Thank you Fiona

Fiona,

We did a dramatic reenactment of Evan's reaction to your great present. He was actually more excited the first time around! I didn't check the background before I shot this - now I think we look like French rednecks...yes that's really a lawnmower in the middle of the living room (we're cleaning up tomorrow before the party).

Happy Birthday Edie

Goodbye

Ciara is heartbroken to say goodbye to her best friends Veronica and Victoria (and doesn't appreciate my "it's not goodbye...it's only au revoir" joke). We have one last BBQ together. Thanks for everything Cormiers, (especially for turning me on to The Biggest Loser). We'll really miss you guys.

Tour De France

Having missed the caravan to Fort L'Ecluse (I guess we're more French than Swiss in our timekeeping), we went with Graeme, Fiona & family to Mijoux to watch part of Stage 8 of the Tour. We brought chairs and pitched them outside a kind Frenchman's garage for our own grandstand view. It was lovely to sit outside on a Sunday morning, enjoying a glass of chilled rosé. We scored major swag - the kids loved the sponsors' cavalcade, it was like a carnival on wheels. The anticipation builds and finally the helicopters whirl overhead to herald the pack's arrival. I could not believe how fast the cyclists went, it was all over in a minute. So exciting! See what we saw:

Here comes the cavalcade

Getting hosed (in a good way)

Not too sure what's going on here.. I guess these pole dancers are really dirty!

That's probably a Lucozade!                  (Note the manpris)

Shameless Hussies

Very excited and proud to host the inaugural meeting of the Shameless Hussies of Thoiry Bookclub. We chose for our first book The Lover by Marguerite Duras. Much to discuss, including the (hopefully) apocryphal story of her downing 5 - 6 liters of wine daily while dictating the novel to Yann Andrea .

Sesame noodles with asparagus tips

This comes from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, and I absolutely guarantee whoever you serve it to will love it. The only person I know who doesn't like it is Doug (and that's only because he is sick to death of it, seeing as I make it for every gathering we have or have been invited to for the last 15 years). I don't like asparagus, so I leave them out, and it still tastes really good. (Apologies to my metric friends for the imperial units).

Marinade	The Noodles and Asparagus
¼ cup light sesame oil	Salt
3 tablespoons dark sesame oil	2 lbs asparagus, trimmed and lightly sliced on a diagnonal
7 tablespoons soy sauce	1 14 oz thin Chinese egg noodles
3 tablespoons Chinese black or balsamic vinegar	10 scallions, including firm greens, thinly sliced
3½ tablespoons dark brown sugar	¼ cup sesame seeds, toasted until lightly browned
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons chili oil
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
¼ cup chopped cilantro

Mix the marinade ingredients together, stirring to dissolve the sugar.

Bring a large pot of water to boil. add salt and the asparagus. Cook until bright green and tender but still firm, a few minutes. Scoop the asparagus out, rinse it under cold water and set on a towel to dry.

Pull the noodles apart with your fingers, add them to the boiling water, and give them a quick stir. Boil until tender but not overly soft, tasting them often as they cook. It should only take a few minutes. Pour the noodles into a colander and immediately rinse under cold water. Shake off the excess water.

Toss the noodles with all the marinade and most of the scallions, sesame seeds and asparagus. Mound them in a bowl or platter, then garnish with the remaining asparagus, scallions and sesame seeds

Camping

Went camping this weekend to L'Ideal at Annacy. Nice campsite, very grumpy staff. Sad to see the USA leave the World Cup.

The Smiths get back to nature

Ciara plays the poubelle

We went to concert this evening at Ciara's school for her end of year show, where the class put on a performance on the dustbins. Contrary to what you might think, they were actually very good.

And the band played

on and on and on and on... while we quietly and politely cursed them as we died of thirst and hunger.

Guest post by  Graeme Stewart.

Blogging

A blog post about blogging - a bit of navel-gazing going on here at AYearInThoiry. I must say I've really enjoyed creating and posting to my blog. It elevates the mundane happenings in my life to high art (doncha think?). I've kept a diary all my life, but after this I might just forgo the paper edition and switch to digital. I mean, it's different in a way because it's out there, and public, and I think people have to guard against oversharing and put on some filters, but then on the other hand I think hey, it's their blog and their business what they disclose to strangers. One of my favourite ways to waste time do research for this class is to click on the next blog link on the blogger header. I'm often very surprised by how creative and profound the postings can be. On the other hand it can be quite scary - you can get stuck in a homeschooling Proverbs wives inescapable loop and end up watching a video on how to properly fold a sheet (don't click!). Sometimes I think, this must be satire, it's just too OTT, but I fear not.

