My life as a frog elevator

Transformation complete, the tadpoles are frogs

I am so, so far behind. How to catch up, and where to begin? There is so much I haven't told in the ongoing saga with our building company, like the day I finally ranted against Georges as he followed me around the garden, and then sat, waiting patiently like Godot for me to finally come and join him.

"Madame Sisyphe, venez vous asseoir avec moi pour qu'on puisse discuter calmement."

"Non, Georges," I replied, calmement, "je ne vais pas venir m'asseoir à côté de vous car j'ai fini de marchander avec vous. Vous n'aurez pas d'autre réponse cet après-midi." After my statement that I wasn't going to come and sit with him to do any more dealing, I found him in front of me, kneeling. Had I not been so exasperated, I might have laughed so much he looked the perfect image of a gitan in the Paris métro (except they are women). As it was, it was infuriating. He sat back on his heels and finally down on the grass.

He hadn't given up.

Yesterday, he came to install the grill and the gate at the street, and Audouin said, "Il nous a demandé un avancé." An advance? That wasn't what the lawyer ordered.

"Ah bon? Combien?" How much? Georges smiled his usual grin -- somewhere between sheepish and guilty --, but it was my husband who replied.

"Il va nous le montrer juste avant de se casser, je pense." Meaning, my husband had figured it out; he wasn't saying. He'd present it to us just before getting the hell out of here, knowing the merde was going to hit the rotating blades as soon as I laid eyes on it. I went up to bed in the middle of the afternoon on a perfectly nice Saturday in September.

What else is there to do when you're going to have a nervous depression?

I wasn't asleep when I heard him giving the bill to my husband. I wasn't asleep when I heard my husband call me so Georges could say good-bye. I did us all a favor and played possum in my bed, the recently reinstalled shutters closed where the window still wasn't installed, shutting out the daylight and all activity outdoors. Almost. I could still hear them.

But why he was so secretive and coy about an advance as beyond me, unless he really felt badly asking for it when we had been very clear: no payment until all work completed. Because, it wasn't an advance at all, it was a bill for extras, an avenant. Georges had had a failure of mastery of the French language. An avenant refers to the terms by which a contract is changed, notably in the favor of the person to whom payment is due.

The paper was sitting on the dining table when I came down, Audouin out working on his balcony guardrail.

"Oh non! Non, non, non, non, non," I said.

"Je pensais que tu dirais ça," he said. That helped. I could accept that much humor and appreciated the inkling of solidarity it implied.

They were asking a few hundred euros here for the removal of the earth for the slab for the entry court paving, an evident part of paving an entry court.

They were asking a few hundred euros there to remove a tree that had always been slated for removal, as soon as my husband got over it and let them do it.

They were asking a few hundred euros to bury the pipes and electrical cables they knew ran under the dirt and would have to go under the slab.

They wanted many several hundred euros for the brick I told them to cancel for a wall when they told us how much they wanted to install it, telling me only the other day that he hadn't canceled it because it was already ordered at the time. But, not delivered. Key point. When I learned that on Thursday, I said, "You know my husband said no when he heard the price, 2,000 euros."

"Non, non, Madame Sisyphe," said Georges, indicating by the angle of inclination of his head and a movement of the shoulders that they were going to charge us pretty much the cost of the brick.

"Mon mari va péter un cable," I told him. Péter un cable means "lose it" in French. Georges found that amusing somehow.

Then, there was the many several hundred euros for the "complicated" brick work for the pillars.

Tonight, we have to decide what we are going to agree to pay, and what we are refusing. Basically 50%: everything having to do with the brick. Everything else is refused in my court.

Meanwhile, while I am sitting at the table working out the paving patterns, people are driving by and commenting on the house. On Friday, Georges told me that a car registered in the neighboring and wealthy département, l'Eure, pulled up alongside them. The man slid down his window and said that our house was beautiful, "exactement ce que je veux pour chez moi." He asked for their card, which Georges produced.

I realized in that second that I should have a sign on the house, naming myself as the architect and giving my contact information, as well as their company information.

"Georges, et s'il vous appelle, vous lui direz, certainement, qui est l'architecte?"

"Bien sur, Madame Sisyphe." Bien sur mon eye. As though he'd go out of his way to give credit where credit is certainement due. If they get business from this house, why is that? Hm? They have gone along kicking and screaming, trying to cut every corner and ruin the project with mass market crap windows and brick pillars and trying to wiggle out of everything they can, while I hold them to it and pay.

Like Friday, "Georges, vous allez faire l'ochre, oui?" They darkened the half-timber motifs and put the patina away without touching the ocre yellow walls that are too light.

