Paraskavedekatriaphobia

Can you say it? Do you have it? It's a fear of Friday the 13th.

If you are afraid of the number 13, you have triskaidekaphobia.

Regardless, they are two good words that may come up in a crossword puzzle . . .

Moving on!

There was a small service on Wednesday for Armistice Day in front of the mayor's office. Pascal went as our family representative and afterward, the Hotel Miramont (across the street from us - yes, there is a hotel in the village) hosted a cocktail hour. Pascal mingled and when he got home, Sophie was eating dinner (a lot of it was on the floor) and Maurice was slurping his soup. He walked in and announced, "I brought someone for you to meet." Greaaaaaaaaaaaat. (I hate surprise "meetings", especially in my dirty entry and kitchen.)

As it turns out, this French couple that Pascal dragged in are renting a house in the village after spending five years in Philadelphia and were excited to find some English speakers at the cocktail hour. Cathy invited Sophie and I to drop by for a visit soon.

This entry has taken me almost all day to write: Sophie woke up in the middle of the night, unable to breathe because of a cold, and she spent the day feeling awful (evidence: the WHINING), resulting in the shortest nap ever after lunch, then resulting in zero time for me to be at the computer. We managed to get her to bed at a reasonable hour and we just finished watching Keeping Mum. If you haven't seen it, consider renting it: it was advertised as a dark comedy, and it was dark, and it was a comedy.

I'm still chuckling, thinking about the final scene :)