AKWARD...NOT UGLY!!!!

I would like to point out a post at my wonderful hubby's blog...one sure to give you a little chuckle at the photo...man what an old pic of him and how handsome he has gotten over the years!!!!!!!!!!! Why is it that men seem to age so much better than women? Either way...he has written a little blip about our France journey...it was 15 years ago yesterday that we stepped foot back onto American soil. Wow, can't believe it's been that long already and 2 more kids later.

I will get to the final posts on that one day but life is hectic and not much time to reminisce it seems....moving along at 80 mph with the feet of a snail....stop on over at Pat's blog and give him some grief for his photo...it's sure to give you all a chuckle.....

The Untouchable Aura Inside Notre Dame--Part II

(Christy, this is for you...sorry it took so long. It's been sitting in my drafts for about a year now and I feel that now is the time to try and finish this journey. Hopefully I can muster the time and memories to do that in a shorter period of time but this is part II of the Notre Dame experience. I will say this, trying to describe a feeling is not something that can be done in this instance, if you EVER go to Notre Dame, you will know what I'm talking about. This was a really tough entry and can only hope that I did Notre Dame a little justice.)

If others would like to catch up on this tale, click on the "France Journey" topic in the sidebar of my blog. Enjoy.

Walking into Notre Dame was indescribable. I recall holding my breath only after I realized I hadn't breathed when I stepped inside. Awe, that is the best way to describe the brilliance just steps away. But it was time to let the air out of my lungs and breathe.

My very first words were, "Oh, my God, my mom would just love this place, I wish she could see it". You know, I don't believe I have mentioned one time during this tale if we missed anyone while we were away. In fact, I don't think we did miss anyone. Isn't that really sad?

But at that moment, I longed for my mom and dad to be there by our sides. So badly. No one else, just them. All my years I traveled with them, experienced new and spectacular things with them and only them. (I did bring a friend one year and a cousin another but speaking in terms of my family, it was only me that was lucky enough to partake in memorable vacations with my folks.) Now I was off in a foreign country seeing something that I knew they would just love and never forget.

Sorry, got a little off track there but these were things that ached in me that very moment and even today, that I couldn't share with them and return all that they shared with me.

So as I said, describing this experience will probably be the most difficult of all but I will do my very best. My eyes were doing double time trying so badly to take it all in, to remember it all but in this instance, it's near impossible. My circuits were on overload during that hour we spent in the Cathedral. There was just so much to look at and literally no time to do it slowly. I fear this post will disappoint you C and for that I apologize.

When we walked into the Cathedral, it seemed that the altar was a mile away from us. It was huge inside there. Paintings, carvings, stained glass, numerous statues, almost too much for the senses. I do have photos from inside but they do little justice.

We began our walk and choose to walk down the side to get a closer look at the amazing eye candy in this place. On the way towards the front of the Cathedral I was most awed by these monsterous paintings. I had never seen anything quite that big painted before let alone actual art and they were just breathtaking! I don't even remember what they were paintings of but I do recall how they made me feel and just how much I wished I could take one home with me. They truly touched me.

Ripping my eyes off of them was like taking a bone from a dog. Pat was trying to show me the stained glass windows. It was like I was in a trance or something. The windows were everywhere and again, they too were large. And the light that came in from them....I just couldn't believe the enormity of things in there.

And I know there is so much more that I'm not mentioning and that here too is history upon history, but a description just escapes me. It only exists in my mind in a memory snapshot trapped in the realm of a feeling that one just cannot put into words.

We did very little talking on this tour. I honestly think Pat and I were so intrigued that we forgot the other was there. Not even the tour guides said very much. And the kids, well, they too were very well behaved.

As we got a little closer to the altar, my steps hesitated. All my younger years I attended Church and loved going to see the inside of different ones. They have always been something of interest to me in the visual sense. But never before had I seen an altar quite like the one in Notre Dame.

Statues of people lying on the altar, of people standing, just really out of this world. And the space around it was huge. But this was not our destination even though I wanted to spend more than 2 minutes there.

Tucked away behind the altar or perhaps it was next to, is what Pat and I recall being named the Treasure room. Now this, I can explain. GOLD. Gold everything from crosses to chalices to lining on the robes. Old old sheet music. Relics that were thousands of years old behind glass. The idea that these things were ancient and real gold was such an overwhelming experience.

I sit here typing looking at the gold ring on my finger and it doesn't hold the same value that those things enclosed behind the glass. It's really hard to explain this without sounding like my wedding ring means nothing, that is just not the case. It's much deeper than that.

Perhaps it was my upbringing? Or maybe it was just that I was so enthralled with new and interesting things? But as I have already said, I cannot even describe what we saw. It's a feeling more than a description in the case of Notre Dame. And I suppose the thing that sticks out the most even now in my mind is how I know that my mom and dad would love it there, that no amount of explaining or describing or pictures can describe what we saw that day.

I want to tell my readers of this tale that I apologize profusely for the lacking quality of this post. For the broken way in which it's written. I sit here typing and that feeling from that day is as if I'm inside the Cathedral even now and I still cannot pinpoint what it is.

I will post as many photos as I can of things that we saw and direct you to another website I found which has better photos but in this instance, that is the absolute best that I can do. Forgive me.

Here is the website: http://www.terragalleria.com/europe/france/strasbourg/picture.fran2874.html

and the photos I took will be coming shortly.

More from Paris...

This is a photo of the Louvre. All around it are carvings of knights (if you click on the image you can get a larger view) and as I said, a story behind each one. This place is massive!

This is another photo of the Louvre. Notice those ugly pyramids, well, Pat and I hated them anyway. Too modern. Cool though. This is the best photo I have portraying the size of this place but there is still more to the left and to the right.

The photo below shows a picture of a 'house' built for love. A man had this home built for a woman he was madly in love with. He wooed her in any way that he could to win her love, this being the final act. Upon completetion of this, the woman left him for another man. At the time we were there, it was then the home of a politician. As told to us by our 'guides'.

The archways of Notre Dame that I so love. It still amazes me all the detail that surrounds this Cathedral.

Paris photos...

One of my favorite pictures although it's darker than I would like. Now in Paris, the three little ones were looking down at the road having a 'gibberish' conversation, ours speaking english and Milesond speaking french. What prompted me to take this picture though is the three of them had pony tails on top of their heads and silhouetted like this I just couldn't resist.

The next three are various views from the Eiffel Tower.....

this one the Seine River...

France photos

The home of L'Ermitage. My camera was a dumb point and shoot and I couldn't get any further away than this. Behind where I was standing was a stone wall and woods with a tiny little walkway into the metal gate. But this is the famous house.

This is the art studio where Beja and Lana did their fantastic artwork. Beja made comic books, Lana drew/painted beautiful...things, people.

This was the third building, I don't recall what this was used for. I may have wrote about it in my writings????

All those parties I have written about? This is just one example of how these people were. A performance of sorts of family and friends that went on every weekend.

This was actually the final soiree at our home before we moved out. It was very relaxing obviously but the air was heavy with sadness and few words that day.

