Round Two

aaah, excitement, anxiety, and exhaustion are all warring within me. Excitement and anxiety because yesterday, Tuesday, I was invited to sit in and teach a small portion of 2 different classes at the Theatre on Thursday. Yes, I am thrilled that I pulled off the interview and now they want to see how I behave with the kids and what my "teaching style" is, but I am also petrified. I have today to come up with focused theatre games appropriate for kids ages 4-6 and ages 7-9! Yikes, that's not much time and my mind seems to have gone blank.
I can't believe that I have loads of theatre games and teaching information stashed away at my parents house back in New York. I never really thought that I would need them here, possibly never need them at all. Thank god for the internet. I stayed up till nearly midnight last night searching for games I could play with the kids. Luckily, many of the games I found mentioned were ones I've played myself or played while working with kids (you know summer camps, theatre workshops, etc). So, I feel fairly confidant about having some games I can play with the 7-9 year olds, but I'm still kind of freaking out about what to do with the younger kids.
Funnily (is that even a word?) enough I vaguely recall talking about how much I would enjoy working with the 4-6 year olds! What was I thinking? Actually, I do think that it would be fun and rewarding. Kids that young are so eager and so ready to give their all. They adore you and think that you are a star, my experiences with that age range have been very satisfying, if on occasion trying. I mean, let's face it, 5 year olds are not the most focused kids in the world. When I used to give workshops for Kindergarteners on the play Peter and the Wolf the kids would just blurt out all sorts of things in the middle of my session with them. One little girl confidently raised her hand to answer a question and when I called on her she promptly stated, "I'm wearing Winnie the Pooh underwear!" This caused about 10 more hands to immediately shoot up into the air and wave around to get my attention. They all had something to share about Winnie the Pooh be it clothing items they owned, toys, movies, you get the picture. Eventually, I just had to tell everyone to put their hands down and get them focused back on Peter and the Wolf. So, I am aware that there are many pitfalls when working with kids that young, the problem is I don't feel I know enough about that age group to come up with an activity that they can all do, stay focused on, and I can somehow relate back to theatre. It's rather a tall order. At least I have the day to search through the internet for some guidance.

As for the feeling exhausted part, I' m either psychologically avoiding my upcoming teaching interview, losing my battle against my cold, or my DH gave me whatever he was suffering from yesterday. It's very odd, I don't feel bad. Yes, my nose is a bit stuffy, but my cold is much better than it was a couple days ago. I've gotten my cough and throat clearing under control - can you imagine going in to teach an exercise and sniffling, hacking, and coughing all over those poor kids. Now, that would be a disaster. Maybe it's just that I didn't start off my day with my ritual cup of coffee. It's 1030 a.m. and I'm just drinking it now. Can coffee really have that big of an effect on ones morning? Sad if that is true. After I walked Ally this morning and had a bowl of cereal I fell asleep on the couch. I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Even when my DH awoke and was puttering around in the kitchen I just couldn't keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds. I would wake up and say, "I'm getting up." or "Oh, I can't believe I fell back to sleep!" and then my head would fall back onto the couch and I was out again. It wasn't until after 10 a.m. that I managed to struggle awake and stay awake! This post if probably terrible because all I want to do is close my eyes. It's strange, my body doesn't feel tired or achy, but my eyes feel heavy and itchy as if I hadn't slept in days. Yeah, I know, my bet is on avoidance too. but if all I do is sleep the day away I'm really going to be screwed tomorrow.
So, I'm going to get myself up and moving about. If I continue to sit here typing my head is going to start nodding - you know what I'm talking about. You've done it or seen people in theatres, classrooms, lectures. The head starts falling forward, the eyes roll up and eventually close, the chin hits the chest, the head jerks up, eyes wide as if to say, "Who me? I wasn't sleeping. No, not me." A few quick shakes of the head as if to clear the cobwebs and rid oneself of the desire to close ones eyes again. The shoulders straighten, the spine is stiff and erect. The thought flits through the mind, "sit up straight, look ahead, stare at the speaker, no one will have notices I nodded off", the eyes start blinking rapidly to keep the sleep at bay. But, alas, it never works, moments later it starts all over again as your head drops inevitably downward, or falls to the side. I always feel relieved to find I haven't drooled all over myself in this public instances of sleepiness. Thankfully, I am home alone so I can let my head loll around and I can drool on anything I want, because no one is here to see me. But, I think I'll try to avoid it anyways. Besides, I've got way to much to do there are other ways to avoid doing what's necessary than sleeping! I think I've proven that often enough!

p.s. sorry for the lack of posts lately. My computer has acquired some bugs and is undergoing a massive debugging process. I have DH's laptop today so that I can work on preparing for tomorrows dreaded adventures in teaching. You can see how that's working out, here I am typing in my blog totally ignoring the reason DH left me the laptop in the first place - I am the WORST!
Until my computer is back to a happy place there probably won't be too many posts. I know, I know, how can you survive without a daily update of all the exciting happenings in our Sergy household. I hate to deprive you of such tantalizing tales, but I'm sure you shall survive! Maybe once my computer is fixed I really will have something tantalizing, exciting, and adventurous to tell...but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you!

p.p.s. My spell checker isn't working for some strange reason, so no doubt I have misspelled many a word, sorry 'bout that!

Whew...

...sigh of relief. That's over and done with. I just returned from my interview and, of course, it was not a nightmare, the people were incredibly nice, and I handled myself well. I mean, the rational part of my brain was telling myself this the whole time, new exactly how it would all play out, yet the irrational me kept screaming, "what if you make a fool or yourself? what if they hate you?" Please, hate me? after talking with me for 45 minutes? That's pretty drastic.
I think I made a decent impression on them. I have no idea if I'm what they are looking for or if they would prefer someone with more teaching experience than I have. All I can do is wait and see. Oh, did I mention that they were looking for someone to teach; classes with 4-6 year olds, and 7-9 year olds. Plus, some administrative work on the side. I think I could handle that. OK, well I've never really taught for an extended period of time - just very structured workshops in schools, but it sounds like they have a syllabus (even if it is a loose syllabus) and files with exercises that work with certain age groups and all that. The other plus side is that the 4-6 year olds get 2 teachers. That would be right up my alley to have another teacher with me, at least to start me off, you know. So, I could learn the ropes from someone who's been doing it for a while.
I'm trying not to hope too much for anything because I don't want to be terribly disappointed when I don't get the job. I also told them that regardless of the outcome of the interview I'd still be willing to volunteer some of my time. Do you think that was a mistake? I never know in these situations if someone will think, "wow, she's really dedicated." or "hmmm, she'll work for free." I just never know the right thing to say in such instances. It's true that if I can I'd volunteer my time, but it's also true that if another job comes along I need the money more than I have a need to hang around a theatre and theatre people. Oh brain, why can't you shut off...or, at least, shut up. I keep analyzing and over-analyzing what I said, how I said it, what I should have said. I need to just forget it. It's over, I did my best. They can take it or leave it. It just seems like a fun place to work and an interesting job to have.
Who knows who they'll be interviewing in London next week. Maybe I'll have an edge over the competition because i already work here. Then again, I might be down some because I don't have a work permit. I did mention that I only had a residency card (though somehow I managed to get one for France and Switzerland even though I am living in France). I assume that if they often hire people out of London then they must know how to get work permits, but then again, most of those people are only here for a short stint -you know, guest workshops and performances.
Aaaahhhh, I need to stop thinking about it before I drive myself crazy. I'm going to go eat some lunch then go do some rubber stamping and make some cards. I've been a lunatic this week making cards all day to keep my mind off the interview. Now the interview is over and I'm going to return to my spastic card making to keep myself from dwelling on it. At least we have Tango tonight and skiing tomorrow so I won't be sitting around moaning over what I said wrong and what I could have done better. Are other people out there insane like me? Please, god I hope I'm not the only one!

