07/08 2eme et 3eme semaines/ 2nd & 3rd week

A priori nous avons du retard. Voila donc deux semaines en quelques mots:

La deuxieme semaine est passee tellement rapidement, qu'il faut se demander si il n'y a pas erreur, car pourtant, il ne s'est rien passe de special a raconter.

La troiseme semaine: Florence et Katherine sont au Texas, a visiter les grands-parents. Pendant ce temps, j'etais au boulot en commencant par Telluride au Colorado, et pour finir au sud de Cap Carnaveral en Floride, pas loin de Cocoa Beach, ville ou les astronautes ont longtemps parades les rues.

Je me souviens en lire quelques lignes dans le bouquin de Tom Wolfe "L'etoffe des heros" ou meme dans le film du meme nom.

Des fois, il ne sagit pas que de piloter un avion, et c'est ainsi que je me suis retrouve dans une voiture de location, une Prius pour la premiere fois, et que la mission du jour consistait a conduire entre Melbourne et Orlando. Pas le temps de passer par le "Kennedy space center", mais comme je connais deja de toute maniere, je reviendrai en famille!

Pour ceux qui connaisse la voiture hybride Prius, j'ai du me gourer dans les manettes car j'ai consomme 13 miles/gallon! Pour une voiture semi-electrique, c'est loin d'etre impressionnant. J'aurai mieux fais en Corvette!

07/08 1ere semaine/ 1st week

Pourquoi la photo de l'araignee? Parce que nous avons trouve deux arachnides dont un dans la chambre de Florence, ce qui n'a pas fait plaisir a voir, sachant que ces deux araignees sont venimeuses, ce qui a des consequences forcement facheuses sur un bebe. C'est L'arizona, ca n'est pas vraiment une surprise, mais evidemment, nous avons et nous allons faire le nessecaire pour que ces carnivores aillent se faire voir ailleurs.

La semaine a commence par trouve l'avion a Phoenix, ce qui fait que Florence a pu jouer dans la cabine. Pas de doute qu'elle n'aurait pas de probleme a vivre dans la peau d'un millionnaire.

Passant par Columbus, j'ai pris une photo de l'avion devant les batiments de la maison mere. Superbe journee la bas aussi. C'est vert, temp dans les 25 degrees, on se serait cru en France!


"...said the spider to the fly...."


It is amazing, isn't it, how a little paper cut can hurt like the dickens, how pulling a singular, minute hair with a tweezer could seemingly be used as a form of torture.

And so, in this said same way, can a little, minute, featherweighted as a feather spider measuring, yea, some 3/4 inch in diameter, including the legs, so disrupt a once sleepy life.

There we were, minding our own business whilst in the business of caretaking for our daughter and going about the daily duties of typical American life while we came upon, or perhaps it came upon us, a long, scare the ever lovin' crap out of ya spider.

Frankly, the Recluse is not particularly big. They can average 1/4 in to 1 in. And they are not particularly scary, at least when compared to a Tarantula, whose giant hairy body can remind me of an overhaired uncle of mine.

But it is the often never felt pinch from its fangs, delivering a toxic second only to the Black Widow, that itself is the things of which many a nightmare is made. (Did you know that the toxin of the Black Widow is said to be 10 times more potent than the most deadly snakes, including the most deadly snake - the Coral? Spoky crap!)

And more scary than its toxin is when one happens upon this little man climbing just inches from our unsuspecting daughter who, just a few days ago, with childhood abandon picked up an earwig and bit it in half, aiming to eat it save Momma's intervention.

Indeed, the things of which nightmares are made.

Doubt me? Just check out the Internet pictures of necrotic wounds that, in some cases, take years to heal. I just faint thinking of one of the those gaping wounds covering a fair portion of my beloved's body. Not to mention the poison itself which can kill elderly, children, and people of compromised health.

