We're not in Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts anymore

Back after several days of sickness which required a trip to the doctor. With a few days of antibiotics in me, I'm feeling much better.

This week we had two Thanksgiving celebrations. Our new, American friends, I'll call them the JP's, had us over for a very traditional, low key dinner Thursday evening. The JP's had the same job Phil has now, but after their tour here ended three years ago, they decided to stay in France. Mr. JP now flies helicopters for the super rich, instead of the Navy. They have twin girls Zachary's age, so our meal there was super comfortable and we were welcomed like family.

The JP's

On Friday night, we were invited to a Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the France Etats-Unis organisation. France Etats-Unis is a group made up of mostly French citizens and a few Americans living in France. The group is dedicated to fostering relationships between the two countries--and a place where the French can practice speaking English.

The event was dressy-Phil was wearing his dress blue uniform. And since I have been living out of the same suitcase since Sept 12th, I didn't have any appropriate dress to wear. It should have been a fun excuse to splurge on a new dress, but I was so sick, I couldn't even make it to the mall until the day of the event. With one hour to find something in a fashion culture as foreign to me as the language, I was stressed out and panicking. I was nearly in tears several times. But Cinderella did finally find a dress (something I probably wouldn't have bought, if I had more time), and shoes...and we made it home in time to get ready.

Once the drama of the wardrobe was over, I was able to enjoy the night out alone with Phil (we had our first babysitter since we've been here). The JP's were also at this event with us, along with another American Navy family (ANf) who we'd met a couple of times. So we did know four other people there. Before the meal the MC of the night briefly introduced all of us Americans and explained the meaning of Thanksgiving. All of this was in French, so I don't know exactly what was said, but I'm sure it was good. Everyone had assigned seats, and as JP had warned me, all the Americans were split up, because "we are kind of the entertainment".


Phil and I had a wonderful table and met a couple who we hope to meet again. They both spoke perfect English--she was French and he was American. She teaches English to middle schoolers and he teaches English at the college level. The average age of the people in room was probably seventy-five, so it was a true blessing to be sitting by these people who could answer so many of my questions about Lily and schools.

But the night was just too funny for words though in a lot of ways...like they were so proud of the decorations...

Here you will see a covered wagon with a fake fire and a sign that says, "Welcome to Texas". Before the dinner started our little group of Americans was trying to hold it together as we all took pictures in front of the scene. We definitely didn't want to offend, but it wasn't your typical Thanksgiving set up. Also instead of the tables having numbers for the seating chart, the tables were named after classic, American actors from Westerns...like John Wayne, etc. But I'm sure they have great Thanksgivings in Texas, so I get it!

All Americans are cowboys at Thanksgiving time

Yes, we did have turkey, but it wasn't normal turkey. I think it was some sort of turkey roll or turkey breast. It was edible, but the baby corn from a can was not! Did your Thanksgiving meal have a cheese course, because ours did. And I'm pretty sure the Pilgrims didn't have Roquefort.

Also funny was the rush to the dance floor after the meal was served. There was a live singer, who enjoyed meandering through the dancers with her roaming mic. She would occasionally shove her mic in someones face and they would sing the next line for her. Phil's favorite was the French version of 'Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown.' Again, keep in mind this was an older crowd, and they were shakin' their stuff and singing along very proudly. I guess the French think Americans typically don't dance, and we didn't do anything to prove them wrong. For my first night on the town in France, my ego wasn't quite ready to break into the dancing scene. So, Phil and I sat there smiling and confirmed their ideas that Americans are too self-conscious to dance. I just didn't want the roaming mic singing lady to call me out or anything.

At eleven thirty Phil and I made our exit. Dinner had been over for an hour or so, the dancing was picking up, and people were gasping that we were going to leave before dessert. I'm pretty sure the party went on into the night. We were just too tired, and too American to stay. But we left thankful for a good night out, thankful for some potential new friends...and thankful for a few laughs on the way home.

****Breaking News in the House Hunt****

I'll update tomorrow with more details, but here is what you need to know...

1. Guests will have their own private bedroom/bathroom/kitchen/patio
2. We can walk (a little ways) to the ocean

And our family can move in before Christmas! Praise the Lord.

Pack your bags and come live, I mean, stay with me!!!!

