American Family Loose in France

Chenonceau started in 1513 in the Loire Valley.

Bonjour! My family and I recently returned from 10 days in France. It was the first time my husband and kids have traveled abroad. And it was the first time ever my family have been together for 10 days nonstop.

Well, as evidenced by this post, we all survived each other. I wasn't worried about getting lost in France; gypsies or terrorists; lost bags or the language barrier. I was worried that we would be scratching each others' eyes out by Day 5. 

Chateau de la Tortiniere built at the end of the 10th Century. Now a hotel.

Seriously, before leaving I tried to remember a time we have spent that many days together without an escape route. I think the closest thing was back in 1995 on my honeymoon. And that was without kids or a language barrier.

When I voiced my concerns to my friend Carol, her advice was "drink lots of wine." I did, and it was delicious. We quickly learned that in France, the dollar doesn't buy much. However three things are reasonable if not cheap -- wine, bread and cheese.

Our bedroom at de la Tortiniere

We went to the Loire Valley, Provence, and Paris. We saw castles, dungeons, gardens, museums, open markets, the Eiffel Tower and cobblestone streets.

But what was really fun was seeing another country through the eyes of a pre-teen and teenager.

When we arrived at our first hotel, our daughter plopped on the couch and started flipping through TV channels. "It's all in French," she stated. "Ugh."

Ruins of the historic town Eygalieres.

"Well, that's probably because we are in France," I told her.

My husband is a sort of tech nerd, so he reprogrammed the TV to English. I was a little bummed by that.

But then, the real horror came. Our adapter, which we borrowed, was for England, not France. Now that was a bigger problem and one travelers didn't have two decades ago. The chargers alone must weigh a total of five pounds. But he figured out how to charge by plugging into the TV.

Gordes, built into a side of a mountain.

As we made day trips around in our little rental car and navigated France's many roundabouts and tollways, my husband quipped, "I feel like that guy in An Idiot Abroad," referring to the BBC show of three guys one of whom is sent around the world to test out new experiences.

"Maybe we could be the American version," I mused. "American Idiots Aboard."

Roman coliseum in Arles which is under renovation.

Another learning experience came when we ate lunch in Arles one day. Upon finishing our lunch we tried to pay only to learn that they don't accept credit/debit cards. My husband had to scurry around to find a cash machine which he found six blocks away.

When traveling aboard, one quickly begins to appreciate things both countries have. For instance, in France, the countryside is clean with many wildflowers in bloom. No trash lining roadways. But here's my rundown of each country's top things.

France:
* Clean streets, yards, and towns
* Excellent wine, cheese and bread

Our Hotel Buci room in Paris

* Beautiful countryside and quaint towns
* Long, luxurious lunches (two hours)
* Fresh vegetables and fruits
* Cute boys (this one is from my daughter)

USA:
* His/her bathrooms with sinks and toilet seats
* Manned tollways
* Highways that aren't tollways
* Clothing/shoes at reasonable prices
* Pharmacies open at night
* The can-do spirit
* The consumer driven economy.

Family portrait in Provence.

When Does "Older" Translate into "Old?"

Remember this cute advertisement from the '60s? Then you're getting old.

Yesterday my friend Amy called to wish me a belated 48th Happy Birthday. She's a month late. Her "senior moment" got us talking about growing older and had me wondering when exactly does "getting older" become "you're old."


"I'm having hot flashes and have been a little light-headed," said Amy who is 49. And she missed her last period. So she ran to the drugstore for a home pregnancy test.

"I felt like a teenager hoping that no one I know would see me with an E.P.T. kit in my basket," she said. "It was awful but luckily the test came back negative." Which made her even more nervous prompting a visit to her doctor for tests.

"He came back and told me I'm in full blown menopause," Amy said. "Apparently all of my hormones nose-dived in about a day. So he put me on some mild hormones."

I can relate to the hot flashes. Since being on Tamoxifen to reduce the chances of my cancer recurring, I've been in menopause too. But I can't take any hormones. I never know if a room is warm or if I'm hot.

"Well you're lucky you can take hormones," I told her to which she quickly responded.

"But you're getting new girls this summer and they're going to be all perky and pretty," she said.

 "True, but although my new ta-ta's will be circa 2012, the rest of me will be circa 1964," I laughed. Plus, I wouldn't wish cancer on anyone just for new speed bumps.

This led to talk about our body parts that at one time used to be taunt, perky and wrinkle-free.

Since turning 40, my thighs somehow incurred hail damage. But lately the hail damage has melted into ocean waves crashing down on my thighs. Apparently, Amy's thighs have had the same fate. And we're ladies who have BMI's proportionate to our height!

Then there's the diminished eyesight, gray strands and chin hairs. The ladies in my water aerobics class tell me, "Oh, that's nothing! Wait until you get to be ...60, 70, 80."

I shudder at the thought.

So, I wonder when do you just give up and let the chin hairs grow?

Don't know, but for now I've decided not to go down easily. Now pass the wax.

