Any Lives Left?

As many of you know, my cat -- Boots, My Man -- was the victim of a vicious unprovoked coyote attack last November. We almost lost poor Bootsy. Lucky for him, he used up most of his remaining lives and pulled through. We are very grateful to our skilled vet, Dr. Lucero, who placed drains throughout Bootsy's abdomen, and commended him on being such a strong and brave cat. Dr. Lucero was pretty sure, in fact, that the coyote had not fared as well in the claws of Boots. Here are some recent photos of Boots. You can see that he has regained the weight he lost and is now again obese. (Because he bites my ankles, and then I feed him. As I told the vet, it's survival of the fittest.) He is no longer allowed to wander any further than 1) the balcony and 2) the roof, where you can see him peering through the window, having just remembered that it's time to come in and eat again.

Paul's Graduation

Here is the schedule he sent me:

Friday, April 25th
3:10 PM - 4:30 PM: History Graduation Ceremony, MLB Aud 3
6:00 PM - 8:00 PM: LSA Scholarship Reception, Michigan Union U-Club

Saturday, April 26th
7:00 AM - 8:00 AM: Guests Arrive on Diag
8:00 AM - 9:00 AM: Students Arrive at Start Point
10:00 AM: Commencement Ceremony Begins
5:00 PM: Paul gets kicked out of his apartment and becomes a homeless college graduate.

That's my son!

Walking the Dog

Rowlf never got trained very well. He got kicked out of The Dog Whisperer's obedience class for being disobedient. Nicky tried to train him by reasoning with him. Manny tried to train him by threatening violence. Poor Rowlf. And now that Nicky's off to college, Rowlf is despondent. So we decided to go for a hike with him yesterday on the Arroyo Seco Trail above JPL. There were signs all over the place with a little icon of a dog walker, a dog, and a leash tethering them together. We got the message. Plus, we don't totally trust Rowlf off leash. I should reword that: we don't trust what strangers would do if Rowlf were off leash. Rowlf is actually just trying to be friendly, but sometimes strangers don't get it when a 76-pound energetic shepherd mix comes bounding up to them to say hello. We met one woman on the trail who convinced us to "liberate" Rowlf from his leash to play with her 8-month old shepherd/boxer mix. Rowlf, after asserting dominance in the usual doggy way, was in doggie heaven. But a pebble in his paw sent us on our way downhill, and he was back on leash. Thinking he could then say, "Hi!" to any other dog he met, we ran into a small Chihuahua-looking thing, on leash, walking with his owners. Rowlf was just SO excited to see this little friend that he strained and -- omigod -- slipped out of his collar! Little Pepe's owners freaked as Rowlf ran over to greet their diminutive pup. They pulled up on the leash, and the next thing we knew Pepe was flying off the ground, swinging around by the neck, looking like something out of The Exorcist. Luckily, we grabbed Rowlf before Pepe could be decapitated. I mean, really, what did the owners think Rowlf would have done? Sniffed their dog to death? That little protective maneuver could have injured the poor thing, or worse. And Rowlf doesn't understand the mixed messages about which dogs he can play with and which ones he can't. Neither do I, actually. I'll attach some photos showing how "well-behaved" Rowlf was on the hike.

Photos From London

Broken clavicle aside (OK -- the truth: he did it skydiving), Ashton, Mana & I had a very nice Presidents' Day long weekend in London.

#1: Mana & Ashton being photogenic.

#2: Me & Ashton at the Tower of London.

#3: Ashton en route to Hogwart's, leaving from Kings Cross Station, Platform 9 3/4.

#4: Wedding celebration in front of Buckingham Palace. I took pictures of the photographers taking pictures. It was picturesque.

#5: Me & Ashton beside the river Thames, Big Ben in the background.

#6: Visiting with the Royal Family. They seemed respectable, but weren't much for conversation.

