will WE play in Peoria?

Boy, do I hurt today!

I wish grown up ski lessons could be as cool as the lessons for little kids.

Today was Kaitlyn’s first day at ski school. She put on her yellow ski boots and her skis with penguins on them (the guy at the ski shop showed them to her and said “happy feet”) and she was off for two hours at the piou piou club. The kids “ski” around an obstacle course of sorts. They learn how to ride on a conveyor belt with their skis (there’s a big one at the ski resort, plus at least one as you get onto a lift)… then they ski under two hoops (Kaitlyn called them rainbows), down a tiny slope, around some cones and back onto the conveyor. (you can see a picture on their website http://www.esf-chamrousse.com.fr/en/pitchouns.htm) Yesterday, Kaitlyn couldn’t stand up on her skis when we took her out on our own. After two hours at the piou piou club, she was maneuvering the course with a fair amount of skill. Ok, maybe not skill. Competence?

We didn’t stay to watch the whole time, we were afraid we’d be a distraction. Two hours seemed like enough time to get in a little skiing for ourselves. We bought the passes for the “mini-domain,” not knowing what lifts that let us onto. (yes, we had a map) Then we went and rented skis and boots. Embarrassing? Thankfully, giving your weight in kilograms at least sounds like you don’t weigh much. I put on the horrid purple Barney ski pants and we were off. First, I had to make my way up a hill to get on the conveyor belt that Kaitlyn had already mastered by then. That dumped us off about a third of the way down a slope of unknown intensity. I snow plowed my way down to a lift which went to an unknown destination. Bill figured what the heck, we should be around all lifts that lead to green (easy) runs.

The lift tickets at Chamrousse were new to me. You put the ticket in your pocket and at the entrance to each lift you pass by some kind of reader. Your ticket is good, the turnstile lets you through. Wrong lift, no turny. That lift, no turny. So we backed our way out, past the other skiers with the right kind of ticket and kept skiing down the hill. We found another lift and figured if IT didn’t take us back up the mountain, we’d have to walk, because we were at the bottom. This time, it worked. And for this lift, you get on a conveyor then the seat comes up behind you as the conveyor is carrying you toward an edge… scary. And, dang, that lift was high up in the air. Yes, I know that’s how lifts work. It’s been a while since I’ve been on one.

At the top, I managed to get off the lift without falling, which made my entire day on the mountain a huge success. Bill stopped to check out the map, then I followed him. Now not too far along, I noticed big blue circles on the trees. I tried to tell him, but he was so far ahead of me he didn’t hear me. Not like I was going to turn around at that point anyway. I figured I had to be wrong, those couldn’t possibly have been blue dots indicating an intermediate run. So, not having a choice anyway, I kept going. I made it all the way without falling. That’s not to say I made it with a great deal of style or grace. There was a lot of arm waving and snow plowing. Bill kindly said I did better than he thought I would. I guess that was a compliment. At the time, on the mountain, I took it to be one.

Once we finished that run, Bill checked his map to see where we needed to go to get back to Kaitlyn’s ski school. That was when he realized, I’d just come down an intermediate slope. (So I’m not entirely crazy – those were blue dots on the trees!) He agreed, next time down he’d make sure we were on a green run.

The green run wasn’t really so very easy, if you ask me. The trouble started getting off the lift, when I tried to avoid the woman ahead of us who’d fallen and, as a result, I fell. Then at one point on the slope, I got myself turned around and was about to head down the mountain backwards when I discovered that if you try really, really hard you can snowplow in reverse. Just after getting myself pointed in the right direction, I head someone yelling my name. Another ISE family was passing overhead on the lift. What are the chances? (I’m told, pretty good, actually)

We made it to the bottom with enough time to watch the end of Kaitlyn’s class. She was doing better than I was, maneuvering the obstacle course like a little pro. She told us she had a good time. She sure looked like it.

