I think Sonja must have some kind of playground 6th sense. I attempted to take her to the Opera House yesterday, but she flipped out every time I tried to take the map from her. So like any mother who doesn’t feel like causing a scene on the Metro, I let her have it. She seems to know exactly what maps are and says “Map” very clearly when she sees one. She also knows you are supposed to scrutinize them, and definitely don’t give them up easily. So, with Sonja on the baby leash, holding the map and leading the way down the streets of Paris, we came to the Jardin des Tuileris again. Sonja seemed both thrilled and assured that she had found her way to the good stuff. What a nut.
My French classes are going well. I’m getting to the point where I pronounce most words semi-correctly (not saying the last letter), and not with a complete American or Portuguese accent. Ken’s going to try to find a conversation exchange, so he can get more real-life speaking experience.
I’m disappointed to say that after one night out our babysitter has disappeared. It’s weird actually. I could understand if she didn’t want to tell us the night that she babysat that it wasn’t going to work for whatever reason, and had phoned or emailed the next day to say it was a no go. But that didn’t happen. We set up for her to come on Wednesday at 1:00 and she didn’t show. I called and emailed, but no response. What does this mean? I checked her references. Very recommended. Sonja seemed totally happy when we got back from dinner. I’m just confused. So I’m going to start looking for someone else. Darn.
My drawing class continues tomorrow. I really love it. For some reason sitting down and drawing for a couple of hours is not something I do on my own, but when I do it in a class I find it relaxing and fun. Maybe when I get back to the US I’ll continue it on my own.
Our absentee ballots came!! (Thanks for forwarding them Linda). I was getting worried that our city might not have its act together enough to send them out.
Funny things:
Once a week this tuba player with back up music on a PA comes down the street, sounding not like one guy, but like a whole parade.
When Ken and I went to dinner alone, a guy came in the restaurant and tried to sell us the little flash lights that project a pornographic picture. Um . . . How many couples eating dinner out could this guy possibly sell to?
~Rachel
Please tell me you got the little porn flashlight!