Checking out other people's blogs also helps me to humanize strangers and stop making generalizations and quick judgments about people. I'll be on some blog where the parents are detailing every aspect of their child's life and I'll be thinking Why, then further down, I'll see they've had a terrible tragedy, such the earlier death of child and that'll stop me up short. Blogs are making me a better person!

I've been listening to podcasts from women's hour which takes me back a bit. It's a great mix of current affairs, politics and culture and I really enjoy the convenience of just clicking and listening.

As far as how blogs have impacted society, I think blogs have more of an individual effect rather than affecting society at large. It's so personal, it's like reading a stranger's diary, but with their permission. You're either going to connect or not with that person based on their interests, sense of humour, worldview etc. and I don't think that effect can translate to a mass movement.

BBQ

Beautiful weather and great food for the BBQ at Geneva Quaker House. Ciara and Evan fell in love with Jane's dog Bongey- a very gentle and patient soul.

Podcast

Coming to you in mono ! (No roosters were harmed during the making of this podcast - unfortunately).

Karma

France 0 - Mexico 2!!
Allez les bleus? - je crois NON.

I hear the Irish were wearing sombreros and downing tequila shots as the match was being played. God bless us - we never forget an injustice.  See Hitler react to le main de Thiery  Henry- caution - bad language and tasteless humour (and some misspellings too). 

Evan

Evan put a tattoo on his forehead and asked me to paint his nails. There you go Evie, get it all out of your system now.

Jenny van Hove

I spent the afternoon with the charming and elegant Jenny van Hove, 87 years young, a founding member of the CERN Women's Club. I was interviewing her for an article which I am writing for the CWC Newsletter. Amongst other things she told me about the early days of the club. I had no idea the club had such a tragic provenance. Jenny (whose husband Léon was Research Director General of CERN) and Renie Adams (whose husband John Adams was Executive Director General) had heard about the difficulties encountered by the wives of CERN's foreign employees. These women accompanied their husbands to CERN but then felt extremely isolated living in the nearby French villages. Their loneliness often had heartbreaking consequences such as marriage break-ups and even suicide. Jenny and Renie used their influence (who wants to say no to the wives of the Directors General?) to start the club with the aim of  connecting women in similar circumstances to foster friendship and community. The club continues with this task in the present day.

When I complemented her on how well she looked and expressed the hope that I looked as good when I am in my troisième âge, Jenny's advice is "to look forward...don't complain all the time, try to laugh as much as you can". Delightful and inspiring words, just like the lady herself!

My baby sister is 40!

Here's a slide show I put together from photos I have. This is the short version (believe it or not) which I had to edit down to put on YouTube.  
Disclaimer - May be very boring to anyone who's last name is not Moore.

Slow News Day

Took a bath, ...yup...with bubbles

Is it ever going to stop?

As a pacifist, I'm troubled by my fantasies of dipping the BP executives and engineers in oil. So instead I created a logo at FlamingText.com and signed a petition to take away BP's millions in federal contracts.
Nope, that's not working... wait..., here's something... BOIL the oil first, then dip 'em. Now, that feels better.

John Clare

So I'm working my way through the shortlist of the books selected for the Mann Booker Prize 2009, and I just finished The Quickening Maze by Adam Foulds. It takes place in 1840, in an asylum in Epping Forest, and is based on real events in the life of John Clare, the nature poet. I found it very affecting; the author vividly portrays the desperation and lack of control felt, not only by Clare and the other inmates of the asylum, but also the director Dr. Mathew Allen and his lonely daughter Hannah. Clare eventually escapes into madness and delusion, which actually seems a blessing given his brutal reality.

In real life, Clare was at first lauded for his original, rustic style but had fallen out of vogue by the time he published his third book of poetry. This critical neglect, (together with his alcoholism and depression) led to his spending the last 23 years of his life in Northhampton Lunatic Asylum, where he continued to write poetry, including the one reproduced below. I find this a sad and humbling poem.