The Wondering Texan

One City Kid and One Farm Equals New Adventure

Can the farm survive this silly kid?

This weekend is a big weekend for my son. He has been invited to spend the weekend at a friend's farm in a nearby small town. He couldn't be more thrilled.

A few days ago while I was bringing him home from school he turned to me and said, "oh mom, I hope I get to lift some hay. You know, to build these muscles up," while pushing up his bicep on his skinny arm no thicker than a willow branch.

So I called Tracey, the other mother, and relayed this message. "I hope you put him to work," I told her. "He's your little slave laborer for the weekend."

"Oh no, I guess we will have to let some cows out for them to round up," she laughed.

Then, their son told us, "pack a fishing pole because we have a catfish pond."

With this information, my son might not ever come back.


And in typical 10-year-old boy fashion, his packing requisites are a little humorous. He handed me his packing list written in green ink:
* Lego's
* DVD's
* Fishing pole
*Nerf gun and swords
*Cap

Oh, and he added "clothes, blanket, and pillow." I added the toothbrush, socks, swim trunks, pajamas, antibacterial gel, mosquito spray, and underwear.

So, he's off until Sunday. Now the scary part begins. My husband is off at a golf tournament part of the weekend and I overheard my daughter telling her friend, "Hey, my brother and dad are gone this weekend. It's just us girls." And they started to giggle.

I wonder if it's too late for me to go to the farm. Wondering how much hay I'll have to lift to earn my keep?


The Wondering Texan

What Skin Cancer and Espadrilles Have in Common

Yesterday, I had the unpleasant experience of having some skin cancer removed from my cheek. Ick.

 I don't know how the nurses and doctor do it. I'm sure as they work on people like me their thoughts are, "dummy, if you hadn't laid out in the sun covered in baby oil in your teens and early 20s, then you probably would be spared this." But no, I just had to have the golden, even tan that many European descendants covet. Somewhere along the line, I heard that rubbing lemon juice on your face would lighten the freckles dotting my nose and cheeks. It doesn't work.

In my younger years, I tanned along the shores of Cancun; Padre Island and Galveston, Texas; Nassau, Bahamas; and San Diego, Calif. So, my skin cancer has quite a travel log.

But now I'm older and wiser. Emphasis on older. Today I have a lot of weapons to help contain, and hopefully prevent, skin cancer. I have sun lotions with high SPF's. By the way, my dermatologist recommends a lotion called "Aloe Gator Sunblock" because he says it absorbs into the skin and will absolutely not rub or sweat off. It literally has to be washed off with soap and water. Additionally, I sit in the shade at my kids' baseball/softball games. Sometimes I bring an umbrella to create such shade. And of course, there's my sun shirt, wide brim hat and sunglasses for water aerobics. As my husband says, I look like an old lady. That may be, but he hasn't had to have his whole cheek area deadened.

"Now, don't panic at the area we are deadening," the nurse told me. "We're just want to make sure there's no pain because all of the nerves connect."

Then I heard, "wow, nice shoes."

"Are you talking to me, " I asked. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be moving my mouth. Yes, they were talking to me. They liked my new striped espadrilles. Or as my husband corrected me, "the ladies at the office said they are called 'wedges.' They have never heard of espadrilles."

Well, now I'm feeling like an ancient mummy in my bandaged face. But I do have really cute shoes.

When I left the office, I was like the late actor Dudley Moore in the movie "10" after the dentist scene. I probably shouldn't have been driving since my left eye was drooping. When I got home, it was lunch time and I was starving. Half of my lunch ended up on my shirt.

The good news is the doctor told me to rest and relax for a few days. Ahh, doctor's orders. No lifting anything heavier than 5 lbs. (does that include laundry?), no bending over (does that include picking up shoes off the floor?), no exercise (oh darn!). And the other good news is that the Doc got all of the cancer.

So, that's what I'm doing now. Watching TV and finishing this while holding an ice pack to my face.

Wondering if I should tell my family the "rest and relaxation" orders are only for 48 hours. Nah, I'm going to push it to 72 hours.


The Wondering Texan

Love is in the air in a small town

Today I'm wondering if I can withstand the teenage years. You see, my daughter is 13 and has a crush. No, it's not Justin Bieber or one of the Big Time Rush boys. Oh, how I wish it were.

Dillon from all outward signs appears normal, respectful, intelligent and funny. He has only two faults -- he's a boy and he's a teenager.

But living in a small town poses hazards for any young person. First, chances are you will know the family. Secondly, chances are you socialize with the family either personally or through one of the many community events.Thirdly, if you don't know the family, someone you know knows. It's the Bermuda Triangle of dating in a small town. Except our daughter isn't allowed to date for a few more years. So, I should more accurately say, crushing in a small town.

In my daughter's case, Dillon is the son of my son's baseball coach. And since she has observed this, she is more than willing to go to 10-year-old baseball games and practices.

But what really got me laughing was the conversation today between my kids in the car on the way to school. It went like this:

Son: Did I tell you Dillon told me to tell you "Hi" last night and that he likes you?

Daughter: He did? What did he say?