After stopping for lunch at the lodge, I told Bill to ski some more on his own, so he wouldn’t have to wait for me. Kaitlyn and I puttered around for a while on her skis, then she decided she really wanted to join the other kids sledding. Right there outside the lodge, kids drag their sleds up the bottom of the slope and ride down. We hadn’t brought Kaitlyn’s sled. So I forked over 3, 50 for a pink sled that looks like a big shovel with a short handle. Sit on it, and slide down the hill. Maybe head over heels, but you slide nonetheless. Kaitlyn loved that, too, although after a while she was so tired she couldn’t even carry that little thing up the little hill. Bill skied three more runs. He looked so happy. When we met one of the first things he told me was that he loves to ski – and we have never been.

I get the feeling, we’re going to be back at Chamrousse a lot this year. I know we’ll be back next weekend… for Kaitlyn’s triumphant return to piou piou. And my lesson. After skiing with me, Bill immediately signed me up for lessons. It’s all ok with me. I had a great time. Yea, I need to get some pants so I don’t have to fight the urge to sing “I love you…” in my purple pants. But standing there I realized why my brother bought a condo at Mammoth Mountain in California. And I think he should expect us to visit.

            Yesterday, I did not go to the grocery store to restock my shelves because I figured the whole world would be there after the holiday. This morning, my cupboard looked like Old Mother Hubbard’s. I knew I could not avoid it any longer, even though it meant probably not making it to meet up with one of Kaitlyn’s friends to go sledding.

            I was half right that the whole world would be at Carrefour yesterday. It looked like half went, and half had the same thought I did. So half the world was at Carrefour today. I’ve decided that no one in France actually works, they all spend their days at Carrefour… abandoning carts in front of whatever it is I need, jamming aisle ways, refusing to move. I hate it. I wish the lady at the Petite Casino wasn’t so mean; it would make me more prone to spend my money in her shop. The butcher in town only takes cash, but I think I’m going to start carrying enough!

            His store is not anywhere near as scary as the whole meat area in Carrefour. An area Kaitlyn was fascinated by today. She’ll probably be less interested in all of Rome than she was in that stretch of store.

            I thought I might buy a whole chicken or turkey to stuff with potatoes, until I saw them. I forgot just what a poor job they do here of plucking their poultry. If I’d gotten past that, I hadn’t even contemplated what might be lurking inside. I know that a Butterball has a nice little package of gizzards inside. Reach in quickly, pull out, toss out. You hardly even have to look at them, let alone think about your dinner’s body parts. Here, well, I just don’t think I’ll ever find out. And I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t accidentally get home to discover buying a bird with its head still on.. just tucked underneath. I’ve seen them like that. Not something I want to eat.

            Next to the chickens in the display case are a bunch of little birds. I didn’t look too close. They’re about the size of a robin. I read in some French culture book that some kind of songbird is a delicacy, and it’s eaten bones and all. Crunchy. It’s illegal, so that isn’t what was at Carrefour (probably) but I didn’t stop to make note of the label.

            On to the red meat section. I’m so terrified of accidentally buying horse meat. I swear they do not put what kind of red meat you’re buying on the label. That has me scared enough that I actually speak to the butcher-guy so that I can say the word BOEUF. In between the beef and the veal is agneau. Lamb. Today, Mary must be distraught. There was a little lamb on display in the case. Whole thing. Only thing missing was its fur and its head (the neck just had some foil over it). Kaitlyn loved it. Thought it was funny. Thought it looked like a dog sitting up. I thought looked like something unnatural. One’s food should not wave at it.

(This is not to say I only feel this way here. At Morton’s Steakhouse in the U.S. They don’t have a menu, they just wheel cuts of meat around on a cart and you point at what you want. Want lobster? You point at the crustation on a platter, clanking around desperate to get away. I ate there once with my dad in San Francisco. He told the waiter to leave the live meals off the cart, so I could order one without staring at it. Then just as I was about to crack into mine, he wheeled a clanking lobster up to the table behind us. I still ate mine, but I had to wait for his friend to leave)

            I feel safe cruising the pre-packaged meats for pork chops. It’s called porc. And I know what a chop looks like…. or should look like. While I hunted around (they’re constantly rearranging that place) Kaitlyn made me leave the cart where she could see in the big window to the room where scores of butchers cut meat. She is one odd little kid sometimes.