I Am!

I am! yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest—that I loved the best—
Are strange—nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

Manpris sighting

It's June 1st and, despite the still-dire weather, this morning I got my first sighting of the year of a man in capris. Ever fashion-forward, les Français seem to be completely without shame or fear of looking a little silly. They're especially popular among elderly gentlemen. Yippee, summer's here!

Poppies

The roadsides and fields around Thoiry are awash with poppies. It's absolutely gorgeous.

Bonne fête des mères

It's Mother's day here in France. I'm gasping with thirst but still have to drag myself awake to properly receive Evan's present which he has been working on at the maternelle for 2 weeks. It's a cute heart-shaped box with little messages and paper with lipstick kisses...so adorable (altho' I had wondered about the lipstick traces on his mouth when he came home from school recently). Ciara made me something too, but asked if she could keep it 'cause she'd like it for herself!

Saturday Night Fever!

Girls night out in downtown St. Genis. Unfortunately, it clashed with the Eurovision Song Contest which I hadn't seen in years and I would have definitely turned on the telly for! Met up with Fiona & Fiona, Florence, Grace, Margaret and Rosamund in Charley's Bar. My first night out in France. Discovered Fiona (not saying which one) is a secret smoker! Lot of fun and much beer consumed. Five of us ended us squeezing into a 2-seater Porsche to travel home in style!

Check out the awesome Eurovision Flash Mob Dance (Ireland dances in at around 3:20).

Français on a Friday

So Friday is the day I blitz my French. Two classes at CERN - a conversation class in the morning and a preparation for DELF B1 (diplôme d'études de langue française) in the afternoon. Didn't have my homework done, so tried to wing the subjunctive...yeah that went well!

Do you prefer cats or dogs? I can't decide.

School Schedule

It's mercredi so the kids are off school. How's this for a schedule?

School	8:30 - 11:30
Lunch	11:30 - 1:30
School again	1:30 - 4:30.

Every Wednesday off and 2 weeks holiday every 6 weeks.
Pas mal eh? Unless you're a PARENT!

Listen Up World!

Welcome to my blog! Seeing that it's already 10 months into our year here in France, this blog should really be entitled "Two months in Thoiry", but that doesn't have the same cachet. (BTW you can expect that I'll pepper my postings with the occasional mot français - just to give this the authentic, pretentious tone it needs.)

Lot's Wife by Wisława Szymborska

I love this poem. It's one of my favourites of all time. I hate the story of Lot's wife in the bible. She doesn't even warrant a name, just is some silly woman who can't do what God tells her to do. I love the idea of reclaiming her story and all the possibilities of her turning around to look, especially that is was deliberate. The phrase "From the disobedience of the meek" especially resonates with me, and also the ending - "It's possible I fell facing the city" (my emphasis). Keep in mind that this is a translation - how good must it be in the original Polish?
Wisława Szymborska won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1996.

Lot's Wife

They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.
Checking for pursuers.
Struck by the silence, hoping God had changed his mind.
Our two daughters were already vanishing over the hilltop.
I felt age within me. Distance.
The futility of wandering. Torpor.
I looked back setting my bundle down.
I looked back not knowing where to set my foot.
Serpents appeared on my path,
spiders, field mice, baby vultures.
They were neither good nor evil now--every living thing
was simply creeping or hopping along in the mass panic.
I looked back in desolation.
In shame because we had stolen away.
Wanting to cry out, to go home.
Or only when a sudden gust of wind
unbound my hair and lifted up my robe.
It seemed to me that they were watching from the walls of Sodom
and bursting into thunderous laughter again and again.
I looked back in anger.
To savor their terrible fate.
I looked back for all the reasons given above.
I looked back involuntarily.
It was only a rock that turned underfoot, growling at me.
It was a sudden crack that stopped me in my tracks.
A hamster on its hind paws tottered on the edge.
It was then we both glanced back.
No, no. I ran on,
I crept, I flew upward
until darkness fell from the heavens
and with it scorching gravel and dead birds.
I couldn't breathe and spun around and around.
Anyone who saw me must have thought I was dancing.
It's not inconceivable that my eyes were open.
It's possible I fell facing the city.