nerves jangling

oh my gosh, in about 15 minutes I'm going to get in the car and drive off to my interview. AAiieeeee. Why am I so nervous? The worst thing that happens is that I don't get a job and I continue my life of leisure and how bad is that really? I think the grass is always greener on the other side. I know that when I have the prospect of no work and just hanging around the house ahead of me I desperately wish for a job, something, anything to get out into the world (and earning some money ain't bad either) but the minute I have an interview lined up I suddenly don't want to leave this fabulous life of sleeping late, reading all day, and walking the dog. Yeah, yeah I know just last week I was complaining to my darling, sweet, and patient husband how bored I was and didn't know what to do with myself and this morning I'm whining to him about not wanting to go to this interview. If I get the job I'll have to commute nearly 40 minutes to work everyday, blah, blah, blah.

He really does deserve the status of Saint Hoshooua. I don't know how he puts up with me? I can barely stand myself sometimes - sad, but true. I'm lucky he loves me and puts up with my neurotic behavior. You know what's funny? Whenever I was working in the theatre I was the most down to earth, normal, person. I was the one with no drama and lots of common sense. The minute everyone around me is sane and sensible I suddenly become the drama queen. What's with that? Some deep subconscious need for drama and excitement? I find life much easier when I am not the person on the emotional roller coaster. I'm sure my husband would agree, but he forbears with great patience and love, bless him.
OK, gotta go to my interview. Damn, I 'm sweating already and I have to run to the bathroom for like the 6th time this morning. Seriously, I think some graduate psych student could do a case study on me!
Wish me luck!

yummy pizza

yep, another quick post and surprise, surprise it's about food! Some of you might know that my DH's favorite food of all time is pizza. He would eat nothing but pizza if I would let him, which naturally I don't. But, from time to time I enjoy having a bit of pizza as well. Tired of the frozen variety and not having found a fantastic pizza place that delivers in the area I decided to try my hand at some homemade pizza. It turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself - and I do.
So next time you want a pizza, but want to spice it up a bit, have something a little different I would highly recommend this pizza con pancetta. This fabulous recipe is from a cookbook called Pizza, calzone & focaccia by Maxine Clark. We got it as wedding present and it's pretty good.

Here is the recipe:
(either make your own pizza dough, or buy one it's the toppings that really make this pizza)

PIZZA CON PANCETTA

-6 tablespoons fiery red pesto
-24 thin slices pancetta or bacon
- extra virgin olive oil, to drizzle
-sea salt and finely ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F (roughly 218 degrees Celsius) for at least 30 minutes

Uncover dough (if making homemade), punch out the air, and roll or pull into a rectangle (I made a rectangle and a square and, honestly, the shape doesn't change the taste) about 8 inches wide and as long as your oven will take (or make 2). Put dough on parchment paper.

Spread the red pesto over the pizza crust, leaving a 1/2 inch rim around the edge. Lay the strips of pancetta widthwise across the pizza - they should be almost the same width as the dough. Season and drizzle with oil.

Working quickly, open the oven door and slide paper and pizza onto the hot baking stone or baking sheet. Bake for 5 minutes, then carefully slide out the baking parchment. Bake the pizza for a further 15 minutes, or until the crust is golden and the pancetta is crisp. Remove from the oven and drizzle with olive oil. Cut and eat immediately.

For the Fiery Red Pesto you can either make your own (don't worry I'll provide the recipe in a minute) or, if you are lazy like me, you can buy some red tomato based pesto and then add some crushed red pepper flakes to the pizza. Trust me this way is really yummy.

Fiery Red Pesto

1 large red bell pepper
2 big handfuls of fresh basil leaves
1 garlic clove
1/2 cup toasted pine nuts
6 sun-dried tomatoes in oil, drained
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1/2 teaspoons chili powder
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup olive oil, plus extra to preserve

Preheat the broiler to high.

Place the bell pepper on the broiler rack and broil, turning occasionally, until blackened all over. Put the pepper in a covered bowl until cool enough to handle, then peel off the skin. Halve and remove the core and seeds.

Place the pepper and the remaining ingredients, except the oil, in a food processor. Process until smooth, then, with the machine running, slowly add the oil. Spoon into a screw-top jar with a layer of olive oil on top to exclude the air, then refrigerate, for up to 2 weeks, until needed.

Considering I don't have a food processor I opted not to make my own. I did seriously think about getting all the ingredients and grinding them together with our mortar and pestle (which we bought at DH's insistence that it was essential and have yet to use), but once we found some red pesto, I just figured if it wasn't "fiery" (which it wasn't) I'd just spice it up myself. All in all, this is a really great pizza. A nice deviation from a typical pizza, and it's good for lunch the next day...that it assuming you haven't inhaled it all in one sitting!

Enjoy!

My stomach is in knots...

...I have some sort of job interview on Friday morning! Can you believe it? I've been procrastinating and procrastinating and finally yesterday I was so disgusted with myself I got my act together and sent an inquiry email to an English language theatre in the Geneva area. I've been meaning to contact them since we moved here. So, last night I sent an email with both my acting and business resumes attached (always called CVs here) with a brief explanation of my situation and work history, et voila, this morning I received a reply saying the timing was perfect. They are having a recruiting drive this week and next week. They'll be in London next week, was I available to come in for an interview Friday morning? See, nearly 7 months of procrastination can pay off!
I have no idea what the "interview" will be for. I don't know if the Brits (the theatre was founded and is run by a group of British people) call auditions interviews or if this for office work, backstage work, acting. I have no idea, but it 's a start. I did send an email asking what positions they might be considering me for so I can be prepared for the interview.

Oh god, I want to throw up. I'm shaking and my insides feel like a snake is writhing around in there! See, this is exactly why I could never make it as an actress. I detest auditions and interviews. And in the theatre you constantly have to audition and interview. This is NOT my strong suit. I feel like a fish out of water gasping for air when I go into these situations. It's terrible. And I sweat like a pig. Who wants to hire a sweaty, shaky, heavy breather?

On the other hand, I have gotten jobs before in the theatre and out of the theatre....so if I can just hold it together long enough hopefully the management at the Theatre will see that underlying greatness (ha, ha, ha) or at least a hard worker and give me a job. It could be any job. OK, I really hate box office work...but I could suffer through it for a little while if I had to.

