Kaitlyn’s ear infection might be affecting her hearing.
Tonight at dinner she asked me how cheese is made. I told her you put milk and salt and other stuff together, pour it into molds, put it in the basement for a couple of years (yes, I was making it up), then package it and send it to the store. She wanted to know what I meant by packages… if it’s like presents.
Bill said yes, cheese is like presents.
And Kaitlyn said Jesus likes presents?”
Last week when we were getting some snow, I convinced Bill to take today off to go skiing while Kaitlyn is at school… since Monday she eats at the canteen. (cafeteria) We managed to convince her that it was ok to go to school while Mommy and Daddy go skiing. Ok, yes, I did tell her it was a special Mommy-and-Daddy-no-kids-allowed day at the mountain. And we plugged her full of Advil for her ear ache and made her doctor appointment for after school. Then, we were off. Or, I guess, up.
We got to Chamrousse and it was not only cold, but it was windy. Really, really windy. Which made it even colder.
There was a fresh coating of snow on the pistes. But the wind was blowing it off in spots, revealing big patches of ice. So you’d ski from a mound of powder onto a sheet of ice back into a mound of powder. And the wind was blowing so hard that on the slopes that aren’t steep there was absolutely no reason to turn back and forth across the run… the wind slowed you down just fine. It brought our friend to an absolute stop at one point.
The wind was so strong that a lot of the lifts weren’t even running. A fact we didn’t realize when we got onto the high-speed six-person lift we usually use. It was bad enough that we were swaying back and forth in the wind… but about half way up, it stopped. Not the nice, slow stop a lift makes when an operator stops it because someone has fallen. A sudden, immediate stop… an emergency stop… because of the wind. I swear to you our chair slid back somewhat, then swung back and forth far more than I’d like. I guess to calm me down, Bill said be glad we aren’t up there. Two chairs ahead, the riders were on ride through Hell. The chair was dipping way, way, WAY down then bouncing up… and swinging… and swaying. I swear I heard the people behind us scream, too.
Needless to say, that was our last ride on that lift for the day.
We got off and skied right to the lodge for cups of hot cocoa and French fries. (mid-morning snack of champions) A woman was trying desperately to get the waiter to tell her where the bathroom is. He had no idea what she was saying. So, I piped up and said toilettes, which he understood. But she had no idea what he was saying when he gave her directions, so again I chimed in with at the bottom of the stairs. The man in the booth next to me, who’d been speaking French with his friend, said now you have a translator. Me. A translator. A few minutes later, she was back and asking the waiter for milk for her coffee. He actually turned and looked at me for help. Lait. I felt silly… as if I can actually assist someone with their French. I shrugged and explained that when it comes to ordering, I have it figured out.
After our hot chocolate, we decided to try a little more skiing. Minus that six person lift. I even told Bill to go without me, but he didn’t. It was too windy and too icy. One run we tried would have been better done with skates than skis. So by 1:00, we were headed back down the mountain.
Oh, well. We’ll try again Saturday…. we signed Kaitlyn up for another lesson.
Yesterday Kaitlyn complained that her ear hurts. Again.
She woke up with the same complaint. So I called the doctor and made an appointment for her to go back. Now, Bill had taken the day off to go skiing. And Kaitlyn does not have a fever, is eating like a teenage boy and sleeping fine. So we sent her to school and took her to the doctor afterward.
Bill got to go with us. He got to see how Kaitlyn understood everything the doctor said to her in French… and how she wouldn’t sit still after the exam was over.
He also saw the doctor’s concern when Kaitlyn once again entered her office tippy toeing. This time she examined her legs and feet and reflexes all over… then announced she thinks her achilles tendon is too small. In both legs. At least she’s even. So she gave us the name of a specialist and a letter outlining her opinion.
As for Kaitlyn’s ear, she does have another infection. The doctor thinks maybe she has a problem with allergies, since she doesn’t have a cold or any other symptoms. So she gave us a prescription for a medicine Kaitlyn gets to take once a day for the next month. Then we get to go back. And I’m sure when we do, she’ll ask about that specialist.
Transformers are for the birds. Or at least, they are for people who pay attention to voltage.
Tonight, I ruined the last American kitchen appliance I’ve been using. (Bill was smart enough not to bring most of them. We didn’t even try to use our toaster after others said they are a very, very bad mix with a transformer.) I wanted to use my hand blender to puree some soup. So I plugged in the transformer, looked at the back, thought oh, we’re on 220 volts here, and promptly plugged my blender into that outlet. That would be, well, wrong. You are supposed to plug your appliance into the outlet for whatever voltage it normally runs on. Not the voltage wherever you are. Duh. They really should make the outlets so that you can’t make that mistake. Bill said he noticed the lights dim when I started up my mixer. I noticed the button you push to turn it on turned bright red. Then there was the distinct odor of burning (or melting) plastic.