A few of the kids in France

Our oldest daughter taking a break from the strenuos task of riding her little mermaid bike. Incidently I disassembled that bike and dragged it along. What fun it was to put back together with metric tools.

Our oldest daughter fishing in the fish pond in the back yard. Of course all that was in there was goldfish. This is also the pond that our youngest daughter fell into.

The fields of safflower that were everywhere. This was the view we had from our house.

Our younger daughter's Birthday party with our friends from L'Ermitage.

Our younger daughter enjoying her chocolate she got for Easter.

More from france

Pat signing autographs:

My hippy honey:

The last gig which had the largest crowd, the place was packed:

Another of Pat rockin' out, he had great stage presence and was great at riling up the crowds:

FINALLY! A start of photos from France. More to come.....

Our wee kitchen but to save Pat face I took his image out. What a nerd:

The fireplace and our lounge area:

The bathroom with the mini tub:

The girls enjoying the dining room:

A closet in the bedroom but I only took this because of the little girl in the mirror:

Our Back Yard:

Back of the house in France:

Notre Dame

Talk about more than the eyes can take in. All around us on our way to Notre Dame were statues, gold, bridges, Arcs, strange buildings, stone carvings.

We finally arrived at Notre Dame. I will never ever forget how I slowed my pace in awe of just the outside of this building. How no matter where one looked at this work of art there were carvings of saints I assumed or gargoyles looming overhead and how our guide told us there was a story behind all of them.

How on earth could someone have the patience and/or the ability to create something so amazingly precise with such small detail in a stone? I am a terrible history buff, know nothing about France history but how I wanted to learn more right then and there. To stand there and understand what our guides were explaining...but their English and our French was so broken up we couldn't understand what they were trying to tell us. Yes, it was very frustrating not only for us but for them as well.

We must have spent about a half hour outside the Cathedral. I snapped many pictures of gargoyles and what truly struck me was the doorways into the church. They are arched, but that isn't the amazing thing. Within the stone of these arches are very intricate carvings of what appeared to be saints or angels on both sides of the arch one on top of another on top of another all the way to the peak on both sides. I just could not take it all in enough.

Every which way I turned my head, there was something intriguing to ogle and ogle we did. Running my fingers down the pillars, touching the walls, the doors, it was all so surreal. The funny part was was I had no idea what lay ahead of us.

Pat and I stood side by side or walked side by side during this whole....examination of sorts.....but I don't think we spoke all that much. We were both so wrapped up in the moment that nothing around us seemed to really matter.

And I know all to well how, as a mom of two, I was oblivious to my surroundings but the children somehow managed to stay within reach of me all the same. Funny how the instinct kicks in but the mind is elsewhere. Again, the girls had absolutely no idea what they were seeing, to them it was just a building with lots of scary monsters hanging off of it and people all over the walls.

I remember just before we were going to enter the Cathedral I just had to stop one more time to look up. Perhaps I am just one who is easily awed by such things but I could not seem to get enough of the arch ways. I was so amazed by the details and all the years it must have taken to create such a beautiful structure. And the era, what it must have been like to actually hand carve all of these people....but that was all QUICKLY forgotten the minute we stepped inside.

The Eiffel Tower

When we were finally able to hoof it in France, I became very impatient. I couldn't get to things fast enough now. But that impatience quickly dissolved when I actually started to look around me.

Beauty everywhere. As I have said before, there is an aura about Paris, a history that is indescribable.

Our first destination was the Eiffel Tower. Our kids weren't really old enough to realize just what they had in the palms of their hands but to this very day, they have memories of things that really mattered very little to us but all the same are imbedded in their heads.

So, we get to the Eiffle Tower. I am terrified of heights, vertigo, nausea, you name it I am it. But I wasn't going to miss out on this for some dumb phobia. I think Pat was a little annoyed with me but I didn't care, my invalid fears were valid to me.

We took a long elevator ride up to the second to the top level. If our memory serves correctly, the top level was closed.

All the way up I was freaking out as it was kind of a rickety ride. Well at least that's how I perceived it. "What if it's windy? Do you think it's safe for the kids? What if there's no protection around the railing? What if, what if what if...?" Poor Pat, he was so patient with me even though I knew I was driving him nuts. Ugh, I was a basket case.

Finally, we arrived at our destination. At that point I didn't know if I was relieved to be safely out of closed doors (I'm claustrophic too) or if I was just anxious to take a quick look and be done. Who knew. Slowly the elevator started to empty and it was our turn.

We stepped off the elevator, me making sure I had a hold of the girls with a grip of steel with my head down. Then I had no choice, I had to look and when I did all my fears just went "poof"...vanished.

Oh, what a view it was and what a huge city Paris is! To see it from that vantage point was amazing! I remember looking down at the garden and being so proud of my accoplishment that day. The garden was beautiful. Really, what wasn't beautiful right?

We stood up there for about 20 minutes, walked around and just looked. I don't remember much of what we pointed out or what we could see, just that I was in awe of so much while up there. Things were so tiny, I felt as though we were in a dream. People were so little and to think that we were down on the ground just moments before walking this road or driving on that road.

Our 'guides' pointed out many things to me but I was definately in my own world. I was trying so very hard to take it all in because I knew, in a couple weeks, this would in fact all seem like a dream, one in which I don't know that we will ever be able to return to. And I grew sad inside.

(I took pictures, and I know, I promised to put them up, and I will, I hate breaking promises. But you will see them.)

It was time to make the descent. Time to move on to our next destination. I didn't want to go down, I wanted to stay there, to feel the wind on my face, to feel that freedom that Pat and I had found on this new land. One in which not many we know understand.

Excitement boiled inside at the prospect of our next stop, Notre Dame, in more ways than one can imagine. But with each thing we did, that sadness would also grow because that meant our one day in Paris wasn't standing still, wasn't waiting just because I didn't want it to end.

But end it was going to. When we reached the bottom, I wanted to buy a souvineer. The best thing I could come up with, and it had to be small, and possibly not breakable with our trip home fast approaching, not to mention I had very little time in which to look because the day wouldn't wait...and gee, what did I get? LOL

I grabbed a tiny replica of the Eiffel Tower mounted on a small piece of marble. Some cheap little plastic gold knick knack that still lingers somewhere in this house. And each time I take it out and look at it I chuckle. Pat teased me so much for that purchase and called me 'such a tourist'. But what can I say...I wanted to show people close up what level we stood on!

Paris...part I

Paris was a full day of rapid touring. It was really overwhelming to want to see so much yet knowing that we only had a short time. It is definately not a place that one wants to have only a short time to visit. There is just too much

I don't even remember the order in which things were done, just that we did them and put aside time for a few things that day that we would spend plenty of time doing.

Beautiful is what best describes what we were seeing that day. Breathtaking in some instances. The arcitecture was awe inspiring, feeling the history around us as we drove here and there. I couldn't wait to park the car and walk. There was more to see than I imagined in one city.

