Finally putting down my bags in La Vienne

Well, I just wrote this long beautiful blog and the computer lost it…. Here is my second attempt:

After many wonderful adventures, I have finally arrived in La Vienne, where my mother and John’s house is in the small town of Saint-Pierre-de-Maillé. See pictures of the house at http://www.hidden-worlds.com/text/grange_au_dimes1.html. It is very beautiful, but, as I should have expected, filled with dog hair. I am slowly cleaning it, but only out of absolute necessity. I think my parents just don’t see it anymore….

They have 2 dogs: little dog and big dog. Big dog (Bella) is a native Californian who they brought over for an exorbitant fee, and they found they could not afford to bring back. She is a tall yellow lab mix. Little dog (Minou, means small and cute in French) is a slightly darker shade of sand. She used to live alone in a shack down the road and cry at night out of loneliness disturbing my parents' sleep. Since my mother’s heart permanently belongs to small dogs like little dog (who reminds her of her old dog Trixie), my mother offered to buy little dog. Her owner refused. Some time passed, and my mother decided to take the issue a bit more seriously. She took the dog, informing her owner of this action. The owner had no choice, but he agreed as long as little dog was available to hunt on Sundays at 7 AM every week. So, John regularly delivered little dog for the purpose of hunting anything small enough for her to scare (not much, by the way). And after a while little dog’s former owner stopped requiring her services, and little dog has lived here, in the lap of luxury, ever since.

I encountered another small sand-colored dog at the Poiriers’, where I spent this afternoon with Anne (the mother of my highschool sweetheart). Lilie was purchase shortly after my mother got Bella, because Anne was jealous of my mother and her new puppy. Lilie is a great snuggler, only requiring a little bit of encouragement. (The problem of snuggling with children has long bothered me. I want it. I think they want it. But we have to go through this whole ritual of getting to know each other through play before we can do it. I sometimes feel like am practicing some kind of deceit.)

The last time I visited this part of France, it was to see the Poiriers 12 years ago (although Julien and I had long broken up). Their home was beautiful then, but they have made it into a wonderful and complete work of art. I won’t bore you with a complete description of all the improvements, but I will describe for you a portrait they have of Anne’s great grandmother. She looks, of course, exactly like Anne. She was from French New Orleans, but the portrait displays San Francisco in its background. It is very beautiful, and I wish I had something like that from my family.

So, Anne and I spend the afternoon walking by the river and talking. She calls our last election a fascist coup d'etat. She lent me Le Divorce to read; says it is much better than the movie. For those who are wondering, I asked Bertrand about the misogynist divorce laws portrayed in the movie and he says they are not true (at least anymore). Anne also suggested I read Camus in French to re-start my study of the language.

I finished reading Toujour Provence on the train getting here. It is a pleasant little book about food and dogs. Anne says Peter Mayle now lives on Long Island; an idea I find very disturbing for some reason. I mentioned to Anne that I didn’t like the way Mayle refers to his French neighbors as peasants, and she said that that isn’t derogatory in this country. However, Mayle is English; so, he used the word with full awareness of its meaning to Engish-speaking people. I think it is a problem with direct translation from his conversational French. Similarly, every time I use the word “vibrant” in English to a native French speaker, they comment on its use. However, I think the meaning is clear by context. On the other hand, I wonder about that – if a word is clear by context, why do we bother saying it? In an ideal world of getting to the point, shouldn’t the meaning of every word be a surprise?

Now, my mother and John have gone off to have dinner with someone. I chose to stay at home ostensibly to clean, but really because I have a strong desire to do nothing. After a charming afternoon with Anne, I need to add a little more nothing to the soup of my day. I have many adventures to describe for you, but they will have to wait until another day. Bon Soir.