Oops.
Something horrible has happened. Forget when the stove didn’t work. Forget the afternoon I thought the washer was kaput. The Slingbox isn’t slinging. We get an error message that we need to contact our cable company. This is a serious emergency.
We just got home from the best day of skiing. Because we got to ski with Kaitlyn.
Since she’d missed the week of lessons during vacance (school holidays) because she was sick, we used the credit to sign her up for two private lessons in English this weekend. She spent all of yesterday’s lesson in the real little kid area… where we think she’s just plain bored. At the end of the lesson, the teacher asked if Kaitlyn has a ski pass, so that today she could take her out on piste. (piste = ski runs) We tried taking her out on the slopes, but it didn’t work. She hung on Bill’s pole and couldn’t stop or turn. We were starting to think that all these lessons we’ve paid for this year have been a compete waste.
But today when we took her to her lesson, she had a different teacher. He asked us if she can stop… and after yesterday’s time on the slopes I knew I couldn’t answer yes. But I didn’t want Kaitlyn stuck yet another day in the Pieu Pieu Club. So I looked at Kaitlyn and asked her. She wouldn’t answer at all. So I told her she’d have to show her teacher. They headed off toward the kiddie area, and Bill and I turned around, shook our heads, and headed off toward the pistes we figured Kaitlyn will never ski.
After a little while, Bill and I skied down to the easy area, to look for Kaitlyn. We really hoped we’d see her on the easy ski run. Nope. So we skied back to the Pieu Pieu Club, fearing we’d see her there. Nope, not there either. Unsure where else to look, we decided to get in one more long run before returning to pick her up.
When we got back to get her, Kaitlyn and her teacher weren’t waiting at the same place where we’d dropped her off. After a couple of minutes, we went down to the Pieu Pieu Club. She wasn’t there, either. Bill stood there watching and waiting; we feared she’d simply been sent inside a hut to watch tv. I went back to the original meeting point, but saw nothing. After about 20 minutes, I was starting to get really, really worried. Then came the announcement over the speaker for the entire mountain: Kaitlyn Radeline is waiting in the ski school office. I hollered at Bill and rushed in there. She was snoozing in a seat behind the woman who signs people up for classes. Apparently, we’d just missed the teacher and he had another lesson so he took her in there. Now we know that’s where to go.
Outside, we asked her where her teacher had taken her. She pointed straight up the mountain and said up there. Up there? Kaitlyn? Show us. We got her back over to the easy slope and, what do you know… she can really ski! From yesterday to today is absolutely night and day. She rode the little butt lift all by herself… only had trouble getting off it the first couple of times but Bill had gone ahead to be able to help her out. She can turn and stop and follow you or lead you…. it’s amazing. Bill was grinning ear to ear. He is so excited his daughter can ski.
Tonight was it: the dinner with the menu I’d rather have avoided. We spent the day skiing, which wasn’t too smart because we were tired. But since we didn’t get hurt on the slopes, and we’d already paid our 85 Euros for the meal, we went.
Only about 20 people came. That’s half as many as normal; many scared off by the dining options. But it wasn’t really a bad thing having a smaller group. It made it easier to get a chance to talk, at least a little bit, to everyone.
The evening started off with an aperitif. Cocktail. It was some champagne and lime concoction. It was really good. A little too good, I had three. There were trays of puffy appetizers to go along with it. I stuck to the ones that I could identify what was sticking out of the puff. Green olives. That was it, really, green olives. Bill tried the one with a hot dog bit. Hot dogs here can be tricky, so I passed on those. I did eat one that was pretty plain, except for some poppy seeds sprinkled on it. Some sort of cheese was hiding inside, but it was mild, so it was ok.
I didn’t wear a watch, so I don’t know how long we all stood there before moving to the tables for the meal to start. Long enough that I’d downed lots of puffs and for one of the other ISE’s to come just short of gnawing on his arm.
The entree (appetizer) was either something with gizzards… which was what I’d gotten… or toasted goat cheese… which is what Bill had. The gizzards were just sitting on top of some lettuce, so I scooted those over. I ate the stuff I recognized and left the gizzards and the giant slab of pate (cat food, as one person at the table called it) on the plate. Bill gobbled up his goat cheese. I hate goat cheese.
Next came the main course. I had the quail. Bill had the fish, which was risky because it was a kind we’d never heard of served with fruits du mer… fruit of the sea. The quail came with a sort of sweet dark sauce and veggies. It wasn’t bad. Honestly, tasted kinda like chicken. It was served in four chunks, so I didn’t have to look at a bird or pull it off the bones. Although an early bite did include something small and crunchy that I assume was a bone. That I had to spit out into my napkin. The veggies were superb. So was the gratin dauphinois (creamy potatoes). But I had a little trouble getting excited about the prospect of another bite of bones. Bill’s fish was ok. I tried a bite of it. It had some weird pureed fish filling. He did pick a small, complete, octopus or squid (I didn’t count tentacles) out of the fruits. Gross. Most people seemed to clean their plates.