I remember being surprised at how big the city was, spotting the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe. The gold statues on one of the bridges over the Seine river, driving past Notre Dame. The Louvre. There was just so much there that I know that I missed.

And cars? Man were there a lot of cars there! Busy and bustling. And it is most definately the city of love/romance. There was just something about the aura there that melted you into this euphoric state. Perhaps it was just the excitment of being there, I don't know but never before nor ever again have I felt that.

We left pretty early in the morning to get started. I remember driving around and feeling so overwhelmed because no matter what window I looked out, there were beautiful things to see. Even the apartment buildings were gorgeous. I had even asked our friends what they were thinking they were something of interest only to find out they were just apartments. Hmm, shows just how much I knew.

Of course he spoke in mostly French and I never did catch on enough to understand, so it was frustrating for me when he would speak. And there wasn't much time in between explanations of this place or that place that I could ask a question because we were in such a rush. It was like a whirlwind tour really.

Our places of interest though were visited in a more relaxed manner and well worth the short answers to all of our other questions.

Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, and Pere Lachaise cemetery. I will go into more detail of these and throw in a few other tidbits about this place or that. But until those posts, I will talk a little about the Louvre.

The Louvre, home of the Mona Lisa, no way did we have time to even walk the first floor of this place. Our 'tour guides' as I will call them told us it would take at least 7 days to go through that entire place. I can only imagine what it must be like in there and so badly wanted to just take a peek...but we couldn't. We did however walk around the outside of it. That place is absolutely huge! I have photos of the carvings that were around this entire building. Man, I cannot imagine how long it took to carve out all of those intricate things. And there is a story behind each and every one of them. I was in shock to say the least that I was actually in a country that I only dreamed about as a kid. Never would I have thought that I would be walking through Paris in my entire life!

I have many pictures of various carvings. But there was one thing about the Louvre that really marred the beauty of it, that really upset me. They had recently erected an art piece in front of it, I am not one who has knowledge of art terms but to me, it looked like a big glass paneled pyramid and I HATED it. It just looked so out of place in this historical city. So out of place in fact that it stuck out like a sore thumb! To this day I will never forget the oddity of that piece in Paris. I'm sure now it's like part of this city to most but to me, it was ugly as all sin!

Anyway, I will post photos of things eventually. I do have them, really. I only wish that I had the camera that I currently have. Point and shoots are great in a pinch but for a place like Paris, a good 35mm SLR, well, I could have some spectacular photos.

So, here is the beginning of the end of our European journey. For that one particular reader I will be writing more frequently of this as it has dragged on long enough!!!!!!

Forgive me? :)

Until next time.......

The Paris adventure begins

Ahhhhhh, Paris.

My impatience to go stay with our friend's was beyond patience anymore. Although things are very hazy now as I try to remember, I do remember how very much Pat and I wanted to see Paris.

The day finally came to go. Pat, our two girls and myself piled into their family car for the hour long drive. Trying to tell myself to take it all in, to remember these moments, it's really interesting how even if a person burns these events into their mind, they just won't stay that way.

When we arrived in Paris, I knew nothing of the history or of the various architectural things surrounding me. I remember seeing lots of gold, lots of very eerie gargoyles, and lots of really intricate and ancient structures. I remember the Arc d' Triumphe, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and looking at this building in awe only to discover that it was just apartments.

What was probably the hardest thing about this leg of our journey is that I knew that we only had one full day to cram in everything. LouAnn and Collere explained that the Louvre would take a full 7 days alone to see so we had to come up with things that we really wanted to explore.

So much, so overwhelming was this task that I left it up to Pat. For myself, I could have spent 2 weeks just ogling the beauty of this City. I had never seen anything nor have I since that took my breath away quite like that. It's too hard to put into words and the photos that I do have, well, they will never do justice.

Our first night there was spent planning and getting comfortable. It was getting pretty late by the time we arrived. We had to go on a Friday as LouAnn and Collere worked during the week. It was very kind of them to offer us this opportunity and to cancel their weekend soiree at L'Ermitage and Pat and I were so grateful. I have said how wonderful these people were, well, lets just say that the apartments were quite small. Space was very limited not only in the car but also in their home. And they had their little girl as well. But somehow, we managed.

The next day was to be completely used for sight seeing. And the agenda we had come up with was crammed! Notre Dame was definately on the list, the Eiffel Tower, Jim Morrison's grave at Pere Lachaise Cemetry, a little souveneir shopping of course, and some other things that LouAnn and Collere wanted to show us. But ultimately is was very difficult to decide knowing full well that with three kids under age 3 and only one day, that it was going to be a full day. And that is most definately an understatement!

So, in my next post, I will put up some photos of the various things that I will speak of. Hopefully Pat and I can decipher what's what as I didn't write on the backs of these photos. Not to mention that we saw things so briefly and quickly, trying to remember what is what has always been a struggle. **sigh**

So, my next entry will be about our 1 day in Paris. Of course it will probably turn into an entry for each place we visited but I will tell you this, my favorite entry/entries will most likely be from our cemetary visit, of all of my memories in France, this is the one that stands out even to this day so, stay tuned...........

Soiree at La Maison Du Stress

Ok, well, a friend of mine has been sending me some beautiful pictures that she's been taking while she's in Germany and they're stirring up the days that we spent in France.

I'm almost to the very best part of this experience but first have one tale left to tell.

La Grande Soiree....yes, my French was and is still most horrid so have a chuckle or two as you read my poor spelling!!!!

Since things were quite tense among all the band members, it was difficult to arrange for a party and decide on what we should do. After all, we had never hosted a party at our house and since our food selection was so limited to those American things we decided that perhaps an American theme was the way to go. And we hoped that we could pull things off.

Barbecued chicken and potato salad. This was the best I could come up with. I know there was more but it was a very long time ago! So, we planned, invited, and went to get the fixin's that we were going to need. But there was something that threw a wrench into our plans. Well, a couple of things actually but this first was definately a foreign one. Charcoal and lighter fluid. They had charcoal alright but it was more like compressed peices of wood. It was really light and didn't burn very long. Lighter fluid? Well, I don't know if we even bothered.

The other wrench was the singer and his girlfriend. The rest of us in the house had already gone to the store and purchased a ton of food for this party and it wasn't cheap. We had expected maybe 50 people? So, shortly before the day of the party, they decided that they were going to make Mexican food as well! Not that that would have been a huge deal except that when we asked for their input, they pretty much shrugged us off and offered nothing, not even to help with what was finally decided upon.

So I was not a happy camper nor were the others but we made the best of what was to be.

People arrived, the party was kickin' but the grill just would not get hot enough to cook the chicken so it took even longer than forever to cook. However, it was a huge hit as were the tacos and the potato salad.

After everyone ate, we all just lazed around the yard and on the porch and talked. We discussed our departure that was to take place in less than a month and that we were unable to get to see Paris. I was very sad about this. All that way and not much to show for it except those things that were in my memory.

However, that morbid feeling was soon to be eased by our friends of L'Ermitage. It just so happened that LouAnn and Coleire lived in an apartment in the middle of Paris during the week. They worked in the city and traveled to the house on the weekends. They offered to have Pat, the kids and myself stay there for 3 days so we could go and tour the city.

