Psyche! It is not raining men at all! It's raining rain, and lots of it, both up in Ontario and here in Chicago. But "It's raining rain" wouldn't have made a very exciting title, now would it? Plus, nothing suits a wet September evening like cheesy pop anthems, and maybe a little disco now and then. But I digress.
So, Priscilla is in Ontario now, specifically in the town of Cornwall, and even more specifically in a house. It rained all day, but not terribly hard except at the very end, when Priscilla got all cold and wet and bedraggled. But this evening she found a church service to attend (she hadn't been able to find one this morning), and so she went. She says it was lovely, and she met lots of fun people. Some of said fun people invited her to stay with them, and so she is. Now she's dry and warm and undraggled and heading off to bed.
Oh, hang on a sec! The photos, right? So the top one is Catherine (the biker across Europe) and her husband and their son Maxime (who is so enamored of Priscilla). The middle one is of Loic, Stephane, Julie, and Olivier, Priscilla's charming hosts from last night who treated her to supper and gave her shelter from the storm-- oops, I mean from the rain & cold. The bottom one shows the work of busy beavers, who have been busily felling trees along Priscilla's route.
Oh yeah! Today Priscilla saw some smugglers (I'm so jealous), smuggling stacks of cigarettes from the U.S. to Canada. She even got to see the police chase them down! It might have been more exciting if they were smuggling illicit drugs or precious gems or even exotic pets, but still, smugglers!
C'est promis! Les traductions d'hier et d'aujourd'hui viendront demain soir. Je suis vraiment trop creve pour y concentrer dessous maintenant.
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