"Oui, oui. On ne va pas se sauver sans les faires, mais, voulez ça ici," he pointed to the east façade next to which we were standing, "jusqu'en haut?" Was he crazy? He was asking if I wanted them to darken the ocre all the way to the top of the wall.

No, just do half of it, Georges.

I nodded, "Bien sur jusqu'en haut, et les trois façades de la partie plus récente aussi," comme vous le savez.

"Jusqu'en haut aussi?" How stupid is he, or how stupid does he think I am?

Don't answer. I prefer not to know, and I haven't even touched upon the disagreement between my life's partner and I about the extent of the brick paving on the garden side of the house. Reason number two why I have taken to my bed in a nervous depression.



But, the real news of the day is that the tadpoles have succeeded in their development to frog.

The past few days, I have seen nothing of them. Where did they go? To the bottom of the basin, down in the muck? Is this what they do when they get to the front leg stage and lose their tails? Why can't I see it like I got to see the rear legs sprout?

That's nature. You don't get to. Sorry.

This morning Audouin finally asked if I had seen the tadpoles recently. I hadn't. I shared my idea that maybe they do to the bottom of the pond (or whatever) to sprout their front legs and lose their tails. He nodded and wandered back to his balcony rail.

This afternoon, late in the day, something made me kneel down on the side of the basin by the reeds and peer into the Santa Barbara daisies. Something moved. It jumped. It definitely jumped. It was -- a tiny, baby, fully developed frog.

"Audouin, ca il y est! Les tétards sont devenus des grenouilles, et -- oh! Il y a encore des autres!" He came hurrying over to see what I had found. One, two, three -- five, six... baby frogs. We started trying to catch them to help them back into the basin before they became hors d'oeuvres for the animals, although I think they are poisonous for the cats and the dogs, and that the cats and the dogs know this.

Once my eyes got used to seeing them in the aquatic plants in the basin, I could see them everywhere. Seven, eight, nine, twelve! Thirteen -- I stopped counting and just took baby pictures for their album.

Three months from when we first saw the tiny, newly hatched tadpoles on June 24, they had done what they were supposed to do in that time and had become frogs.

I felt a surge of pride that the basin, which we had completely emptied to repair in April, had been capable of not only sustaining life but of allowing new life for both the fish and the frogs in a single season.

My life has new meaning, as I now have to worry about finding them in the plants around the basin and helping them get back in to survive.

I saw one that didn't make it. It's not nice what the sun does to them.

You can click on the album to go to Picasa and see it as a full screen slideshow. The little frogs are actually visible there.


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We don't need no stinkin' czars: Interviews with 9/12 Tea Party demonstrators

Because Jesus is our King.
-- Demonstrator, 9/12 Washington Tea Party



What struck me more than the ignorance and assumption of fact and the irrelevance of supporting evidence the people interviewed showed -- we all know all about that by now, unfortunately -- was the fact that when the young independent (I am supposing) interviewer from NewLeftMedia countered their assumptions with facts without being condescending or aggressive, some actually listened and admitted not knowing about what he had said.

That is a very tiny possible indication that even tinier baby steps in education on a really, really small scale, one-to-one or small group interaction with people of widely opposing points of view, is just possibly maybe just possible.

Can you imagine worse than being isolated amongst people who are so ignorant of reality, insulating one another and giving comfort in each other's point of view, and what it must feel like to look out at the world from that rabbit hole?

By the way, did I hear a chant of "Shame France! Shame France! Shame France!"?

I got to get back to my drafting (paving plans) before the workers beat me to it and start twiddling their thumbs, which is never, ever a good thing. My husband is already on my case to get the windows sealed and finish the balcony before the weather turns permanently foul.

I'm on it. Right after I check out the NYT's OpEd page to see what they have to say after Baucus's delivery of exactly the garbage he promised to take care of his constituents.

PS: I checked. This is what we get, Ron Wyden of Oregon's Free Choice amendment, designed to simplify everyone's life. Good grief.

PPS: Fortunately, I checked out Gail Collins afterwards, writing mostly about congress's work on the student loan system, she gets this in. I just love her to death:

It is a tad depressing to imagine all those committees of yore, sitting there and saying: “Gee, it sure would be nice to improve Pell grants and community colleges. But everybody says we need that money to give to the banks.”

The House Republicans have a different proposal. Which, as Representative John Kline of Minnesota explained, is to leave everything the way it is and “convene a nonpartisan commission.”

Perhaps there will come a time when the words “convene a nonpartisan commission” do not cause people to topple over in depression and despair. But it may take a while.