We were so overjoyed and grateful that I think that I shed a tear. Actually, I shed many tears in the last four weeks of our stay but that's just besides the point.

All I know is we had to wait for a week or two before we could go stay there and I was beside myself with impatience.

So, on that note, the next leg of our journey is yet to come....stay tuned

That Fateful Day

Ahh, the saga continues. France. It's definately been too long since I have posted since I've had to go back and re-read my last entry. That entry as well as the downward spiral of Pat's band career were to lead into this one. The final straw. And I swear I wrote it but I must have deleted it...So, if in fact I have talked about this before, one of my faithful readers will clue me in. (; ) you know who you are.

Ok, life was moving along quite well for awhile but then the road started to become bumpier and bumpier as the days bled into one another. The pace of our life took on a different pace once the plans seemed to solidify more and more. It was kind of an uncomfortable pace actually...the moods in the band were becoming more and more foul with each meeting and each practice.

Pat was showing the stress as well as the other members, people weren't laughing as much and conversation was practically non-existent. Vibes, such a creepy thing. I stayed out of things for the most part. I would get the scoop here and there from Pat but for the most part, we didn't discuss what was really going on with the group.

That fateful day I sat at the house with the girls while the boys went and had their band meeting down at the brasserie over a couple of beers. I was there with the singers girlfriend for a bit but in my mind now, she vanished into their bedroom at some point. Her and I got along ok but then again, maybe it was just a situation where we got along because we lived under the same roof. Who knows.

All I do know though is that upon the return of the guys, the tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Pat looked beside himself with anger and Magic Fingers blew right past me up to his room. What I remember from that day is Pat pacing around explaining as calmly as he could what had happened at that meeting.

His sentences were short, blunt and not very full of information due to him trying to refrain from taking it out on me. He told me that the singer of the band had quit the project. I hesitantly asked him why and he said because he was bored with it and just didn't feel like doing it anymore.

I must remind you that the tour was all lined up, we were all set to leave in about a month or so, and a lot of time, planning and sacrifices were made by every single person involved in this whole brain scheme the singer had. It was in fact his dream, his idea, and his project. Certainly he was more than welcome to walk away from this but couldn't he have done so while we were all safely based on American soil?

Apparently there was a very heated argument that took place during this meeting. Of course that is to be expected because more than half of the band had picked up their lives, sold their belongings and were set to live in France for at least a year. This was a done deal, this was it, this was going to make them a name. And they were already on their way even before the tour with all the radio interviews and the gigs they had done. These guys had a following, they had posters, they had promoters and moles everywhere.

How could he just up and do this? How could he just ignore the fact that he was not only quitting a project that thousands of dollars was invested in, hundreds of hours of rehearsal was put in, and just leave virtually every last person in such a pickle? Although I shouldn't have been surprised by this guys 'boredom' I sat in silence and tears for so many reasons.

I had grown to really love the life we had there, I had grown very fond of the freedom and the independence that Pat and I had as a couple, I enjoyed watching my girls experience new things and learning the language, I grew attached to our new friends, and mostly I enjoyed not having to deal with our families. (I don't write that because of what has been going on with my family, but because the involvement and interference that was taking place when we were in the states and the wrench that was throwing into our marriage. However, with the things that have transpired in recent years, I would just love to not be here in the states! LOL)

Anyway, there is one very key thing that pained both Pat and myself a great deal. Even to this day. We had been in France for about 2 months when the bomb dropped. Not once had we had the opportunity to visit Paris nor many other places. One of the main reasons that Pat and I decided to take this huge step with our kids was because it was an opportunity to see places that I could only dream about. We were going to travel all around Europe and I wanted to see Switzerland. I have always wanted to go there. And for our kids to have even miniscule memories of this would have meant the world to us. To this day, they have memories of France so I know that their little minds would have absorbed some.

Two months we had been there and not once had the mention of going to Paris been brought up. Ah, we figured we would get there eventually, no big deal. We had all the time in the world. Talk about feeling like we were punched in the gut.

For days Pat and I struggled to make sense of everything. Him and I bickered a lot because I did not want to come home. He didn't either but him being the more sensible of the two of us knew that that was our only choice. Talk about an emotional time.

A lot of our things were sold at home not to mention our house was for sale, we didn't have enough money to fly all four of us home, we didn't have work visas nor did we latch on to the language well enough to even find jobs. It was like everything was moving around us but we weren't able to move with it. Things were just not good.

The guys needed to play one more gig before the end. It was their final gig before the tour was supposed to begin. The bass player had already come back to the states, if memory serves correctly, he had left BEFORE that fateful band meeting to play with another band in L.A. Smart guy, he must have had good instincts. But as I said, the aura of Bluex was not exactly that of angels singing.

By this time we had bit the bullet and called up the folks to ask them to help fly us home...it was the hardest phone call to make too. I shed many tears, we had at some point during this hiatus from all of the stress of our life before, found eachother again and a deeper love and respect grew. Letting go of a place such as this that helped more than harmed our life together was something that is very hard to explain.

Anyway, for their final gig, they had to hire a Frenchman to fill in for the bass player. He actually did a great job. It was the only gig that I brought the girls too, poor things, the music was so loud but they danced and clapped and loved every minute of it.

As luck would have it, the click track on the computer messed up that night and the guys had to wing it, they had to play of their own means. And it was horrible to say it gently. They really did poorly that night but at the end of that gig, they got the best crowd response they received throughout the life of Bluex. I have photos of them signing autographs and people were just crowding around them as if they were the biggest stars they'd ever seen.

They made some decent coin that night. Actually, Pat did. He had the foresight to ask that he be paid as a side player which meant that he would receive a little more than the others. We needed the money in order to get home and start over and since the band wasn't officially a band anymore, well, he was just a hired hand.

Later in the month, we all found out the the singer had picked up with a new band. His new project. Talk about a slap in the face. What a piece of work this guy was. Oh, and he did live with us for at least another 3 weeks after the split. I don't remember too much of that experience except for the party that we had for our friends...what I remember most though is his smug smile that he carried around when he would be around us almost as if he was satisfied...

I will speak of the party in my next post of France. This did get a little long, guess I'm making up for lost time...

La Maison Du Stress

The house of Bluex was quite an experience. Aside from all the quirky things that I have written about I have failed to mention LIVING in this house with 2 very young kids and 3 guys.

Since Pat and I had the two kids and we made up for 4 of the occupants of this house, it was only natural that we would take on the majority of the bills and cleaning. Well, the bills weren't a problem. I grew weary of cleaning up all the time and doing everyone's dishes.

Life moved at a very quick pace in France. It seemed as though Pat and the guys were always doing radio interviews or meeting with the manager or other various things for their album and tour. So the girls and I were left at the house quite frequently. Not that it really bothered me but it was quite boring on a lot of days. Of course the electrical current was much different and for about the first month, we didn't have any music or television or anything unless it was battery operated. We needed transformers in order to plug anything in. Once things started to arrive though I had brought along a bunch of Disney movies for the girls to watch. All I can say is thank heaven for little girls. Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid played endlessly in the VCR! I have those two movies so ingrained in my head even to this day. Of course we did play outside and color and stuff but our options were very limited.

