Well, well, well, back again. It has been ages since my last entry and I offer my apologies to any who read my blog, but the last four months have been eventful in our lives, there was a great deal to do, not the least of which was psychologically settling into our new apartment here in Montpellier. Being forced out of the old one (owner selling at an exorbitant price which we could not afford), we were forced to find a new base of operations for the headquarters of our vast network of industrial espionage, illicit Mexican hallucinogenic chocolate trade and the selling of stolen gems from the eyes of long-lost Hindu idols deep in the steaming jungles of southern India. I dare not speak, of course, of our most profitable sideline, but be aware that those of you who have enquired about the availability of mummy powder and 'free market' Egyptian antiquities shall soon have all your questions answered. Lest you think it hypocritical to speak of profitable affairs but not being able to afford an apartment in the heart of Montpellier's Tourist Central, you should know better; one cannot flaunt one's liquidity in such an obvious fashion. Interpol would be on us in a flash.I shall not take my semi-usual overview of the news, as four months is a long time for myriad
disasters to have come and gone - noting only the biggest: Myanmar; China's earthquake; American floods; California wildfires; Sudan/Darfur, etc. That Hillary Clinton was forced to concede was a personal sadness, as I still do not believe in the magical rhetoric of Barack Obama, but oh well, given the choice of evils I will choose the lesser and endorse and vote for Senator Obama. The more I see of Senator McCain, the more I feel creeped out by his amazing similarity to a Mme Tussaud wax figurine or a Disney animatronic construction, the man just doesn't appear human or lifelike at all. The eternally smiling beer heiress Cindy doesn't help either, she seems far too Pat Nixon-like for me.
The new apartment is liveable, if somewhat small. We had a v-e-r-y favorable rent situation in the other, but moving forced us to adjust to the current rental market and doubled our rental expenditure as well as paying the movers and all the rest of the associated costs of relocating your nest from one tree to another. One would think that Devi and I would make the necessary adjustments to budget for these variations, I know, but it does not really work like that - life goes on and even in the midst of unforeseen economic bumps jewels must be bought and caprices indulged. However, there have been several upsides: we have a marvelous neighbor, 85 years old and an indefatigueable chatterbox who is fast becoming a close friend for Devi; and our new neighborhood is far more "terre-à-terre" (everyday real life) than our old one, it having been in the center of Tourist Central and a very expensive area to have to do one's daily shopping, etc. We had mainly monstrous neighbors, as well. Even three months later we are still winnowing our belongings so that this apartment does not resemble a storage depot. However, the French 
movers helped us greatly with that, stealing an astonishing variety of objects and goods ( they even stole a memory chip out of my computer ! ) - I later learned that French movers universally have the reputation of 17th century gypsy thieves, a situation with which I never had a problem in the United States, and Devi hadn't moved in 40 years, so we were both sitting ducks. Live and learn, I suppose, and of course we had moving insurance, but in the end it comes down to your word against theirs and both Devi and I are of the philosophy of "let their karma deal with them." After all, things are only things, no matter how cherished, and can be replaced. 
Nevertheless, I Inscribed their names on a Tarot card, 'The Tower of Destruction', and killing a black cock and secreting the card inside its disembowelled carcass, flung the sacrifice into a smoking brazier before a statue of Kali, Goddess of Destruction - karma is all fine and good, but why not be sure?Another upside is that when we moved, I decided to buy a new television. If I was going to be forced to move, to a smaller apartment at that, then 'bygod' I was going to have a decent television. When I moved into Devi's apartment several years ago, she was living like an ascetic - few decorations, no carpets and certainly not a television. So as to accustom her to the drug, at the time I bought a small, normal 17"-screen CRT tv, which it must be said, she did not enjoy all that much - amusing, yes, but hardly fabulous. This time, I bought a flat screen, LCD, high definition sleek black beauty of a beast; by law all French television will be high-definition fairly soon anyway. Suddenly, Devi finds television very interesting after all (surprise, surprise) and will remain glued to the screen for the full length of an emission or a film, an occurence unheard of with the prehistoric model owned before. I am very proud of Devi, she has finally taken to the electronic syringe very well after all, although it must be admitted that the computer will probably remain forever beyond her ken - after all, she reasons, why should she learn it when I can fulfill any request she may have? Win some, lose some.
