We are in Lacoste, in the heartland of Provence. The birdsong in the morning, twilight and late evening is enchanting. I have recorded it, and it is on FB. I do not hear such birdsong where we live... I blame the neighborhood cats, and the thirty six old plane trees that have been cut down.
The French Muse has been incredibly fun. The four "musettes" are easy going and a kick in the pants. It is such a delight, like I said yesterday, to meet people I have known through blogging, is a real treat. Today we went to Cassis, and well who could not love Cassis?
The only misfortune is that when Ruth pulled the van around for us to get inside, a very cocky young Security Guard wanted us to move along faster than humanly possible. As I waited for everyone to safely get inside, the guard started to yell for me to hurry up, before I was in the van the policeman yelled at Ruth to go. Ruth obeying the police officer started to roll, I yelled to stop as I was dragging, the security guard pushed me in the van, then slammed the door where my hand happened to be. Yes it hurt. But luckily nothing was broken or cut, just sore and shaking. When it happened, I swore a fine litany of swear words. Ruth, poor thing, stopped the van, as she was shocked at what had happened. At that point my being turned into a lioness. I jumped out of the van and stormed over to the security guard. Nothing short of anger came pouring out of me. He profusely said he was sorry, but I was too mad to hear his apology. How dare he be so rude as to push me in, yell at Ruth to go, and then slam the door on my hand. He wasn't thinking, he wasn't living in the moment, he was into his role of power which was moving the traffic along at our expense. I suppose I wanted him to know I was hurt, mad and extremely offended by his actions, his apology was not my need.
I am fine now. Though I feel bad that I yelled at the town's security guard, I will go talk to him, accept his apology and hopefully encourage him to be mindful.
The French Muse continued and my hand was fine enough to look through boxes at an antique shop and cook dinner. Thankfully, nothing too serious happened.
- Gentle Down the Stream
- Sharing What We Love
- Living the French Experience