Vaya con el Caliente Pollo

January 17, 2010 at 12:59 pm (The Easy Chair)

As weekends go, this one was more uneventful than usual. I didn’t have a bad time per se, just didn’t do a lot of exciting stuff. I watched a couple of great little comedies, Big Fan and In the Loop. I grocery shopped, twice, did laundry and bought a new shirt. I cleaned my nightstand. As I did these little chores, I played on the internet, which brought the highlight of my weekend…

Sunday morning has always been special. Whether dodging church, snuggling with my baby or recovering from Saturday night’s excesses, I revere this quiet time of the week. The birds and chipmunks are louder than the freeway. It’s when I get my dose of serenity.

Lately a new pattern is forming. It seems to be the one time of the week that I can get Mizelle online. She has an account on one of the social networks, and when I see her ‘Online NOW!’ status I fire off a missive, hoping to start a convo. Since she’s moved to France we’ve exchanged more e-mails than ever before. (It’ll still take a while for e-mail to catch up to the phone calls. She’s the one person I can talk to on the phone for hours.) When I see mail in that particular inbox, I know it’s from her. I’d been muttering about how trashy my environment has been, and how I’m cleaning it up. I took a break from organizing laundry to give her response a read:

wow. speaking of white trash, i think i can officially call The Frenchman’s mom’s kitchen french rural trash….that room has always been somewhat of a marvel to me. i am a fairly disorganized pack rat, myself, as you know, and i thoroughly blame my parents. both are collectors of all things potentially useful and not. although my nest has mostly been strewn with shiny things, so maybe i am more of a bird. anyhoo, The Frenchman has a similar situation here on the farm…in his dad’s corner of the ring, there are piles of rusting farm equiptment, broken furniture and pallets and buckets piled everywhere around the yard. if i ever decide to become a metal sculptor or junk artist, this property will be my craft store. there are also piles of molding clothes everywhere in the laundry room and yard that are probably, literally the nests of honest to god pack rats. then there is the garage…i think most people have a messy garage, but theirs is 5 times bigger than the average garage, hence the ability to accumulate 5 times the amount of junk….we were going through it and found about 40 pairs of dusty spidery shoes and many mouse carcasses…hmmm. i keep thinking his farm would be an excellent setting for a horror movie…. meanwwhile, back in the kitchen….now, let me just defend The Frenchman’s mom by saying, she never sits down. she is the busiest woman i have ever seen. she does all of the paperwork for the farm, many deliveries of wine, works in their wine shop, does all the cooking and all of the cleaning….it is nonstop….so, some part of her life is going to get neglected…in her case it is the kitchen….the oven is broken and has become a storage unit for dishes and sometimes forgotten leftovers, the dishwasher is also broken and houses dishes that have been dirty for about a year…you only want to open 3 of the 8 cupboards in fear of injury or death and you definitely do not want to open the drawers, even if they were not stuck shut, sealing in their mysteries for eternity.,…then there is the broken pipe under the sink that creates a black sludge that constantly oozes out onto the floor. she has been doing her dishes in a bucket for about a month. the floor is often covered in bones of wild aminals and jars of duckfat lurk in the shadowy abyss (extra shadowy and abysmal, for there are no windows in the room)…so anyhoo, they bought a new kitchen for her (cupboards and appliances and such) that has been gathering dust in the garage for almost a year. now it is vacation time. mom and dad went out of town for a week and i decided it was time for mom to have her new kitchen…construction time. excavation time. biohazard containment time….we have been digging and cringing and standing in wonder at the molding, ancient treasures we have unearthed. there were two packs of cheese that had turned to dust, a mouse nest made of napkins and plastic bags, 17 ice cream tub lids stuck behind some petrified spices and a drawer that The Frenchman always thought was a false drawer but actually was a mausoleum for a dead mouse with a bunch of rainbow paperclips attached…,.so anyway, that has been the latest philosophical journey…just thought you would appreciate it. via con dios unless you can find a hot chick,
love, Mizelle
ps my french is horrible and i am doing the american thing by imposing my culture and forcing everyone to speak english.

I look back with fondness having spent so many nights on the phone with Mizelle as she excavated her room, finished the dishes of all her roommates and various other busywork accomplished while chatting with me. Too bad it’s an international call; I would have loved to hear these things described as she found them.

After sharing her e-mail with a friend or two, I learned more about duckfat, and yes, there is a hillbilly aire lurking in rural France. (For example, Dr T’s Daughter is married to a Frenchman; his son refers to his brother-in-law as Le Jethro.) I have no worries Mizelle can hold her own, whether it be in the French social circle or with the Bodines, albeit a longer spelling. (Beaudoine?)

Now if I can come up with a French version of the rebel yell…

1 Comment

  1. Name (required) said,

    Viva la ‘Le’!

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