The Genderless Baby

Have you seen this?
When I read the article this morning I thought, yet again, that there ought to be licensing required for parenthood.
In a country that requires helmets for just about everything, licenses for just about everything and in which doctors are promoting the idea of a tax credit based on one's BMI, it is still seen as perfectly alright for anyone and everyone to have a child and then visit any sort of strange upbringing on the unfortunate little one.
The parents want the child to be judged by more than 'what's between its legs', yet have set up a situation in which that will be the first thing on everyone's mind.
Just when you think you've seen it all..........

Not shy, but retiring

Yesterday at lunchtime, we had a gathering in honor of the court clerk's retirement.

The court clerk is a miserable woman.

Miserable.

Complains all the time.

About everything.

If you say, "It's a beautiful day!" 

she'll mutter, "Oh! I'm so far behind in my yardwork! I'm gonna have to work like a dog now that the weather's finally good."

So we mostly steer clear of her. How can you have a conversation with somebody who's never . . . ever . . . happy about anything, but always looking for the cloud in front of the silver lining?

But the judge told everybody three times a day for a week the time and place and came and rounded us all up at the appointed hour. So we all went.

It was like a wake.

She didn't want to be there.

We didn't want to be there.

Every attempt at conversation ended after one exchange.

It was awful. Like a wake. But less fun.

Has it occurred to anyone else

...that our Fridge Soup mascot has terrible styes?

I Was Just About to , Honest ....

I was on the point of posting , Friko . It had just taken slightly longer to rework Prothalamion in 16th Century Friesian for the delight and delectation of my fellow Fridge Soupers than I thought .
But now that you've posted Ogden Nash's delightful ode to a duck , I can put Spenser's silken swans back in the drawer for another time ....
P.S. Deborah must have super IT skills I can only envy . Blogger won't let me comment at all .

Cluck Cluck?

The Duck

Behold the duck.

It does not cluck.

A cluck it lacks.

It quacks.

It is specially fond

Of a puddle or pond.

When it dines or sups,

It bottoms ups.

Ogden Nash

Quacking or clucking, a sign of life would be nice?
Is everybody on holiday, gardening, looking after grandchildren?
Any excuse will be fine, so long as it's printable.

Vignettes of Life in France (#10 in a series)

 

As you might have heard, things are hopping in Cannes.  The last time my Favourite Belgian and I made an impromptu visit to the festival, we failed to see a single famous face and went home, only to find out the next day that U2 gave an impromptu concert on the steps of the Palais des Festivals moments after we left.   

A friend persuaded me to give it another chance this year.  We spent the day strolling the Croisette but missed Brad Pitt(who looks more and more like Johnny Depp)  drumming up business for The Tree of Life (which was booed), and could only speculate who was in the helicopter that made the 30 second flight between a rather large yacht and the rear entrance of the Palais des Festivals.  I doubled-checked all the tall blondes for signs of being Uma Thurman but they seemed mostly to be Slovenian wannabes. 

But the day was not spent in vain!  Here’s what we did see:

Mere steps from the red carpet were these two insouciant fellas.    That’s their boat in the background.   

 

And this could only be a famous French film director, blending in with the locals at a sidewalk cafe.  Or was he actually the man my friend’s Monday horoscope meant when it exhorted her to :’ Head for a beautiful seaside resort. You'll meet someone with a sexy voice and attractive build!’? We’ll never know – his hair put her off.   

The Rue d’Antibes, one street in front from the Croisette.  While Armani and Dolce and Gabbana have prime seafront locations, there are way more people on the Rue d’Antibes, mainly because the shops there have stuff you can actually afford.  I came home with two bathmats for 15Euros and had a 3-hour lunch with the blonde in black-and-white.     

My first car

My next car

Oh!  My double – on, or near, the red carpet!! No wonder she looks happy, with her very own bodyguard to muscle autograph seekers out of the way.   

That’s it, my celebrity stalking is over for this year.  Although, if I run into Helen Mirren at the supermarket (she’s got a house just over the road) I’ll be letting you know. 

New adventure

If one is to have a tire blow out...it is best to have it on a sunny, if windy, day . . . on a highway where there is a good shoulder to pull over . . . where the view is forever of greening fields and trees of bright green, chartreuse, gold, and the hawks stand still overhead looking back at their observer.
It is good to have roadside assistance on one's cellphone service so that the truck shows up in twenty minutes and one is back on one's way within a half hour after the "pop! rumblerumblerumble."

And it is good to come home safe, not having been blown over by passing eighteen-wheelers.

True Story

I've posted about the weekend's May Festival at Valley's End at my blog. One of the attractions was a stall with a man who had all sorts of small animals to show. As you might imagine, he was very popular with the children.

With each animal he had a few bits of information, something about the creature's nature, its natural habitat, etc.  When he held up a gerbil, he explained that this particular one came from the Andes. To involve the children, he also asked them questions.

"Does anybody know where the Andes are", he called out.
"At the end of our armies", came the instant answer. I kid you not, I swear it's true.

The old ones are still the best.