So, spider alert! Alert! Alert! This is not a drill! Repeat, this is not a drill! We start covering all air vents in the ceiling with mess (though, yeah, good luck!), recover all cracks and crevices at windows and doors, place all her toys in airtight plastic (toys, a favorite place for them to hide), remove all clothing from lower portions of closets, shoes to upper shelves, all paper, cloth, etc. in the kitchen and bathrooms in either plastic containers or on higher levels, scrape the yards for any debris and piles, spray insectide, place down insecticide sticky tape around beds and closets, etc. and do any other form of action known to stop the li'l buggers to save our daughter's life.

Like a constant lurking, invisible enemy.

Exhausting.

And now, scorpions and centipedes. Oh, the Desert Southwest! You do have your charms, do you not?

Well, what was your week like!?

OUT!

06/08 4eme semaine/ 4th week

Et c'est repartit pour un tour. Le planeur est de nouveau base a Turf, au nord de Phoenix, retour a la case depart puisque c'est la que je l'ai achete il y'a 2 ans. Je n'ai pratiquemeent pas vole sur ce terrain , car ils ont fermes peu apres l'achat, et j'ai donc passe la semaine a chercher les coins aux alentours ou se trouvent les pompes. C'etait pas forcement terrible ces derniers jours, volable quand meme, c'est mieux ce week-end, mais helas, je pars au boulot!

A priori on ne pars plus dans l'Ohio. Je laisserai le soin a Kate de raconter pourquoi.
La contrepartie, c'est que nous acheterons probablement un avion l'annee prochaine. Affaire a suivre...

Welcome to the Desert Southwest, one of the hottest places on Earth. And adios to the rolling countryside of Ohio, the green, the rains, the trees, the streams and all else it entails. Why? In a word - perverts, perverts, and more perverts.

For those of you who don't smoke, have you ever noticed that to get "fresh" air you need to head indoors because the immediate exterior of all buildings belongs to the smokers. So, ironically, you can no longer enjoy fresh outdoor air, as the wind brings a wafe of stinky smoke to your nostrils. No, you must go inside, close the windows and inhale your recycled air.

In, thus, the same way the beautiful lands belong to the worst humanity has created - the pedofile. In appears, upon research, that affordable small town America belongs to the pedofile, because of the lax nature of the lifestyle (we don't need to lock our doors!) and because it doesn't cost them alot of up front money to live there, meaning they can work at the local five and dime as they scope their next victim.

So, alas, we bid farewell, though with sadness, to the beautiful Ohio, whose small towns have some of the highest rates of pedofiles in the nation. For example, our city hosts 1 pedofile for every 7000 people, for a total of 10 pedofiles in our city. The small town we wanted to move to in Ohio hosts 90 pedofiles, 1 for every 250 people, which pretty much means there's one of every street. Also, it seems Ohios laws are more lax than here in the Southwest, another reason they head over the hills over yander. Sad but true. Even a small town in perfect Maine where a friend of ours lives hosts 90 + pedofiles. So, we head to the hustle and bustle of our big city to, ironically, protect our little girl. Yeah, we've got our murders, rapes and robberies. Though it also seems our city has the best crime rates of the entire Valley. But, regardless, those target adults. Not 5 year old little girls and choir boys. Now you can have your opinion on the subject. And some may think we are overreacting. But if you knew you were moving to a town with a convicted murderer for every 250 people, with a convicted murderer on every street in your town, how would you feel? Or make him now a drug dealer. Or a rapist. Now how do you feel?

So, we'll give up the green, the hills, the countryside, the lazy rural days for the ironic protection of America's biggest cities, because, frankly, America's biggest cities don't stand for this crap and have the toughest laws against these &&#%^&@%^!%^!! sick bastards.

Now we did find small towns with no sickos, but the home prices were so beyond our means that we'd pretty much be living our mortgage.

So, goodbye small town America and we'll just settle for raising a street smart city girl who gets to travel the world.

Frankly, this is not how we want it. We hate this. But I may gamble on which horse will win, place or show, but I never bet against my daughter. Period.

Out!