Well, I'm going to go eat something. and yes, it is lunch time I'm not going to just go and stuff my face full of sweets...hmmmm....I wonder if there is any fudge left...yeah, that 's a good idea I'll stuff my face for the rest of the week gaining 10 pounds, that will give me confidence in my interview.

Do you think baked goods would work as a bribe? I could make some chocolate chip cookies....

Saint-Gervais

Tomorrow is our second day of skiing. We're going to Saint-Gervais-les-bains, France, which is very close to Chamonix and therefore Mont Blanc, the highest peak in the Alps! It looks like it's going to be a nice day there if you can trust the weather reports. I bet it'll be beautiful. I'm debating whether or not it would be worth it to take my camera or not? I'm leaning towards not because last week I had no time at all to stop and take pictures of the view. I don't think I want to be the cause of my fellow students ire for holding things up to take pictures. Maybe once I've gotten to know them a bit better...or not taking the camera could be a GREAT excuse for DH and I to go back at a later date, just the two of us. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.
I'm hopeful that my legs will hold up better this week but I doubt it. I haven't done anything special to work on strengthening my muscles. I really thought I would be motivated this week, but it turned out I wasn't. Better luck next week.
Let's see...our Tango classes are winding down. We have 4 more classes left. Our teachers have invited us to join the intermediate class for the next session. They invited us and about 5 or 6 other people. I thought that was really a nice compliment. They also asked us to participate in a public performance they are giving on Saturday night in Geneva. They have asked quite a few of their students to participate as...well...representative of the students they teach. Unfortunately, we won't be able to do it. We would hate to agree and then not make it because our bus from skiing arrived back late. Plus, I don't know if my legs could take the Tango after a full day of skiing. I think I'll just want to come home and collapse, not drive into Geneva and Tango in front of people!
so, that's the brief update on what's going on here. Not a whole heck of a lot. Ally and I have had a rather melancholy week, but I think this weekend we'll shake it off and have much better, more productive week next week....here's hoping!

ugh

next time I even think about sitting down and gorging myself on soupy fudge, someone hit me. Please!!! I can't believe how much my stomach aches. I know, I know I deserve it. Maybe this will teach me some self-control, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
OK, I'm going to go take Ally for a nice long walk and hopefully work off some of this fudge I've been devouring

What to do....

...it's another one of those days where I just sort of feel at loose ends. I know I should be compiling my list of UN agencies to send my resume to, but I just can't seem to get myself going. I didn't want to get up this morning, even though I wasn't really sleepy it just felt so good to lie in bed. Mmmm...all warm and cozy, with our nice satiny sheets (they were a wedding gift). It was so snugly and warm and comforting I could have stayed there all day. But, a little after 9 a.m. I figured I should get up and get going. I got up but, of course, I didn't really get going. Instead I ate breakfast then curled up on the couch with my coffee and a book and read all morning. Ally even snuggled with me. I think she knows Picasso is gone for good. How could I possibly get up when she was lying so comfortably with her head on my feet? It would have been cruel to disturb her. Or that's what I convinced myself to believe...it wasn't to terribly hard either.
It's nearly 2 p.m and I've managed to get myself showered and dressed but now I'm just avoiding doing anything by writing this post. Isn't it wonderful to have a blog? Actually, this is probably the most boring thing you've ever read! If you've gotten this far thanks for sticking with it. I did manage to throw in some laundry and I since the sun has finally broken through the clouds I should take Ally for a walk. Maybe I'll have a quick cup of coffee and a spoonful of fudge to fortify myself first.
Oh, did I mention I attempted to make my friend, JD's, perfect fudge recipe? It tastes great but it never solidified! You literally have to eat it with a spoon - no joke. And I do. It's terrible and wonderful at the same time. It's terrible because I don't do so well at pacing myself. When you have to cut it you say, "OK, just this small piece...or two." But when it's sitting there in front of you it's hard to stop. "Just one little more spoonful." or you sit there reading a book and don' t even think how much you are shoveling into you face! oh boy, it's good.
Yeah, I'm going to go have just a little with a nice cup o' coffee. Hopefully, DH won't come home to find me passed out on the couch, groaning with a tummy ache, and chocolate smeared all over my face!

for those interested in the recipe here it is:

Perfect Fudge
1 pound box of Confectioner's Sugar
6 tablespoons butter or margarine, unsalted
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa
1/4 cup milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup chopped pecans (or walnuts) if you like

1.) In a medium saucepan heat the sugar, butter, cocoa, milk , vanilla, and salt over low
heat, stirring until smooth.

2.) Stir in nuts

3.) Spread mixture quickly in buttered 9 inch square pan. It sets up fast, so work fast!
(Mine did not set up at all, so if this works for you let me know, I can't figure out what went
wrong!)

4.) Cool. Cut into squares No need to refrigerate (the only way I could get mine even semi-solid was to refrigerate!)

good luck if you try this recipe. Let me know how it turns out for you!

C'est fini

At 6:30 this evening I was with my neighbor at the vets as the decision was made to put Picasso to rest. He had been suffering from seizures all day and they were just getting worse. My neighbor had done what was right: she gave Picasso time, a chance to see whether or not he might recover and when it was apparent to everyone that recovery was not going to happen she let him go. It was the best thing for him. We both held him and pet him in his last moments and shed our tears. I let her have the last few moments with him, he was her dog not mine, and then we hugged and cried and said what a good dog that snaggle-toothed slobber hound was. Despite having moments of irritation with him and annoyance at feeling bound to take care of a dog that wasn't mind I cared for him a lot. He just wanted to be loved. It's hard to imagine that he will no longer visit us, resting his big, slobbery head on my lap while I sit and read. Yes, I will no longer have to clean the drool from my pants or mop up the watery mess in the kitchen, but I will miss him greatly, as will Ally.

Farewell Picasso you were loved and will be missed.