Just hours before, Senator Max (Futility is My Middle Name) Baucus had unveiled the long-awaited product of his blue-ribbon, bipartisan committee on health care reform. You will remember that the whole legislative world came to a screeching halt so Baucus’s group could do its work. All summer long, the members floated above tawdry political concerns and labored on a meeting of the minds. Now the final product has landed, its wishy-washiness exceeded only by its total lack of bipartisan backers.

“No Republican has offered his or her support at this moment,” said Baucus, ever cheerful, ever hopeful.

Thanks, Gail.

Yours,
Sisyphe, ever cheerful, ever hopeful
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Baseline nincompoopery: James Howard Kunstler tells it like it is

James Kunstler and Duncan Crary, doing a podcast

(check it out, it's here on The Sisyphus Journals --->
or here, www.kunstlercast.com
start with #79 Packin for France)

To some extent that's how I feel about this clusterfuck that we're all witnessing, and that some of us are, you know, actively commenting. I feel like in a way I'm sort of like the Bob Costas of the clusterfuck, you know, giving, you know, blow-by-blow commentary about what's going on, and so for me, you know, it's kind of amusing, although I must say, you know, I'm a little bit daunted by the potential for trouble and danger. Now I'm not very paranoid but, you know, I start seeing these nuts coming out at the health care town meetings and the Sarah Palinites and the Mike Huckabees and the sort of, what what I refer to as the "corn pone Nazis", and I'm not kidding about that; it is a joke, in a way, but it's a serious joke.

You know, I think there's tremendous potential in this country for political despotism and total looniness. It really makes me quake in my boots to imagine those people getting their hands on the levers of power, and it's not that wild to imagine that it could happen if the people in this country get, go through enough hardship and distress, which they seem to be heading into. And it does seem to me that the economy is still unraveling as much as it was in early 2009, that the recovery that's supposedly going on is a mirage, and that we're going to see a lot more mischief in banking and finance, and the economy in general and job loss and foreclosure and all the things that we're now familiar with, these are trends that seem to be in place that you really can't see the horizon on.

So, if I were a 25-year-old who spoke French and had some gold overseas and had some ambitions to, maybe, you know, buy some land and do some farming in Europe, that might not be such a bad idea.

-- James Howard Kunstler,
Podcast #79 Packin for France

This one is also for those who doubt what I say about Life in America, who are charmed by it and the idea that the party will never be over for the talented and those naturally born to take on leadership's august mantle.

Pour les français qui s'intéressent à cette question, je pourrais tenter une traduction mais pas tout de suite. Le sauvetage de notre maison demande mon attention.

Reality Receding

By James Howard Kunstler
on September 14, 2009 6:33 AM

Now that everybody in the USA, from the janitors in their man-caves to the president addressing congress, has declared the "recession" over, is exactly the moment when what's left of the so-called economy is most likely to implode. If there were still shoeshine boys on Wall street, they'd be starting their own hedge funds now, and CNBC's Larry Kudlow would be toasting them in the Grill Room of The Four Seasons. What we've seen in the vaunted rally for the last six months is the triumph of wishing over facts, combined with the most arrant market manipulation by floundering banks backstopped by a panicked government -- all pounding sand down a rat-hole of hopeless non-performing debt, while pretending that the machinery of capital finance still grinds on.

Despite what a few elderly Mr. Naturals may say about abolishing "capitalism", we're not going to have an advanced economy without a coherent banking system, and by advanced economy I mean one in which the lights stay on. By coherent I mean a system that is able to deploy accumulated wealth for productive purposes, in the service of continuing civilization. (And, yes, I know that the followers of Daniel Quinn are not so sure that civilization is worth the trouble, but unless you support the killing-off of about six billion humans right away, things on Earth are not favorably disposed just now for a return to hunting-and-gathering.)

I would hasten to cut through the fog of despair to reassert -- for the thousandth time -- that a true American perestroika is possible, if the public could overcome the plague of cognitive dissonance sweeping the land and form a consensus for action that comports with reality's agenda. But that is looking less and less likely. Instead, what we see is a rush into delusion, seasoned with grievance and gall. Spectacles like last weekend's march on Washington don't happen for no reason, of course. From where I sit, the uproar can be attributed to comprehensively bad American leadership, a crisis in authority and legitimacy that has left a functional vacuum in every executive office throughout the land -- from the White House to the state houses, to the lairs of the CEOs, to the towers of the deans and department chairs, to the glitzy sets of the nightly news deliverers, to the makeshift quarters of the NGO chiefs. In former times, clueless and impotent leaders stuck their heads in the sand. Nowadays, with pandemic narcissism abroad in the land, the heads are more usually inserted into the aperture that leads into the large bowel....

