An update on recent events ... so soon. You're lucky.

Well. I suppose I should get in gear and tell you about last weekend.

Friday night we went to a Rotarian's house for dinner. Nadine and her husband ... Jean-Paul, maybe? Let's just call him that. Guite was there too (for those of you with poor memories, Guite is the former president of the Rotary Club, my future host (grand?)mother, and the person I stayed with when I first got to France). With her she had Sayaka, an former exchange student from Japan who has been living with her for September ... which is now over ... hmm ...

Anyhow. So, we got there and after all the French kissy dealies were exchaged, we immediately sat down to appetizers (including the most delicious olives I've ever tasted) and ... champagne.

I have nothing against champagne. I love it, in fact. It's delicious. It was only slightly formidable because Jean-Paule handed me the bottle and (get this) a foot-and-a-half long sabre and asked me to open it.

Naturally, I was terrified.

Shut up! You've never been handed a sabre before!

He took me outside and showed me exactly what to do and how to hold the bottle but I didn't have too good of a grip because of my nails and I was worried I would drop the bottle and get stabbed with shards of glass and (worse) invoke the anger/disappointment of my hosts.

I bet you think this ended in tragedy, right?

How cynical of you! I'll have you know, that I ran the sabre along the bottle just as Jean-Paul showed me and the top came off easily (and apparently, very nicely ... he complimented me on the clean cut I made) and I now have a severed head of a champagne bottle as a souvenir of my trip to France!

I was invited to go out with Sayaka and Nadine and Jean-Paul's daughter, Stéphanie, that night and I wanted to as well. However, I didn't because I had ... oh shut up ... school the following morning and even though Victoria said it was okay and even encouraed me to go ... I didn't. Because I'm all "responsible," I guess. Jeez.

As anyone could have guessed, even though I didn't go out the previous night, I was tired the next morning for my four hours of Saturday school (I said to shut up!!!!!) because we didn't get home until after midnight.

I don't remember much of that morning.

But that evening we went to Pierre's house.

Again. For those of you who can't remember even the most important characters in this saga, this Pierre=motorbike guy. If you don't remember The Motorbike ... shame on you!

It was funny, actually. There were two shifts of the little get-together at Pierre's house (which he just moved into ... I think with a friend or something, I'm a bit hazy on the details). The first was the Family Shift where we had nice glasses of wine and a cute dinner thing with French sausage and the like. Then the family left. I stayed because I wanted to and was given the option. The family left (minus, you know, the Pierre-aged family: Sacha, a few other cousins) and the Friend Shift began with music and German beer (which I did not like) and people were smoking and all that jazz.

To answer your questions: no I did not smoke. No I did not get drunk. Thanks for your faith.

Hah, who's cynical now, right?

But I had fun, actually. Even through the haze of cigarette/other smoke, I was able to have a few good French conversations and the like. The worst part (besides the smoke) was the bad German beer. I think I'm more of a wine person.

As a matter of fact, people, as I told my father yesterday or something, the times I have had the most to drink were the times I was with the Rotary Club. No joke. Swear to God.

Sunday was a not-so-good day.

Want to hear a secret that is going to xause me to not give this address to anyone in France (you are sworn to secrecy, Victor): there is a member of this family, who I do not like at all ... I mean besides the annoying, smelly dog.

I have a big problem with Victoria's father. He makes me increibly uncomfortable and I don't like to be around him. Muckily, I see him once a week at the most, but when he's here I am very eager for him to leave.

At first when I met him, he was friendly and we spoke only about learning languages and stuff (he's from Russia, and speaks at least three languages, I think more). But then he asked how old I was and started telling me without cease how I need to get married soon.

And I hate it. I wouldn't hate it so much, though, if it weren't in such a demeaning way! He asked me what I want to do after I finish school and when I told him I want to be a teacher, he lamented that I wouldn't be able to find a proper husband that way. He said it's ridiculous that I have my nose piecred because it will look unattractive to men. When I got unhappy and annoyed he asked what was wrong and said I might be happier with a boyfriend!

I do NOT like this man!

Enough of my rant, though. Just had to get that in the open.

Today was lovely because I had two hours of French class and the prof wasn't here! In France they don't have substitute teachers ...

I also had two-and-a-half hours for lunch because I had a free period right before my regular lunch time. So I walked in the direction of Guite's house and made the decision to NOT go back to school for lunch because ... I didn't want to. Instead, I went to a market and bought two apples and some chocolate and had my lunch on a park bench, reading Trinity, which I adore!

Beh, you're up to date now. I had an inordinate amount of time on the computer today. Usually it's a fight to the death for me to use this thing, because either Alice or Douglas are almost constantly on it and when it's free I have to grab it up really quickly.

Tomorrow I have two hours of class; I will likely spend more time on the commute to and from school than I will in class. Not only that, but my first class is English! Oh ... trop difficile!

Are you impressed by my mad French skills? I have to be careful now because there's a French person reading my blog now. Don't judge harshly, fake-brother. If you're nice maybe I won't make fun of your Texan accent to hard if and when I meet you.

Well, I'm off. I have a feeling this blog entry wasn't quite up to par with the others, but what'll you do?

One last note before I go. You know what I was doing before I wrote this blog? Researching universities in Ireland. Not even home and I'm thinking of leaving again. Do you happen to know of any, Voctor? Perhaps with an emphasis on language studies?

I'm horrible at researching.

Cheers!
Leah