Shake, shake, shake

"BANG! scritch, scratch, scratch" were the sounds that awoke us at 4:00 this morning. Bleary eyes staring at the clock I thought, "what the hell was that?" DH, barely more awake than I grumbled, "Picasso (more like Piiiicaaassssooooo...)"
"You think it's him?" I asked. "He never tries to get out of his cave (he's closed in with some plastic crates, that's all). "Should we go check on him?" I mumbled. "hmmphh..." was DH's reply. At that point Ally jumped off the bed and went to investigate on her own. I figured I'd better check it out. I threw on my warm, fuzzy turquoise bathrobe and made my way to the kitchen. I unbolted the door and new immediately something was wrong.
Half the red plastic carton barricade was scattered about the floor and there at the end of the hallway lay Picasso in a pool of his own vomit. He wasn't moving, but breathing very rapidly and heavily. "Oh god," I thought, "this is it. I'm going to witness this poor dog dying." I went to him and crouched next to him on the floor, petting him and trying to speak soothingly trying to calm him down. DH and Ally appeared and he took over watching over Picasso as I ran to get my keys, let myself out the back door and ran upstairs to Picasso's owners apartment. I stood there in bare feet with only a bathrobe on ringing the doorbell and banging on the door. No one answered. "C'mon, wake up, " I moaned to myself. I yelled down the stairs to the slightly opened door, "They're not answering. " I gave the bell one more looong ring and then went back downstairs. I put on some clothes, got my cell phone and attempted to call our neighbor. I couldn't successfully dial so I handed over the task to DH and took over watching the dog who was now suffering from seizures. No success with the phone.
Luckily, DH once had a dog with epilepsy so he had a general idea of what to do for Picasso. We got a blanket and wrapped him in it and when he started seizing we held him and stroked him and let him know we where there. DH took over trying to wake the neighbors, he banged on their door and finally started hitting our ceiling under their bedroom in an attempt to wake them. While he was banging away at the door I was alone with Picasso and I admit I lost it. He tried to stand up and kept falling and I couldn't get him to lie down again. He kept walking into things and didn't seem to know or see where he was going. It was heart wrenching. I tried to hold him and tearfully begged him to lie down, but there wasn't much I could do. Finally, after about 40 minutes they woke up. We stayed with Picasso as they (or at least she) tried to get ahold o f the vets. She was so worried that he had been poisoned by licking the Frontline she has put on his butt that evening. I thought that was pretty absurd, but didn't say anything. There was nothing poisonous in his cave, the garden, or our house that he could have eaten. by the time she had gotten a hold of the vet DH was covered in bile and nastiness I was tear-stained, but not quite as filthy as he was.
We went with our neighbors to the vets. I sat in the back of the car and stoked Picasso the whole way. Thankfully, he didn't have any seizures in the car. By the time we got to the clinic he seemed a bit better. Breathing heavy, but no longer having seizures. Oh god, when he would seize I was so worried he would swallow that big tongue of his or bite it off when his jaws involuntarily clamped shut. Tears are welling up as I think about it.
We got back from the vets about 6:30 a.m. not any the wiser as to why he was having seizures, but reassured that he was under the supervision of the vet.
We took our distressed Ally for a walk, ate some food, took a shower to rid ourselves of the mornings trauma (as much as possible) then crawled back in bed for a few hours sleep.
Our neighbor stopped by this afternoon to tell me the vets think Picasso has brain tumor. His seizures have continued and he seems to be in a coma. She was so upset. I felt terrible, what can you do or say in such a situation. For all DH and I complain about their not treating Picasso the way we think they should she really does love that dog. She cried as she said, "Three weeks, three more weeks and I would have been able to move into the new apartment with him. He would have had the home he deserves for the end of his life." See she really did not like leaving him in his cave all the time. Just when she had to make a difficult choice Picasso didn't come out on top at first. She was trying to remedy it by building her own apartment where Picasso would be able to live. Unfortunately, it looks like it's just a little too late.

I'm going to go with her tonight to the vets to see Picasso. If I were in her situation I would be thankful for some moral support, to have a friend there who cares about the dog and understands. Keep Picasso in your thoughts. At least he seems to not be in pain and right now, that seems to be all we can hope for.

Oh my aching legs!!

Yesterday was our first day skiing and it was wonderful, but oh my legs are sore. It's amazing how out of shape I feel and the muscles you use skiing that you don't in your daily life! We had a loooong day yesterday. Here's what our schedule was like:

5:30 a.m. beep, beep, beep our alarm goes off followed by lots of grumbling and cursing. A quick cuddle with Ally, then stumbling out of bed we grope around in the darkness trying to find our clothes until one of us had enough sense to turn on a light.

5:45 a.m. get Picasso out of "the cave" and take him and Ally on a walk (our neighbors are away AGAIN this weekend).

6:15 a.m. make some coffee and shovel down some food

6:30 a.m. try to find the ski clothes we left out last night, but now can't seem to remember where we put them. Brush hair and teeth...you know regular morning rituals

6:45 a.m. realize we're already behind our planned schedule and try to pick up the pace while we throw together a backpack with some snacks, water, extra hats, gloves, etc...

7:00 a.m. load skis and selves into car and take off for CERN Prevessin site (the site in France)

7:10 ish arrive find a parking spot, figure out by observing others what we're supposed to do - mainly shove our skiing equipment under the bus and find an empty seat.

After this we sat around in our seats waiting for everyone else to arrive. We were supposed to leave at 7:30 a.m. sharp. If you weren't there you would be left behind. This wasn't so much the case on our first trip. People were late, there seemed to be mass confusion about finding seats for the late comers - why the ski instructors thought they could keep an entire seat for their bag is beyond me. I mean, don't these people do this every year? You'd think they'd know that every seat needs to be filled with a butt, not a bag.

7:40/45 a.m. the bus pulls out. fully loaded with half asleep people

We drive for about an hour when we stop and people from the bus in front of us get out and use the restrooms. Ah perfect, it's about time for me to get rid of my morning coffee before my eyes start swimming, mais non, I am told it is not normal to stop and it is better if people don't go - 2 bathrooms + 200 people = disaster in the way of putting us WAY behind schedule. Sadly, I retake my seat without arguing and endure a long and near the end semi-painful bus ride. Nearly another hour till we get to the resort. I swear it felt more like 2 hours plus, but Josh swears we got there before 10 a.m. Once closer to the destination our ski instructors discovered the bus PA system and delivered a slew of very fast French instructions and apparently jokes - I couldn't quite follow it all, but judging from the outbursts of laughter and shouts something in the speech was highly amusing! We had arrived at Avoriaz!

We unloaded from the bus and from that point on I lost track of time. I didn't have my watch with me and they don't exactly have a huge clock hanging over the ski slopes....might be helpful if they did though. So, we collected our ski equipment from the bus (first thing I did was make a beeline for the ladies room, as did about 50 percent of my fellow skiers). After claiming our equipment and putting on those terribly uncomfortable ski boots, we lugged our stuff across the street to find the instructor for our respective classes. DH is in level 1.0 and I am in level 2.0. Ha, ha I am in a higher level than he is! wooohooo for once in my life I am better at a sport than he is. Granted I started skiing when I was 10 and he's only been about 5 times in his whole life, but still I will not let the glow of pride at such an accomplishment be tarnished by facts. Sadly, I have little doubt that in a season or two, if we keep it up, that he'll be better than me but that day is still far off, thank god.