Almost spiritual bread

Meet our Pastor. I wish I could say we have the church thing figured out here, but we don't yet. And boulangeries are a lot easier to find than a solid, Christ-exalting church. So this particular Pastor feeds and nourishes our stomachs more than our souls.

We can walk to this bakery from our little house. And so for something to do, we go often. The kids get to split a pan au chocolat (a deliciously, flaky, croissant with chocolate inside) and we buy two baguettes to bring home. Zachary polishes off his pastry in about one minute and then proceeds to beg for a hunk of baguette. His little feet start swinging and kicking the stroller when the bakery comes into sight. I am NOT kidding!

I think the French standard is one baguette per person per day...for our family that would mean four baguettes. But, we aren't French enough yet to start eating baguettes for breakfast, so I usually only buy two. Miss E recommended this place to us as her favorite boulangerie in all of Hyeres for their baguettes.

The making of baguettes is very regulated (like everything else) in France. They can only be made of flour, yeast, salt and water...absolutely no other ingredients are allowed for it to be called baguette. They also must fit within a size requirement. So what distinguishes one bakery's baguette from someone else's? I'm not sophisticated enough to know, but I've heard its the water. Honestly, I can't say that there is a HUGE difference between Pastor's baguettes and some of the other places we've tried. But if Miss E said it was the best, that's good enough for me.

Regardless, a trip to Pastor is a fun treat. So far, I'm only brave enough to buy the pan au chocolat and baguettes. But I am becoming a regular customer, so I'm hoping to branch out with some of my future purchases. And as a recovering carbo-phobic American, I'm indulging more and more in the wholesome goodness of these baked goods.

Airing out the Family Laundry

I've had to make some slight adjustments to my laundry strategy since moving here. Usually, I'm pretty obsessive about washing ANYTHING that happens to touch the floor. This is because there is constantly dog hair covering the floor due to our dog's MAJOR shedding problem! And dog hair is gross and I HATE it! But nowadays, I'm likely to thoroughly shake the article of clothing from the floor and then give it a smell test. If it doesn't smell, it goes back in the closet. (This works for every member of the family other than Zack. By the end of the day, guaranteed, whatever he was wearing will be totally trashed and need washing).


Thankfully, our vacation rental house has a very nice washing machine. But the machine's load capacity is much less than what I've been used to. So while in the States, I could keep things going doing one load of wash a day...here that same amount of clothes translates to two loads a day. Thus the change in dog-hair-removal-strategy and wear-it-till-it-smells policy.


Other than the size, the length of the washing machine cycle is also an adjustment. I might be exaggerating here, but it feels like it takes three hours for it to finish a load. This is a traumatically endless period of time for a one year old boy who is desperately attached to dragging his blanket with him everywhere!



But the biggest adjustment of all is getting used to no dryer. We air dry/line dry everything. And the owner of this house, who lives next door, and who must have been watching me do all of this laundry actually bought another drying rack for us. So we have two big racks. And because of the weather, it all works wondrously. We seem to have bright sunshine everyday and cool breezes. So while the washing seems to take forever, the drying happens within an hour! The only downside to this...is the ironing! Oh, how I hate ironing. And I used to do it only on the rarest, most special occasions. But with line drying comes the crunchy wrinkles that you can't get away with wearing. So I've given in and taken up a new chore. I know, poor me!
How is that dog who sheds everywhere handling life in the south of France? Scout's adjusted quite well. She can be found sunning herself on the terrace in the morning, and in the warmer afternoons she'll move inside and lay on the cool marble tiles. She would be the perfect dog, (and I would have a lot less laundry to do), if she just didn't shed!

Comfort Food...

for the children. Ok, ok, those of you who know me well, know it was just as much for me as for them. But anyway, some days you just a little good old American food (with preservatives and saturated fat, you know)!

Does it taste the same? Yep, pretty much, except they don't salt their fries. And you have to beg for ketchup. But you do get a "dessert" yogurt included in the price of the $8 (US Dollar) HappyMeal. The French are obsessed with dessert. There are more ice cream selections at the McDonald's here than there are at a Dairy Queen.

I think the French call it McDoo (that's probably not how they spell it but thats how its pronounced). And they can make fun of it all they want, but every time I've been there (and I've been there a lot because it used to be the place we'd go for free Wi-Fi) the line is more than six people deep...all of them speaking French!

Just as advertised...a very Happy Meal was had by all!

