If January is Galette month, then February is crepe month (only I'm feeling rather American this February, so though I have made crepes once, I have been making pancakes instead, one time for a crowd of 10 people!) I gather (but I'm a bit suspicious of this explanation) that the feast of chandeleur (the presentation of Jesus in the temple) was somehow connected with some celtic feast of the sun, with the outcome that to celebrate the feast of the presentation, people make crepes which are round like the sun (is anyone else joining me in my suspicions?) Anyway, since the chandeleur was on Feb 2, there are crepes being sold absolutely everywhere all month, and not just crepes either, some fried things that look like they could be fried crepes, which the baker explained were also for chandeleur (though he did not attempt to explain the connection, maybe something about the oil they're fried in and the oil that Simeon used to anoint Jesus in the temple--an apocryphal story created by me on the spot for the sake of the explanation). I suppose they're more justified in drawing the crepes out than they were the galettes, since crepes are also traditional for Mardi Gras, as they use up all the things that are not permitted during lent (well, were not permitted in the middle ages, now everything is permitted!)--milk, butter, eggs.

It's been another long period without writing. I hate to admit it, because of course I like to complain so much, but things must be getting better. Actually, we have made friends with several families that we really enjoy seeing and doing things with, and I think all the children feel the same (even Magdalene who will deny it, but who today, for the very first time since we've been here, said something positive about Nantes, albeit something small: "It's nice to be in a big city so when you want to go shopping you can just walk downtown and you have lots of shops.") Simeon had his birthday party last Saturday. He missed the traditional Mt Baker expedition and his friends, but he took two friends to see Invictus (you can see the edge of Anais's face here), and then he had his friend Mateo's whole family (the photo is missing his father and older brother) over for lunch and for a game of soccer (which unfortunately didn't last very long because Matthias and Simeon crashed and Simeon looked for a few hours as if his nose was broken).

Anyway, we had had a great soccer game with that same family a few weeks before (the kids beat the adults, and my legs were sore for a week, despite all the running I do, how lame), complete with rolling in the mud clutching at our shins and such sillinesses.

Right after the party, a cousin I have not seen in at least 25 years came for a short visit. He's turned into a very interesting man, but it's odd when you don't see someone in so long, it doesn't really feel like you're seeing them again, more like you're just meeting them for the first time. I guess it takes a store of shared memories, or sharing memories that you can both remember to get the sense of seeing someone again, rather than just meeting them for the first time. I think we don't have quite enough shared memories to really do it. But I was glad that I still liked him a lot, after all those years (I did remember liking him a lot as a child). His girlfriend (no one gets married here, and they get mad if you say wife) is from Nantes, so I hope we get to see him again, and maybe meet the girlfriend and also the brand new baby (one or two months old, I think).

Let's see, I think only two more items of news for today.

(1) Mimi is once again wearing dresses, after going for months wearing only jeans (like papa). Once

day she discovered all the tights her cousin Josephine passed down to her, and that seemed like an exciting new bit of dress up. In fact, for the last few months she has refused to let me pick her clothes (to my great chagrin, I was having such a nice time making up for dressing Magdalene in overalls and turtlenecks by dressing Mimi in dresses and white embroidered shirts), and she gets dressed (in rather outlandish stuff, sometimes) all by herself and gets in a great rage if I try to help her, even with a difficult zipper. Even for the school picture she refused to let me pick.

(2) The garbage pickup company is on strike. It's the first strike to affect us since we've been here, although I hear about them every day on the radio (the Paris metro was on strike, then all the Paris museums, then the train company, then someone connected with airplanes...) Ok, what you see here is one week's worth of recycling (and Mimi seems very proud of herself for putting it there!). Everybody knows the trash people are on strike, but no one will take the least bit of charge for themselves

(oh, here I am sounding like a republican again, I cringe that it is so, but really, it does happen to you when you come from America to a place where if people think it's something the government does, then there is no way, no matter what the circumstances, that they will do it themselves (like cleaning up after their dogs, or keeping their recycling at home until the end of the strike, i.e., what we good, well-behaved and highly civilized Americans would (and do) do.)

There is trash everywhere, people keep piling it on and animals get into it and strew it about, there is broken glass everywhere from the thousands and thousands of wine bottles that get kicked around all over the place and run over by cars. I tried to go for a walk today with the dog and the stroller and I was forced to walk in the street 80% of the time, and then the whole time I was worried about the stroller getting a flat tire from the broken glass, or the dog getting hurt (for another 100 euros at the vet!)

Ok, now I'm done with my little American outburst. I'll try another video, though I hear the last one was a dud. This is Matthias's entry into French school culture proper (aside from being invited so far to two birthday parties--to Simeon's one), every single French child learns this poem at some time or other:

Oh, and one more thing: I think, just while I'm in France, I will wear a burka. This will do two things: protest against the xenophobic French government that wants to outlaw the burka in public places, and hide myself from the overly prying eyes of french people. In fact, that's probably why they want to outlaw it, they can't stand the idea that a woman might be walking among them whose beauty and therefore only possible criterion of worth they couldn't measure. In the States, I'm rather against.