Magic Scarves and Ramparts

Dear the four people who read this blog,

Thank you for your continued interest in this free source of entertainment. I had a great day and would love to tell you about the funny things that happened during it. My list of blog faithful might lessen if I get too wordy, so I'll save some stories for when I see you and in the words of Galadriel, diminish the quanitity of vocabulary. (Yay, one of you is smiling.)

So the French school system has an exhorbitant amount of vacation which leaves me with the burdensome obligation of more days off work. Alas and Alack. Still having not had enough of Bretagne, I took my favorite modes of transport (bike, train, and my beloved Tibus - my daily school-transport) to a walled city called Dinan and then the renowned and later devastated by war, St Malo. Joining me on this day-long discovery were the infamous Johannes and Hamilton (not the president).

The walled city was actually very welcoming. That whole wall gig could give a bad rap to a place like Dinan. Too bad. We arrived freakishly early and after having eaten a nice pastry with the chocolate chips still melty and all, helped a lady set up her stand at the market. This is where the magic scarves come into play. If I could just take an extra second, I'll recount a joke that I made. The stand-lady had mannequin heads in her trunk to display the magic scarves and one fell out. Larry said, "Ma'm, you've lost your head." In French this expression also means something like, "You've gone a little psycho" or even "You're being a little OCD." She laughed, I laughed, and now I'm asking you to relive the joy with us. The magic scarves were our bounty for having set up the stand. If a certain Bethany B. or even Becca P. read this blog, they'll probably recall the magic scarves quite well. Sorry, they don't give actual powers, they're those weird things that turn into head coverings or shoulder coverings, or a host of other things.

Well, I said I'd try to keep your attention, so the ramparts are coming right up. You know, I continue to see that I am very easily amused and find that just about any normal activity becomes a good memory with a good friend. Johannes, the "slave" of the local youth hostel, was able to procure some goods and along with some stuff I had, we made a nice picnic for the three of us and ate it on the ramparts of St Malo. Below us 4 French preteens played soccer in the sand, a seagull with a weird orange beak mark hoped to get some crumbs, and old Mesdames and Messieurs took leisurely-paced walks to the end of the peer. Some lady even had a dog in a basket. Ahhh.

So, here's to you opportunities to talk to strangers, merit magic vestments, and eat on massive medieval boulders.

Take care friends. And PS - when I got home this evening a package from Hong Kong was waiting on me. Inside I found... the cord to make my computer work again. Lazarus lives! (He's the comp. for those in the dark on that one.) Peace.