Housing Update

Here are the priorities we have for our next house. Now please understand that my Mom is a realtor...a really good, successful realtor. I feel like I know a little bit about looking at houses....or maybe she's ruined me and I just have expectations that are unreasonable.

The criteria: ***these criteria may seem slightly extravagant-but with our very generous OHA (Overseas Housing Allowance) our search isn't limited necessarily by our budget. It has been limited by the number of homes available. So thank you, American taxpayer, for subsidizing our dream house!
1. Location, location, location--ideally, Phil would be able to ride his bike to work, and I would be able to walk to the grocery stores/markets/schools. Or at least we'd be able to manage getting around with our ONE car!

2. Three bedrooms--and ideally, four, so that all of YOU can have a comfortable, quiet place to stay when you all come and visit lonely, old me.

3. Some sort of a yard/garden area where we can let the dog and kids run around.

4. A single-family, individual home. Not attached to anything or anyone else.

The bonus criteria:
1. A bathroom with a standing shower (for Phil, he'd love this!)

2. A view--the mountains meet the sea here and there are a lot of beautiful houses perched on the rocky hillsides with a spectacular view of the water.

3. A pool--I haven't decided whether or not this would be a huge pain or a fantastic way to spend the summer as family. If we end up with a house with a pool, I will permanently put Scout's retractable leash on Zachary.

The last two days have been a bit disappointing for us on the housing front. Phil and I both had big expectations for a house we looked at Tuesday afternoon. The location was pretty good (although Phil would have to drive to work), and the house itself was very large. From the photos we saw online we were both thinking it could be THE HOUSE. But we were frustrated after the first two minutes inside. The house was built in the 1950's and I'm pretty sure NOTHING had been done to it since. It needed a lot of work. The bidets had been removed in the bathrooms but the holes and bolts in the floor were still there. There was cat poop in the closets, moldy caulking around the bathtubs, and peeling linoleum flooring in all bathrooms. And from what we could gather from the owner (speaking a mile a minute in French to us as we stared blankly at him), it was being rented "as is". The outdoor space was fabulous and the realtor lady told me in the summer everyone spends all their time outside. Maybe. But with the condition on the house, I would want to spend all year outside. The pool looked like something from a magazine, it was so clean and spectacular. Such a stark contrast to the home itself. As we left, we were still considering taking the house...thinking maybe we could do a little bit of work to it and clean it really well. But a definitive "no" was decided as we stood outside the gate and were assaulted with fits of barking by four neighboring yappy, terrier dogs. As I slowly approached the dogs (because Zack was so interested), they went ballistic, snarling their teeth and growling...we took it as a sign. This was not the house for us!

Yesterday we saw another highly anticipated house. Again Phil would have had to drive to work, but I could have walked to a lot of stuff. From what we knew before arriving the house had three bedrooms and a open third level (we were thinking it would be perfect for guests). But just like the Tuesday house when we walked in we were totally discouraged by the condition. The yard was trashed--overgrown with shrubbery and ugly, palm trees with deadly thorns. The third level turned out to be a half finished project that wasn't going to be completed. It had paneling on some of the walls and unfinished drywall on the others. There was a non functional toilet in the room, with the plumbing for additional fixtures, but like the other house, this house was being rented "as is". There were holes in some of the walls of the bedrooms...like from someone punching the wall. It didn't take yapping dogs to convince us this wasn't the house for us. This house didn't even have a nice yard to make up for the "re-hab" condition of the inside. We drove home.

Phil and I didn't say much on the drive back to Hyeres last night. We were both too discouraged. But at dinner time Lily prayed a very poignant prayer for our family. "Dear Lord, thank you for everything you have given us. Thank you for our food and our bodies. Thank you for our time together as a family. Please help us find a good house to live in...one that doesn't have holes in the wall. Amen."

We've decided to rent another furnished vacation home through January 2010. We'll wait until after the holidays to see if any new houses become available. It will mean ten more weeks without our stuff (like most of clothes, our furniture, the kids toys), but I'm trusting that our amazing, good God will answer Lily's prayer and lead us to a house without holes in the walls--and maybe a fantastic view of the Mediterranean.

Grocery Shopping 101

A new, American friend said to me this weekend, going to the supermarket is the freshman level of filling the refrigerator in France. More advanced consumers would visit one of the many the butcher's shops and buy produce only from the local market vendors. I'm not there yet! Those endeavors require far more interaction and thus, more French than I'm capable of right now. But I am feeling more and more comfortable at Carrefour, our local supermarket.