But I indulge in diverting objurgation when I should perhaps explain this American perestroika more clearly. The Russian word roughly translates to "restructuring." They flubbed it in 1989 because their system was too ossified and too far gone -- though history and circumstance eventually did it for them. A similar outcome is possible here, too, in which things just have to completely fall apart before emergent reorganization occurs. But you can be sure that if we allow this to happen, an awful lot of things will get smashed along the way, including lives, careers, families, property, and cherished institutions.

This monster we call the economy is not just an endless series of charts and graphs -- it's how we live, and that has to change, whether we like it or not. Now, it is obviously a huge problem that a majority of Americans don't like the idea. If they were true patriots, instead of overfed cowards and sado-masochists, they'd be inspired by the prospect. But something terrible has happened to our national character since the triumphal glow of World War Two wore off. I just hope that the Palinites and the myrmidons of Glen Beck don't destroy what's left of this country in a WWF-style "revolution." In the best societies, such idiots are marginalized by a kinder and sturdier consensus about justice. In America today, the center is not holding because there is no center.

American perestroika really boils down to this: we have to rescale the activities of daily life to a level consistent with the mandates of the future, especially the ones having to do with available energy and capital. We have to dismantle things that have no future and rebuild things that will
allow daily life to function. We have to say goodbye to big box shopping and rebuild Main Street. More people will be needed to work in farming and fewer in tourism, public relations, gambling, and party planning. We have to make some basic useful products in this country again. We have to systematically decommission suburbia and reactivate our small towns and small cities. We have to prepare for the contraction of our large cities. We have to let the sun set on Happy Motoring and rebuild our trains, transit systems, harbors, and inland waterways. We have to reorganize schooling at a much more modest level. We have to close down most of the overseas
military bases we're operating and conclude our wars in Asia. Mostly, we have to recover a national sense of common purpose and common decency. There is obviously a lot of work to do in the list above, which could translate into paychecks and careers -- but not if we direct all our resources into propping up the failing structures of yesterday.

The most dangerous illusion, of course, is a belief that we can return to a hyped up turbo debt "consumer" economy -- and perhaps the most disappointing thing about Barack Obama, is his incessant cheerleading for a "recovery" to what is already lost and unrecoverable. The man who ran for office on "change" doesn't really have the stomach for it. But, of course, events are in the driver's seat now, not personalities, even charming ones. I'd venture to say that if Mr. Obama thinks he's seen a crisis, and gotten through it, then he ain't seen nothin' yet. We are for sure not returning to the kind of credit orgy that made the last twenty years such a nauseating spectacle -- of which, by the way, the misfeasances and wretched excesses of Wall Street were just one manifestation.

Some theorists out there say that economy follows mood, not vice-versa, and that the anger and sourness on display around the USA, in events like the weekend Washington march, is a clear sign that tectonic shifts in the structures of everyday life are sure to follow. There are too many truly good and intelligent people in this country, to leave our fate to the Palins and the Glen Becks. But the good people had better man up and start telling the truth with some conviction that the truth matters.
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The darker aspect of the United States: it really is out there

Pour tout ceux qui pensent que je dois exagérer un peu dans mes propos concernant cet élément moins bien connu des Etats-Unis -- du peuple américain -- qu'en dites-vous maintenant?
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Who lied? No, it's the stupidpity

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

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Things only a Republican could believe (or say)

I received this prior to leaving for a far, far too brief and, finally, nearly idyllic weekend for a sumptuous wedding in le Périgord, where I discussed the US and health care reform with a French naval officer and a businessman -- both felt very strongly that they live in a healthy capitalist system with an even healthier sense of the importance of taking care of their nation's citizens (socialism); we raised our glasses of the endlessly flowing champagne to that in a tent filled with men and women in evening attire and twinkling candlelight, titles of long-ago nobility gracing the place cards of the high tax-paying gathered friends and family.

Noblesse oblige justice to the People when all is as it should be in the world.

Vive la France. Vive le capitalisme. Vive la Sécu.

Enjoy.


Things Only a Republican Could Believe:

Parents who don't want their children to pray in school are Anti-American zealots -- parents who don't want their children to listen to a speech by the President of the United States telling them to work hard and get good grades are noble patriots.

Peacefully demonstrating against the country starting an international war is treason -- showing up with automatic weapons to protest healthcare reform is democracy at its finest.

Any government official with a desk job should have every action scrutinized -- any government official with a badge and a gun should never be questioned or disrespected. At all. Ever.

