01/07 2eme semaine/ 2nd semaine

Je suis reste sur la cote ouest des Etats-unis, avec des petits problemes. Nous nous sommes pose a 2 hrs du matin a Reno dans le Nevada, par un vent de travers costaud a 25 Kts de travers, avec neige en plus. Le lendemain, l'avion etant dans le hangar, nous nous sommes apercus qu'il y'avait une fuite d'essence, cela venait de l'aile droite, et resultat: une bonne flaque dans le hangar! Du coup, j'en ai profite pour admirer le coucher de soleil dans le resto de l'aeroport, ca c'est la photo du haut.

La photo du milieu, c'est Salt Lake City au soleil couchant, superbe visi cet hiver, avec beaucoup de neige au sol, mais conditions VFR. Superbes performances pour l'avion puisque nous sommes montes regulierement a 4000-5000 FPM, vu la temperature jusqu'a -10C sous standard!

Et enfin, la photo du bas a ete prise a San Francisco, c'est un superbe DC3 qui brillait au soleil et a qui j'ai rendu hommage, car franchement, c'est sans doute le plus beau que je n'ai jamais vu!

La semaine prochaine, c'est la visite annuelle du planeur, croisons les doigts pour que ca ne soit pas trop cher!

Ode to the Frenchman (or Why I'd Never Marry an American Man)

This blog entry is dedicated to Thierry

I love America. If you've spent even 10 seconds reading anything I write on this blog (and what an awful word "blog") you know I not only love my country but I am invested with that fervor for the ol' Red, White and Blue (translation: The United States of America) which makes a Muslim look (translation: seem to be) nearly athiest. As was once said in a movie, if you cut me my veins run Red, White and Blue. However, while I am fervently in love with this great country, I must say that the average American male leaves much to be desired (translation: is utterly undesirable).

(Oh, by the way, Dad, you may want to stop reading now.)

What is an average American male? First and foremost, he is a crude beast, akin to a wild boar (or is it bore?) roaming the wilderness, humping anything that moves without consideration for the laws of natural selection, moreover with what appears to be motivation in direct contrast to said same laws. Much like when I watch our little Chihuahua Pepito make love to his chew toy.

Second, your average American male cannot accurately state any fact not directly related to sports, wherein he is utterly incapable of naming the first five President's of the United States, who won the American Revolutionary War, who's buried in Grant's tomb, or who is Neil Armstrong (no, he's not a linebacker for the San Francisco 49er's.)

Further, a fine beverage is Bud Light. Fine food is McDonald's eaten when it's still hot. And fine art is a baseball card. And culture is either the half time show of the Superbowl or when he blasts empty beer cans against his head.

In acquiring material goods, for the average American male bigger is always better. A Hummer is the ultimate car, even when he can't afford the payments, can't fit it in his garage, and the most off-roading he does is when he backs up too far while parking at the grocery store and hits a tree. And the utlimate meal is from McDonald's and, of course, supersized even when his arteries have already exploded and he's had a pig's heart installed in his chest.

In regard to Frenchmen, I hear comments about the French all the time, usually directly after I tell Americans that my husband is French. They will go on and on about how the French are rude and stupid. And I always watch this display with an utter sense of irony. They do not actually know any French people upon which their opinions were made. They know my husband is French. However, without any personal, negative experience with a French person to base their opinions on, and while knowing that I am married to a Frenchman, they still continue to spout anti-French sentiment, being exactly what they claim the average French person to be - rude and stupid. This always makes me laugh, though underneath my inner laughter is a sadness of how hopeless people can be, clinging to sheer ignorance in an attempt to prove superiority. (No wonder the world is a mess.)

I, however, have opinions born of actual experience, not only within my very intimate relationship with my husband, but also with his many family and French friends. And my summation still is that any average Frenchman is worth 10 average American males (unless I'm needing to win a war, but I won't go there).

First, French are not rude, as constantly tolled by Americans. (Yes, they have their fair share of jerks, but what country doesn't?) What are they? Opinionated. Very, very opinionated. And, moreover, they speak their opinions. They are not shy born of political correctness or letting sleeping dogs lie. They have what I perceive to be an innate need to correct wrongs, to fix the broken, and enlightened where darkness lies. They are born debaters. They are born revolutionaries. They will not sit idly by while bad things happen, adapting the stance of "well, what can I do about it." They will take up arms in passion equal to their Revolutionary War itself until they are either dead or defeated (or have lost their voice). I love this very quality of Richard, for I never have to wonder what is on his mind, what he is thinking. He offers his opinions constantly, daring to share the essence of who he is.

The average American male, by contrary, must be begged by his wife to extol his thoughts and feelings. Further, he will sit back while some half-assed idiot drones on and on about things which make no sense, serve no purpose, and which are actually completely wrong, saying nothing to quiet the outpour. Why? Because he's a nice guy, "one of the guys," he drinks beer and watches Nascar. They will say nothing even if this person is not only an abomination to the principles upon which this country was formed, but is an abomination to the very laws of Nature herself. (Insert Clinton here).

The Frenchmen are passionate, holding dear to some facit of life which ignites their heart, drives their soul, and guides their life. Wherein your average American man will complain about what a bore life is, most French are constantly carrying a mental list of a million things he'd just love to do.

And born of this passion, Frenchmen have in their hearts an endearing love so deep of things such as family and childhood memories that it defines them birth to death, guiding them throughout life in what they do, where they are, and who they are with.

What can be said filling the heart of your average American male is a picture recently downloaded off the Internet of Britney Spears.

So, if you are a woman of substance, if your soul is deeper than a tatoo, then I might suggest you seek out a Frenchman. But do so only if you're seeking the higher life. It is not a life for those only seeking to explore the superficial, but only for those seeking to truly fall madly in love.

So, there you are, Thierry. It's not all bad, is it?