Thank you for asking tbe question for everybody.

Mostly pear and cherry, with some plum and one walnut.

Nothing really, for now, we’re just high enough that spring comes late. But the raspberries are doing amazing, the apple trees looks like clouds, my kid has been weeding and cleaning the huge strawberry patches, the wild strawberries are everywhere, the baby fruit trees are growing. It’s gonna be lovely!

France: every two years. May be different (4 years ?) for cars under 10 year old, but I wouldn’t know.

French here: it works. Miam.

Obviously, 2 is really bad. 5 is nice.

That South Korean thing currently on Netflix, I guess. Young man tries everything to save the woman he pines for, who turned into a chicken nugget.

Honestly, when I remember it, I can hear the fabric of reality tearing.

I was 16, on a road-trip in the US with my dad and my sister. We’re French. First time in the US. Get to NYC after a month. That was before Internet existed: we had booked a room in the Central Park YMCA by mail. Reception goes: “Yes, you’re in the book. LastName, 2 people, today through next Saturday.”
“Err, no, sorry, the dates are right but there are 3 of us.”
“Oh, we must have written it down wrong, no problem, we’ll give you a bigger room.” We get to our room. 5 minutes later there’s a knock on the door. My sister opens it. My dad’s jaw clatters on the lino floor. It was his estranged dad and very much estranged step-mother. He hadn’t been in touch for 20 years; I had met them once when I was 3; my sister, never. They had booked a room under the same LastName (duh), for the same 6 nights, in the same hostel, for their first visit to the US.
We did spend some time with them in NYC, but it didn’t lead to any happily-ever-after, family-healing breakthrough, because they were jerks or, to be honest, monsters.

Olympic-sized is 50 meters, but your point stands.

Where? My small library in rural France has book clubs, story time (on site and at the public pool), vintage and modern gaming consoles, art shows, craft workshops, and more.

I like the way you think.

It’s a wine vine, I think.

J’attends de voir le dawa dans mon village de 170 habitants, avec que des femmes de 80 ans et plus et des agriculteurs hommes de 40 à 70. (Non, je ne sais pas où est passé le reste de la pyramide des âges. En ville et au cimetière, j’imagine.)

This is marvellous.

Now you must tell me about the first three seasons of FRIENDS. (Please?)

I can’t wait. Thank you so much.

None at all.
Explanation: I own one pair of jeans, 4 dresses, 3 sweaters and 3 t-shirts, period. I grab whatever’s clean. I buy 1 item of clothing each year from our local thrift shop. Try as I may, I don’t give a damn. I used to, but now I just want to forage in peace. It’s lovely.

Yup. What should I watch for a start? (And where/how?) I want fun stories, folklore, (mythology?), ideally women?

I think he went? He ordered them on the web from Berlin retailers, then booked a plane ticket. Our dad caught up with him at some point, but I can’t remember if it was here or there. We were just happy he didn’t try to ride his huge bike across Europe instead of flying. The state he was in, he wouldn’t have made it.