Friday, April 17, 2009

Drugs, How Screwed Americans Are

So today we ran off to the local pharmacy with our little list of drug needs, we both are highly medicated in these our senior years. One of the drugs I take daily was just prescribed about two months ago after my run in with simvastatin side effects. It's name is Fenofibrate 160 mg tablets. In the US just before we flew into Paris I bought 90 tabets, cost? $142. Our Canadian supplier could not get them to us before we left thanks to my ineptitude at scheduling when I notice I'm once more in low supply. They would have been only $79. Today when C brought the tab box out from her many drawers chock full of modern drugs and thier equivelents she anounced the price for 30 each as $10.75 US. Thats $32.25 for 90 tablets 160mg each. Less than half the Canadian price and less than 1/4 the US price gouging. We are so screwed by these drug companies, it is infuriating to say the least.
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Home again I turned to my sourdough starters and had the requisite 2 cups of bubbly foamy "son" and proceeded to add flour, honey and finally water and salt and create a dough mass to await folding all afternoon long. The outcome was 2 loaves, one baked on a sheet pan, long and misshapened. The other in an iron pot with a lid as I've done before. Both came out beautifully, one went to D&W, the Scots and the other will be our sandwich loaf for the next few days.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Easter 2009, Where? Here? Hmmmm

Easter Sunday. Not raining but cloudy anyway. Time for a drive as,
though we do not partake of the Catholic liturgy find ourselves on the
outside looking in when it comes to religiosity in this largely Catholic
country. Oh we have certainly been in many of the churches throughout the
country as the history of the Church and the populace of France are
forever entertwined...BUT the only service we ever attended here was not
for our benefit but that of our neighbor Eric who lost his young life to
leukemia several years ago. It was a funeral mass with most of the
inhabitants of Lignieres in attendance. It was somber, it was seriously
depressing. His young wife and 7 year old son sat quietly with tears
flowing from everyone elses eyes but theirs, shocked into quiet and
solitude. I cried like a baby, just like everyone else when they put his father's dress fire helmet on the little boy. Whew, what a memory.

Today we left Lignieres with Ted staffing the back seat; off to the
Brenne, a region about 35 miles west of here of swamps, forest lowlands,
many lakes and quaint little villages. We had our plans to walk through
two brocantes (junk sales) held as celebrations of Easter, don't ask me
why or how. Selling junk for Jesus? Anyway it was the usual scene, wine
tent, sausage and fries tent, cotton candy and gummy whatever the mold was
tent and all the rusty broken junk and kids clothing you can imagine plus
large milling crowds. My interest was piqued at a old rusted cqst iron
stove though, fancy in it,s age old design of goo-gahs applied over its
front and top. All there too, even the grates that are often either broken
to pieces or rusted to a ghost of the original. The ceramic lining was in
good shape too. I asked her how much she was asking for it, 200 Euros was
the answer, not full retail but not far off either, another 75 Euros and
you can have a brand new one. We walked on. At the end of the stall
though was an old curly que iron bed that struck Kelly as about the right
size for the spot in her sewing room that had the pipes blocking the
previous beds installation. Sure enough, she measured the thing and it
was about ' inches shorter! A problem solved, another guest has a bed! No
bolts to put it together and no brass balls for the ends of the curly que
thingie in the back, so not all there but close enough. Conbien SVP we
asked...Sixty Euros she said. Tre Cher I said, very expensive, she
dropped to 50, Kelly said 40 to me loud enough that she could here, she
countered with 50 again. We nodded yes as Kelly took out her money and I
went for Ted and the car a block away. The seller,s husband helped us
load the iron monster on top of the trusty Toyota, strapped down we drove
for home. An hour later we stopped at a McDonalds (I know, I know...but it was Easter Sunday and
what in France is OPEN anyhow at 3 pm?) in Chateauroux, had our burgers and fries and
cokes and were on our way across the vast greener than green hills of the Loire Valley
again. Home we unloaded the bed, took it upstairs and jury rigged the bolts I had
(too small) with washers and the new bed fit as Kelly said it would, terrific!