Les Fetes

Today we went to two parties.

The first was a birthday party for General Vincent on rue de General Vincent. That street is the kids' street. It's where all the kids really hang out and where the kids' activities and shops are.

I don't even know who General Vincent is, but Uzes must really like him because they had a crashin' party!

The street was blocked off so no cars could come through.

There were tables with fun games on them. The games were all wooden.

There was a weaving table. Frances made a whole scarf because she loved spinning the plastic machine so much.

There was a clown sculpting balloons. I got a chien blanc and a chat rose. Frances got two birds kissing in a cage.

And there was chalk drawing.

There was a big stage and different women led the crowd through different kinds of dancing. Salsa, Zuma, and Aerobics. The aerobics leader was one of the people we met at the werewolf party.

My mom says, "It was hilarious. Women dressed in skirts, jeans, jackets, nylons and high heels all came out into the street to do aerobics. No kidding. And we all laughed and the kids watching us laughed but no one heckled us. It's a bit indicative of what I see on a larger scale here: very little vanity. I mean, I had some serious surges in pride as I was lunging in my jeans, but those surges always burned away when I saw my friend Patricia laughing and doing lunges, too, in her red sweater, her little black purse strapped to her back. It was just so funny...and good."

(Patricia, my mom and Frances doing aerobics)

My mom also says, "Patricia is one of those amazing women you meet once in a while...a very long while. She's beautiful, intelligent, friendly and open, but mostly just so soulful. You want to follow her around frankly just to feel her presence. You think, maybe, this time osmosis might work. She told me some things about her life and while most people would shrivel from what she's gone through, she says, 'It's my story. Everyone has a story. This is mine.' She did one of those french shrugs and puckered her lips, as if to say, 'C'est la vie.' It was pretty profound. I wish I could pack her up and bring her home with me, just to get to know her more."

Patricia's daughters, Dana and Clara, are very nice. And they speak french slowly with us. We raced each other to the balloon man and back to our seats on the railings watching our crazy mothers do aerobics. We went and had a crepe together. I got the same as always--crepe sucre avec chantilly--but this time I didn't have only my family with me, but I had a friend with me. It felt cool.

Frances and Clara playing a wooden game

I stood in long line for face painting. We could actually make pasta necklaces while we waited. People were asking for dogs, spiderman, butterflies. Frances asked, "Poisson, s'il vous plait." Fish please.

The second party was at Gaia's house. Remember our friend whose party crashed? Well, we went to her house for dinner. This point is important later on: on our way to their house, my mom asked if we had our umbrellas. We answered, "No."

Adults getting dinner ready and talking

Right when we got there, Gaia beckoned us up to her room. We played with her new pet shop that she got for her birthday and and then read books and then we came downstairs and held their little eeency rabbit. It was so cute. Daddy said, "It's for dinner!" And Cath, the mom answered, "Noo...not big enough."

My mom says, "This was the classic dinner party. The adults and the teenage son hung out in the kitchen, drinking wine and talking about everything from parallel, virtual internet worlds to speed skiing (of course--they LOVE that Jeff is a speed skier), to Obama, to house projects, to their dreams of getting jobs in French schools abroad. It was a great, great night. Long and interesting and friendly."

When it was time to go, we looked outside and there was a RIVER rushing by along the street on its way to Nimes. There were raindrops pounding on the ground and then breaking into six or seven more raindrops then hitting again and bouncing back up into the air and so on. Even Daddy was amazed and kind of frightened. I was happy because I wore my rainboots. But we didn't have our umbrellas.

We just couldn't believe the river outside the window.

Daddy was leaning out looking at it.

Cath (pronounced "Cat") gave us rainboots, umbrellas, a plastic bag for our camera, and we were off! Bidding au revoir to cozy house with roof. The drainage spouts off the stone walls of the city were like water falls. Lightning struck, thunder roared, I squeezed against Daddy. Since I was born, I've never liked big rainstorms. I always think because we're using umbrellas that we'll get electrocuted because metal is a conductor. My dad always says, "We're not the highest. If we were in an open field with an umbrella that would be a problem, so I would make sure we had our umbrellas shut, but here, look at all these tall buildings and trees and telephone wires..." That doesn't make me feel better.

Frances LOVES rain storms. She thinks they are "big adventures." She loved jumping the rivers of rain and walking UNDER the spouts with her umbrella and seeing the flashes of lightning that I counted were only 1 mile away.

See how you can't see us? That's because of the rain.

We got into our building and my jeans were soaked to my hips from just the rain, not splashing in puddles. We put our clothes and shoes by the wall heaters and went to bed.

Here's a clip of us walking home in the pounding rain: