regular old weekend

So I had nothing on the schedule for the weekend. Nothing except a trip to the market on Saturday morning.
We were just hanging out at home on Saturday night around 5pm. I was thinking about pouring a glass of red wine and starting to cook dinner.
My next door neighbor, Giselle comes to the door with 2 tickets in her hand. She says something rapidly in French while waving the tickets. Then she remembers that she needs to speak more slowly when talking to me. S-l-o-w-l-y and then maybe I will understand. Fortunately, I do understand. She has 2 tickets for a concert at the big church in Fontenay le Comte.

By 7pm, Ellie and I are sitting in the big church. We have no idea what to expect. It is beautiful sitting in the church in the evening. These French, they know a thing or two about building churches.
One piano sits on the makeshift stage. Then about 50 or 60 men and women, all dressed in black, walk onto the stage. Then the conductor comes on the stage.
Oh, I get it. It is a choir concert.
And they sing lovely music. Classical music. Stirring music.



I got me some culture on a Saturday night.
And Ellie? She was bored one minute then completely engrossed the next. One minute she was imitating the conductor and the next minute she was digging through my purse looking for something to do.

On Sunday I was thinking about driving up to Nantes. I have been meaning to get back there ever since Mom and I had to go their for our visa appointments. It looks like a lovely city. But Katie and Gabi still seemed to have colds and they were hacking, I mean coughing, all morning. So we just stayed home.
Ellie and Joey were invited to play at the neighbors late in the afternoon. When I went to pick them up they were happily sitting at the kitchen counter eating crepes. Joey was spreading a LOT of Nutella on his crepe.
My neighbor, Giselle, was easily turning out crepe after crepe. Since I was just standing there, waiting for my kids to finish eating, I watched her make them.
Now I know why I can't make crepes like the French, I don't have the right tools!
(Ha! I hope that is my only problem. I hope lack of skill level isn't another problem.)
Of course they offered me a crepe. I said no thank you.
They offered again. I paused.

Let me tell you, it was yummy. I put strawberry jam on mine.
I saw Joey eat three crepes. I don't know how many he had before I arrived.
Luckily, they seem pleased by our enthusiasm over their crepes.
We are invited back over on Wednesday for more crepes.

Mom doesn't know what to do. She can have crepes with us or she can go on her Wednesday afternoon walks. They go to a new village each week. Crepes or a new French village?

For me, it was a weekend with a concert and crepes. Not bad at all.