Life is good on Rabelo. As the old cliché goes, “Happy wife, happy life.” Lisa finally has her desk, and I no longer have to listen to her complain about not having a space to work. Little did I know that her insatiable need to shop was alive and well.
“I’m not fat, I’m just big boned.”
We had gone to the market, and were driving back to Rabelo when she spotted a hand printed sign on the side of the road. The writing was miniscule, and said something about bric-a-brac and antiques. What I don’t understand is that she never sees the giant truck that almost smashes us like a flea, but a sign advertising a bunch of junk, no problem. We made a quick U-turn so that Lisa could write down when and where.
“Crowds at the flea market.”
I told her we shouldn’t go. In fact I pleaded with her. She said I was whining. What if we found a secretary that she preferred to the one we just bought? She’d be all depressed. Besides, we spent a fortune on that desk. I was watching the news and the commentator said that the French GDP had just ticked up that day for the first time in ten years. They showed a video of me on the side walk curled up in the fetal position. I was mumbling something about bankruptcy. The news lady said, “Don’t you love those crazy Americans.”
“Flowers for my grave site.”
“Some beggars at a lock.”
At least the flea market was at a Chateau. Only the French can do a flea market with class. How bad could it be? Well I’ll tell you. The traffic was unbelievable. We had to walk almost a mile from where we parked. The place was packed. When we finally got there I commented to Lisa, “I’ve never seen so much crap in my life. Who buys this junk? Can we go now?”
“No, I just want to look.”
I’ve heard those words before. Trust me it’s the kiss of death. We ended up buying the place out. Okay, I tend to exaggerate. We bought three things. Lisa left me on the side of the road curled up mumbling incoherently. The lady on the six o’clock news smiled and said, “Merci beaucoup.”
“She’s shopping. Why shouldn’t she be happy?”
“The French are serious about their butter. I’m standing at the end of the butter section.”
“Rabelo moored for the night at a quiet spot.”
-Tom Miller
Author of “The Wave” – a Chuck Palmer Adventure novel
DEC
About the Author:
Tom Miller graduated from the University of Southern California with a Bachelor of Science in Geology. He is a consummate adventurer with over 1,000 dives as a recreational scuba diver, and an avid sailor who has traveled 65,000 miles throughout the Pacific including the Hawaiian Islands. Miller has also cruised the canals of Europe on his canal barge and given numerous lectures on cruising the canals of Europe, as well as sailing in the South Pacific. Piloting is also an interest of Miller's, and He has completed over 1,000 hours flying everything from small Cessnas to Lear jets.