I had a few small anxiety attacks after we split up to be with our groups. Especially since our instructors didn't really seem to be paying attention to what their pupils were doing. Our instructor said follow me. then took off back across the road at good clip and got onto the telecabin. I immediately fell behind not being used to lugging skis around anymore and finding it awkward to tromp around in ski boots - they are never easy to walk in. Of course, by the time I made it to the telecabine it was full and I had to wait for the next one. I kept glancing nervously around trying to figure out if anyone around me was in my class. I caught a glimpse of one guy I was sure had been standing around when we had given our names to our instructor. "Whew, " I thought, "at least that guys here. If I can't find the instructor I'll attach myself to him...or cry...whatever." I made it off the telecabine and out to slopes and with relief located my group. Then off we went again. to the lifts. So, just to give you an idea of how big this place is you first have to take a telecabine or telepherique. Here's a picture of a small telepherique/telecabine to give you an idea of what I'm talking about - the ones at the resort were much bigger and had no seats. You packed as many people as possible in standing up and with your skis or snowboards. Once you get off the telecabine you are at the ski lifts. Yep, you have to take another lift up to get to the actual slopes! It was pretty darn cool. So, on with the skiing. My group split up into two smaller groups. I had a great group of 9 people, plus 2 instructors and everyone was so nice. I had a wonderful time. I felt very comfortable with my group, we all bit the dust at one point or another, which made us all feel good. Not falling, but that everyone else fell too. To make things short, we skied awhile then ate a great lunch. I didn't feel like going back out after lunch! I was so relaxed and it felt so good to get my feet out of those blasted boots. But, back into our wet, cold weather gear and back to the slopes we went. Our last run we went to the very tippy top of the mountain. The view was AMAZING!!! It was a fairly clear day with a few low hanging clouds, but it was gorgeous.
We started off down the slope and this damned slope owned me. Seriously, it was steep, I was tired, the lovely powdery snow had been pushed into tons of big bumps all across the mountain. Yeah, that first portion of our descent bitch slapped me good. If I had any delusions about being a wonderful skier they were soon wiped away. I fell about 5 times on that particular slope. One time I even skied straight into a snow bank! It was pretty funny. I just lay on the ground laughing. My classmates skied over and asked if I was alright, then they burst out laughing telling me I looked like a cartoon character skiing straight into the snow like that. I picked myself up and continued on only to crash a few more times. My legs were killing me and we still had a LONG way to go. I'm proud of myself for holding it together and persevering - well, what else could I do? Sit down in the middle of the ski slope and cry? Not really. I took lots of breaks to "enjoy the beautiful scenery" yeah right I was just trying to catch my breath and stop my legs from shaking.
I don't know how everyone else did it. They didn't seem to have nearly as much trouble as I had. I just felt like my legs were going to collapse at any moment. I think part of my problem was that I would start going very fast and feel out of control so I started skiing across the entire hill and making big loops, which is good to slow you down, but I think it just wore my legs out more. I probably should have just sucked it up and took a more direct route down the mountain as my classmates did. I finally started doing this near the end and it worked much better for me. I'll have to remember that for the future.


ok i'm sure there is more to write. but dinner is ready and I promised DH I'd watch a little football with him - Colts vs. Chargers. I'm rooting for the Colts. I think Peyton Manning is great!

So, I realize that I've been a slacker this week - so much for New Year's Resolutions! They flew out the window at top speed, didn't they? Ah well, better luck next year. Is anyone having success with their resolutions? Actually, Josh and I are doing quite well with a few of our resolutions but the ones I have for my own personal improvement are falling pretty flat!
Anyways, this week...we went to the French "conversation cafe" which is hosted by glocals.com (an on-line community for English speakers in the Geneva area). It was a bit different than I had expected. It was held in some guys ramshackle apartment. Seriously, I think this guy just found an abandoned building and took up residence. They are "remodeling" the place with extra funds from the conversations cafes. They hold French, Portuguese, a bunch of other languages each on their own night. Everyone just stood around talking in varying degrees of bad French. You could have dinner for an additional 10 chf (chf = Swiss franc) it cost 5 chf just to have the privilege to attend. They served up a great smelling fondue - Josh and I ate before hand (one of our resolutions is to be more money conscious) and actually 10 chf for a fondue is not too bad in this area. I thought that there might be a little bit more structure to the evening, like maybe someone would lead a discussion and give some vocab to those who barely spoke any French. they advertise it as any can come from those who know zero French to more fluent speakers. It was OK for me because I can get by somewhat in French, but it was really very hard for DH. He barely speaks any at all and it was very frustrating for him. He can usually get the gist of a conversation but he doesn't have enough vocabulary to be able to respond. He said he had a good time though. I' m still up in the air about how I feel about it. I'll probably give it another shot or two, but it definitely won't become a weekly must for me. I met some nice people there though. And our Australian friend (who I met in my French course this summer) was there too. She's great. I'm going to miss her when she goes back to Australia at the end of the month. She's not sure how long she'll be in Australia before she's able to come back. She's been on temporary, unpaid leave from work and she has to start back in February. Her husband is working for one of the UN agencies and is waiting on a contract to extend his time here. It's all very confusing and frustrating, but apparently that's life when you work for one of the UN organizations!
Yesterday I dealt with the plumber. A nice man who got our toilet working in a jiffy. He also checked out the area of the kitchen where the flooding occurred. I can't imagine it was due to the pipes since it stopped flooding once it stopped raining, but our landlords wanted him to look.
tomorrow is our first day skiing and we're super excited. We're going to a place called Avoriaz which is in the French Alps. I guess it's about an hours drive from here. We have to be at the CERN Prevessin site (not the site Josh works at, this site is in France) by 7:15 am. The bus leave promptly at 7:30 a.m. if you and your equipment are not loaded on the bust at that time you are left behind! It's going to be a long day. They said we should be back around 7:00 p.m.! Should be fun though. If I'm not too whooped I'll tell you about it tomorrow. but most likely you'll have to wait till Sunday or Monday. I know, I Know the anticipation will kill you.

Alright, I gotta run. I need to start dinner so we can run a couple errands before Tango class. Yikes, we haven't Tangoed in like 3 weeks. I hope we can remember everything. We only practiced for about 15 minutes a couple time since our last class. oh well, c'est la vie!

The "fortress"

Behold the fortress of the cookies and bread!
Close-up of the residents of the fortress

(yes, yes I know the cookies are a little over done, you can't be perfect all the time.)

Ally Babba voleur de gâteau de citron

yes, you read that correctly, our precious little puppy has moved on to bigger and better things - Lemon Cake. My DH had made a lovely lemon cake (from a box mix hi mom sent us for Christmas. Thanks MIL!) it was sitting on the counter covered in aluminum foil -who would have thought you would need more of a thief deterrent than that - and we'd eaten maybe two slices from it. I'm not a big lemon fan, although I find lemon cake without the added lemon glaze my DH loves so much acceptable. The point is, there was nearly an entire cake left. I rolled out of bed around 8:30 this morning, let the slobber hound in, stumble into the kitchen to start the coffee and there on the counter is a nearly empty plate filled with crumbs and a sliver of cake. Lying (laying? I can never get those right) sedately on the couch is fat, happy puppy licking her lips.
How could I get that mad at her? I mean it was only lemon cake. Then again, it did totally destroy her diet. Yes, we are attempting to help her shed some pounds. Who wants a diabetic dog on their hands who waddles? not I. I did phone the DH to see if he had forgotten to feed her which might explain the binge eating. Man, I can't believe she did that! Josh left the house about 8a.m. and I was up no later than 8:30 a.m. and in that short little time she devoured almost an entire cake! Yeah, yeah, I know you wish you could do that - there are days that I wish I could too, but it's much better for us if we don't.
Oh! and did I mention that the plastic bag full of my second attempt at Challah bread was laying in the middle of the living room when I woke up? Sure as shootin' it was. Luckily, she must have been so stuffed from the gateau that she couldn't be bothered with chewing through that thin layer of plastic to get to the goods. If she had eaten my bread I would have been super pissed - it takes HOURS to make bread!