It's not really a SUPERmarket by American standards, but it is a very nice big grocery store. For the three weeks we've been living in Hyeres, I've probably been there fifteen times. I try to make myself go often so I can focus on a new aisle each time. And we walk there. So whatever we buy we have to carry home.

In the produce section, after bagging the fruits and veggies, you weigh the items on the scale, push the corresponding picture, and a bar coded ticket is printed. There is a scale at the perfect height for Lily, so she insists on weighing and stickering all the fruits and veggies. This is, by far, her favorite part of the entire shopping trip. The yogurt aisle is MY favorite. Never before have I seen so many choices. There is some juice on the right of this picture, but pretty much everything else on both sides of the aisle and on the back wall are all different types of yogurt. Plain, sweet, with fruit, with chocolate...everything you can imagine.

Ah, and this little section. I'm pretty sure the sales of Old El Paso products have quadrupled since I started shopping here. I had to move this stock cart of the way to take this picture. I'm sure they thought it wouldn't bother anyone if they stuck it in front of the Mexican products. I've bought the tortillas, salsa, chips...pretty much one of everything on this shelf.

And when Zachary gets impatient and cries in his stroller, a torn off piece of baguette will keep him quiet for a couple more minutes. I learned this trick from watching French mothers hand hunks of bread to their crying children.

Through the checkout and headed home. I'm not very good at just buying "daily" food at the store. But since there aren't really any gyms in the area, I consider the half mile walk home with 30 pounds of groceries a strength training exercise.

Grocery items that our family misses most: (this is kinda embarrassing because over half the items on our list contain fake cheese and we're living in a country that prides itself on its cheese--we're pretty unsophisticated)

Lily: MacNCheese--she threw one all out tantrum that it wasn't available here.

Sarah: Cheez-Its--I have yet to find a salty, cracker substitute that I like as well.

Zack: String cheese--he's not into the French cheese yet...he spits them right out.

Phil: Diet Coke & Sam Adams--the wine is cheap and fabulous, but the beer, isn't very good. And Coca cola Lite, tastes a lot different than Diet Coke.

Grocery items that I LOVE here:

All the dairy items...the yogurt is better, the ice cream, and oh, the cheese is delicious (we buy a new kind every couple of days to try)!

The produce if very fresh and delicious--we're eating about 25 clementines a week right now!

This trip took two hours (including our walk there and back). I greeted and goodbye-d the cashier in French and included a couple of thank yous. I'd give this trip a solid "B". A couple more months, and I'll move up to the sophomore level - the artisan butchery, patisserie, fromagerie (cheese maker), and all the other little individual, intimidating shops.

Our home until the next home...

Here are some pictures of our vacation rental we've come to call home. We've been here for three weeks and will be living here for the next three weeks. The house is great, and is it's in a perfect location. We can walk to the grocery store, to the market, and to the old medieval part of the city.

So from the street, you have to enter through the gate. You can't really see any part of the house from the road. And from inside the yard, you can't see anything but the tall shrubbery acting as a hedge. A very French thing. But from my American perspective, sometimes it feels a little claustrophobic.

Then you walk into a little yard, with a beautiful arbor. We're here during "winter" and a lot of the flowers planted in the yard aren't in bloom. But everything is still green and very nice. I imagine in June this place is exploding with colors from the garden. I've taken a siesta or two in the chaise lounge chairs on the terrace. In the warm sun of the afternoon, it's just about perfect!

When you open the door, you walk into a living room/dining room open space. It's great. The couch is more cool than comfortable, but I'm not complaining (as I have flashbacks to the tiny hotel room in Paris!). The huge dining room table serves as our table for meals and our office for sending emails to every French real estate agency within twenty miles!

Ok, and here's a couple of pictures of the bathroom. We don't exactly know what to call this...part shower, part bath. The tub itself is huge, but there is no way to stand up and take a shower in it. Phil is NOT a fan. He's a shower guy, and pretty much he's having to become more of a bath man. Also annoying...there is no hot water to be had from 5pm until morning. We tried explaining the situation to the owners of the house (who live right next door) but with the language issue, we're not getting our point across.
Also in the bathroom, is the bidet. No respectable French house is complete without one! Now the actual toilet is in a separate room with just a tiny sink. So we don't get it. And we've never used the bidet. It is clean enough that I'm comfortable resting my hair dryer on it. However, when I saw Zachary putting the drain stopper in his mouth, I had to choke back the throw up in my mouth...and I didn't kiss him for a couple of days. We now keep the door closed to prevent Zack from future bidet investigations.