Son: Hi and he likes you.

Daughter: How did he say it?

Son: What?

Daughter: Did he say, 'Hi or did he say 'HI!'

Son: I don't know. Why can't you just accept it?

Daughter: That's it?

Son: Well, I think he was tired. He kept getting hit by balls.

Me: Was he being intentionally hit by balls or accidentally?

Son: Both.

Daughter: Well, tell him 'Hi' from me the next time you see him.

I just had to start laughing at the humor in this situation. To trust a 10-year-old brother to communicate with the 13-year-old boy is just doomed for massive failure.

It also made me remember all of the late nights talking and analyzing with my girlfriends over the boys we dated. Remember "What do you think he meant by that?" "Why hasn't he called?" "When he said this, do you really think he meant this instead?"

Boy, has my daughter got a long road ahead of her! May the force be with her.

Wondering if my husband can handle all of these boys?


The Wondering Texan

Spring is Here Along the Coast

A neighbor's citrus tree begs to be picked.

If anyone doubts that spring is here along the Texas coast, just check out these photos. If this isn't enough evidence, today's current temperature is 84 degrees F. The hummingbirds are migrating back north from South America, the fishing is good and the air conditioners and mosquitoes are humming.

Our Knockout rose bush is full of blooms.

Tufted Titmouse sleep while mama is out.

Figaro, figaro, figaro! Sorry, I couldn't help it.

As I walked today, I wondered what all is in bloom in the neighborhood that the dang deer haven't eaten. I don't know the names of some of these plants, but that didn't stop me from taking a photo. One thing I have discovered since moving to the coast is that many spring/summer plants don't die out unless there's a freeze. So my hibiscus, impatiens and coleus, all holdovers from last year, have gotten big and showy. Also, we have Tufted Titmouse babies in our birdhouse. It's so sweet to watch the mama bring in food to her babies. And she perches atop a branch and scolds my dogs for disrupting her household.

Since we have 22 Live Oaks in our backyard, we had the trees sprayed this morning for Leaf Rollers or Loopers, little worms that can defoliate Live Oaks making them more susceptible to diseases and insects. They feed in early spring and will often eat all of the newly developed leaves.

Our neighbor's  bougainvillea on the side of their house.

As the men were spraying, I wondered about the safety of my side yard garden. They weren't wearing masks or gloves, but told me to keep my dogs in and move their water bowl from the fallout. Hum, that's odd I thought.

Don't know what this is, but it's growing wild in a field.

So good washing is in order for our romaine lettuce, tomatoes, rosemary, cilantro and basil. And we planted (twice) sunflowers on the end of the garden to perk up the view from our bedroom window. But, there is a problem. Last fall we put my son's turtle, Freddie, in the side yard for a natural habitat since he outgrew his aquarium. Well, we hadn't seen Freddie for months and assumed he had escaped to greener pastures. That is until all of our sunflowers started to disappear. We wondered if it was a raccoon. Or could the deer possibly jump over the fence? Or birds? We wrapped the garden in netting and kept a watchful eye. Alas, it's Freddie. At least we can wrestle a turtle without risk of being kicked.

Enjoy the photos. And yes, the humidity is also back along with spring

The Wondering Texan

The lime tree is full of baby fruit.    

                          

                                     

Shrimping Is For Night Owls

Sorting shrimp is no problem for "Mom"

Today is my 48th birthday and I thought I would write a list of 48 little known facts about me. But then I thought there really aren't 48 interesting things about me which would make it an exercise in frustration leading to depression due to this realization.

So instead I took my trusty camera and took photos. Upon taking photos I ran across "Mom" who probably has a much more interesting life than me. She's "Mom" as in "Mom's Bait Shop." Her real name is Mo.

"Mom's" is one of many bait shops in a row along the harbor.

Shortly after 8 a.m., Mom was busy sorting shrimp brought in just a few hours earlier. Shrimp for eating and shrimp for bait. A few little blue crabs were also caught and put in a blue bowl. Her family goes out each night and returns about 3 a.m. with the catch, she said.

As she sorted the shrimp I asked her how she sorts them. "By size," she said in her Asian accent. "See, this one is for eating. This one bait." 

I hated to tell her they all looked about the same to me.

The little crabs make a tasty treat for some fish.

She plunged her gloved hand into a big cooler of ice water filled with shrimp and made quick work of sorting or throwing out the rejects. Mom said it takes her only about an hour to sort an entire cooler of shrimp.

Mom said she's been doing this "forever" which makes it second nature to her.

Docked beside "Mom's."

As the weather has gotten warmer and the red tide subsided, fishing has improved impressively. My husband and son went out the other night to fish from a pier and caught about 35 fish ranging from red fish to striped trout. A few nights ago my husband brought home an 18-inch trout which we ate the following night.

I didn't get the opportunity to ask Mom what fish bite on shrimp the most. We were interrupted by a customer. The nerve of that guy!

Wondering if I should buy my husband and son some shrimp from Mom for their fishing excursion tonight.


The Wondering Texan