Time passes.

My fingernails grow; I cut them. My hair grows; I ignore it. Occasionally, I shower.

Yesterday I made some soup out of the weird stash of root vegetables that Vincent has in the cellar. The veggies would probably be ordinary to anyone who actually cooks, but take away my Trader Joe's frozen food section and I'm helpless. It came out orangey-green (ew) and tasted fine, but once it occured to me that I was basically eating baby food, that's all I could think of.

Yikes--tomorrow is my last day on the farm! Saturday I'm biking to Angers, taking the train to Versailles, and biking to my family's house. 'Twill be a nice, easy day. Am looking forward to being in the company of people who speak my language!

Sometime in the next week, I'm going to meet up with my old pal Fred from work, who's coming to Paris for Christmas with his family. I'm hoping that he can help me with my burning questions about his people: how and why they organize their indoor and outdoor spaces in relation to bodily functions, and why they insist on retaining the childish need to peel their apples. I am confident that there is a neo-Freudian academic thesis in there somewhere.

Oh, and the map is updated. Link is to the right.