Questioning the legitimacy of an election because the "winner" was selected by the Supreme Court is sour grapes -- questioning the legitimacy of an election because the winner (by the largest number of votes in American history) is really a Kenyan born Muslim despite all evidence to the contrary is being a vigilant American.

Lying about a blowjob is an impeachable offense -- lying about a war is no big deal, really.

Investigating a shady land deal involving the First Lady is a matter of National Identity -- investigating the use of torture at the direction of the Executive Branch is a partisan witch hunt.

Executing Japanese officers for waterboarding prisoners during WWII shows that we have the moral high-ground on human rights -- waterboarding prisoners of our shows that we have the moral high-ground on human rights.

Sitting two rows in front of Jane Fonda in a 1970 anti-war rally is an OUTRAGE! Shaking Saddam's hand in 1983...meh, not so much.

Anyone who questions the president during a time of war is giving aide and comfort to the enemy and should be deported...unless the president in question has a (D) next to their name in which case you should undermine them at every turn even if you have to routinely make stuff up to do it.
Socialism, Marxism, Communism and Fascism are all interchangeable words that mean pretty much the same thing.

Anyone who abuses drugs should be locked up indefinitely...unless they are a popular Republican radio host in which case they need your prayers as they recover from the illness of addiction.

Health Insurance companies have your best interests in mind and anyone who thinks otherwise is trying to turn America into the Godless heathen nation of Sweden where EVERYONE in the country dies (eventually).

Obama is an atheist communist Muslim who attended a radical Christian church.

Believing that human activity could impact the global environment is crazy talk -- believing that an invisible man in the sky personally told George Bush to invade Iraq to fulfill Biblical prophecy is logically sound.

The verdict is still out on evolution -- but Jesus Christ returning in our lifetimes is a pretty much a given.

The media are unquestionably biased against Republicans -- Talk Radio, The Washington Times, The Weekly Standard, The Wall Street Journal, Right wing Blogs, Newsmax, Fox News and NewsCorp are not part of the media.

The government should have no part in regulating multi-national corporations as they make decisions that impact the lives of millions of people -- government should regulate individuals by determining who they can marry, what kind of intercourse they can have, what they can smoke, how to manage their pregnancy and how to proceed with end of life decisions.

Communicating with hostile nations is a stab in the back to our great nation -- Reagan communicating with the USSR during the Cold War was Political Genius.

Iran is a mortal threat to our nation and anyone who attempts to talk to them is traitorous scum -- selling weapons to Iran and then funneling the money to start wars in South America is clearly in our National interest.

George Bush kept the nation safe after 9-11 (NOTE: the Anthrax attacks, the DC Sniper and Hurricane Katrina don't count. Also, the fact that 9-11 happened on his watch despite receiving a security briefing specifically warning of the attack doesn't count either.)

Social Security, Medicare, public schooling, public libraries, fire departments, police departments and the US Military are as American as Apple Pie -- universal healthcare is ZOMGDEATHPANELSOCIALISM!!

George W Bush is a regular 'ole Texas rancher just like you and me despite the fact that he was born in Connecticut, attended two Ivy League schools, bought the Crawford ranch just before running for president, sold it immediate after leaving office and is terrified of horses.

The two guys at the center of the Watergate and Iran-Contra scandals are trustworthy voices in discussions of current national policy and should be taken at face-value.


Nick Anderson by Nick Anderson

"When the world finally comes to an end, all that will be left will be cockroaches, coyotes and Republicans......"

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

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We're Number 37, We're the USA!

I could have entitled my post, "Yeah, but we're number 1, we're France!", but sometimes I have to decide for which nationality I am writing, or which one I am representing. Kind of both at once, with a fair amount of frustration most usually.

Actually, it sounds better in French: "Ouai, mais on est le premier, on est la France!"

On est la France!

La France! La France! La France!

My husband went off this morning to his job as a doctor in a public hospital here. Mon mari! Mon mari! Mon mari!

We're number 1! We're number1! La France! La France!

Who was it who wrote something I read this morning, something I suspected deep in my Franco-American bones when I started telling people, "We're number 37, we're the USA. France is number 1, who wouldn't want to live in France for the health care and the food?": Americans don't like international organizations. Americans are suspicious of international organizations. Which Americans? Those tea-bagging birthers.

"Liberal-leaning and open-minded. That's what I say."

"Wrecking the capitalist empire party, if you ask me."

"Cooked up by those "We Are The World" people to try to make us feel like we might have responsibilities if we want to be number 1, that's what they're trying to shove down our throat."

Number 1 rules, man! Number 1 rocks!

Except when it's, um, number 37, and you're still really poor and, um, igno... duped.
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PS: read Richard Cohen today.