So, when we went out tonight I made a fort with my fresh made cookies and homemade bread safely tucked away behind the defenses. Ally is lucky everything was where I left it when I returned. I'll post a picture of my fortress tomorrow and I am hopeful that I will get around to posting about the French conversation cafe we attended tonight!


Bon Soir (good-night)

p.s. voleur = thief ( a literal translation of the title is Ally Babba the thief of the cake of lemon)

9, 55, 29, Y, 56?

I can't believe it. I finally had the bus system all worked out...at least I knew which bus I needed to get into Geneva and what to take to get back to CERN or Sergy. I knew which buses took me to the places I normally go in Geneva and now the damn city has gone and messed it all up! I mean, what do they think they're doing trying to make public transportation more efficient? I understood it the old way, I don't want to have to relearn it all over again! But, alas, change can not be halted. There are new bus numbers with new routes (although the # 56 bus route was suspiciously similar to the old # 9 route - exactly the same really) and now I have to suffer through the anxiety of relearning how to get anywhere. I know what you are thinking, "why on earth does she have anxiety over something so trivial?" Trust me I sit there with clenched teeth, heart pumping asking myself the exact same thing. The only conclusion that I can come to is that I am a super freak. That's really what it boils down to. I mean, let's look at this rationally, yes, it is annoying to have to figure out a new bus system, but no, it should not cause heart palpitations. What is the worst thing that could happen? I get on the wrong bus and have to call Josh (I did forget my cell phone today, so I had no means to call in back up and since I also forgot my watch I had no way of knowing the time) or don't call Josh and find the right bus. So, it might cost me some time, but it's not going to cause me any serious problems or life long damage. Yet, I still sit there clenching my teeth.
To distract myself from said teeth clenching I observed the people around me. It was an amusing day. First, 2 young men got on board. I should say one leaned through the door saying at the top of his voice, "Bonjour Monsieur (he was talking to the bus driver) Bonne Annee! est-ce que vous arretez a la Servette?" (or something to the effect of, "do you stop at Servette?"). The driver must have replied in the affirmative because he then proceeded to hang out the door waving frantically at his friend yelling "this is it" (or something like that - it was French give me a break). The two stumbled into the quickly crowding bus open beer cans in hand. Now, I ask you, would you ever see something like that in the States? I think not. But these two were having a great day swillin' the beer, talking loudly, and forgetting to get off the bus at the right stop! Hee, hee, hee.
I also seemed to notice that most people - the booze friendly duo excluded- seem to have a neutral face that frowns. You know what I mean? Like, if you are just sitting on the bus minding your own business, not actively smiling, does your mouth droop down at the corners giving you a perpetual sour puss? Everyone on that darn bus looked like a sour puss and I started thinking, "Is that what I look like too?" I hope not. In fact, hold on a minute I'm going to go check it out in the mirror...phew, I think I'm safe. you know you are dying to go check out your neutral face in the mirror. Well, if you discover you are a frowner I'd advise exploring some ways to change that. I have seen the saggy, wrinkled, frowny face of your future and it is NOT pretty.

Which brings me to my favorite person on the bus today. I like to think of her as "Leopard Lady". If only I had had my camera, perhaps I could have surreptitiously taken her picture and shared this amazing site with you. First off I immediately noticed the leopard print stretch pants. It's impossible for your eye not to drawn to such a sight. I had to force myself not to openly stare as I took in the tres chic brown knee-high boots -seriously, I think I'm the only woman in this region not wearing a pair - of course the leopard pants were paired with the ever stylish puffy white jacket adorned with numerous gold buckles and a large fringe of white fur around the collar. When I glanced over for my third...er...maybe fourth or fifth, peek I saw two beady little eyes encased in folds of skin and gold rimmed glasses staring at me. She soon bent her head of thinning blond hair back to the Matin Bleu (the free Geneva newspaper scattered on every bus and tram in the city) which she had previously been reading. I don't know if she was enthralled by French President Nicolas Sarkosy's immanent engagement to a former model or what but something sure had her attention! She held the paper about 2 inches from her squinty little myopic eyes. hmmmm...is there an English major out there? I think I might have used the word myopic wrong? oh well, it sounds kinda cool...so I'm just going to leave it. Anyways, the other thing I loved about "Leopard Lady" was that she had this HUGE shopping bag at her feet and I could see that it was filled with something brown and furry! At first glance I was sure she had a medium sized dog in there - a very well behaved dog at that. But, then I thought that it was probably a throw pillow. I don't know what it's like where you are but here women are crawling with fur. Fur coats, fur trimmed hats, gloves, etc. Furry looking pillows, blankets, rugs. It's kinda creepy to me. I swear to you about 85% of those women are wearing REAL fur. OK, OK I really have no clue if it's real or not, but some of those elegantly, expensive ladies are no doubt sportin' the real deal. I just don't think PETA would let Americans get away with such flaunting of skinned, furry creatures - but what do I know?
When a woman sat down across from me with a large handbag made of fur I could see "Leopard Ladie's" eyes light of with greed. She stared longingly at the furry satchel a glint of envy shining behind those thick lenses. I swear I even saw her lick her lips. No doubt to keep the drool at bay as she plotted how she, "Leopard Lady" could obtain such a purse, only hers would, of course, be made from a leopard.
rrrrrrroooooowwwww

A Rainy Day

We have now been experiencing gray skies and rain for about 3 days and my anxiety over another flood is slowly mounting. At first I thought, "bah, the ground is still frozen it'll be fine." But as the rain steadily continues I keep scanning the kitchen floor for incoming water every time I get up for a glass of water or sneak a cookie. I'm supposed to head into Geneva some time today to meet up with a friend for coffee and I keep wondering if I should just haul out the sandbags as a precaution. What if the water starts making inroads while I'm gone? Will the little princess and the slobberhound do ANYTHING to stop the invasion? I think not. They'd keep their four (or eight, as it may be) little paws nice and dry by remaining on the couch.

I guess that there's no use in worrying until something happens - like the water actual begins to seep in again. But, I can't help it. I'm just a worry-wart, I guess. To take my mind of the possibility of another flood I'm going to go print off some wedding pictures. I promised my friend I'd show her some. Now, I just have to figure out which of the 1,400 + photographs to show her! Yikes, I hate making decisions...maybe it'd be easier to just sit around wringing my hands about the non-existent, but highly likely flood...

nah!

Can I Challah at ya?

