I slept again last night, waking up at 5:00am again to cough twice, then fell back to sleep until 8:00am. Unfortunately, I woke up with a headache that had never gone away from the night before. My hypoglycemia has been such a non-event since I got here that I completely forgot about it last night and crashed when we got home after the play. Not good.

Still, I slept. And that’s a good thing.

The play was nice, but not moving. The problem is that, although the actors were okay and the stage design interesting, anyone who has seen the film Camille Claudel with Isabelle Adjani and Gerard Depardieu will automatically superimpose their memory of that incredible film on whatever they are seeing. And I really can’t write off my lack of response on my failings in French — I was utterly gripped by Pan’s Labyrinth, which I saw dubbed entirely in French. At any rate, it was a bit disappointing.

In better news, Trog is winning over hearts here in Aix. His latest fans are the butchers, the goth girl who works at Crepes-a-Go-Go, and a handful of folk at Sculpt, the place where the punks and goths go to get their hair cut and colored. (I got a cute hairdo there, sort of a cross between my Vampirella cut and Joan Jett, but not different enough to take a picture of.) In Paris, a young French girl asked where I bought my purse, and a small child and its mother hailed “Le Maximonstre!” as we were crossing the street together. It’s been fun to watch grownups melt and tweak his pudgy nose. The Frenchman’s 11-year-old goddaughter asked me why I would carry such a thing as a purse. I responded, “Because it’s fun and original and my mascot.” The idea of being openly and brashly original in a crowd was lost on her from cultural programming, is my guess. However, she’s very smart and tremendously creative. I suspect she’ll understand soon enough.

A little writing today, then most of the day I’ll be gone. Another 1400 words yesterday. I really wish I could finish today, but it’s not meant to be.