The cheese course was next, which I didn’t even realize we were having. The new people were both fascinated and grossed out by the fromage blanc. It’s a little like yogurt. You get this blob of white, creamy, cheese in a bowl and a big dispenser of sugar next to it. Because you need a lot of sugar to counteract the tang of the cheese. A couple people opted for the fromage sec (dry cheese). I didn’t know you had a choice, but I’m far too scared of strong cheese to take a chance like that anyway.
The cheese was followed by the dessert. Mine was chocolate something-er-other. It was ok. Bill got what I thought was described as fruit salad. It was fruity sorbet with a merange coating.
That, of course, was followed by coffee. I asked the waiter for milk and everyone else at my table laughed… they figured if he was going to bring me some, it would likely include his spit. I don’t know if it did, but I did get some.
The evening turned out to be a very pleasant one. We had a very good time. And the food was fine. Ok, except for those bones. Now, I have a year to worry about next year’s dinner… since I am supposed to plan it.
Bill got the washer working again. He couldn’t find anything wrong with it, although he did pull a chunk of pineapple out from the door seal. Bizarre. How did he fix it? He turned the breaker off…. and back on.
We’ll see if it works next time I try to do laundry.
So the stove works, but now the washing machine is on strike. (how very French of it) I know I run it at least 4 hours a day every day… but it’s still only 17 months old. It should work.
Today I decided to tackle Kaitlyn’s hamper. After a while, I started wondering why it hadn’t beeped at me yet to let me know it was done. I looked; it was on the last part of the cycle. I kept on cleaning the kitchen. It seemed like a lot more time had passed. I looked; it was on the last part of the cycle. I finished cleaning the kitchen and swiffering (I refuse to mop) the floors. I looked; the damn thing is still on the last part of the cycle. It’s been stuck there for at least 30 minutes. Maybe 40. So I turned the washer off. But the door is still locked, so I cannot get the wet, hopefully clean, clothes out to put into the dryer.
Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad. I could cook in the oven. I can’t use the oven to wash clothes.
This afternoon after school, I took Kaitlyn to a traveling puppet show that had come to town. It’s the sort of thing nightmares are made of. Not for her. For me.
The show was Guignol and Winnie the Pooh. Guignol is a famous French puppet. Or character. Whatever. The show was in a tent set up in the big park in town. (Same park where the circus was last year.) We were second in line. Well, first, but a French family cut in front of us.
The seats inside the tent were set up so that the kids all sat in the first six or seven rows.. and the grown-ups sat behind them. Kaitlyn was perfectly fine not sitting with me. As a matter of fact, she refused to even sit right in front of me. Or even in the row in front of me. She sat three rows up and over a few seats. It didn’t matter to her that we didn’t know anyone there. She was being a big girl. Some of the other kids weren’t as thrilled at the idea of not sitting with mom. A few of them cried. One mom just kept putting her screaming child in his seat, then leaving the tent. His sister would stroke his head and call out for their mother. Eventually, she sat on the ground next to him and he shut up.
When the show finally started (a predictable 15 minutes late), the curtains opened and a single, fairly worn, puppet popped up on stage. The kids screamed with delight. And they screamed for pretty much the duration of the 50 minute show. I watched Kaitlyn. She joined in counting with the kids when instructed to do so, she yelled oui! Oui! at the puppet a few times. It took about 15 minutes before we actually saw Winnie the Pooh. His role in the story was that the bad guy (another character all the French kids knew) stole his honey pot. Oh, the humanity!
The highlight for her, though, was the intermission. She jumped up and said she wanted popcorn. Something I knew; she’d been telling me since we were standing outside the tent. At one point during the show, she turned around, caught my eye and mouthed the sentence I want popcorn. I reached over and gave her a 2 Euro coin and told her to go get herself some. I was pretty sure the kids would all return to their own seats, but that an adult would snag my prime seat the second I lifted my butt out of it. She managed to get her own popcorn. I wasn’t too worried, the word is the same in French. And she told me she said s’il vous plait when ordering. So she probably did better than the French kid behind her in line.
I had hesitated to take Kaitlyn to the show. It’s the first day back at school since vacation, so I’m sure she’s tired. I had no idea how long the show would last. That circus we went to was like two hours. And I’m really never too sure about going to a show that’s in French. That didn’t seem to really phase her. She laughed at the right times. She yelled at the right times. She ordered her own popcorn.