An American in Provence

On Sunday, we had Alain's childhood friend Bertrand, his wife Isabelle, and their two daughters over for lunch.
The past several times (every six months or so) they have invited us over to their place, so it was our turn to reciprocate. Though, in our defense, they prefer that we come there, as it is easier for them with the kids. At least, that is what they say. So I'm sticking to that version.

Alain originally suggested Saturday or Sunday, lunch, dinner, or "gouter". They suggested Saturday lunch. I quickly made him retract his original offer- Saturday gouter, Saturday dinner, Sunday lunch, Sunday gouter, or Sunday dinner. They came back with Sunday lunch. Okay. I just could not handle getting the place clean, shopping for groceries, and preparing a meal between Friday end of work and Saturday lunch. Nuh uh.

So we spent all day Saturday going to the grocery store, doing laundry, and cleaning the apartment. Wow did it really need a good cleaning. In order to require a full day's worth of cleaning, 76 meters squared must be really messy. Well, Alain's back has been hurting, so he hasn't been able to broom and mop the floors. That is the official version.

Sunday morning, I woke up at 9 and immediately started baking- chocolate muffins for dessert, plus an entrée. Alain started making a chicken and mushroom dish around 11. They arrived just after 12, rugrats in tow.

We sat down for the aperitif, and someone spilled their glass of red wine on the tablecloth. Well, that has happened several times now. We mopped it up. That same person then knocked over the wine glass and broke it. Okay, how many have you had?

We had a bit of trouble getting everything ready at the same time, that's the trouble with a small kitchen I guess.

The kids of course refused to eat anything. We specifically told Bertrand- we are planning on having chicken and rice. Will they eat that or would you prefer we make ravioli or spaghetti for them? No, no the chicken and rice are fine. Nope, not fine. They each ate a bit of rice, lots of Pringles and coke, and vanilla ice cream.

The kids got tired of sitting at the table (rather quickly). Luckily, their parents had brought along a Dora DVD, so we plopped that in (on full blast).

After awhile, they got tired of that, so started coloring. Alain watched rather nervously as they approached HIS WALLS with their markers and crayons.

I think if we ever have kids, we are just going to have to bite the bullet. Take some fingerpaint, markers, and pastels; make some scribbles on the wall, near the bottom. Then take some spaghetti-sauce covered noodles and throw them at the wall, put some grubby handprints and footprint kick marks, plus maybe even some orange baby poop.

I just have to break him in to the idea of less than pristine walls. The man won't even let me hang pictures for goodness sake!

Anyway, they ran around and screamed for awhile, which didn't really bother me. Bothered the downstairs neighbors though, because after awhile we heard "boom boom boom". Ah well. We've had enough of their screaming (the wife) and shrieking (their grandkids) that they can put up with a bit from us every few months.

They left around 3:30 pm.

I've decided that we need to have people over at least every two weeks. Force us to clean the apartment on a regular basis. Also, maybe we will expand our culinary repertoire.