Muti-function combinative torch mosquito swatter.

This probably qualifies as the most bizarre, creative and entertaining wedding present that Monsieur J and I have received thus far.

Sent with love from friends in Italy, I think we're pretty lucky that French customs agents didn't intercept it. Careful inspection of the packaging yields no information regarding the company and only some rudimentary explanations concerning correct product usage, such as:

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1. Grip the handle, press the switch button to initiate power on the nets and light up the red indication lamp. Be sure to keep pressing the switch button while hitting bugs.

2. Never shall we get any shock or danger when we touch (not squeeze) the outer nets, so we can flap mosquito stopping on our skin with this safe swatter directly withou* shocks.

3. Once the mosquito get in touch with the swatter net, it certainly will not be able to escalpe*, it may be either drawn into the innernet or fastened by static force to the outer net, but when any part of its body approach* the inner net, it will eventually get shocks and zapped immediately.

*all misspellings are represented here as seen on the packaging

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There are also a few warnings, most notably the one that reads, "this swatter is not a toy for children." Indeed, this is not intended for children, but it's a heck of a lot of fun for adults!

We've been having cool nights here in Toulouse, which means our windows have been open. However, we live in the land-of-no-screens, where this means one thing: bugs.

Mosquitoes that buzz in your ear, flies that hover in the kitchen, gnats that flitter aimlessly around the livingroom, enough is enough!

Before we would rudimentarily hunt the offender, perhaps armed with a newspaper or just a bare hand. Now, Monsieur J and I delight in swatting bugs with our racquets. Successful zapping is hard to miss. There's the loud "crack!" and the sparks, sometimes deep blue ones.

Romantic, right?

Bon week-end.

The weather has been playing nasty tricks on us in Toulouse these past couple of weeks. In late April, it was sunny with highs in the 90s. But since it was still April, everyone insisted on wearing sweaters and jackets as a matter of principle. I blame it all on that pesky proverb:

En avril, ne te découvre pas d'un fil. En mai, fais ce qu'il te plait.

loose translation: In April, keep covered. In May, do as you please.

I've mentioned before that the French dress according to season rather than according to the actual temperature. It's very peculiar. In April, Monsieur J and I have ridiculous conversations that go something like this:

J: You really should put on a sweater or at least bring a scarf.

A: You do realize it's 85 degrees outside in the shade.

J: Yes, but it's April. You don't want to catch a cold.

A: I think I'll be alright.

J: [dubious]

Needless to say, I was excited for May to arrive so that everyone could stop staring at me for wearing temperature appropriate clothing or suggesting that I wear three layers on a hot day.

And then May came, and guess what? I woke up and it was 45 degrees and raining. Surprise! But today I awoke to sun, blue skies and seasonal temperatures. I did a little weekend grocery shopping at the market and planted basil and cherry tomato plants for the balcony.

I think I'll be celebrating with a special apéritif tonight: kir à la violette. Cheers!