Cheers

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Enough already

Last night we took a little break to build a fire…
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And then there was swinging to be done. I know, I’m wearing horrible socks with my sandals, but it was chilly. Hence the fire. Leave me alone.

When I had time…

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Last weekend I tried kitschenette’s recipe for chocolate chip cookies. I really liked her cookie picture and was anticipating a much thicker result than I got. Since brown sugar doesn’t exist in Switzerland, I added a tablespoon of molasses, thus needing a bit more flour to thicken the batter to a normal consistency. They turned out crispy, which is how I like my cookies, so I would make them again in a heartbeat. One of our guests, who was ten years old, ate enough to make me think they weren’t bad indeed.
So I am without illustration once again. I did take the time to install the new Mac OS X Tiger this morning. Mmm, widgets. I am a software junkie.

I wasn’t stalking

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I was following this woman because I wanted a picture of her shoes and because she was going in my direction anyway I continued to snap photos of her feet. After two blocks I realized this might seem really creepy if you don’t know that I just want them for a possible illustration. But then again, it might be creepy knowing that as well. Perhaps I’ll stick to window shopping.

Chocolate, er France, how I love thee

I seem to have forgotten something in France, my brain. The story of my trip will be the subject of my nanowrimo attempt this year. I stayed in the Burgundy region in a small village overlooking vineyards and took over a thousand photos. My French, which disappeared when I started learning German, started coming back while I was there. I can read French which surprises me but shouldn’t since I read The Stranger, Le Cid, and The Count of Monte Christo in my French literature class at uni some 18 years ago. Speak French, I cannot as witnessed by one delivery man who came up to my room in the manor searching for the reception. My door was the only one open so he asked me where the office was, which I understood, but couldn’t give him any directions. So I told him in French that I didn’t speak French, walked him back down stairs and said there in French as I pointed to the side door, to which he said, “thank you.” Damn accent. Alors, I will definitely be going back.
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Entry name has been changed to protect its innocence

I am looking forward to my French recouperation. This week saw me running all over a rugged 4WD course taking pictures of the drivers, one of whom was JM. My boots were so muddy and my legs so sore by the time it was over. Here it is Monday and I am still numb in the brain.
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