Anyway, living with this group of guys. Um, lets just say that things were pretty tense on a lot of days. Much more so towards the end of our journey, in fact almost unliveable. I am proud to say that I never ever spoke my mind about the band situation though, that was not my place. I spoke with Pat here and there but it was rather difficult because there was always another around when Pat was around.

There was a day that I was left at the house with the singer. Our younger daughter had proven to be quite a handful during this period of time. I'm sure the adjustment for her was overwhelming and that my frustrations and stress didn't help. Anyway, she screamed and cried A LOT! Living with all these guys who didn't have their kids or simply didn't have kids at all, well, one can imagine how stressful it was to keep her from upsetting the entire house. Bedtime was horrific with her, she would pitch a fit every single night and that girl had some serious lungs, whew! Ear piercing screams to say it best.

But on this particular day while at home, it was nap time for the younger one. I had to go upstairs and sit with her in order for her to go to sleep. Not a big deal. I left the older one downstairs watching Beauty and the Beast and had asked the singer if he could just keep an eye on her. It wasn't like we had EVER asked much of these guys to begin with but in this case, the younger one was being unruly and I just wanted her to take a nap.

While I'm upstairs hoping for daughter 2 to be good and fall asleep almost instantly, it was like watching a pot of water start to boil. I had to have been up there for about 20 minutes when my older girl gently opened the bedroom door with her pants down to her ankles and crying. This poor 4 year old little girl had gone to the bathroom and needed help wiping herself. She had asked the singer to help her and he told her to go find her mom. She had walked through the garage and up the stairs with her pants down just to come and get me. The guy couldn't help her wipe and couldn't even get off his butt to come and yell up the stairs that she needed help. Needless to say, I was absolutely livid and astonished that someone could be so cruel! How humiliating for my little girl.

I picked her up, brought the younger one with me and went downstairs immediately to help her and after asked him why he couldn't do the simple thing of at least calling me downstairs so she didn't have to walk around with her pants like that. He said, 'She's not my kid!' My blood was boiling by this time but I had to refrain from what was on my mind because after all, this guy held the future in his hands, his girlfriend held the future, and I was simply another bandmates wife. I hadn't really established a place in all of this at that point. But Pat did hear about it immediately upon his return and he laid into this guy and well, the guy was flippant and cocky with Pat and threatened to send him home.

You can imagine what this relationship was like thereafter. You see, Ronny's girlfriend had funded this entire tour for the band, every expense that was accrued that related to the band. Ronny was soaking her for all the money that he could and in the end, not to mention a couple of crotch rockets, tattoos, sushi, all told this fiasco wound up costing her in the 10's of thousands of dollars. She was pregnant to boot and he already had a child with his ex that he was trying to escape his fatherly duties from. And, he was bringing some groupies home while his girlfriend was preparing to come to France.

Not a situation that I agreed with, Pat or the other members of the band for that matter. All were quite angry with this guy and his antics. But that is band life and what him and his girlfriend had to endure, well, that was really none of our business. But it was having an effect on the entire band. Not a good one either.

Although this guy was one talented man, his ego was way overboard and he was most definately very aware of his talents and his power, even though it wasn't his money. When his girlfriend arrived, him and her went out and purchased a washing machine and a refrigerator but none of us were allowed to use it. I think I was able to wash a single load of clothes in it and that was it and he made sure that I didn't do any more than that. His girlfriend was more than happy to allow me to use it so I could at least wash the girls' clothes but he said no way!

The appliances in France are triple the cost they are in the U.S. and they are the most compact things I have ever seen. Their fridge would barely house 2 gallons of milk and yogurt and tomatoes and their washing machine took about a 1/4 of the load of an extra large capacity machine here. I was so shocked by the way this guy was acting. If not for Pat securing the down payment for the house, that guy wouldn't have had a pot to piss in period and he wouldn't even allow me to use a washing machine for my kids?

Things ran like this for much of the time that I was there with the kids. In fact, it was like this even before we arrived and Pat, the bass player and the keyboard player spent much of their time with the people at L'Ermitage. Which reminds of one final thing.

Again, this will involve the singer. In France, violence at that time anyway, was very rare where we were located. It was very peaceful and the people just had an aura around them that caught you like a butterfly to a flower. Ronny had invited some friends over to view an American movie. We, Pat, myself, and Magic Fingers, thought that he would put in something like 'Defending your Life' which we had watched endlessly. Didn't realize we had other movies to watch.

Once all the guests arrived, Ronny came out of his bedroom with a movie and popped it in. His choice? 'Boyz in the Hood'. Pat and I looked at him and asked why he would choose that movie and he said because he wanted them to see what life was like in L.A. Let's just say that about 1/2 of the 15 or so people had to leave the house. 2 of the girls left crying and others completely left. They were shocked by the violent nature of the movie and very saddened to see what Ronny said was life in L.A. . I just didn't know what to think of this and left to go sit outside with some of those that had left to see if I could help. They were very shocked by the violent nature of this movie, very sad to see that America was this way and vowed to never go to California.

This whole entry will come to a close once I wrap up this France tale. I have more positive things to mention before I spill the ending. But in a nutshell, this is just a taste of why those in France called our home La Maison Du Stress. Can one blame them?

The downward spiral of what once was....

As all of my readers know, Pat and I are highschool sweethearts. (awwwww, ain't that sweet) It's been quite an experience, one that I wouldn't trade for the world. With that comes all the memories that him and I have together.

We are connected at the hip, it's really just that simple. I think, he speaks what I'm thinking. He thinks, I do what he's thinking, we finish eachothers sentences, almost as if we are one in the same. Of course there have been those really rocky times in our lives together, we hate eachother, we scream at eachother, and the other one is always the one at fault, and we turn into people that neither of us recognize for a brief period of time. Strangers, weird how that happens.

Pat was in many bands in his younger days. The 'rock star' and really good at it. I did fall head over heels when he first played some screaming solos for me. Over the years, the bands that he would move on to got increasingly better. Battle of the Bands was a big deal for awhile but their band never did win. Carousel was the name of one in particular. Boz being the drummer, Pat the lead guitar, and others whom I won't mention since I don't see them that much these days. The singer in the band, weeeell, he could've used some work. He was a RATT impersonator and loved Poison. He was quite the lady's man and a poser. I have some pretty great pictures of this guy with his long hair and the RATT bandana wrapped around his head and yes, make-up. Ahhh, the 80's, make-up and the big hair.

Throughout the years, Pat wanted to become a singer/songwriter. I wasn't always as supportive of that decision because that meant putting down the electric guitar for the acoustic and I just hated that idea. He attended The Guitar Center in Minneapolis and graduated. Out came this guitar player that I didn't even recognize. He was melodic, smooth, full of music theory and had some really tasty licks but at the same time, that 'crunch' that he once had was gone, poof, just like that. He was an actual musician.

