I am home. Sans baggage (my suitcase decided to take a Swiss Air flight home instead of the one we were on); but home.

Coming home after ten days away is a little unsettling. You have to jump back into to all your old routines, the ones that you totally abandoned while gone. Like cooking for yourself and cleaning up afterwards. Taking care of the dogs and cats. Speaking English again while my head is still whirling with long forgotten French words and phrases. It will take a few days to recalibrate I think. My body is here but my brain is in France.

As I type this entry I have started the long process of transferring the 500-odd photos I took from Rick’s laptop to my computer. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with all 500+ of them! So, photos are coming.

Can anyone tell me why after eating more than I normally do and lots and lots of bread that I actually lost the last two stubborn pounds I could not get off before I left? I could not believe my eyes this morning when I stepped on the scale!

Rick and I both reconnected with the French people and France itself in a big way. We did not feel foreign at all. As we found our old house and the medieval village where we used to live and finding some things changed but most things not, it was very bittersweet. Also reconnecting with friends Greg and Danièle who we had not seen since they had a short working stint in the U. S. in 1996 was wonderful. Maybe even a plan down the road to meet them in Normandy and share a vacation.

Our French came back quickly, which was a good thing. In fact, I think it was even better than when we had lived there! We tried to do everything in French, but at times it was easier to switch to English when it was obvious they were just as comfortable speaking English with us once we had started in French. Restaurant speak and little daily things are easy. The things we can’t do are banter back and forth, tease and joke; all of which are part of the way the French communicate with each other. But it felt good to be understood and to also understand and even translate for the the guys that were there for the training from other countries. Sometimes my French was too good and the answer to the question I had asked came rushing forth in a torrent of French far too fast and complicated for my brain to take in. It felt good and very satisfying.

France is very special. I get it; it gets me. I could live there (again). There is just something about it that’s hard to explain, but it has to do with the people themselves and what is important to them, the way they live, their connection to the food that nourishes them, the beautiful countryside and more that all work together to form a very pleasing whole.

I mean, really. Where else could you go to have a 7 course four-and-a-half hour Sunday lunch of absolutely wonderful food looking out on the beautiful Rhône river amongst the vineyards of the Côte-Rôtie?

More to follow ...

Help!

I am having a going-on-vacation crisis. It’s been more years than I like to admit since I’ve been back to Europe since living there. The whole volcano-ash plume-travel crisis lulled me into denial that I was really going to go. I shopped. I bought new clothes. However, the clothes I bought are for warmer weather than what is predicted in either Ireland or France. Some of the things are really stylish and I can’t wait to wear them. Bummer.

Okay, I’ll back up a bit. We are scheduled to leave on Sunday for a business/pleasure vacation. First we fly to Dublin, Ireland for two days then on to Lyon, France for five days. Day one in Ireland consists of lots of jet lag and our “free” day. We arrive at the ungodly hour of 6:55 a.m. Can’t check into the hotel to freshen up until afternoon. So, the clothes I choose to fly in are the clothes I will stay in for the better part of the day. Plans include a tour of the Guinness brewery and who knows what else. Day two has Rick working all day and me on my own. I am thinking a bus tour of Dublin is in order. Or then again maybe I’ll just roam the streets with my camera.

When we lived in Europe and I would go with Rick on business trips to strange cities I always took advantage of the tours offered by the hotel, or if comfortable I would find my own way around by mass transit. This got me into trouble more than once. In London I decided to go to this place to do brass rubbings and stupidly put my purse on the floor next to me. I was so involved with rubbing out the Black Prince that I didn’t realize my purse was gone until hours later. I think that time I had fortunately left my passport at the hotel but everything else was gone. I still have the rubbing of the Black Prince but not the things in my purse at the time. The rubbing is amazing and I did a woman too but never got around to framing them. They are huge things!

But, I am digressing once again and getting totally off track, wallowing in old memories.

Looking in my closet I see tired old clothes. Thinking of taking them on vacation with me is not inspiring. I really need a pair of new shoes too but yesterday’s trip into town didn’t yield anything. I now have two days left to bring some semblance of order to my packing strategy. I am in a panic. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s the truth. { Sigh }  I always do this before leaving on a vacation. When we go to the cabin it’s not as hard because all I need then are jeans, sturdy shoes for hiking and basically the things I always wear around the house. No crisis there.

But we’ll be going out to nice dinners, seeing the sights and I need to step it up a notch.

We’ll be staying in the heart of Vieux (old) Lyon in a very small and quaint hotel while in France. Lots of walking and lots of interesting things to photograph. We also plan to visit the beautiful old village of Crémieu where we used to live and look up our old house. It will also be nice to meet up with old friends for dinner at their house and catch up on each others’ lives. There is more than likely a trip into the Beaujolais wine region since it’s so close and the countryside is just gorgeous. Old stomping grounds indeed. We loved living there. It will be interesting to see if we feel “at home” or completely like foreigners.

That’s another source of panic. Will my limited French language skills return once there? Maybe; maybe not. I’m pretty rusty after so many years. You know what they say— if you don’t use it, you lose it. C’est dommage! See? Already I have put my mind to work on remembering phrases!

So, I am having a good strong talk with myself today. Stop worrying, Lynne! Take a critical look at all your clothes and pack something. Anything. Just go and have a great time for goodness sake!

The village of Crémieu as seen from our old house.

The big double-flowered cherry tree in neighbor Teri’s yard at the beginning of our street is now in full glorious bloom. I walked down the other day to get some photos of it.

On the way I found these two blooming trees growing wild in the woods. The white one is dogwood, but not sure what the pink blooming one is. It’s not obvious since it’s in a tangle with other trees.

Here is the tree from a distance. See how green everything is becoming?

I saw this nest tucked into the branches and thought it looked like a lovely place to build a home. Probably a robin.

I love the double flowers, whether lit by the sun or not.

The cats have been complaining that they hardly ever appear on my blog. I’ve decided to give them their day in the spotlight.

Sam has some unique and cute sleep habits.

His bunny paws pose.

He’s so big he just doesn’t fit sometimes and extra space is needed.

Two beds are always better than one.

Come to think of it, this dog bed is just the right size for me.

And, he’s been shopping at The Loft again.

The Pook (my inherited cat).

Pook gets curious.

Sharing. Sort of.

Of course sometimes the dogs are included in doing cute things. Like Hailey and eBay sharing a couch for naps.

Or eBay and Bella sharing the water bowls.

My next-door neighbor’s sheep gave birth to these adorable twin lambs on Thursday. Yesterday we went over to see them.

It’s all about black and white! I just love their markings! They seem to be a reverse of each other; both ewes.

Their mother is part Jacob and they bred her to a full Jacob ram.

Too cute! Right now their back legs are too long and have way too much power for their little bodies. It was fun to see them sprint around trying to control all that spring.

I love the white topknots. They look like little wigs placed on top of their heads!

A kiss for mom!

I got to hold this one. She snuffled my nose and let out a tiny baaaaaaa right in my face. She was so sweet to hold. I was amazed how tightly the hair was curled on her body. The little whorls of wool felt like tiny french knots.

Her other sheep, which is a sister to this one, has yet to lamb. It will be fun to see what her babies look like since they were bred to the same ram. They are afraid she might be having triplets since she is so large. You can be sure I’ll be paying a visit next door once the second big event happens.