Busy morning

Today is Josh's birthday. Happy Birthday, Josh! A handsome young (yes, still very young) man with beautiful babies and a gorgeous, smart wife.

The thing about living with indoor/outdoor cats is that you never know what you are going to find on the kitchen floor in the morning. Today it's a small dark creature with a pointed nose that I think is a vole. I've checked images on Google and I can't be certain, but I don't know what else it could be.

I know this was a special gift for me because it was carefully laid on the rug in front of the kitchen sink. I don't like to think of what could have happened if I'd come in the middle of the night for a drink of water.

I'm going to walk today! I've established a route. From here to Monce-en-Saosnois is 3 kilometers, so round trip I get 3.6 miles in.

Our home away from home is a busy place this morning, though. A neighbor just stopped by to ask about Joan and Bill. It's hard to explain how we get through these conversations, but we do, and although it's hardly a nuanced understanding, the two parties (us and them) seem to grasp the main ideas.

Bernie is very good with languages. He knows far less French than I do, yet he always seems to get the idea, and faster than I do. I'm wracking my brain for vocabulary and verb forms; he's putting it altogether with bits and pieces.

Now the Eisen man is here (think Schwann's). I'm still barefoot and wearing the hideous yoga pants I brought for walking which both Bernie and I now detest.

While the Eisen man is giving me his spiel the breadman arrives at the courtyard gate. Now, we do not want to miss the bread man. We've been gone two days and our last chunk could be used for a doorstop. A baguette a day is tres necessaire (can you tell we're falling into step with French living?) I can say that the emphasis on fresh bread every day gives me a new understanding of "Give us this day our daily bread."

So, saying, "Une minute, s'il vous plait," I take off to the gate. I have forgotten something important, however - I am still barefoot, and I know from stepping outside a few nights ago to look for meteors that our courtyard is paved with ground glass. I have never stepped on anything that hurt my feet so much.

As I step gingerly over the pavement, I know what's going through both these men's minds: Crazy American!

I arrive at the bread van before he leaves (he's been known to honk that European horn as he sails by the house without stopping), only to have him point out to me that I have no shoes. What a faux pas!

The Eisen man gives up on me when I return to the door clutching the baguette. He just hands me his monthly flier and I assure him I'll give it to Joan. Yeah, it looks a lot like the Market Day flyer from our grandkids' school, and probably much like the Schwann man's.

We're taking it easy today. Once I've walked, gotten cleaned up, picked stuff for salad from the garden, we spread our maps and brochures on our "planning table" aka Bill and Joan's coffee table. We're planning tomorrow's excursion to the old medieval city of Le Mans (who knew it was something other than a big ole racetrack?).