            In the dairy area, a woman stopped me and was obviously asking me some kind of question about Kaitlyn. I had to fall back on my old stand-by line “je ne comprende pas.” She smiled and tried again. I finally got it. She had stopped me to mock the mimi! She wanted to know if Kaitlyn sucks in a lot of air with that thing. Kaitlyn wanted to know what the lady wanted. I told her she asked me if Kaitlyn fills up like a balloon with air from the mimi. The woman laughed and nodded her head. She understood me. Good thing I didn’t say “that stupid lady… blah blah…”

            All that moseying around the meat… plus the shoe aisle… along with being harassed… meant we didn’t make it back in time to join up with the sledding. It’s just as well. Apparently the road to Chamrousse was covered with ice. The police were making you put chains on your tires (I have the chains, don’t know that I could put them on) or they were making you turn around and go back down the mountain. We played in what little bit of snow was left in our yard. The sun was doing a pretty good job of melting it today.

I have a new theory about why bed time at our house is like a “before” scene out of Super Nanny. Kaitlyn is too tired by the time we put her to bed. She may have tricked me into thinking she is a night owl, but, honestly, a three year old and a 39 year old should not regularly be going to bed at the same time.

Last night, I finally gave up on her at 11:25 and went to sleep in my bed. (generally, one of us falls asleep in her bed with her) I don’t know what time she went to sleep. But I know when I woke her up at 8 this morning, she was not too happy about it. I pulled her out of bed and tried to make her stand up, so she lay down on the floor. I had to practically drag her out into the hallway where she could see the snow falling outside. That perked her up enough to get dressed. But she was too tired to eat breakfast. (that is tired)

Nap time goes fine. Today, my French teacher arrived just as Kaitlyn and I were walking upstairs so she could get into bed. She said hello to him, went upstairs, got in bed, asked me to read Green Eggs and Ham, agreed to a delayed reading and went to sleep for the duration of my two hour lesson. It’s been fairly smooth like that since she started going to school full time… I think because at school they nap every day at 1:30 after lunch and the routine is good for her.

So I came to the realization that the same will likely apply at night.

Tonight, I didn’t wait for Bill to come home from work. I fed her. I gave her a bath. When he got home, she got out of the tub and put on her Strawberry Shortcake bathrobe. She came downstairs to sit with her Daddy while he and I ate our dinners. Naturally, Kaitlyn wanted some. Ok. I gave her my plate, figuring she wouldn’t really eat it. After a few minutes, she asked for fish sticks. I asked if she was finished with my dinner, she said yes. I asked if I could eat it, she said yes. The minute I took the last bite, she broke down in tears about how Mommy had taken her food and eaten it! Like Goldilocks – only in person! It was 8:30. And it struck me – I think that is the time every night that Kaitlyn transforms from pleasant, laughing little girl into moody, unpredictable, crank. (like some people I used to work with. I’ve withheld their names to protect the innocent.)

Bill tried to calm her down by offering to make more. Then he tried to get her to settle down by sitting with him on the couch and watching tv. She wanted to watch her latest “favorite” movie – Meet Me in St. Louis. Completely random movie for a three year old to want, although she’s been asking for it all day. Anyway, watching the movie was not restful. When she wasn’t jumping around dancing and being told to sit down, Kaitlyn was asking a zillion questions about her favorite movie. (What are they doing? Where are they going? Why is she crying? Why is she singing? Can I have a dress like that?) Not peaceful. Thankfully, Bill started the movie toward the end and when it was over, so was Kaitlyn’s day. We hoped.

9:15pm, she was in bed. At 9:45 I grew weary enough of her non-stop screaming “I want my daddy!” and went in there. He’d apparently said he’d come back to check on her after tucking her in and when he didn’t return quickly enough (instantly) she got mad and started all that yelling. I told her her dollies cannot sleep with all that racket. I tucked her in and left her there – quiet. Five minutes later, she’s out of bed. Giggling. Like this is the funniest game anyone has ever come up with and she’s determined to represent her country in it at the Olympics. I tucked her back in. Barbie and Ariel were kissed goodnight and tucked in. And it’s been quiet since. Maybe 15 whole minutes now. I’m afraid to go check on her, in case she’s lying there awake just waiting on me so she can beg for something.

