Marc came home, and in doing so took all the wind out of my writing sails. Out of all my sails, apparently. Man, I’m beginning to wonder if I should just stake it out alone for a while. I seem to function better. But anyway…

Muppet is in a real bed now! Woohoo! I managed to make it back to IKEA!!! the very night I last posted (after Marc showed up an hour early) to exchange the wrong size springs and the next day was Operation Make The Bed and Lie In It. **IKEA!!! in Dijon is open until 10 PM on Thursdays and the place is ABANDONNED!!!** We chose the Dalselv bed—it’s the second cheapest single bed IKEA!!! has (35€ plus sommier and bedding)—and I honestly expected it to be, well, cheap. But the model set up in the store seemed very solid when I plunked down on it (and yes, I plunked), so that reassured me. And now that it’s home and set up and the Grand Monkey One has claimed it, we’re very happy. And the best part was it took me less than an hour to put it together. Alone. Because IKEA!!! furniture cannot be assembled any other way without risking homicide.

Of course, the first night was rough. Muppet plunged out of the bed three times, the first of which was probably the most tragic event known to the human species. He panicked and woke the entire house. And then would NOT go back to sleep for an hour and a half. And then only after falling asleep downstairs and being carried back up to his bed. The next two times didn’t freak him out at all and he handled them all on his own. But since then we’ve rearranged again and the bed is now against one wall and blocked in by my dresser—not exactly pleasing to look at, but as practical as we can manage at the moment. And the isolation makes him feel like his bed is a fortress, and that’s Monkey's style.

On the way back from IKEA!!! I witnessed the most spectacular accident. This guy on a motorcycle whizzed past me and the car in front of me and then lost it. My speedometer said I was doing 120 at the time (that’s kilometers, y’all—don’t freak) and he honestly passed me like I was going backwards, so he was flying. Then he just seemed to lay his bike down and the slide for a few hundred meters. The bike was just twisted metal at the end of the run (I couldn’t even tell you what color the thing was, much less what type). But the guy, man, that’s one lucky sombitch. Not a scratch on him—aside from his leathers being shredded down to their protective plates and his helmet being shaved egg-thin. Good Samaritan that I am, I stopped and waited for the police and an ambulance—both of which showed up in remarkable time (I wondered later if it was planned), and sat with M. Jay LaChance during that time. Poor guy. Turns out it’s not even his bike. It belongs to his brother-in-law and he was just taking it out to ‘give it a try’. Oops.

But even with the motorcycle accident and eating at IKEA!!! (Thursday is also moules-frites for 3€, which I no longer, sadly, have the right to eat—have I mentioned I HATE being pregnant?) I managed to make it home four and a half hours after I left. I’m not exactly sure how long I stayed in IKEA!!!, but y’all’d’ve been proud. It was another record run.

Hmm, what else. Tigger-ette has her sixth toofus poking out. This means that it’s open season on anything that passes close enough to her mouth to be bitten. We’re trying to keep our distance, but you know, she’s so cute and when she screams we kind of have to feed her so she’ll shut up, but so far we’ve been lucky and have come out with all our digits intact. She’s also become much more assertive when defending her share of the toys and I fully expect to walk in the living room one day and find her with her brother in a headlock. I think his days of male dominance are numbered. The Amazon is on the rise. But she’s really sweet otherwise. Incredibly so. What a switch from the beginning.

I'm gearing up for Thanksgiving. Last year I did a good job of actually listing all the dishes I made, the recipes I used (all one of them—the rest is stored on my brain cell), and the people I invited. For now I’m revising and refreshing. And hoping to be better organised. I always start out so well, but by the time I’m ready to serve the starters I get so off track that I end up stuck in the kitchen all day and unable to visit with my guests or (more importantly) enjoy the food I’ve slaved over for days. One of my old students has offered to come help with the prep work this year, so I have a willing slave and that should help, but man, it’s always that last little bit that screws me up.

I had hoped to have Thanksgiving at our house this year. I don’t know why, but I have the feeling those three ovens will probably help with that last minute rush to get everything done at just the right moment. Sadly this is not to be…again. Does anyone else wonder why it is I’m finding it so hard to keep up the charade of hope? Yes, we’re still waiting for news. Still.

Actually that’s a good word to describe life here: Still. God, that’s depressing.

Anyway, we’ve got a guy helping out on the farm and I need to actually make some effort in the kitchen so he can eat. We’re alive. How’s you?