Mercredi

Loads of fun with Elise and Micah in the morning - playing The Jumping Game, creating all sorts of beautiful things with watercolor pencils, making playdough grapes and cars, reading books, going on adventures with evil Lego dinosaurs, making bracelets...

Time in the gloriously sunny and warm outdoors with a great many little persons full of all sorts of imaginative exploits and grand plans.

A carefully colored Thomas the Tank Engine coloring page and a beautifully decorated heart cookie from Maggie.

Lots of laughter and some learning too during a piano lesson with Anna.

An apple with nutella. Don't know why we don't eat that stuff more in the States. It's truly scrumptious. Granted, I also fail to understand why the French don't eat peanut butter. Also scrumptious stuff, but it's nowhere to be found in this foreign land!

Struggles to achieve further comprehension and mastery of le discours indirect.

Walking in the late afternoon light to the train station and back again with a friend.

Conversing in French with a French speaking friend about Luke chapter five.

Time at the nursing home... conversations with very dear residents whilst participating in their Wednesday activity of crafting turtles and flowers and balls from red clay. One lady that I talked to for a particularly long time gravely informed me that she was not one of the residents; she most decidedly did not live there at the nursing home. When I asked where she lived, she took me to the window and pointed to what she said was the very last mountain. That was where her house was. Unsure as to whether or not I understood her correctly since we were, after all, speaking in French, I asked how she got to the nursing home that day. "J'ai marché, bien sûr. Je n'ai pas une voiture." Apparently, she walked to the nursing home that morning from the last mountain where she lives. I still wasn't sure I understood correctly, but after she repeated this story to me a good four times, I think I understood. Another very tiny but very chipper and chatty lady happily dubbed herself my French professor, and unhesitatingly corrected all my mistakes and explained why they were mistakes.

A dinner of corn chicken soup, more or less made up out of my head, for after beginning with one recipe, I realized I lacked the large majority of ingredients, so found another recipe and was going to combine them somehow until I realized I lacked most of the ingredients for recipe number two as well, and it was thus a very odd hybrid of the recipes and Kathryn's capabilities of culinary improvisation. Miraculously, it did not turn out to be a horrific puddle of grossness, and was actually quite edible.

A lovely and very large addition to my music library of French worship music. Fantastique.

Béni soit le nom du Seigneur, béni soit ton nom, béni soit le nom du Seigneur, béni soit ton nom glorieux!