We’ll see how this experiment goes…. stay tuned to the next episode of Super Nanny to find out!

**BREAKING NEWS ALERT*** AT 10:35PM GMT+1, MOMENTS AFTER THIS WAS POSTED, THE OLYMPIC GIGGLER WAS BACK OUT OF BED REFUSING TO DOLE OUT GOOD NIGHT KISSES OR RETURN TO BED. BILL GOT HER TO LAY DOWN AND IS NOW TUCKING HIMSELF INTO HIS OWN BED. THIS COULD BE ANOTHER VERY LONG NIGHT.

**BREAKING NEWS ALERT UPDATE*** AT 10:45PM, KAITLYN GOT UP TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.  THEN SHE BEGGED ME TO LAY DOWN WITH HER.  SHOWED ME HOW SHE MADE ROOM FOR ME NEXT TO HER IN HER BED.  I GAVE IN, I WAS TIRED.  AT 11:15PM, I WAS AWAKENED WITH A START WHEN HER MIMI FELL FROM HER MOUTH AND HIT ME IN THE FACE.  SHE WAS ASLEEP.

We got our first snow at the house today. It didn’t really turn out to be more than a dusting, not really anything to write home about. (Although, here I am, writing home about it) It started as the heaviest sleet I’ve ever heard. I didn’t see it because it happened at around 2 am (which, I think, was about 25 minutes after Kaitlyn fell asleep… ok, not really, but it seemed like it) It was beating on the house loudly enough to wake me up, which is really saying something. When my alarm went off, I asked Bill if he’d heard it. Heard it? He got up and went downstairs to clear out the garage and move my car inside. So that’s not so bad. Before leaving for work, he rushed back upstairs to tell me it was snowing. It’s still pitch dark out at 6:45am so I had to take his word for it and wait for the sun.

            Once I could see it, the snow was coming down like crazy. For about a half hour, then it tapered off. Then it whipped back up. Then it stopped. Then it started to melt. Then it snowed like mad with flakes as big as Kaitlyn’s hands. Then it was back to a simple flurry. The weather played this taunting game until 5pm when the sun went down and I couldn’t watch anymore.

            I’d invited a friend of Kaitlyn’s to come over and play this morning, because Kaitlyn sorely misses the company of other three year olds while she’s on a school holiday. When her mom called, I warned her it was snowing up here. She wasn’t sure about making the drive up our road, and said she’d call if it was too treacherous. When she arrived, she told me the snow on our road started at the edge of our yard. Apparently, we’re just high enough on the mountain. As long as I can get off the mountain to go to Carrefour!

            After what felt like hours of finger paints and Play Doh, the lure of the snow was more than the two little girls could resist. We bundled up a bit with promises not to be cold and went out to play. As soon as you’d step on the snow, your footprint would reveal the grass. That’s how little there was. They were still determined to make a snowman. We made a snow lump. There wasn’t even enough to bother dragging out the sled to go down our little hill.

            I guess we’ll have to make the trip back up to the top of the mountain to see if there’s more snow at the ski resort. I have my tire chains in my car, just in case. Not that I could put them on even if I had to. I guess that trip will have to wait for the weekend when my chauffeur isn’t at work.

        I think it is safe to say that our new year’s resolution is not to spend less money. That’s not to say that we really have made any resolutions. I keep mentioning putting a treadmill in the spare room but Bill doesn’t even react to the idea… when I say it it’s as if I’ve said nothing at all.

        So, back to the spending.

        We’ve just returned from the trip to Colmar. We didn’t tally what we spent.

        We’ve just booked our hotel for Rome. The Albergo del Senato. (http://www.albergodelsenato.it) Great location. Looks fantastic. Rave reviews on tripadvisor.com (which steered us to the ideal hotel in Honolulu last summer) Cheap? Hardly. But that’s ok. We got the plane tickets cheap. Ok, pretty cheap. Add a couple of tours and lots of big plates of pasta accompanied by equally big glasses of red wine and, well, I’m not going to tally that up, either.

        Bill has found a train trip he wants to take. It’s the Glacier Express through Switzerland. Add that to the growing to-do (and to-spend) list.