The house also has two bedrooms and a small, but functional kitchen. Lily and Zack are sharing a room, and it's working out surprisingly well. All in all this house has been a great place to hang out as we get our bearings on the area.

This is the fourth house we've lived in for over six weeks in just over a year. (Two houses in Jacksonville to Pacific Grove to Hyeres). I think that's why I feel the stakes are so high as we look for our more permanent place. I DO NOT want to move again for three years!!! But in the meantime, I'll try to enjoy the sunshine on the terrace while napping on the chaise lounge at our temporary home.

First Impressions of French Fashions: Les Enfants

The rainbow of colored hoodies I have in my closet totally disqualifies me from this discussion. My daily uniform usually includes one of them with a pair of jeans...and some "little" sneakers (as opposed to my clunkier running shoes). If I feel like dressing up, I'll throw on a pair of earrings. And that's about it. So French fashion has been another aspect of life here that has thrown me for a loop. (And for the record it probably belongs there with the likes of how lost I feel that I don't speak French---the category called "what did I expect, it is France!")

Anyway, so here is how I would dress Lily back in the US--and this would qualify as a "dressy" outfit. A Target knit, print dress, some tights, and maryjane-ish shoes, and Voila! Oh my word, I cannot describe to you how much an outfit like this stands out on the playgrounds here!

For starters, she is wearing bright colors. A huge "no no" for the future runway models in training. Secondly, she is not properly layered. One slip dress and tights--she might as well be naked! How unencumbered she must feel. And thirdly, the fabric...I'm pretty sure they don't make soft cotton (aka knits) in these parts of the word. Little French girls (like from the time they can walk all the way up) stroll through grocery stores, run on the sidewalks, and play on the playgrounds in layer upon layer of muted, solid colored, close fitting clothes. Little four year olds with knee high boots and belts around their sweaters makes me want to pull the hood up on my hoodie and hide my poorly dressed self!

And while in the States I wouldn't care less about issues like these, here I feel this huge desire to fit in and become accepted as part of the group. So after two weeks of watching the endless fashion parade of marching little kids, I bought Lily her first French outfit. Short skirt, warm tights, muted pink turtleneck, and a sweater...and if I loved her more I would have splurged for the boots, but I just couldn't spend 60Euro (95 Bucks) on freakin shoes for a four year old. I don't even have knee high boots (I will post my own fashion dilemma story later on). And here is the result.

She doesn't look any happier. And she doesn't have a single new friend because of this, but somehow, I'm hoping it might take the edge of our "American-ness". And who wouldn't want to be friends with this adorably sweet, precious girl...no matter how she's dressed.

Oh yeah, and here's Zack...we have a lot of fashion work to do with him, too! Although, we'll have to save up, I spent too much on Lily's outfit!

PS--We saw four houses today...three are "no's", but one is strong possibility. We're hoping to see one more house on Friday. Please keep praying God will guide us to the house He wants us at!

"E" Day

Today is very, very sad day for me. And while I could go on and on about the difficult time we've had figuring out everything French, we have had a HUGE resource helping us navigate through many of the details. Let me introduce you to Miss E. Miss E is the US Navy pilot who has for the last three years had the job Phil will now have for the next three years. She is known to many in my family as Phil's "predecessor". And while that name was fine for her while we were emailing back and forth from the States, now that we know her, and have spent the last 18 days with her, we are definitely on a first name basis! Miss E picked us up (with our 12 gi-normous bags, crying kids, and dog) from the train station in Hyeres. She has been with us from our first moments here. She took us to the grocery store for the first time (and watched me hold back tears). She helped us break the code of French banking (and celebrated with us when we got our "RIB"). She set up our first cell phone for us. She held our hand through the lively and crowded Saturday morning market (and pointed out her favorite vendors...aka the "nice" ones.) And in the midst of helping us through our drama, she was trying to organize and coordinate her own trans-Atlantic move back to the US. She gave us so much of her time and availability, I know she wasn't able to tie up all the loose ends she had planned to. We will be forever grateful for every second she spent with us.