Yes, I am actually going to post something about today, as in this actual day. Amazing. Don't worry this doesn't mean the end of my procrastination it just means you never know if you'll read about something that happened a month ago or an hour ago. I like to keep things exciting.

well...not too exciting. This post is just more pictures of my thrilling adventures in the kitchen. I felt a Martha Stewartish fever today and started a baking frenzy - if you can call Challah bread and cookies a frenzy, which I can and do. I also was on a little cleaning kick, but then the baking bug bit and I ended up making very little inroads into the messiness that is our apartment. I also didn't want to call in the DH reinforcement because he has been busy doing actual work -from home no less! I think he's in the grips of the New Year's Resolution turn-my-life-around syndrome that takes ahold of us all this time of year. Luckily, have been able to smother my urgings of self-improvement and bake instead. Woohoo!

So, here come the gratuitous photos of my baked goods. It's like baked good porn - I love it.
Now, as a disclaimer, this is my first time baking Challah and it came out fairly well considering. It is a little on the dark and crispy side but I blame that completely on my oven, which lies to me. Oh and on the oven thermometer (we got it for Christmas) it also lies. I know it's hard to believe that these two appliances would be in cahoots with each other but I swear it is true. I don't know what they have against me or my baking but they are working together to get me. The funny thing is they don't even tell the same lies. One says it's one temperature and the other tells me a completely different temperature and I simply don't believe either one of them! So there.
Oh, yeah, the Challah. I was a bit concerned while I was making the bread because it didn't really seem to be rising. I had covered it with a kitchen towel and left it on the stove top to rise for an hour and nothing seemed to be going on. So, I read back through the Betty Crocker cookbook I was using and it said to cover the bowl loosely with plastic wrap. I did, et voila, rising bread dough. Good ol' Betty, she always comes through in a pinch. Now, in all honesty, I don't know if the plastic wrap had anything to do with it or if I'm just mental. I find the latter option to be quite possible.
As the bread was rising I decided to make some cookies. As a result of my complaining I couldn't find Cream of Tartar anywhere and my plea to be sent some for Christmas I received enough Cream of Tartar to choke a horse. I thank everyone who kindly sent me Cream of Tartar and I will do my best to use it up. I blame myself entirely for ending up with this large stash. I have learned a valuable lesson from this experience: no matter how badly you'd like something don't ask everyone you know to buy it for you! Lesson learned. Luckily, I had this pile of Cream of Tartar so I was able to make the cookies I've been Jonesing for for months - Snickerdoodles. mmmmm.....love me some Snickerdoodles. My DH claimed he'd never had them before (I find this hard to believe, but that is his story and he is sticking to it). After his first bite he fell in love and proceeded to devour 2 more. Hmmm...maybe it is a good thing I have so much Cream of Tartar, it doesn't look like the Snickerdoodles are going to last too long. I might need to make another batch in a day or two if he continues consuming at this rate! the Snickerdoodles turned out remarkably well. considering my distrust of the oven I attempted to keep a close eye on them as they cooked.

While I was making cookies I paused to punch my bread dough - that's one of my favorite parts of making bread, punching it! I divided it into three sections, rolled them into long snakes and braided them together. Ready to rise a second time. By the time I was done with the cookies and had washed all the dishes up the bread was ready to be popped in the oven. I was not so good about watching the oven this time. I let the bread get a little too dark. It kind of has a crispy crust which I've never seen on Challa bread. The egg wash makes it shiny, but I don' t think it should make it crispy. Funny enough I worked for a year in a bakery that mainly made/sold bread and I still don't know this stuff. All I know is that my Challah did NOT turn out like Allen's (the baker). Mine isn't bad for a first attempt, but it's a little overdone on the outside and it's a bit denser than I thought it should be. I mean every time I've had Challah it has had this lightness to it. Or maybe I'm thinking of another type of bread...hmm....
but, it still tastes pretty damn good, if I do say so myself- and I do!

Neuchâtel, Switzerland

Well, I am so behind in my blogging. I'm going to post pictures of our weekend trip with CD and JD. We were there December 21 and 22 - see I told you I'm behind. I'm a bit cranky and tired today so I have a feeling most of this post will consist of photos...but who knows I could get diarrhea of the pen. A lovely image isn't it? My high school government teacher used to say "diarrhea of the mouth does not constitute constipation of the pen." It always made me chuckle to myself. Anyhoo, what am I writing about? Oh yeah, Neuchâtel. Neuchâtel is a lovely town on, yep you guessed it, Lake Neuchâtel it has narrow windy streets, medieval buildings, was actually a town in the Roman days they've found the structure of a huge Roman Villa in the area), and is truly very beautiful. It's even more lovely in the summer when you can see the surrounding mountains and lake. When we were there most everything was obscured by fog. A pity considering JD and CD had made sure we got rooms with a view of the lake - the view would have been gorgeous if we could have seen more than a few feet! It's the thought that counts and the DH and I enjoyed watching the fog swirl above the lake in the mornings.
In our hotel room was a scooter, or micro-board as they called it. Which we could use during our stay! How fabulous is that? We just rode it around the room, but I know DH wanted to take it for a spin around town he just never had the opportunity. I was tempted to borrow JD & CD's and have races in the hall but my common sense prevailed.
We arrived late on Friday night so just enjoyed a relaxing evening sipping cocktails in the hotel bar and having some dinner there while we enjoyed the vocal warblings of a local performer. CD was convinced she was a transvestite, I just think she liked having a mullet. All in all an enjoyable evening. The next morning we were ready to hit the streets and explore the city. Since I had been there once before (for a few hours with the French language course I took this summer) everyone looked to me for guidance despite my repeated protestations that I really didn't know where we were or what exactly there was to see. I knew that if we kept heading upwards we'd come to a large church with a pretty view of the city...that was if we could see the city through the fog. So we started following the narrow windy streets that led upwards. We passed through a charming market in the medieval square.
Yum, those olives looked so delicious! As we ventured through the city I pulled out my nice Switzerland guide book (given to me by JD before we left the States) and recited the information to my companions as we strolled along. I don't really think anyone was listening, but I enjoyed myself and that's all that really matters, isn't it? I found the fact that Alexandre Dumas described the town as, "looking as if it were carved from butter" due to the majority of buildings being built of pale yellow limestone. Butter buildings...our little butter thief would have a field day in a town made from butter! Alas, she and the slobber hound were back homing being watched over by the neighbors. Back to Neuchâtel, we wound our way up the narrow streets and found the church I had remembered, the Èglise Collégiale. According to the guidebook it is, "a combination of Romanesque and Burgundian Gothic styles" and was "consecrated in 1276." Who wouldn't want to attend a church that looks as though it were carved out of butter? Sign me up - but only if they serve some sculpted butter with the sermons! They views from the top were not so great (see above comment about all encompassing fog). It was unfortunate that our friends' trip was filled with fog, but really I can't be held accountable for the weather.

After wandering around the church in the cold we decided to head back down into the center of town and search out a nice place for a warm drink, food, and a whiskey for CD (in Ireland he has his G&T breaks, in France/Switzerland he has his whiskey breaks).