        Then today, Bill said he thinks maybe we should take Kaitlyn to Disneyland Paris for her birthday. That would be fun. And how crowded could it be in January? We went to Disneyworld one January for Bill’s birthday and walked onto every ride. (Mind you, that was back when I was a castmember enjoying lovely discounts at the hotels and restaurants… not to mention having passes to the park) So while Kaitlyn napped, I jumped onto my friend the world wide web and checked it out. There are plenty of hotels there. Let’s see… there’s the Cinderella suite in the Disneyland Hotel…. a cool 2000 € or so a night. A NIGHT! I knew I wasn’t going to be able to afford that, but I had no idea that one actually needs a fairy godmother or a prince to pay for it. So I tried more normal rooms and got prices that are “total” for two nights, park passes and breakfast (not in that order) At the a regular room there… 900 € .. nope…. the NY Hotel complete with a replica of the ice skating rink at Rockefeller Center (and I do like to skate)… 800€ …. Yacht Club like the one where we stayed on our honeymoon…. 700€ … better… the lodge that might have some Chip and Dale kind of things that Kaitlyn would like 620€ . That’s the cheapest I can get, the budget hotels are booked. And I refuse to stay at the Davey Crocket glorified campsite. We can take the TGV (high speed train) from Grenoble to the stop at Disneyland. 400€ . Kaitlyn can get a special Mickey Mouse birthday cake. Although the park is only open till 8pm… is it worth it? I like vacations better when I don’t add them up.

        We’ve just returned from the top of the mountain where we took in some sun and winter sports, of sorts. While searching for a place to go ice skating in Grenoble (since we didn’t get to go in Colmar) I found that there’s a rink at Chamrousse. (check it out at chamrousse.com) Getting there wasn’t easy. Nothing ever is. Bill was determined not to be cold at the outdoor rink. He packed his ski pants, hat, gloves, Kaitlyn’s snow suit, hat, gloves, snacks, drinks, camera then told me to get my ski pants. (I don’t really have ski pants. I have an old pair of his that have been deemed mine, mostly, I think, because they are purple. Buying a pair, though, would mean a frustrating trip to Decathalon, so I’m yet to bother.)

        We got to the ice rink with just 20 minutes before closing for lunch. For us, that was perfect. That way we had a reason to force Kaitlyn off the ice before she wore herself out too much. Bill didn’t bother with skates, because you cannot carry a camera on skates. Kaitlyn and I were the ones hitting the ice. First, I had to figure out our shoe sizes for the skate rental. I think I did a pretty good job guessing Kaitlyn’s size. Mine, I looked in my shoes for the EU size. The skates still fit terribly. Rental skates never fit well and these blue plastic beauties were no exception. Note to self: if planning on skating much, buy a pair. I helped Kaitlyn hobble to the rink. Once on the ice I realized she is heavy! She was leaning all her weight against me with her hands so I was doing all the balancing for both of us. I tried skating backwards so I could see her. That didn’t work. I tried skating behind her. That didn’t work very well either. Kaitlyn spent a lot of time on the ice on her rear. Picking her up and getting her standing back on the skates was a serious challenge. I finally gave in and made my way to the wall so she could cling to that. Once the photo shoot was over, Bill walked along the outside of the wall holding one hand, and I skated holding the other. She did pretty well and was actually starting to get the hang of it. I think if we abandon the idea of capturing every moment in pixels, and both get on the ice with her, she’ll figure it out. She agreed to sit out a few minutes and rest her very tired ankles so that Mommy could skate a little bit. I forget how much I like ice skating. It’s like an actual activity I enjoy. I may even drive myself up there during the week and skate just for fun. Imagine that. Once our 20 minutes of thrills and spills it was time to take off those feet-pinching skates and move on.

        From the ice rink you can see one of the chair lifts and people riding up then gliding back down the mountain. Kaitlyn said that was what she wanted to do. No, not today, we have no skies and Mommy left her purple Barney pants on the table at home by mistake. We got in the car and drove to the other section of Chamrousse, the section where Bill had taken Kaitlyn sledding before. We drove by the little kid ski school – another activity Kaitlyn wants to do. I’m happy to have her do it, too. I asked her if she would mind that the lessons will be in French. She said, “non.” Now all I have to do is figure out how to sign her up. And rent her some skis.

