, efficient and in love with every animal that walked into the place.

And then there was Harley.

This big, burly man with the gentlest hands and kindest voice.

We were sold.

He helped us keep TeezaButts alive and happy long past her life expectancy range.

Of all the times that we had to go to his place, only one was sad. But it tells the story of why we now drive 45 minutes to the vet.

We had just moved to the mountain. LadyBug and Mohawk had just turned 16. LadyBug had suffered at least two strokes that Harley and his team had helped her through. And she suffered another.

I came home around 5pm and the spouse was in tears. LadyBug was curled up in her little bed and Mohawk was beside her. He had lost the use of his back legs. (A hip condition that we had been treating but was not responding to that treatment) It was obvious that it was time.

At 5:30 I called Harley's place. They closed at 6. We weren't going to make it and the coming night was going to be painful for the dogs and us. I told them it would take us 45 minutes to get there and maybe a bit longer.

They waited. The vet, the ENTIRE staff waited for us to get there.

And together we said good by to Mohawk and LadyBug.

They had come into the world 10 days apart. From the age of 8 weeks they had been together.

Harley and his people respected that.

So today when Zelda needed attention, it was a no brainer.

We see one of the other doctors now but he is as gentle and caring as Harley.

That is why we go there. That is why we will continue to go there.

(Oh, they sent Zelda a birthday card on November 15. She turned 14)

On Flu season and Hobbies

I am sick.

Started out as a chest cold. Hacking an hewing my way through a day. Noticing that breathing is really a nice thing.

This will be over soon. I said to myself on day 1.

On Day 2.

On Day 3.

We are now on Day 6.

And today my skin starts to hurt and my joints ache.

Now I am a bit confused.

Is this getting better or getting worse?

I live in the middle of nowhere. Literally. (I use the term correctly. You would agree if you were here!)

We live at the last electric pole on this grid. That qualifies.

My point is that there is no one from whom I can get the flu!

Now it is true that THE KID has been hacking and hewing. Longer than me. So have some of our singers in VAE. But none had the flu! None have reported flu symptoms.

My guess is that Zelda is so pissed about her haircut that she had it flown in by carrier pidgeon!

Yes she looks like a sheep.

But that is another whole story and I digress.

I now feel like a fluey person that is getting better.

BUT.......

There has been a brighter side to this physical decrepitude.

I have been weaving. My new love.

I could do that while I hacked and hewed and even when I ached. (OK, it wasn't as bad as the flu I had in North Dakota in a73-74. But I digress again) 

Today I finished the project that was on the loom. It is a scarf. (I am still into scarves until I learn a few more tricks of the trade!)

And here it is.

Yeah, being sick is a bummer. Unless you weave!