Supersize Us

Since our arrival in France, where we now live in a wonderful new home that, being new, isn't yet fully equipped, we've come the closest we hope we ever will to replicating the experiment in suicide-by-fast-food documented in the recent film, Supersize Me. With our time consumed establishing a new household and, for John Lewis, trying to stay on top of his many work duties, we've wound up at a McDonald's drive-in or having to drag Cleo from a PlayPlace inside at least once a day during our first 10 days here--twice, on a couple draining days. Being fridgeless, we've also eaten at many other great restaurants--our community has much to offer including, like our former home in Logan, Utah, a peculiarly disproportionate number of Chinese eateries. But McDonald's has been choice of convenience, such that John Lewis has the happy meal request down pat. To test your French McDonaldsese: "Deux Happy Meals avec nuggets; de l'eau fraise pour la boisson; des potatoes au lieu des frites pour l'un, des carottes pour l'autre; et des Pom'Pots pour le dessert."

Speaking of Happy Meals, if anyone out there would like a Hello Kitty pencil holder doll, just say the word--we've got plenty to spare.

"Train up a child in the way of the baguette, and lo, when she is old, she will not depart from the baguette" (to that mushy stuff some call bread).

From a photo shoot in the parking lot of IKEA where we had intended to capture the pile of boxes from our third expedition, but the lighting and Gigi weren't cooperative. So, this non-pose will have to do. Note Amy's great new haircut, that Gigi continues to look reflectively into the middle distance, and Cleo is perpetually on a sugar high.

Au revoir, France

Goodbye, France? Au contraire, we're excited to report that, not only have we and some of our belongings made it safely to France, Cleo has said her first French word--unprompted. On day two, during a more than three-hour shopping trip to IKEA (from enjoying the cheap Swedish eats at the cafeteria to squeezing all the boxes into our car), Cleo did exactly what language-absorbing children do: After watching a French kid playing peek-a-boo, saying "au revoir” for the a-boo part, Cleo did likewise. You heard it here first: Cleo speaks French.

It's been a tough two days on our bodies, as we've tried to stay awake and eat when we should to speed the adjustment. But it's been anything but tough on our spirits. Our new house is amazing. It's exactly--exactly--what we were looking for. Our vision for other aspects of our life here, from the feel of the town of Orgeval to the transportation connections, has also come true. We’ll share more about our house and initial impressions--to nudge those of you on the fence over whether to visit and take advantage of the free hotel--later. Here come a few photos.

Cleo with French poodle, on the red-eye Air France flight to Paris. The last time she flew red-eye to Paris, while en route to Portugal two years ago, she cried all but the last 15 minutes of the seven hours. This time, she watched a movie and slept all but 15.

Yogurt with The Incredibles (big fans of the Jack-Jack short) at the Novotel in Orgeval.

Climbing the stairs at the new house, which is filled with stained woods, porcelain tile, all kinds of natural light and, of course, the napper's dream--tight-shutting volets.

The face that launched another blog

If Helen of Troy had a face that launched as thousand ships, then Cleo's anguish at learning that some people don't really like "Fwance," the country's she's been excitedly telling people she's moving to, has launched another blog. Having enjoyed blogging our journey to China to retreive and get to know Gigi, we've decided that we should also share our experience living as an expat family of four in the land Americans love to hate (while also visiting more than any other). So, this is it, your resource for reasons to hate the French while catching up on what's new with the Needham-Schulthess family in France.

The rest of the photo

Here's the rest of the photo we've chosen as emblem for the Boycott France blog. Learning the sober truth from her father was tough for Cleo, but she's gotten over it. "To heck with francophobes," we've taught her to say.

The driver of this Ford Expedition may be interested to know that there's talk in Paris of effectively boycotting oversized, fuel-inefficient SUVs like his through a sort of sin tax. However, there's no talk of imposing the same on cancer-efficient Gaulois cigarettes.

Downtime during a Cleo and Gigi photo shoot on the front entrance steps of 9243 Greenshire Drive to show off new dresses received from Amy's friends

Gigi and Clara, former orphanage roomies and fellow northern Virginia residents, together with proud new mothers, Amy and Sara Slatter

And we're outta here

We've been planning our move to France, as part of a relocation for John Lewis's work, for about a year now. This relo has been delayed by Gigi's welcome if not so timely arrival. More recently, the French immigration authorities and French real estate professionals have complicated matters. But if you're wondering when we're taking off, we've finally got a solid answer: August 19 (two days, as of this writing).

Our house in Manassas Park, Virginia is now empty. Everyone's sleeping on air mattresses, with borrowed linens. Our worldly possessions have been parceled into a shipment by air, a shipment by sea, a shipment to storage, and a piano that's sticking around in Virginia with John Lewis's sister, Georgina. Jezebel, our cat of 10 years, is on séjour in Utah and will soon move in with Amy's brother, Jason, once he settles for a new job in Idaho (no "private Idaho" jokes about Jez--she doesn't think it's funny). Our brand new house in Orgeval, France, in the northwest suburbs of Paris awaits.

Cleo's excited. Gigi claps at anything, so she is, too. Amy can't wait to start her intensive French study, in situ. And John Lewis, not known for enjoying simple pleasures, is just looking forward to going shopping at a French grocery store this weekend.

Looking to rent a house?

We know of a great three-bedroom house in a quiet development in Prince William County, Virginia, one of the nicest corners of the Washington DC metro exurbs: http://www.homesdatabase.com/steveeaheart/MP5320561

In almost a month of listing the house for rent, we've only had one showing. The inflated DC housing market has everyone buying residential houses for investment, creating a surfeit of rentals. So please, send us someone to rent it, we're getting desperate. :)