His tastes started to change, his style was much different and he definately was on his way to doing what he had wanted to do. I was never going to stop that progression. While he worked on writing and singing, he still dabbled in the band scene. Krystal Klear became a pretty big rock band in the area. They played bars, talent shows and had a pretty good following. Studio time was occuring but man, if there is one thing about a band that I absolutely hated it was the arguments. The egos at work and the stress. I don't miss that in the least. Krystal Klear broke up after about a year. There were many other issues with members that played a role in this, personal things that were getting a little out of control.

After this stint, along came the Bluex/European tour opportunity. Another that ended probably worse than any other. If one can imagine the stress felt in playing bars, talent shows and inflated egos, imagine the stress involved in a change in culture, large crowds, parties after the gigs, and groupies. Things really heated up in France. Everyone was so out of their element there and so enamoured with the attention that reality hit like a semi. Not a pretty sight really.

The band scene became almost a thing of the past for a long time after Bluex. Pat started to do a solo act at coffee houses. He had had enough of the hooey that is involved with a band and with his strong personality well, I thought that perhaps this was a good idea. Not to mention that both him and I were so extremely disappointed with the whole Bluex nightmare that we had very sour tastes in our mouths. Shortly after beginning his own thing he met another musician. He did a duet with this guy for awhile, recorded some but again, that fizzled out because Pat had a taste of being busy with gigs, the amount of practice it took, the amount of writing and brainstorming it took and as with most musicians, the other guy wanted a bigger piece of the pie. Pat did not.

This occurred again with yet another guy who is extremely talented in all areas, sound/mixing, drums, singing, guitar, bass, you name it the guy could play it. Harmonica, man could that guy play harmonica. Again Pat and this guy began performing at coffee houses. The most curious thing about this particular guy is he had never once played for a live crowd and I will never forget their first performance at a small coffee house for a very small crowd. I thought the guy was going to pass out. But he didn't and he acquired quite a taste for performing.

Eventually with this guy, a band was formed and they were together for quite a long time, up until about 2 years ago. There's a website actually that has some of their music on it. Click here to hear some clips of their music:

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/pageartist.cfm?bandID=85128

There's a photo there on the right, Pat's in the middle with his usual 'Gophers' hat on. Pat and Kris are the two singing and playing the guitar. They harmonized really well and were an amazing act to listen to.

But anyway, this band broke up as well, the other singer moved away. Things started to fall apart shortly before this because all of the guys in this band are pretty well established in life, need to keep full time day jobs to support their families and that nagging itch to play out and become famous was more than what Pat wanted from the band. He had made that very clear long before this band was even a band, he just wanted to play for the enjoyment of it, not for the task. All said they understood but once a following was established, some of the other members got a little weird...they wanted more time to rehearse, to play out more. Memories of France soon surfaced with Pat and the nightmare of what was to become and Pat lost the desire to play at all. Sad too because after all was said and done, I have grown very, very fond of his singing, song-writing, and acoustic ways.

I haven't written about France lately. But this story is somewhat of a lead-in to La Maison Du Stress. The house of Bluex and what occurred in those few months that we were there. Disturbing, so totally typical yet so completely aggravating that even thinking about it is making me angry.

Stay tuned for more to come....

A French Tale from Patrick..."The Ketchup Coalition"

I had promised a while back that I would post an entry written by Patrick and an experience him and his band members had in France regarding ketchup.

Since I have been so out of the loop lately and a little out of sorts, I thought that now would be a good time to do so. As I have said before I believe, Pat is much more political and cares not, what others may think. It is one of many tales from our adventure that is loved by many, perhaps because of the way it is told in person with the French accent and the hand gestures but all the same, open up your imagination and enjoy the read.


Wednesday, June 15, 2005

"The Ketchup Coalition (as written by Patrick)"

"One of the most painful things I have had to endure over the course of the last few years is my growing disdain for the French. A healthy disdain for the French is certainly not a unique phenomenon, and If I'm not mistaken it can be traced to the very origins of the French people. There is, indeed, perhaps no greater parallel in all of recorded history. And for each person that has developed a 'French' taste in their mouth, there is a unique and emotional story that details a love gone bad. This...ladies and gentlemen...is my story.

I spent about five months completely immersed in French culture in the winter and spring of 1993. It was tres freakin' bien. I loved these people, what with their Saturday night soire's and their sleep-in lifestyle. I was finally at home. The Mrs. and I, our two toddlers, a keyboard player, and a singer and his girlfriend shared a house in Marsangy, a tiny burg about 20 miles from Sens. I spent most of my days with a French band manager named Pierre sampling the regional reds in amounts that rarely failed to crinkle the wife's brow. And everyone, I mean everyone, lived for Saturday.

Saturday meant five course meals, scotch and Perrier, tarry offerings from northern Africa, singing, dancing, conversation to die for, and a very late, very painful Sunday morning. I partied with doctors, mechanics, lesbians, thespians, painters, musicians, the works. Never once, did I ever fail to have an absolutely fabulous time. To this day LeAnn and I miss the friends we made dearly. But...that is not to say that we agreed on everything.

Anti-Americanism was alive and well even back then. It was jocular in nature, and I became accustomed to and even fond of being called a “capitalist pig.” It certainly differentiated me from my band mates, who were more than willing to cannonball into the tepid-on-America pool. It soon became apparent that I would be the lone voice in defense of big, bad, Uncle Sam, and most often as a parry to the thrusts of Marvin. Marvin, or Garlic Drummer (for his attachment to garlic andhis resulting overall odor), was a Canadian expatriate who had been living illegally in L.A. for years, before moving to Villeneuve Sur Yonne to live with his brother, who was incidentally, there illegally.

I endured months of resisting the urge to garrote Garlic Drummer for uttering nonsense like, “America is just full of racist bastards,” and so forth. Of course, every thing he said fit nicely into the pre-conceived notions of Americans held by our French friends. Still, despite their willingness to believe anything negative about America, I loved the French, and had it not been for an ugly ketchup incident, the downward spiral that led to disdain may never have begun.
It was a night like any other; the band hanging out at a familiar Sens brasserie, soft-core porn playing on all the T.V.'s (French custom), and pomme frite (French fries) the only safe thing on the menu. People sat idly, enjoying their beer while their dogs panted softly on the restaurant floor.

Our exceedingly large order of fries arrived with the always-present tin of Dijon and we inquired of garçon as to the presence of ketchup within his fine establishment. Garçon quickly returned with roughly two ounces in a decorative thimble...for the six of us. It was no sooner delivered when it transformed into a request for additional ketchup, upon which another thimble was served, albeit with just a hint of frustration.

With nary a pound of fries yet on their way to our collective digestive tract, and again sans ketchup, we formed a 'ketchup coalition' and politely requested yet another serving of the suddenly precious sauce. Perhaps in addition, we politely pointed out, it would be prudent to serve the condiment in a slightly larger receptacle, if only to free Garçon to provide more personal service to his other charges. No one will ever know for sure if it was simply the repeated requests for ketchup, the fact that we had formed a coalition without consulting garçon, or if it was the insulting demand for a larger bowl that set Garçon off, but off he did set.