We found a great little cafe packed with people warming up and JD found the best cup of chocolat chaud (hot chocolate) around. It arrived with melted chocolate in the bottom of the mug and a steaming pitcher of milk to pour into the mug. It looked, smelled, and to all accounts, tasted heavenly. DH and I regretted not getting chocolat chaud especially when we returned the next day to find the cafe closed for the day - darn these Europeans and their Sunday day of rest! that night we enjoyed an amazing and filling meal of cheese fondue. Oh how I have come to love fondue. I usually end up eating so much I end up waddling instead of walking the rest of the night.

A quick word of advice for anyone traveling to a cheese rich country - do not go overboard on the cheese. You will regret it when you have...er...digestive issues for the next few days. Work yourself slowly into a cheese heavy diet, don't just throw yourself in whole hog! 'Nough said. Oh, hey I forgot something. Before dinner we went to the Latenium - the Archeology museum. JD and I thought this was pretty cool. I'd been there before with the French class, but I really enjoyed wandering through again and this time I didn't have a pounding headache from concentrating so hard on understanding our teachers French tour. We wandered through at our own pace and really enjoyed it. If you're in the area I think it is worth the trip. If you make arrangements ahead of time you can get a guided tour in English (and many other languages) or you can do what we did and guide ourselves. There is the drawback that all the labels are in French so if you don't understand any it might get frustrating. But, if you're like many people I know you don't read the labels and signs anyways, you just look at the stuff. A couple of my favorites at the museum is the model of the Roman villa and the bottom of huge boat that they excavated from the lake (it's a long boat or a Roman galley or something like that) pretty cool though. JD was ecstatic because she discovered the museum ha some Celtic cauldron on display in it's temporary exhibit. She's going to kill me because I can't for the life of me remember what it's called. It's very famous and is the quintessential Celtic cauldron (or something to that effect - Sorry JD). She was over the moon about seeing it - seriously I think it made her trip.

So, that was pretty much our stay in Neuchatel. We took it easy and had a great time. I think DH and I will head back there in the warmer months to check it out again. It's only about an hour and a half drive so it's a totally doable day trip.

Catching Up

Ok, so I feel as though I should play a little catch-up here since I neglected to post much of anything while our visitors were here. We did have a great time hosting out friend JD and CD, although they both got sick- CD worse than JD, but they were troopers. They arrived at Geneva airport right on time at 10:30 a.m. on December 19th. They are going to wring my neck for posting their arrival picture...so, maybe I won't. I don't think they look bad at all after an 8 hour flight overseas, but they may disagree. hmmm...ok, JD and CD if you read this and you would like me to take your photo down I will. On the other hand, if you don't read it what you don't know can't hurt you, right? I'll post some goofy pictures of myself - actually most pictures of me are totally goofy so that should make them feel better. Let me tell you, these two look fantastic after such a long flight. I always look like a total bum. That could also be because I almost always were my most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt and or sweatshirt when I travel long distances. I just don't get how those women I see at the airport deboarding could possibly have been comfortable on an 8 hour flight in their cute little mini-skirt, heels with pointy toes (or more recently tall boots with pointy toes and spiked heels) and their tight little fitted shirts and jackets. Geeze, is it really possible to take a nap on an airplane in that? It's hard enough to curl up and nap when your wearing sweats (as close to pajamas as I can get without wearing my actual pj's in public). You will see in the picture to the right, entitled: Exhibit A, just how I look on long flights. Note the messy pulled back hair, the glasses -not contacts, the greasy gleam on my forward, and the crossed eyes. Yes folks, that is what I look like when traveling. My fellow passengers must love me. Especially those young women bound up in their tight clothing, running to the teeny tiny potty to make sure their make-up is perfect before they got off the plane. I find it much easier to just look like a slob and not care who you offend with your travel-worn look.

Oh, the best thing happened at the airport while we were awaiting our friends arrival. There was a group of Swiss people with their trumpets and Swiss flags gathered around anxiously awaiting the arrival of someone. We were intrigued, who could this be that deserves a trumpet fanfare upon arrival the waving of flags? Eventually a young man came through the gates pushing his cart full of odd shaped baggage ( I didn't get a picture but I wish I had) the trumpets blared to life, singing and clapping began. A tearful mother ran up and hugged her bemused son. I have no idea who this guy was, but my bet is some athlete who just won something big. But that's only a guess. Bulbs flashed as pictures of the returning son were taken, a bottle of something alcoholic was pulled from some hidden place and shots were passed around to the tight-knit crowd surrounding this returning hero (hero of what? who knows) He was toasted and patted on the back and they were still carrying on when our friends arrived. Josh wanted to pay the trumpeters to play when our friends arrived, but alas we didn't have much cash on us and we needed that to pay for parking. Besides JD and CD probably would have been so tired they wouldn't have realized the fuss was for them.
Once they found us we hauled their luggage outside and started maneuvering it into our little ford fiestas itty-bitty trunk. I can't believe we got it all to fit. My DH can sometimes amaze you with his packing abilities.

Now, to be fair their suitcases weren't all full of clothing. One of the smaller suitcases was filled entirely with books for me! What great friends. I'd read all the books I'd brought with me and was ready for some new ones. And buying English language books is not cheap. Granted, I should be trying to read more French books, even if they are Children's books, but I just made that resolution yesterday, so back off.
Despite the fact that JD and CD felt like they were going to drop into sleep while standing they were troopers and managed to fake some mild excitement as we toured CERN at 2 p.m. the afternoon of their arrival. We are so cruel, aren't we? To be honest, that was the only time my DH could get us on a tour because CERN closed the next day for a 2 week holiday vacation. So, it was either then or never. We did give our guests the option to not go, but they wanted to...or so they said. And it was good for them to stay awake as long as possible in order to adjust to the time difference. Still, I think they deserve a gold star for going on the tour. It's hard enough to understand and appreciate physics when you haven't been awake for, like, 24 hours straight! Note the forced smiles and glazed eyes. I mean, I usually look that way when physics is the topic of conversation, but I think these two are feeling the stress of sleep deprivation more than the mind-numbness that comes along with physics! On a more serious note the tour is very cool and it's amazing to see what these scientist and engineers can do. For anyone interested in learning more about CERN there is a great podcast you can download. It's done by one of the physicists working at CERN who is working on ATLAS (the same experiment DH is working on). The podcasts are made for people like you and me, or at least like me, who don't really have a clue about physics (except knowing that they absolutely hated taking physics in highschool). Their are very interesting and entertaining and I actually feel like I have some grasp on what is going on down there in that big pit/tunnel they call the LHC (Large Hadron Collider). Click here to go to the CERN podcast web page. It really is quite enjoyable - I often listen to it on my morning walks with Ally.

Back to our visitors. After we forced them on a tour and made them some food, it was about 4 p.m. and they crashed. Pretty good considering JD wasn't feeling too great - she had the beginnings of a vicious cold. That was pretty much it. Josh and I made a roast chicken for dinner, which we overcoked so were thankful our friends were snoring soundly and not hungry for a big, delicious meal!
I'll post more of our adventures with JD and CD later. Ciao!