A Sunday Visit

We visited our friends Sissy and Tony at their place in a village about 45 minutes from B's house.

It's been Seattle, Austria here for about four days so we drove out and back in a light rain. No problem for me, but the Austrians want their summer back.

Sissy fed us chicken wings rubbed with some kind of Middle Eastern seasoning and served some of her famous Turkish coffee----very sweet and a bit strong, but delicious.

The view from Sissy and Tony's kitchen window.

Note Pacific Northwest-like conditions.

They have a sun room at the back of the house, glassed in at the top and sides. No sun, of course, but it was pleasant out there as the rain fell, talking about things and enjoying their company. Sissy and Tony have three grown boys and they often invite their friends over---two of the sons were there, along with one of the sons' friends and a couple of the girlfriends. They more or less stayed to themselves but every so often Sissy would ask one of the young people to bring her a glass or wine or something and they politely did so. VERY nice young people.

The home is a grand meeting place not only for family, but also for friends who happen to drop by, like a friend who came by an hour or so before we left. She joined us for conversation and drinks, including this strange but delicious orange concoction:

I forget the name, but it has alcohol in it, and it's orange. What's not to like?

Tony is a pretty serious amateur photographer, and he appreciates film, too. He loaned me his copies of THE STRAWBERRY STATEMENT and Antonioni's BLOW UP, neither of which I've seen. So I look forward to checking them out.

He also brought out a couple of photography books, one featuring the work of a doctor who took pictures of mental patients back around the 1860's or so. Haunting images. Beneath the pictures were little descriptions like MURDERED HIS MOTHER or HYSTERICAL.

More fun was a book published by Tarcher featuring the work of famous French photographer Robert Doisneau. You've probably seen his most famous work, called THE KISS:

Even in 1950, the French were, uh, French.

Just before sunset, we drove home in the rain. That's how it's been around here lately.