Long story short, a shouting match ensued in which we became privy to exactly what the French thought of Americans and exactly where we could stick our ketchup requests. I would have missed most of the litany, which included a lot of stupide's and mairde's and, of course, references to us being American, had I not become so proficient in French.

We never did get any damn ketchup.

The reason I broach the subject of the ketchup incident now, and doubt not that I do so without suffering great personal anguish, is to illustrate an important point that bears reflection when dealing with our cultured allies on a regular basis.

With the French it is always something.

If they are not stealing your coalition-building thunder they are infringing on your God-given right to enjoy ketchup with French fries. It is not that they simply accept our disdain, but rather they actively seek it and wear it as a badge of honor. My point, if there can be one in this long ramble, is that one should not feel poorly about holding a negative opinion of the French. Not only is it inevitable and right that you should do so, the French themselves would have it no other way.

Never was that so accurately illustrated as the time our ketchup coalition found itself betrayed by a French waiter."

posted by Teaparty at 5:49 PM

Friday/Saturday night Soiree's at L'Ermitage

Looking through the limited photos that I have from France, I notice a lot of photos of the many soiree's at L'Ermitage. I have so many photos of them all that they all get jumbled together into one big party.

These parties consisted of mostly drinking and more drinking. Scotch and Perrier was the drink of choice and then wine. Pat preferred the wine and was quite a 'wino' when I arrived with the girls. A good bottle costed a mere $3.00 and when I say good, I'm comparing to a 'good' bottle here in Minnesota that would go for $30.00. Myself, I drank coke.

At these parties however, there was a lot of entertainment. Music and mystical dancing is how I can best describe it. Nej the ballerina would put on her own little recital for all of us, Natele, Lana, Baja, and Collere would dance like there was no one watching. So much feeling and somehow they managed to meld together like a beautiful painting. As they danced, it was as if all of us spectators were in a trance, peaceful, stress free, and simply euphoric. There was never a dull moment at L'Ermitage.

On some nights they would put on plays. One night they re-enacted a scene from Les Miserables. It was a birthday present for "Magic Fingers". Well, not only did they perform it wonderfully but all of us found out something new about the old 'Magic'. He was a pretty good ballroom dancer. Him and Frederic, another member of L'Ermitage, were just tearing up the floor, getting into it and all of the sudden as he is trapsing across the floor one way to meet her his elbow met up with her cheek and her head snapped back and she got 'wobbled'. This of course ended the scene but Frederic was ok, thankfully. Getting whacked in the face by a man the size of the Green Giant could really do some damage.

I remember also shortly after I arrived there, I was asked to be in an 'actual' play that they put on for a number of people, one not performed in the house but somewhere else. I wasn't expected to speak thank god, just 'look good' as they put it. Pat and I both were asked to do this and I, being nervous simply speaking to a room of strangers felt my stomach go into my throat. They had it all planned out who would watch our kids and everything else. I simply wasn't going to have any excuse to back out of this.

It was a play that the family had written themselves. It was very similar to the Three Muskateers. It is a vague memory for both Pat and myself. I was still a little jet lagged at the time and way out of my element. It took place in the Victorian era and all of us girls donned the dresses of old and the men in their handsome get-ups. I was so lost but do remember one thing...the applause at the end and the relief I felt. Ugh, I was so nervous. Part of my memory lapse is probably due to nerves.

My part in the play was as an extra and all I had to do was stand there and pretend that I was working over something. It wasn't even anything to be nervous about but all the same, I had to avoid looking up and seeing all the eyes that were watching or I may have passed out. I also remember that I was blushing horribly...I'm definately not cut out for that sort of thing.

Each and every Friday and Saturday night we would spend at L'Ermitage watching the most raw entertainment one could imagine. The images I have of these are still firmly embedded in my head along with that peaceful euphoric feeling. I often times have to force myself to close my eyes and remember that simple life we had for only a brief time and cherish it with everything that I am. It helps me to remember that nothing in life is forever, just borrowed.

We would often just stay the night so the kids could sleep and we could stay up until the wee hours just being. We would wake in the mornings and sit at the table with Patrova and Natele sipping tea and eating toast and jam while talking quietly about what was ahead for the day.

Our house that we lived in was called La Maison du Stress not only by our French friends but also all the locals in the area. But that round of the story is yet to come. There was a reason for that name, a very good reason.....

Bonjour, a trip to Sens

(Pat and I are disputing this photo but I believe it was taken by myself from an outdoor bistro in Sens. It's in dispute because it was in with photos from Ville Neuf, where the people from L'Ermitage lived. Either way, there will be more to come in the way of photos)

Ce'va? Oui, et tu? Ok, well, that is pretty much the extent of my French. Of course there's 'au voir', bien, and mairde but by the time I arrived in France, the people we hung out with spoke pretty good broken English.

Anyway, transportation proved to be somewhat of a problem for us after a couple of weeks. The only people we knew with vehicles were of course the people of L'Ermitage. And getting in touch with them and setting up a day to be transported to Sens was quite difficult as they were always busy with this or that. But we did manage to kidnap the manager, Pierre, a couple of times and get his vehicle so we could run and get much needed supplies for the kids and the house.

On one of those trips, Pat and I decided that it was time we come up with our own sort of transportation which of course turned out to be bikes. A car just wasn't a logical expense at that time as we figured we would only use it for a short time anyway and the one that was lined up, well, that deal fell through for some reason. Money I believe was the big issue.

Sens was about 20 minutes from where we lived, (I may have said it was further in past posts and for that I apologize but as I've said, some details are very foggy. That being one of them I guess.) so we figured that we would have no problem biking to get the littler things that we would need. Of course with the purchase of our $80/each bicycles, we had to buy the child seats with helmets for the back so we could hoist our kids around on those days that we wanted to take a leisurely ride. Done! I was amazed at all the bikers in France, there were almost as many as there were cars and they were crazier than some of the drivers! But after I saw the price of gas, well, I understood.

We got the bikes home and Pat proceeded to put them together with the cheap wrench that was packaged with them and voila! We were in business. All the other minor details are lost on me such as getting air in the tires and such but somehow, we were ready to take a bike trip.

I would have to say that this period in our life was probably the only time that we actually made schedules days ahead of time and stuck to them. We had nothing better to do but sit around and play in the yard and walk in the woods. Nobody worked, we all holed up in that house and made due.

Anyway, a few days after we purchased the bikes, we had decided that we would take a day to go tour Sens, get some photos, pick up a few little things, and show the girls some really cool stuff. So the journey began.

We packed up a back-pack with little snacks and sippee-cups, diapers, camera, and went right around nap time for our younger one thinking that perhaps she would fall asleep on the way. She was momma's girl so I put her on the back of my bike knowing full well that the older one and Pat had that 'adventurous' streak to them and Pat would make her bike ride much more worth while.

