Something on the wind

The slow pace continues chez Emily and Ben.  We've been without internet since Sunday night, but perhaps that prevented me from over-publishing in this blog.  The internet has revived for now, but I'm acquiring some serious trust issues with SFR, our internet "provider."

The last few days have been marked by  Le Mistral.  I've often heard references to Le Mistral, and the effect it has on Provençal culture, but Sunday and Monday were my first experiences with this little French breeze.  While Ben and I strolled through the local vineyard, I was whipping my hair back and forth, though not as glamorously as Will Smith's progeny.  Annoyed with the resulting rat's nest, I decided it was time for a self-inflicted coupe de cheveux.  If you've seen me lately, you'd have noticed that my curly hair was down to my derrière, but I stoutly refused to pay $150+ in DC to get my hair done by people who have no idea how to cut curls.  Obviously, I can do much better myself.  Obviously.  (Read: I no longer have an income and can't afford to get my hair cut by a professional.)

All the hair I cut off - practically a small animal.

New do!  Self-inflicted...!

The windy view from the stroll that inspired the sheering.

While we're still in limbo about our location this year, we're taking advantage of the long, free, sunny days to relax a bit.  For the past three years, I never really had the chance to sleep in and have lazy weekend (or any) days.  I worked two jobs 6 days a week, and then I often paced running groups early Sunday mornings.  Even when I wasn't pacing running groups, I was usually training for races, so my weekends were less than relaxing.  I feel as though my crazy schedule karma is being gifted back to me in the form of late mornings and no alarm clocks.  At least until we get confirmation about our location this year, and then it will be back to early mornings, classes, and good nights sleep.

For now, baguettes and eggs for breakfast, and lazy afternoon strolls for lunch.  I've taken these opportunities to document our environs.  I think the locals are wondering why some disheveled chick in Under Armor shorts and tech tees has decided to photograph their village, but I feel a small sense of payback for all the tourists who would take pictures in the middle of the DC metro and block the escalator during rush hour when I was late for work...

A house in the countryside.

Too French to function.

Clear skies, thanks to Le Mistral

Chat!

While living and working in DC, I found that I rarely really had the time to cook for myself.  The few hours between work and bed were a luxury I generally reserved for going to the gym or running.  Dinner was often a perfunctory exhibition of my microwaving skills.  It tended to be a bit soul-crushing, but I required quantity over quality after hard days of bashing my face against a laptop screen/killing my quads and hammies on a bike or Elliptical machine.  Now, however, I'm able to indulge my passion with more time and a receptive audience.  Ben likes my cooking, and I give him great credit since most of my meals are an artful jumble of olive oil and and sautéed whatever's-in-the-fridge.  I let a little Italian out on Sunday night and made sauce (tomato paste comes in a tube in France!)

Italian sauce; French baguette of course.

And I improvised a lentil-and-onion creation; I discovered some (questionable) chicken stock I'd bought in January when I last visited et voilà, soup!

Bad quality pic, good quality food.