So I had a wonderful week and a half visit with my Dad, and the shows of La Reine Morte were a great success and we're on to working on rehearsing the next two programs, so I have lots of catching up to do. Unfortunately, Dad's crappy cold he had for the whole time that he was here was one of the lovely things he left behind in France, so for now, I'm surrounded by a pretty pathetic pile of tissues and I'm sure my keyboard is one of the last places you'd want to look with one of those super-science microscopes that makes bacteria glow all sorts of cool colors.
Since I know how much all of you love hearing about my distress, however, I thought I'd make a quick aside to tell you about my day today, and then deal with the backlog tomorrow. Today was Sunday, so I made my customary trip to the market this morning, which was considerably less crowded than normal because it was rainy and cold. Efficiency being my middle name, pretty soon my bag was loaded with root vegetables (being considerably denser than summer fruits and cucumbers, surprisingly) and I headed back home walking at a pretty hefty angle to balance things out.
After a quick respite for a pain au chocolat and some southern French olives (lunch of champions) I went back out into the elements -- all of this drizzle being the perfect remedy for the cold working its way through my lungs -- and out to meet some dancers at the museum for a little injection of culture into our artless lives. ;) We have a new dancer who just joined this week, so naturally I got down to being welcoming and organized a get-together for everyone so he could meet some more people (now, if I could do that when I'm new and need to meet people, sheesh). After a lovely walk around the ancient convent which now houses some beautiful medieval paintings and sculptures, we had a great lunch at a cute little crèperie name Le Sherpa. I had Nepali tea in honor of the poor guys schelping bags up mountains, and wondered if it'd be wrong to ask for three cups of it. Not sure anyone else at the table would appreciate my Greg Mortenson references, but it's nice to know you can still make yourself smile.
So while I was trying to be discrete about the rapidly expanding pile of sandpaper-masquerading-as-napkins next to me under the table, it became clear pretty quick that the cold was descending. Post lunch and a home-made chocolate sauce and peach crepe (it's a hard life here in the south of France, have I mentioned?), we all started to work our way back home, me with three measly little napkins surreptitiously smuggled into a pocket to accompany me. Naturally though, it's Sunday, so the buses are much less regular than normal, so I catch the sooner one with a little bit of a further walk home (these are the kind of important details you care about, right?). Unfortunately, the snot isn't joking around. There's only so much pressure inside the cranial cavity that's generally advisable for one weekend, so I'm trying to gage the walking faster vs breathing heavier vs rate of snot vs time to home ratios, and let's just say that it was looking pretty bad for a while. Some of the leaves of passing trees became Kleenex-mirages before my very eyes. Certainly the ivy half a block away from home was incredibly tempting. I'm happy to say that (clearly) I made it home, and no arboreal mutilation or violation occurred at any time in making of this blog post (actually, that's distinctly untrue, given tissues are made from trees, although that occurred well before this blog, so we'll give it a pass). I hope you all are well, and will excuse me now as I go try to replace my fluids. Also, let's chalk up all the snot references to passing fever-induced delirium, and promptly forget they ever happened.
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