We were off. Down the hill, through Marsengy and across a main road onto a back road that led to a trail that followed the Yonne River. What a beautiful trip it was through the woods, it was a dirt trail so of course Pat was baa-haaing over the bumps and our older daughter was in her glee. (they're mountain bikes) So much to take in and thinking that we would venture this way again knowing full well that this is exactly the sort of thing that both Pat and myself love about the outdoors and the country. Peace, beauty, and ruggedness.

Our younger daughter was perfectly quiet and would giggle here and there when I would attempt to go flying over a bump at the pace of an old woman but all the same, she loved it. She never did fall asleep either.

We rode for what seemed like an hour on this trail and came to an area with a bridge over the river, I had to stop to take in the sight, and on the other side of that bridge was Sens. Pat and I were so excited about this day, our first day not being on anyone else's schedule and an opportunity to do what we do best, poke around and ooh and ahh over anything and everything.

We passed the bridge, and entered into Sens. Not having a clue what we should do with all this time we had, we simply rode around for a bit and took in the sites. God, what a beautiful little city that is. Quaint yet larger than life. I cannot do it justice with my words or my memories, just know that it took my breath away.

Finally, we had decided that we would park the bikes and hoof it for awhile. Cobblestone roads, alleys and narrow too. We found an alley to rest our bikes in and guess what, my little darling daughter, the younger one, began to cry. Thinking that she was just upset that the bike ride had come to an end and would be ok, we proceeded to lock up the bikes and shake our legs out, took the girls out of their seats and set them down.

As I write this, I am closing my eyes, shaking my head because of that fateful day and there would be more to follow this with our youngun! Anyway, we set the girls down and our 3 year old was ready to go explore but the 1 1/2 year old, hell no, she stood with her arms up and screamed. At the top of her lungs. She wanted nothing to do with our day of freedom.

All told, Pat and I didn't get to see too much of Sens. We offered up suckers, pastries, juice, whatever we could think of and NOTHING satisfied our little darling. We had maybe an hour and I only got to see that alley, a couple of restaurants, and churches from afar before we decided that we were tired of all the screaming and fighting and all the rude looks. It was time to head home.

I almost cried I was so heartbroken and angry. My frustration was not with my daughter but with the realization that we needed a babysitter, a day to ourselves to spend some time doing what we liked knowing that that just was not going to be. So, we saddled up the bikes while passerbys ogled us and sneered at our daughter. I simply wanted to punch them and tell them to quit staring because she was just tired but of course, refrained.

One last look back as we headed back on the trail from the bridge at the little City of Sens and we were on our way back home. And, as luck would have it, my little girl fell asleep within 10 minutes of the start of the journey back home. It was so tempting to turn back but we didn't because both Pat and I were exhausted and frustrated from the battle that ensued. So we took our time getting back home pretty disappointed with a day that we had been looking forward to for about a month but at least we can say that we got to see Sens...from a distance.

We still have those two bikes in our garage. We only just recently disposed of the baby seats a few years ago as we had our other two children. And of course we still have that daughter. hehe. She proved to make our France experience quite the rollercoaster ride in more ways than just the flight and the bike trip. And to this day is still very moody, headstrong, and smart as a whip. She is now 14, almost 15, a straight A-student, a serious Gopher hockey fan, and has turned into quite a beauty and loves to hear about how she acted at that age. Perhaps it's because not much has changed, it is now in the form of I say it like it is, know-it all fashion.

The washing machine Dilemma

After about a week and a half in France, we started to run out of clothes. Pat had quite a pile up from before we arrived and in asking him, he doesn't remember doing his laundry. Eww, now that is really gross. He seems to think that they did their laundry at the drummer's brother's house but as far as men go, these are petty details.

There was no washing machine at our house. And there wouldn't be as far as I could gather from the things I was told. Oh, there were hook-ups but a small capacity washing machine was well over $1100. And when I say small capacity, I am talking about a machine that would fit 2 pairs of jeans, maybe three comfortably with maybe a couple of t-shirts and that was it.

Water is extremely expensive in France. A monthly water bill would average anywhere from $90-$100 per. This is no lie! We would stagger our showers as much as possible going two to three days sometimes without a shower just to conserve. Before I had gotten there with the girls, Pat and the band members would go sometimes 10-11 days without a shower, they would wash with a rag but that was the extent. Coming from all the luxuries of taking baths and showers, using dishwashers, washing machines, and washing our vehicle in our driveway, this was a pretty harsh reality. I am not one to get up and leave without first taking a shower so when I heard this, I was not a happy camper. And we had to toddlers too, they needed to be bathed at least every other day. At least! Eventually, I grew accustomed to this but not completely.

The bathtub in the house was about 3 feet square and about 1 foot deep so there were no baths to be had by myself. Our girls thought their baths were pretty neat in this small elevated drain area of the shower. But I hated it.

Back to the dilemma of washing our clothes. Well, we really needed a washing machine and bad! Our kids were wearing their dirty clothes at least twice in a week and I just couldn't stand it....spoiled American. So the man who rented the house out to us said that he would send over a washing machine. Talk about excited to do laundry! One just doesn't realize what they got until it's gone.

When the washing machine arrived, I leapt to the door to find him holding a plastic bin type contraption in his arms. It was really small!!! Just like all the mini cars and trucks! It was maybe 2 1/2 feet deep and maybe 2 feet square. I couldn't believe what I was ultimately going to be using to wash clothes. It was like we were back in the days where the women used washboards.

Here is what that washing machine consisted of. A plastic box with an oscillator in the middle that you had to plug in to get it to work and unplug to get it to stop. To empty it, we had to carry it outside and pour it out and then refill. Period. There was no spin cycle, and laundry was definately a two man job for Pat and I.

We had to hand wring everything and this was really a pain in the tooty!!! Especially jeans. He would grab one end and I would grab the other and then we would proceed to twist. Man do they collect the water. Not to mention that once I grew accustomed to the 50+ degree weather, it wasn't exactly good on our hands. My hands became very chapped and dried and they hurt and they were always so red from being in the cold water then in the cold air.

After we would wring them, we would walk through our very long and beautiful yard to the clothes line to hang up a pair of jeans and a few shirts and underclothes. We did wind up having to mix colors in this thing because it only held 1 pair of jeans and a few miscellaneous things and it didn't wash the clothes as well as my machine does here at home. So we really had to pick and choose the clothes that were necessary. For a woman, all clothes are necessary but I learned rather quickly what I needed to pick and choose. Laundry was a huge chore that no one in that house wanted to do! But alas, it needed to be done!

The singer of the band, "Ronny", his girlfriend was rather well off. She funded the majority of this whole band tour, cd's, recording studio time, this guys rent and share of the bills, his crotch rockets, pretty much supported him. She had been married to a mid-level, supporting actor, before Ronny and her met, who was killed and she was left with a small fortune. He would be purchasing a new washing machine once she arrived.

This would prove to cause just a small part of the tension that ultimately ended this whole project but that will come later.