Sortir - v. to go out

Run run run! It’s been an evening of socializing after a busy day of chores. I adore the Combas, and to see them, have some wine, say goodbye – it was wonderful. I’ll miss them. It may seem odd seeing how little I know them, but they were like my family here – in that they where the guiding, consistent, responsible presences in my life – when my own family was so far away. I always knew they were there if I needed them and whenever I was in trouble or needed help – they were the first I’d call. Always.

Went down to L’Esquinade too, just as the last of them were leaving for the day. I had to return the scale I borrowed – the one that relieved so much anxiety when it read that each bag was in fact under 20 kilos. Peace out, beach.

I rushed home just in time to greet Tony. He helped me finish my household chores, pack the van, lock up. Down the windy road we went – the route du phare that I could now, in fact, drive with my eyes closed, for I know it like the back of my hand! ;-) We took the background to Ramatuelle, which slept so early, silent in the off season. I chatted with some old French townies sitting in the middle of the village, waved at some of my regulars from Ptit Club. And then we had one of the worst dinners I’ve had in a while… but who cares – leaving the restaurant and walking up those cobblestone streets towards the quaint little church – I just love it. Tony put it perfectly; Ramatuelle is sweet.

Now Tequila and I are back in a familiar place, though not our home. Sitting in Tony’s living room, it may as well me our week spent here in July… just cooler. We’re all curled up, finishing off a McDonald’s flurry, watching rubbish on TV. It’s just after 10 and we’re all exhausted. Bedtime is in the not-so-distant future.

I don’t believe it’s my last night. I can’t imagine sleeping in Mendon tomorrow. I cannot wait to see my friends & family.