I love, love, love, love, LOVE getting EIGHT letters within two days time. I’ve been bouncing around all afternoon because they made me so happy. Thank you so incredibly much my dears Hannah, Emily Fishman, Emsky Lau, Brian-Bob, Heather darling, parents, parents, and my lovely Erinita. You make my life comptete.

That said, I’m going to move onto chapter six of my tangent-filled adventures. Yesterday was pretty relaxed; I slept in (until about 9:15 my time, 3:15 America time) and awoke to a pretty intense shouting match tao floors below me between Jonathan and Régine. Then again, it really wasn’t a shouting match because Régine doesn’t yell. Anyway, I snuck through them and got clean and filled “The Giant Purple Teacup Full of Love,” as I’ve dubbed it, with tea and proceeded to drink it.. (Ohhh, the excitement.) While doing so, I wrapped myself in couch and watched whatever movie on TV that Régine was watching. A lot of the movies they show are German or American movies that they’ve over-dubbed in French. I have to concentrate really hard on not watching their mouths because it drives me crazy when what I’m hearing doesn’t line up with their mouths. Also, sometimes the voice chosen for a certain character really doesn’t match their physique, which throws your brain through a bit of a loop when you’re expecting one voice and hearing another.

Later on that morning . . . Régine and I walked to la poste so I could mail my letters. We don’t have any envelopes at home, so I had to buy them there. As we were doing all the things you needed to do in order to send mail to America (ie. buy envelopes and stamps and explain what was going on to the mail worker behind the soundproof glass so he could charge extra postage for American-bound mail and other such tedious but necessary things), I realized that I was probably going to spent the bulk of the money spent this year on postage to mail things internationally. The good news is that I now know where the post office is, and once I know enough French to dare confront the grumpy mailman, I’ll be able to go alone.

After that stretch of adventure, the two stunningly beautiful and courageous heroines followed their noses into one of the local boulangerie-patisseries (known in less cultured lands as a “bakery,” only fifty-seven thousand and six point two times better). The one known as “Lady Margaret of the Cold and the Stream and the Pond / Cherry Margarita / “My little sex pot” (among other things), generally the more youthfully innocent and with better knowledge of the English language than the other, realized that the scent that filled the small, stone room and her nostrils and her SOUL was certainly one of the most ambrosial scents she had ever beheld. After an exchange of conversation and colorful paper with shiny things on it, the fabulously brilliant and humble protagonists left the shop and disappeared (off into the sunset) bearing a loaf of fresh bread and une tarte aux cerises.

Régine had invited some friends over for dinner that night; a family that consisted of a mother; a father; and FIVE boys. Needless to say, there was much food prepared. The youngest was maybe a year or more and the oldest was sixteen. The latter had this rather showy air about him, which I later realized was the “I’m dating an older (22 yr. old) woman” air. The littlest one couldn’t keep his eyes off me, so I played with him a bit and had a great time. My inner child loves to come out an play, as those of you who have been around me extensively should know by now. I’ve generally found that little kids either love me or are terrified of me.

I had planned to get online that night because it was Sunday and the internet was much less expensive on the weekends, so I was pretty shocked when I had mentioned something about it being Sunday and Régine telling me that, “No, dear. It’s Monday.” I had been thinking a day off for the last five days or so. I figured out later that I for some reason had thought of vendredi as Thursday instead of Friday and then continued on that track from then on. It was a really dumb mistake and meant that I had one less day of vacation than I had anticipated. It also meant that I had missed my internet time on Saturday because I was thinking Friday and therefore would have to wait some more. All of life is waiting for things, and I don’t want it to be that way.

Being Tuesday instead of Monday, Régine and I woke up early today and donned our black and white clothing and our instruments and walked for several blocks to the big church in the neighborhood. One of the members in Régine’s social knowings had died a couple days ago and he was somehow involved with the community band. The band was going to play a few songs (Amazing Grace, Ave Maria, and something like The Friendship Hymn which was quite pretty) for the funeral, which was this morning. It was odd that my first meeting with the band was a concert-type-thing and that I’d be playing in it. The funeral setting was odd for me, but we played and everything worked out well. I’ll do more about the band in the future. I really liked being in the church before everyone arrived. There’s just something about the big open space and air and architecture and windows and on and on that makes me really love churches. I don’t particularly like church services or other religion-related things, but I really like sitting my myself and feeling the air all around me. I had gone to Georgette’s house a couple days ago by myself to get some soup for Régine, which had been a good time. Right before the funeral started, I looked across the room and saw Georgette sitting in a chair, waiving and smiling to me. I sat and talked with her while Régine played waitress during the reception, which was fun. It was so weird to be sitting with people crying all around me for the death of this stranger. Apparently Régine hadn’t been very happy with the deceased and had written in the book for his death (or whatever it was), “Au revoir, Freddie. Bon voyage.” I laughed when she told me about it.

We got home around one, rather than the eleven that I had expected, and I was totally revived when I found five of the previously mentioned eight letters awaiting my arrival. Sarah came over after an hour or so and we went out in the car to do things she needed to do around town. When she was done, we went back to Binche to look around while everything was open. We walked around a huge 1500’s house and around the excavated ruins of the fort and castle-type-thing in the middle of town. I was so tired and Régine and Sarah kept talking talking talking about the history and this and that and facts about the times that I already knew and I had to work hard to keep all my frustration from showing. I wanted so deeply to just go off and sit somewhere by myself and just soak it all in, but that didn’t happen. We couldn’t go inside the cathedralized church because they were renovating it, which was disappointing. When we were done walking and them talking; we went to one of the café/pubs and sat outside for a drink. I had peach iced tea, in honor of a certain individual that enjoys it immensely. It was pretty darn delicious on the hot day, filled with sun. I haven’t seen rain for almost three days, which is crazy talk for where I live.

I have more to say, but it’s going to have to wait for tomorrow before I pass out.