As Jacques and I were wandering the country roads yesterday, I tried and just couldn’t capture an image of the rolling hills around here, of how they remind me of Teletubbie Land. The hills are, well, you’ve seen Teletubbies, you know. Low, green, not a lot going on. They are lovely and soothing. Someday I’ll get the shot right, so I can show everyone.
When my dad died, forget any sort of coping. We kids all sat in my brother’s room in the garage, hiding out from the adults. Our friends got it. The adults did not. When Douglas died I would race home from work so I could turn on Teletubbies. They lived in the moment and never had big problems. I had to be kind of quiet about that, as my friends were adults, that being age-appropriate, and would never have understood.
These days, I don’t have to turn on the TV or search YouTube. I live in Teletubbie land. I can tune out my French comprehension, so it’s all just sound. Bad things come but then they go. My life here could be seen as some sort of Teletubbie escape mechanism. Fine by me: for now, I’m sticking with it.
At Home in France 
I loves me some Teletubbie fields. I’m guessing they are based on old vineyard-turn-pasture fields.
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I don’t know. The wine isn’t very good here, to be honest. I’m not a farmer but I think there is too much dirt and not enough rock. Also, with all this marshland, the soil might be a little salty. I see a lot of crops and cows. The hills don’t roll here as much as they do in your neighborhood. Every once in a while you see the flats do a low, slow roll. That’s when you start looking around for Tinky-Winky and his buddies.
It’s slow in the countryside, isn’t it? We have time to think about this kind of stuff. I love it.
Jean, I can’t tell here, but I hope when you and Brent comment, you add your URL. You guys make the best beef ever. Now that you are shipping throughout France, you might as well drop a few subtle hints.
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