tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post4070692375214980319..comments2023-12-27T13:35:09.431-07:00Comments on Exile in Portales: Happy Mom's DayBuckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05319116022465066060noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-23214584065988029282014-05-12T13:45:23.124-06:002014-05-12T13:45:23.124-06:00I went to Google translate and it turns out "...I went to Google translate and it turns out "poisson rouge" is the correct term (according to Google, and who amongst us would dispute the Masters of the Universe?). I feel for your Tante Claire... NO ONE should have to bury a child. NO ONE.Buckhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05319116022465066060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-37899274789584500892014-05-12T13:24:29.347-06:002014-05-12T13:24:29.347-06:00I like d'or! Maybe Poisson d'Orange :-)
T...I like d'or! Maybe Poisson d'Orange :-)<br />Tante Claire had a sad life, and a sad ending. Her son died about 5 years before she did. I think of those two women every year about this time. I can't imagine what kind of adventure my father thought he was going to have... I think if you drive 50 miles in any direction from Lorraine, you'll find the sun actually shines...d'Or ou d'Orangenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-10886668787208861212014-05-12T07:05:38.071-06:002014-05-12T07:05:38.071-06:00How about "un poisson d'or?" ;-)
Y...How about "un poisson d'or?" <b>;-)</b><br /><br />You're not all that alone... My Mom had some, shall we say, "improvement areas," as well. Your aunt sounds like a very interesting person, even if she WAS a bitch.Buckhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05319116022465066060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-75600712939491469802014-05-11T19:21:54.664-06:002014-05-11T19:21:54.664-06:00Confusing sentence, my aunt was the one with the g...Confusing sentence, my aunt was the one with the gun. My mother wouldn't let us even have a BB gun.<br /><br />My cousin who died last year, never left Saint-Avold, and was 14 during the war. She finally put all the pegs together for me, on the erector set that was my parents life. Turns out my parents met during a huge battle in town, and my mother and her sister spoke fluent German so they were conscripted to a hospital where the wounded German soldiers were being taken. They acted as translators, and my dad was detailed to find and separate all the officers from the enlisted, and could speak French. My cousin said my mother got cartons of cigarettes from my dad, and that was how they bought food, as money was worthless. My aunt, I suspect, just took the food at the barrel of a gun (at least that's my imagination working) :-) My dad returned to town after the war ended, and I have a document, that says the U.S. Army approved, and that my mother wasn't pregnant, a criminal, or a displaced person.<br /><br />My cousin said when my aunt was buried, that she was "incinerated" to which I laughed my ass off, because she probably should have been in 1944, but the French don't know how to say "cremated" I suspect.Mother day.. again squarednoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-53160828379166079862014-05-11T18:52:18.827-06:002014-05-11T18:52:18.827-06:00Sorry, them Frogs don't know how to say gold :...Sorry, them Frogs don't know how to say gold :-)<br /><br />As I contemplate Mothers day, the fact remains - my mother was not quite worthy of the name. Sure she plopped me out, but the rest of my youth were a living hell. I often wondered why she was such a (yes, the B word), and then I met her sister at age 18. She came to America to visit my mother and scheme on how to dump my old man, in which they were successful, only that he married the nicest woman I will ever know 3 months later, a real doll.<br /><br />My mother and her sister were from the old school of "if it doesn't suck yet, make it suck". When I told my aunt that she was a mean woman, she said "you haven't seen my mean side yet". She lived in Saarbrücken, having left France after the war, and worked in a bank, which must have been painful for her, as she was a communist since the 30's, and how she didn't end-up in a concentration camp was only because of her gender I suspect. My mother said she always carried a gun during the war, and no one else in the family did. I think my mother envied her, but could only rise to the B level, and not cross over to the "bitch kraut killer" (tm) level. Time for more booze...Mothers day... againnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-84640100099047740932014-05-11T14:19:44.841-06:002014-05-11T14:19:44.841-06:00@Skip: D'oh! I shoulda known that.@Skip: D'oh! I shoulda known that.Buckhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05319116022465066060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-41054043892047002052014-05-11T14:00:48.266-06:002014-05-11T14:00:48.266-06:00Goldfish don't poop in the house or the yard.Goldfish don't poop in the house or the yard.(not necessarily your) Uncle Skiphttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02705753220273516841noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-68068798720320325962014-05-11T13:51:38.593-06:002014-05-11T13:51:38.593-06:00A red fish? What?A red fish? What?Buckhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05319116022465066060noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18232353.post-23379706425826719152014-05-11T13:01:58.545-06:002014-05-11T13:01:58.545-06:00One of the first questions I ask on a date (wait, ...One of the first questions I ask on a date (wait, asked, as I haven't had a date since, hmm, a long time ago...) is "Do you like dogs?"<br />The wrong answer is "yes." I can tolerate a cat, but best is un poisson rouge.<br />Women and their petsnoreply@blogger.com