Application Season

OK, that's it; I have had it with 1) worthless speculation on who is going to be elected President and 2) applications to college/law school/medical school. Why is it that the schools to which my kids are applying want to know the minutest details of their short educational careers, yet applicants for Leader of the Free World don't have to submit a personal statement, transcripts or standardized test scores? Is this a double standard or what? Furthermore, the candidates will not even disclose their LSAT scores! Why not? Do they have something to hide? What about their transcripts? Don't we want to know if they (i.e., GW) failed American history? These candidates are in front of the cameras 24/7 expounding on their virtues, but they won't give us the facts. My suggestion: Either change college/medical/law/vet school admissions to a popular election or require that the candidates submit their test scores. Hillary, Barack, John, John, Mitt, Huck, what do you have to say?

Photos from France

The first three photos show me amongst my favorite things: food and shoes, in my favorite place: France. We went to a different marche in different towns every day or two to stock up on provisions (i.e., food and shoes). The produce was fresh, beautiful and mouth-watering delicious. We managed to get there right at the end of strawberry season, and I'm not talking about the big tasteless ones we have here, but the little sweet ones they have in France. Not as easy to dip into the dark French chocolate, but worth the effort. We were also smack dab in the middle of Cavaillon melon season. We bought and ate two melons every day. The photo at upper left shows the spice stand. Note the huge pile of lavender. I'm standing in front of a basket of herbs de Provence. They also sell bread, cheese, sausages, clothes, fabric, tablecloths, towels, jewelry and temporary tattoos at the marche. As for the shoes (next photo down), are they cute or what? I couldn't resist for only 20 euros.

Which reminds me: the cost of living in France seems to be more or less the same as in Los Angeles. The food at the marche is about the same, the food in restaurants is about the same, and the food in the supermarket is way less. Gas prices were somewhere between $4 and $5/gallon (sort of difficult to calculate, since it's sold in euros/liter), but the gas mileage on the cars is way better. We rented a Volkswagen Touran SUV with a diesel engine and got something like 35 miles/gallon. As for the cost of healthcare in France, I suggest you see "Sicko."

Below is a photo of us standing on the banks of the Rhone River. In the background is the city of Avignon. Lucky for us, they have built a new bridge across the river (to the right of us; you can't see it) since the Pont St. Benezet bridge (to the left of us; you can't see it) of nursery-rhyme fame ("Sur le pont d'Avignon, on y danse, on y danse ...") was flooded and partially destroyed in 1668. In Avignon we toured the Palais des Papes as well as the Pont St. Benezet. Manny liked it because he's Catholic, Paul liked it because it's historic, I liked it because it's France, Ashton liked it because he likes everything, and Nicky sat on a bench waiting for us.

Here we are at a picnic winetasting and Provencal lunch in the vineyards of Sablet, hosted by the Autrans, the owners of Domaine de Piaugier and our not-so-petite gite. We tasted many of their EXCELLENT wines. The French have no concept of a legal drinking age ... and the most that could go wrong would be someone getting tipsy and tripping over a grapevine ... so all the boys joined us. The "lunch" lasted until dinnertime. The photo on the left is Sophie and her husband. He works in the vineyards and makes the wine. She manages the business and sells the wine. And, oh, yes, we are expecting our case to arrive in San Francisco in about 45 days, by way of the Panama Canal. Homeland Security wouldn't let us bring any back on the plane. They even confiscated our sunblock in Chicago, after we had already traveled with it from Marseille to Madrid and Madrid to Chicago. Gotta fight those terrorists.

Bag Lady

Did you know that grocery stores in France do not provide you with bags to pack your groceries? You have to take your own. We found this out the first time we went to Leclerc in Vaison La Romaine. The checker rang up the items and just left them for us at the end of the checkstand. The kids and I just stood there, amazed .... waiting for no one to pack our groceries. We finally figured out that this is the norm there. I was like, "Do you guys see the irony in this?" because I am the only one at Ralph's in La Crescenta every Sunday who brings in my own bags to recycle. In fact, Ralph's gives me 5 cents/bag, and that's one of the ways I saved up enough money to even go to France. I don't know the exact reasoning behind this French tradition, but obviously it's better for the environment. When I went to Target today to buy Nicky some pillows for college and the checker was trying to shove each individual pillow -- already in plastic wrap -- into a plastic bag, it was apparent to me how wasteful we Americans are without even thinking. Vive la France!