Tarte tatin, transitions, testing, and wondering about women in politics

Yesterday was a holiday here (Ascension Thursday), so Geraldine and Adele came to play:

Of course, we also cooked. We took on Tarte Tatin, a Very French Dessert. Geraldine said it was created when there was a contest to see who could make the best apple tarte in a village in France. Two sisters had a perfect contender in the oven but it slipped on the floor when they took it out of the over. Apparently, the story goes, they scooped it up, upsidedown, and entered it into the contest -- a kind of topsy-turvy apple pie.

And  everyone loved it then, and we all loved it last night.

First, we made our caramel sauce:

We then coated the bottom of the pan with the caramel:

And then cut four apples and pears (I didn't have enough apples on hand). We cooked them in cinnamon, sugar, and butter:

And then we added the apples and pears to the pan, and put a pastry crust on top.

Thirty minutes later, we got what looked like a North American apple pie. But when we got to Geraldine's (where we were planning to also eat dinner), Geraldine turned it over, and we got this:

Apparently, the caramel wasn't, well, caramel-y enough (so said Thomas), but the eating of the tarte was terrific. So was the rest of the dinner. I had made a meal we often eat in Canada -- an Asian-influenced peanut-noodle-pasta salad with asparagus, cucumbers, and red peppers.

Geraldine and Thomas had prepared a kind of fondue that used spiced wine for cooking the chicken instead of oil. All of it was DELICIOUS.

In other news -- I am trying to not spend too much time counting down, trying to keep from thinking too often "this is the last...". But there are a lot of lasts... from the biggies (planning last visits with friends, the last day of school for the kids next week) to the smaller but somehow still significant (buying milk with a "best-by" date that is after we leave).

And this is going to sound AWFUL, like I am such a terrible, ungrateful, precious person for even thinking such a thing... but I am having to work REALLY hard to get excited about the England part of our trip. Back when we were planning, we knew it would be good for John to get a chance to use the library at Cambridge University (he had spent a year as a graduate student there, and so can still use their libraries). We also knew we'd like to see the friends we made in 1996-97, and revisit another kind of countryside we loved -- the English Fens. There are scholars John needs to meet with, and research on Buddhist in England he wants to return to. And I *am* excited to see our old friends. So we will be in England for about 3.5 weeks, and I know it will be great.

But... it won't be France. And right now I am kind of in a place where I'd either like to just stay in France, or go home. I know, that's pathetic. I am sure you are feeling very sorry for me right about now. Maybe it's just too much transition (for someone who, if left to her own devices, would never have to do anything new), maybe we are a bit travel weary, maybe I just know how incredibly wonderful and unbeatable our time here has been... but that's where I'm at. The better attitude is on the list of things to get before we leave, don't worry.

In other, other business -- Jack noted in his school agenda that French national exams will be held next week, in mathematics and French. He is pretty sure he will ace the math part (the boy knows his strengths!) His teacher and I had a great talk (I love our Friday talks), and we discussed organizing penpals with different classrooms at Ecole Agnes Davidson in Lethbridge and with the school here. We hope to keep many of these connections, as much as is reasonable for everyone involved.

And finally, we stopped to let Kate and Liv play soccer at a favorite park this afternoon on the way to errands. Check out their form:

 

And then tonight, while we were playing one of many bizarre dinner games we've invented to try to focus some of the loudness and silliness that can start at the dinner table. This one was called "Who is the president/prime minister of..."

We started it because all of us now (for a while it was just the girls) are citizens of both the U.S. and Canada. And while our kids get plenty of Canadian history, news, songs, and stories in their day to day life back home, we realized they needed to know important facts about U.S. history, news, songs, and stories too.

Plus, it's fun to hear a preschooler say "Ba-wack O-bama".

So tonight, as the cacophony of conversation was getting out of control, I asked if they knew the name of the president of France. None did, but now they all can say (quite well, too, with a French accent, bien sur) Nicolas Sarkozy. Next, we mentioned England's new prime minister, David Cameron, and then returned to our familiar stand-bys, Barack Obama and Stephen Harper.

And then Katie said "how come girls can't be president?" with a look of resignation in her eyes.

Girls can be president! we said. And prime minister! And we quickly dug deep in our brains for some examples. Ireland has a woman president right now, right?, I asked John (who ran off to the computer to confirm). Canada had a woman as prime minister. One of England's most powerful prime minister's was a woman, we told them.

But once they're done, Katie said, the boys just get to be president again.

John piped in from the computer -- not in Ireland! The last two presidents in Ireland have been women!

And then, thankfully maybe, the conversation veered somewhere else, and our research ended for the night and we returned to dinner and dishes and books and bed. But the conversation keeps replaying in my mind... because we have always told all of our children they COULD be president or prime minister... they can be anything they want to be.

But can they. Really, I mean?

And if a girl is elected president (or prime minister), do the boys just get to be president (prime minister) again when they are done?

Like so many things, sometimes all you can say is on verra, right? We'll see. And we'll hope a little, too, that we are, in fact, telling them the truth.