Image by gamp via Flickr
Two days to go, and I'm off to the USA for the holidays and daughter Bret's college graduation. Cool, no?
You better believe it, sisters and bros!
But this morning I was meeting my friend Martin in the Place Gambetta to deliver some things back to him. He lives in my neighborhood. In fact, he found this apartment for us. His knee was somehow gimped up, and he had surgery and was hobbling. It was the least I could do.
But when I walked up, I didn't even notice him, because there was a farm show going on in front of the mairie (town hall) of the 20th. Mom and Dad with daughter and son--the perfect farm family--with little ones dressed as miniature farmer and farmerette with pens full of rabbits, geese, ducks, and chickens, a big goat or two and two precious baby goats, two little lambs, huddled ducklings, one chick, and a darling piglet. (I've most recently seen little piglets in the butchers' windows, and it was all I could think about.)
Son was trying to milk the goat that needing milking and squirting the milk everywhere while the audience laughed, oohed and aahed over the cute babies. (I was also thinking of that scene in the movie of Cold Mountain when the sort-of-magical mountain woman thanks her sweet goat for its life and then slits its throat to feed the starving Jude Law.)
Then bottles were pulled out for all the baby mammals to have a snack, and they were almost fighting over them. Oh, they were hungry! Then the non-MacDonald children got to pet the animals.
Old Parisian MacDonald was showing us city folk how his farm worked, and we all were happily entertained.
P.S. I tried to look up the link on the MacDonalds' truck, which seemed to be spelled "ferme_tillo.com," but here's the link I found, "ferme-tiallou." I think this must be our MacDonald troupe.
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