When I’m not writing it usually means I’m either very busy, or wallowing. I’m not sure which describes my last two weeks better. It always takes a while to readjust to my lifestyle in France. Not having family with me, being responsible for everything and struggling with the language all takes getting used to. This adjustment was further complicated by seven straight days of rain, gray skies, and wind.

I’ve come out the other side decently intact. I have reconnected with old friends, rejoined my gym and done a lot of cooking. Sophie and I have taken many walks and have grown accustomed to sleeping in the same bed each night. I miss processed foods because I’m a dirty, lazy, American but I am eating well.

A typical day involves a three mile walk, a bit of grocery shopping, a workout and then perhaps gardening or computer work. I’ve been grateful to have visited friends for beautiful meals in the evenings and lunch out with friends in Vitré and Passais.

I think the rain has been good for the garden but has slowed my progress in cleaning it up. The grass is very green and I have planted pansies in my rock garden to add a little seasonal color. Yesterday my neighbor came over and introduced himself (for the second time). He asked if he could trim the wisteria that extended from my garden to the telephone line we all depend on. It required power tools, and a big ladder and I was thrilled to have his help. He, his wife and I worked to cut and drag out foliage to his trailer that he kindly used to take to the déchetterie when we were done. This neighbor’s yard is on point and never has a single thing out of place. It is really not my style but it’s hard not to admire his precision. I think we both felt equally relieved to get the wisteria whipped back in its place. I gave he and his wife some chocolate peanut butter cookies I had made and they gave me some lovely walnuts they had gathered.

I was proud of my interaction with them because they don’t speak English and I really had to push my French to the limit to communicate. I was mostly successful except for one question my neighbor asked me repeatedly to which I finally just shrugged my shoulders and said, “oui”. That answer did not satisfy her and she looked perplexed. I’m hoping she wasn’t asking me if I was a serial killer.