So I'm sad that she's leaving because she is a wealth of information, who can translate for me, who can answer my questions, and who can give us directions anywhere...but more than that I really will miss HER! We became fast friends and she is truly someone I would love to get to know even more. Miss E is an athlete far beyond my abilities (she's completed two Ironman Triathlons and 20+ marathons), but she ran with me and introduced me to some good routes throughout the city. She put up our crying, tired, wild children...and genuinely connected with them. Lily is going to be lost without her beloved Miss E, as she was someone fun to talk to other than boring and omnipresent Mom and Dad. And Zachary always put on his flirting eyes when she was around...even taking his eyes off his baguette for a couple of seconds.

Today she takes the train from Hyeres to Paris. And in a couple days she will return to the US. I hope three years from now we can be as helpful, as encouraging, and as available to the next stunned, overwhelmed person/family walking off that train.

A bientot, Miss E. And if your other higher paying, more exciting gigs don't work out, remember the offer to be my paid friend/French teacher/running coach will ALWAYS be on the table! You are wonderful.

A Little Less Homesick...

Slowly, we are starting to get settled in here. Saturday was a big step in that direction.

It started off with pancakes. Lily and I make pancakes almost every Saturday. Last week, I tried to wing it with the ingredients that we had at the house and no recipe. The result was more like rubbery flour disks than pancakes. This week, though, we found a pancake mix, so as Lily said, "The pancakes are not as hard this week." She didn't seem to notice the syrup was just melted brown sugar and butter.

Then, we took a trip to the market, held every Saturday in the old city section of Hyères. There, we bought most of our fruits and vegetables for the week. We met up with some friends, and had them teach us where to go, who to buy from, when it is too late to buy melons, what all these strange looking roots are, and how to buy a certain quantity of cheese, etc.

For lunch, we ate at a little pizzeria. Word to the wise, look at the menu closely, I was happily working through a calzone, when I discovered the addition of an ingredient that I wasn't expecting, an egg, gooey and oozing, right in the middle. Turns out, eggs are a pretty popular ingredient in the things where we wouldn't normally expect them.

When the kids were napping, Sarah went to the mall to check out the 'soldes' or the sales that stores are only allowed to have during designated times during the year. It's pretty amazing that stores have to wait until specified times to have sales, but maybe that will work in my favor.

But, by far the biggest thing that happened, was a little bit of home sent to us. Sarah's dad set up a Slingbox at their house, which allowed us to watch college football through the internet at our house. So, at 9:30 PM, Sarah and I huddled around the laptop to watch our beloved Ohio State Buckeyes as if we were back home (except for our glasses of the regional wine, rosé, and the fact that we were struggling to stay up for a 3:30 EST game).

So, while we still don't understand a lot of what is going on around us, and don't have a permanent place to live, at least we have a connection back home.

Up to Speed...

For starters, I'm not a writer, I'm not very witty, and our life is not that exciting. But, I am starting a blog about our transition to life in France anyway. And if no one reads it, other than my sisters, that's cool. My intention is for the blog to be a journal of some of our family's adventures.

We have been in Hyeres France for two weeks. I'm just to the point of coming up for air after nearly drowning in the Mediterranean Sea of culture shock. Setting up an entire life in a new country is crazy difficult. And what makes it a teensy-weensy bit more difficult is the fact that I don't speak French! Why don't I speak French, and why didn't I think it was really important to speak it before coming here? Good question. I guess I thought I would come over here try and pull off a humbly cute personality, show off my cute children, and snap, people would feel sorry for me, speak in English to me and offer to help in any way possible! BUT, that is not the case. So, after two weeks of blank stares and expressionless faces, I'm regretting my decision not to take French at DLI more than anything.

Here is a short update on where we are. We are living in a vacation rental (furnished house) until December. We need to find more permanent housing, but at the moment we aren't finding much available. Apparently long term leasing isn't very common in South France. The positive accomplishments of the last two weeks. We now have internet. We have a French bank account. Phil has been to the French helicopter squadron for a couple of hours each day, but he doesn't start work officially until the 12th of November. Lily and Zack are doing well. Zack is a big fan of baguettes and eats an entire one himself nearly everyday.

And it truly is beautiful here. If I take the time to look up as I'm stressed out about everything under the sun, I can't help but calm down. There are small mountains all around us, and a castle that we see as we walk to the grocery store. Some day, I'm going to LOVE living here.