August dissapeared at 12 am and with it, my life in Minneapolis. Mollans, France took its place. Now, I'll get Minneapolis back but August 2009 is gone for good. Another reminder to spend some time each day, reflecting on the moment, the surroundings and, most importantly, the friends that surround us.
The week before I left for France was packed with events. My bookgroup of 30 plus years met on Tuesday. Glen, my husband, turned 63 on Wednesday and I, in characteristic fashion, wasn't home to cebebrate--teaching instead. We saw a play to celebrate said birthday on Thursday, and I turned in 13 recipes for two different projects by the end of the week. Saturday, I squeezed in Julie and Julia, which I'll return to in a later blog, went to a neighbors to celebrate her 66 birthday, and took off for France on Sunday evening, after finally packing my suticase that morning.
Along with packing, there was the usual blizzard of e-mails, bill paying and bill collecting--yet another subject for a later blog--and, of course, the cleaning of the refrigetator and the harvesting of basil. It's been cold in Minnesota and I knew my basil wouldn't make it until I returned so I also harvested and froze that crop on Sunday between packing and closing up the kitchen. Glen doesn't cook so there's no point in leaving anything for him in the fridge. It's just there waiting for me, fuzzy as a fleece, when I get back.
And then I was at the airport.
I've had excellent plane karma lately. I checked in, walked away from the counter, and looked down at my boarding pass to find out my gate number. Then I noticed my seat--4E. How did that happen? I certainly don't have the budget to fly to France first class. I wasn't asking question but did a little celebration skip and headed for the plane. Once at my gate, I found out what the deal was. Evidently, the flight was overbooked and so, at least I'm assuming, because I'm an elite flyer, I got bumped into first class to make room for someone else in steerage. Bliss.
Eight hours of flying time later, I arrived at CDG--Paris's international airport--and headed for the train station in an adjacent terminal. I got on the high speed TGV and sped my way to Avignon where my good friends, Steve and Jo, picked me up, took me to my car and, voila, by 4:30 French time, I was home again.
Last night I headed for pizza Monday, a verre or two of wine at the Bar du Pont, and a reunion with lots of friends. Perfection. The weather and turnout were grand, I met folks visiting from England, and had a fine, bi-lingual time before turning in to bed.
When I woke up it was September and my fall stay in Mollans had officially begun.
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1 comment:
I am glad to be introduced to your blog. You have a comfortable writing style and an amusing life to write about. I look forward to occasional returns to earlier blogs to catch up on spring and summer.
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