Life and death in a small French village...

It's carnival day today in my village, which means the kids take center stage as they dress up and parade through the streets, tour the retirement home and then go completely mental in the Salle Polyvalente with confetti and crêpes. Not quite as spectacular as the Nice carnival, but a fun day for the kids, who then have the next 2 weeks off for winter vacation.

My two little ladies have chosen their costumes, one a doctor, and the other, quelle surprise, a princess. I'm part of the organizing committee, so I'm expected to dress up too. I had thought about reconstructing the costume in the photo, but I'll probably just dust off one of the Hawaiian leis the committee keeps in their store cupboard, along with multiple jars of Nutella and rolls of tombola tickets. I'll be spending most of the morning filling 200 sandwich bags with two fistfuls of confetti. I sure hope there'll be coffee.

Unfortunately, the day of celebration in the village will be slightly bittersweet, as a funeral is also taking place just after the parade. So while the kids are running around on a Nutella-based high and laughing at the silliness of it all, the rest of the village will be saying goodbye to a dearly loved mom, grandma, aunt, neighbor and friend.

And so it goes in a small French village, where children and the elderly are honored in equal measures. I just hope the hysterical sounds drifting through the village of the kids throwing confetti won't drown out the eulogy at the church...