        There isn’t much snow on the mountain right now. What is there is fairly icy. It’s cold enough for snow but there hasn’t been any precipitation. Today the car told us it was 5.5 degrees Celsius up there, which is a bit warm for snow. There’s enough for people to ski some of the runs (not all are open); there’s little enough to hike around. I saw an old lady trekking up the hill carrying her purse like Sophia Patrillo.

        There was enough snow to sled, although it’s packed down pretty hard. Since I have a tendency to go flying out of the sled, I prefer new, soft snow. So I let Bill be the sledding companion. The one time I was designated starting gate, I let Kaitlyn go and accidentally sent her right for a ramp that some older sledders had apparently made out of snow so that they could get airborne. Kaitlyn can’t steer and I couldn’t stop her, so she made the jump. It was successful, but that was my last time sending her down the hill.

        I love watching Kaitlyn fly down the hill in her little pink sled. (when she isn’t headed toward a ramp) She squeals with delight the entire way down. As soon as she gets to the bottom she says “Again! Again!” I think Bill had a good time, too.

        There’s a snack bar on the mountain, situated toward the end of a ski run and at the top of where the sledders ride. Kaitlyn wanted to eat there, so we did. It was right in the sun, warm enough to sit outside. We had no idea how or where to order. Finally a waitress came and, I think, asked us if we knew what we wanted. When Bill tried ordering food she told us she just gets drinks, that we needed to go inside. She told us mostly in French, but we figured it out. Not even thinking about what I was doing, I volunteered to be the one to go in. Kaitlyn naturally wanted to go, too. I had no idea I wouldn’t be able to figure it out. But there I was, holding a tray and unable to decipher where one places his order. Finally the people who’d been milling around the cashier left (I didn’t even see that she was the cashier until they walked away). I went to her and told her what I wanted then she walked up to a little window and hollered in the order. I am still not sure if that was the way it was supposed to go, but it worked. Sitting outside had seemed like a good idea at first, but once we had the food the wind kicked up and it got a bit chilly. The fries turned to sticks of ice quickly. I desperately wanted that waitress to come back so I could order a chocolat chaud (hot chocolate) but she didn’t and Kaitlyn finished so there was no more sitting enjoying the beauty of the scenery to be done anyway.

        While we were eating, Bill said we’re not likely to be able to live someplace else with that kind of activity so close to home. Maybe not. But in the last few days I’ve been thinking that wherever you live, there’s a host of activities that you likely never partake of simply because you live there and you’re not a visitor. Maybe we’d all be a little better off if we approached our homes like tourists – find the hikes, the sledding hills, the museums, the artisans, the groups to join. After all, isn’t that what makes wherever you live worth it?

        Kaitlyn made it back down the mountain without getting car sick. This time, Bill took off her ski jacket and her snow suit and her boots and he drove at a reasonable speed down the winding road. We had taken his car, though, because if she had gotten sick she might as well have just added to the stink that already exists. Honestly, riding in his car this week, I haven’t smelled the unmistakable odor of barf. He says it’s finally gone. I still think that car may not be in our driveway in a few months. We’ll see.

        Back at the house, Kaitlyn is napping and Bill is working on the pictures. And he’s probably wondering why there’s a bunch of some little old lady we don’t know carrying her purse up the mountain.

Kaitlyn gave her goat yogurt a try today. She did eat a few spoonfuls before declaring she doesn’t like it. I can’t say I blamed her. I took a sniff. No thank you! She abandoned that for some yogurt you can suck out of a pouch. Who says presentation isn’t everything?

        During lunch, I commented to Bill that the orange I was eating was ok, but that I really think that the oranges I bought this week from Spain are just not as good as the oranges I bought that were from Corsica. Then we both realized what I’d just said. It’s amazing, we are sitting here discussing our food from Spain and Corsica. Our butter says it’s made in Normandy. I buy grapes from Italy. I bought some fruit I’d never seen before to try, it’s from Madagascar. (Kaitlyn thinks that sounds good because she likes the movie) Lychee fruit. Ok, I just went and tried one. It’s alright, nothing great. But I figure if Bill can eat a whole plate of fish (see entry from Dec 23) then the least I can do is try some new fruit. I draw the line at the goat yogurt, though!

