Monday, June 25, 2018

DOT . . . DOT . . . DOT . . .


A smoke on the sly
None in our group is the malefactor,
of course. 
Per usual, I have fallen behind. Note that this is written on June 17 re (more) June 12, and who knows what date it will see print. In the air, in the car, in my room, I doze off. (That would be in lieu of writing.) I don't get jet lag. (That's my favorite fiction.) I stash my notebook as Sister and BIL arrive and daughter and I have skedaddled to meet them.

Hotel shuttle is almost immediate. They leave the dinner buffet open until we have eaten what we like. My heavy bags have been magically transported to our room.  We spend our first night in France. 

It has a nice shower, now that the bathroom has been remodeled. Press a little button with a shower icon to start it, press again to stop it. I admire some of the cool plumbing that the French design.

Daughter, Sister and BIL, separately, finish their breakfast buffets, suitcases are brought down. I rely on the assistance of others. I manage rolling them alone in airports, but lifting them off the ground or bumping them down stairs has unfortunate potential. The trip leaders, Beth and Guille, with one more guest, converge on our hotel Tuesday morning-ish.


Tour bus. Unknown whether they are staying at our hotel.
I just like the bright colors.

Beth arrives with one car and our stuff is stashed in it. Guille arrives with a just deplaned guest, KT, and the other car, and we're spirited north to the Villa, as we call it, in Sainte-Cécile-les-Vignes.


We're welcomed with succulent shish kebob dinner, barbecued by our host, and enjoy the balmy evening around the picnic table.



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