Quick blog here. I was in the kitchen preparing the kids goutee (remember it’s a French version of the American snack, however there is a tradition with it, since French eating is very structured). I made 6 Nutella sandwiches. As I went to the sink to wash my hands, to my HORROR I saw an octopus and squid sitting in the sink. I am almost in tears. I cannot try another thing. I’ve hit my limit. I might starve and that’s fine, as long as I don’t have to eat anything with tentacles and suction cups or squirts ink. I plan to make yet another stop at the Super Market to visit my Greek friend, George, that I was told was from Montreal, but his English is pretty bad, He’s a nice man though. I will gather some snacks and hoard them in my bag for later.
11:00 pm
I am in my room now. This is the time of day I look forward to. I am such an introvert and the time alone is rare and I crave it more than Chuy’s – for those of you in Dallas that know me well. As usual, we went to the beach, but to a different one this time. There is a sunken ship. The story goes that about ten years ago the captain was watching a football/soccer game on his ole captain luxury TV and crashed into this mini island about 300 meters from shore. I bet none of his buddies have ever let that go. It was gorgeous with the most turquoise waters.
I layout for a bit just to see how dark I can get in four days. I get hot so I jump in with the kiddos. Little did I know that there were some reefs at the bottom and some killer rock. I was with Angela and going “un, deux, trios…” and throwing her in the air and catching her as she hit the water. She was laughing her head off. Anyway, as I was doing it, I discovered the nasty rock and it cut my foot good. It didn’t feel too lovely considering I was in salt water. Sting. I layed on the straw mat and covered myself with a towel so I wouldn’t get any more sun.
I closed my eyes and heard Rose growl/grunt. I began watching her. She was getting so incredibly frustrated. She was packing the sandcastle bucket with sand, dry sand. Then she would tip it and hit it on the sides with the shovel, ever so carefully. You know, just to make sure the sand doesn’t stick to the sides and it all comes out perfectly. I knew what would happen. It would come out flat. She pulled the bucket up and just grunt to high heaven. She was hacked.We came back and again I got nauseous from the driving and the curves. There aren’t really any signs stating how the road is winding around. If there were, imagine the scene in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure when he’s driving and he sees the really curvy sign. It’s right before he meets Large Marge and she does that scary face and says “Tell ‘em Large Marge sent ‘cha.” I was dreading the octopus when I got back. I gave the boys their shower. This is an experience in and of itself. I have to also get the mud and sand out of my hair from the game Zac and I were playing. We were making our own little pools in the sand to sit in. I was sitting in mine and he in his. He mentioned that the sand looked like pigeon poop. So I got the shovel full of sand and held in up really high and said, “A little pigeon ate lots of ________” and I would drop it on him. He thought it would be funny if his pigeon ate lots of stuff and did his little droppings on my head. Not funny.
I went to the table and noticed twelve seats and give wine glasses. There was a guest tonight. She made the sixth adult. By counting five wine glasses, I knew I was stuck with all six kids. It threw me into a bad mood. I ate potatoes and eggs and water. No fancy salad or wine. Plus I had six hyper kids to put to bed. That’s why I love this time at night. I’ve got Dirty Dancing playing on my computer while I type. I brought the ole classics. It’s a beachy type of movie and I thought it would be fitting. Instead I find myself jealous of any type of English conversation taking place throughout it. Oh how I would love to talk to people. My French is getting better, I must admit.
Oh yeah, the last cloud I saw was in Paris. I haven’t seen anything resembling a cloud in Greece. The air and fresh and doesn’t really smell of anything but the natural. Paris is full of smells; pollution, cigarette smoke, body odor, cheese (which is kind of like body odor), boulangeries, fruits, flowers galore, ah all the good foods. I will miss the mountain and sea smell when I go back.
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