Our cats made a surprisingly peaceful move and adjustment. Rabelais, Gaston and Wendy were all freaked of course, for all of an hour, perhaps. Then it was business as usual, no doubt greatly helped by the fact that we now have 3X as many windows, all larger and all with deep exterior sills upon which they may promenade, sun themselves, plot massive death upon the birds, spy upon the neighbors, etc. These are observation posts only, of course, as we are on the 3ème étage (4th floor in English), but feline fascination and joy have no limit. After a full
reconnaissance of their observation posts, they set to work and excavated a lovely split-level triplex inside one of the flying buttresses of our apartment (yes, flying buttress - this is France, where ALL buildings are Gothic, and all have flying buttresses - what did you think, you naive thing, you?) We have added another kitten, Diderot, to the lot, a fabulous little beast, but one who learned a dreadful lesson last week - do NOT jump from the window in hopes of catching your prey. He fell, 4 floors to a hard concrete pad below. Devi and I were watching a film but were immediately alerted by the cacaphonous, united frenzy of the three adults, and I immediately knew the cause. I looked out of one of the kitchen windows and yes, there below, lay the still form of Diderot. I rushed down and recovered him, still as death but breathing, and brought him back up to the apartment. I am not ashamed to admit there were tears, prayers and bargaining with Fate. I am capable of quickly ending a pet's life if it is necessary, but I did not want to do it, and he was at least still breathing and not screaming. Seventy two agonizing hours followed, little movement, feeble, pitiful meows, a few drops of water but no food, etc. Finally, he moved, not much, but he moved. Twenty four hours later, he tried to stand and walk - no such luck, it was as if he was a spintop winding down very badly indeed, he could not stay upright, could not coordinate his feet, his legs were rubber and I was sure he was desperately broken somewhere in the interior. I again contemplated euthanasia, but decided to wait. The next day, he was walking, albeit like a drunken sailor on shore leave in Macao. I am happy to report that as of now, he has regained "himself", is playing, although gently, and is even running a bit, still a bit cautiously, but running and his appetite has returned with a vengeance. I believe that Fate took me at my word, and took a little bit of my life and gave it to him, or else he is simply f**king lucky and has one less life of his ownOur neighbor, Odile (not her name, but then of course we practice selective anonymity here on
this blog, don't we?), is a big fan of the Tarot and as she visits often, does not spare an opportunity to ask me to read for her. As she is 85/86 years of age, I practice a policy of slanting her cards towards the hopeful, not giving her dire news of which she has absolutely no need. Well, hell, who does, for that matter? But there are times when the older amongst us simply do not need reminders of the dire, the dreadful and death. The other day, however, she asked me for a full reading, a complicated task indeed, and asked me to tell her the truth. Be very careful when a woman asks you for the truth, it is a minefield already stacked against you, as I knew, but I thought, "okay, for one time and one time only, I will tell you exactly what the cards say." Her cards revealed a past filled with duplicity, cruelty and deceit, her present nebulous but hopeful, and a serene, happy future. Naturally, she was indignant with the reading of her past, okay with her present, and glad of her future. As I reminded her, the cards NEVER foretell the future, they only guide, all the choices are still yours to make, but they rarely lie about the past, and if she was egotistical, self-absorbed and demanding in her youth, that is what the cards reflected. She looked me in the eye and said, "Age changes your memories." Ah, yes, that is the rub, isn't it?Well, for a re-entry, I believe that is enough for today. The only other amusing thing I would like to pass along is a marvelous little bit about the 'Aztec Whistles of Death', a CNN bit that is very informative and at the same time a bit bizarre. I shall not say more but let you discover it for yourself (be sure and listen to the audio):
http://edition.cnn.com/2008/TECH/science/06/30/pre-columbiansounds.ap/index.html
I must rush to Castorama, the local equivalent of HomeBuilders, as the cats have requested
mortar, colorful tiles, small prayer rugs and faux jewels to finish decorating their triplex inside the flying buttress. As I am disposed to be kind to them after the drama of Diderot, I have decided to accede to their requests - perhaps I shall even purchase for them several miniature Turkish divans and a box of hexagonal mirror tiles to decorate their dome, as well as a do-it-yourself stained glass kit for that authentic gothic look. Until the next,Leducdor
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