Yes, AirBnB is an option, but we have a plan that involves some living-room camping for a little girl -- we'll see if it works. A cousins' sleepover is in the works as well.
I reconcile myself to the limited space by thinking of how many folk manage(d) tight quarters in other places and other times. My English aunts, for example, used to tell me about escaping wartime London with the kids, heading up to my grandparents' house where they'd sleep "tops and tails." The cousins' sleepover will perhaps channel some of that spirit, as the Visiting Three bunks down in a bedroom her Five and Three cousins share. (Indeed, the two-bedroom urban condo the Five and Three share with their parents manifests a modern, creative twist to that old "needs must" squeezing in -- this Vancouver family featured on Cup of Jo last week is a great example of a joyous approach to living with less space.
Dinner for 8 of us here tonight and a weekend houseful, so Pater and I squeezed in our weekly date (a recent couple commitment, instituted by yours truly); his turn to plan, and he got us out up and early to bike the Stanley Park Seawall, stopping on the way home for breakfast. . .
And, of course, I need some time to read and think about and respond briefly to the thoughtful comments on my post about authenticity. I'm hoping the conversation will continue, but there's already much there to consider.
So I'm off to rustle up some bed linens and do some dinner prep, but first, I'll transcribe this page from my Travel Journal for you. I sketched the statue in Lyon, then painted it at my dining table here last week, another way of integrating There with Here, Then with Now. . .
As I've written to the right (top) of the sketch, this statue Le Joueur de Flûte (The Flute Player) was sculpted by Jean Delorme (1831-1905 -- and as I've noted at the bottom of the page, it's in the
Cloistered Garden of Musée des Beaux-arts de Lyon, Le Jardin du Palais Saint-Pierre
To the right, middle, I've written It had rained as we walked to the Place des Terreaux to visit this garden. The ground was muddy -- even that French gravel -- and the benches were wet. But we each found a statue to sketch, a bench to sketch from, and we settled in. Paul, I think, chose the Rodin, but this little flautist got my attention. . .
And top left, writing on the perpendicular A verdant canopy of fragrant leaves and blooms held sounds of chatter while it cooled us all. A grandfather spoke his erudite wisdom engagingly enough that his 4 young charges listened intently.
And that's it, the last of my Lyon pages for this year's Travel Journal, at least, although I do hope we'll be back someday. In the meantime, I'm following the Instagram account of Joanna Morgan, a jewelry designer who recently closed up her Seattle atelier/shop to embark on a new adventure -- which currently involves moving into a gorgeous apartment in Lyon. . . Ah, for Vicarious Travel!!
Okay, I'm off, but will look forward to reading your comments when I get a minute (you have no idea how much those comments power the blog -- they're so sustaining, and I thank you for them!)