Today at Carrefour, I asked Kaitlyn what kind of yogurt she’d like. You have to understand, the yogurt aisles in Carrefour are second only to the cheese aisles in Carrefour. You walk down a refrigerated aisle and it’s almost all yogurt on both sides, every shelf. There is some dessert mixed in which is how we found the yummy pudding, because I picked it up thinking it was yogurt. (duh)

    Anyway, I gave Kaitlyn the pick of the place. I expected her to look around for the yogurt packaged for kids – it’s bright pink and yellow and the containers are small. There’s also the yogurt that come in pouches you suck the dairy product out of. Not Kaitlyn. Without hesitating she said “I want the one with the goat.” The goat? Yes. Kaitlyn has chosen some goat milk yogurt. She told me it tastes like flowers. How she knows this, I do not know.

    She is yet to try it. I don’t think I’ll be able to. Bill said he’ll try some.

    I’ll stick to my fancy new coffee maker and the tasty cappuccinos I can now make. With cow milk.

        We got quite the cold reception upon our return home from our picture-perfect holiday in Colmar.

        At some point between noon Friday and 6pm Tuesday, the power went out in our house. Mind you, not in our neighbors’ houses, just ours. That means we got home to a giant fridge and freezer beeping at us to alert us that they were too warm, which we didn’t really need because an alert nose could detect the rotting food inside. And the house which is normally toasty warm thanks to the heated floors is now freezing cold. Freeeeeee-zing! I am sitting in my winter coat as I type, trying to keep the frost off my nose. (It’s a little like the old days in the newsroom…) Occasionally, you’ll find either Bill or me in the bathroom hugging the heated towel rack. It’s the only warm thing in the house. I tried to make hot tea but the induction cooktop won’t heat when the surface is nearly frozen. Bill gave me a wonderful one-cup-at-a-time coffee/tea maker which would brew tea for us if he’d gotten back to Carrefour to buy the little inserts. Drat that Carrefour!

        We had to toss our frozen pizzas and couldn’t boil water to make noodles – either would have been a fine dinner. We tried calling the pizza truck but when he didn’t answer after about 50 rings I got Bill to concede that he’s closed. At 9:00 I gave up on pretending that the stove would suddenly work or that food would magically appear on our table. We ended up driving to the McDonalds and eating there because at least it was warm. I’d told Kaitlyn that we’d go inside but she couldn’t go on the playland because it was closed at that time of night. Wouldn’t you know, someone was using the thing? Fortunately, she was too tired or still too frozen to put up much of a fight.

        Bill has tried to build a fire in the fireplace. The fire starter sticks burn great. But once those go out, so does the fire. And even when it is burning it isn’t giving off any significant heat. I don’t even think you could roast a marshmallow in there.

        Still, Kaitlyn wouldn’t let a little frost deter her from opening the pile of gifts that Santa had dropped off here for her. One of her favorites is the Play Doh Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop. She gives her customers haircuts, then holds up the little mirror that came with it and says “do you like it?” I’ve also learned that Strawberry Shortcake’s shoes do not fit any better than Barbie’s. And I tried not to act too alarmed when I found Kaitlyn undressing Cinderella’s Prince Charming. I told her it is too cold in the house for him to disrobe.

        Well, I’ll give the cold house credit for one thing. It helped me forget about how Bill was rather, uh, challenged by a toll booth and smacked my left front wheel right into a cement wall. I haven’t even looked at it. He pulled over right away and reports that he did take a “big chunk” out of the new wheel but the new snow tire sustained no damage. Thank goodness for some things.

        Now it’s off to bed. I wonder how many layers I’ll have to wear to get warm then stay warm enough to sleep. Last time I had to sleep in a house with no heat it was after an ice storm in Raleigh left us without power for nearly a week. I was 8 months pregnant then and never really felt too cold. Payback is not pleasant.