Goodbye: Jill Hagan

Now with the offices empty, I am reminded on how used I got to seeing Jill every morning. And if there is one thing that reminds me all the Americans have gone home - is that Jill's desk is completely empty.

Professionally, I will always remember Jill as the Saint (or Sainte), since she had to put up with Faubert and Fegersheim's "planning" all those long months. Yes, I had to tell Faubert off several times, but Jill actually had to make eye contact with him and engage him in conversation. Anyway, I wish I will be as methodical and even when I grow up.

Personally I will remember the trips to Baden-Baden, the Wine Route, and various places along the way. But more importantly I will remember her competitive side (I still won the Phrase of the Day) - oops, sorry - and her humor that wonderfully appeared after we knew each other.

Goodbye: Chris Hagan

The man with the hardest job, and the one who did it the best.

You would think that his wife, Jill, had the hardest job (have you seen how Fegersheim plans?), but I would have to say Chris had the hardest. Although there were others who did not have a 40 hour job to keep them busy, while their spouse worked on GBIP for 60 hours; I always felt that Chris had the most difficult challenge. Not only because he was new to the career on hold thing, but also because he did not have the 5000 hobbies with accompanying sporting equipment from REI - you know who you are.

You throw in a couple of dinners with fellow GBIPers who have a natural tendency to talk about . . . well, GBIP, and an apartment that was 180 degrees different "style" than his (see Lesson 8); you can get an idea of the challenge. And for all those out there who think not working for 18 months in France would be the easiest job in the World, you would find that it is one of the great ironies of life - you can only go down the wine route so many times.

So when I think of Chris, I will remember that hideous vase with its associated lace doylies, and a mental image I have of him eating lunch with the women from Americans in Alsace (think Carmel housewives on steroids). Most importantly I will remember how much Patrick (and I) enjoyed just having a beer at a local bar with him - I figure Patrick is a pretty good judge of character.

Thanksgiving

It's was that time again . . . Thanksgiving - celebrated on the Saturday after.

As some of you remember, last year we went up to a Swiss Chalet that was owned by Tim Whittaker's boss. Fortunately, this time we could actually drive the cars up the mountain - thanks to Global Warming.

I do need to find a better picture of us all together, because this one makes us look like it was a funeral. Hello Patrick and Andrea, give me a little oompf.

Anyway we did have a really nice time, but it was certainly different than last year. First, we didn't have Joe drink an entire bottle of Jack Daniels with a banana "pie" chaser, which totally changes the dynamic. Second, we knew it was our last big outing together as a team, before the insanity of going home would begin - I could only imagine the difficulty with Tim and Andrea, who had already spent so much time in Switzerland before even France. And finally, I took my bike helmet, so the damage from the low beams in the house was totally minimized.