Brace yourself, you may cry with laughter. Or maybe this is just my own brand of humor, but I busted a least one rib laughing over two of the stories I'm about to tell you.
But first, regular updates. After all, one takes the main meal before the dessert (and it is a whopper).
My swiss friend came from Tours for the weekend to visit before he goes to Bordeaux. He brought with him 99% chocolate which blew the roof of my mouth off. Apparently one needs to start with 75% and then 85% before progressing to what feels like pure cocoa... Oh wait... It is.
We also made jam and picked blackberries, hopped over farmer fences and generally got blonder and tanner. It was good to be blonde company, what with all these brunettes running around France. And fake blondes. All this dye cramps my natural style.
Swiss friend and I dabbled in a tango lesson on Sunday evening, but most of what I learned in that in the tango one must "fait la resistance." And the dude gets to choose which direction and what happens the whole time. It feels a little like a really romantic game of rugby. When we switched partners everytime it was difficult to adjust. This is partially because I am shorter than all the women who were there and not used to resisting quite that forcefully. I think I may prefer my salsa dancing for now. More room to move.
We also learned in our Island Paradises educational program that all the cows in Cuba are owned by the government and thusly you can only get a burger at a public restaurant. At least that's what I think they said.
And now for Les Grandes Histories
Story #1
So when my family was still staying chez Grandparents, my Granny bought a bunch of food and drinks for us, to suit our "American tastes." A particular drink, by the name of Passion Pattana, was Shporty's favorite, especially mixed with a bit of water, as it was very fruity. Flash forward a week when my swiss friend was staying with us. We are eating and generally enjoying the meal when he was offered some of said Passion drink. He then pointed out that it is 15% alcohol.
Which is more than beer and about the same as sherry.
<:-O
Granny's shocked reaction to her covert attempt at turning her 11 nearly 12 grandson into an alcoholic...
"I didn't have my glasses on."
She'd also tried to get the poor child to finish the bottle, encouraging him to "drink it all up."
Story #2
The next meal we heard that Grunkle had received a letter from his rather extravagant cousin. This cousin has been married more times than my very-good-at-counting-grandparents can remember. He frequently plans expensive parties on the bankroll of his current wife. So it is natural for him to think that he might need some help... And thus he sent a letter hereby appointing Sir Grunkle as his chief of staff.
We spent the rest of the day coming up with the appropriate way to refuse such an honor. And finding ways to poke fun at said Chief of Staff.
Me: You have some crumbs in your beard Grunkle.
Grunkle: Do I?
Granny: The chief of staff cannot be looking scruffy!
And so forth. I wish someone would appoint me their chief of staff, if only so I could write a pompous letter in return kindly refusing such a grand offer.
Please vote on the left whether he should take this job or not.
Life is more exciting when you live with your grandparents (or at least those like mine).
Nantes has been taken by storm.
I met my host family today, but under the Foster Secrecy Treaty enacted this morning I will refrain from taking the mickey out of them. Besides, they are WONDERFUL and FUN and WELCOMING. Honestly, there is not another family I would be more happy to live with in Nantes right now. I am very lucky and grateful to those who set it up!
I hope you found these stories as funny as I did.
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