The day after we arrived in Nice, Dad's show got canceled and he's walking around like we'll never be able to get any more food. Mom told me not to worry, that we have enough to buy food for a long, long time. I'm not worried about the food so much but I'm worried about Dad. He takes out his calculator a thousand times a day and makes lists of expenses. This drives Mom crazy because she can't count and Dad always wants her to count.

Mom: "Don't ask me to count! I'm no good at math!"

Dad: "Are you retarded? You can spend but you can't listen to me for two minutes about what everything costs around here. We need to make a LIST of everything. The shutters, the paint, the plumber, the electrician, EVERYTHING."

Mom: "You know I'm retarded. Don't ask me to count anything."

Dad: "You can count. You just don't want to think for TWO minutes, that's all. If you would just LISTEN to me!"

Mom: "Oh god. Here we go again. Just remember. When the Euro goes up, the dollar goes down. When the Euro goes down, the dollar goes up. And if you want, just sell this place. You can't take the stress."

Dad: "No, I love it here. This place is great. I'm learning French and I'm going to jog and work out and swim and I'm going to join the gym. I'm going to get a bike."

Dad's been talking about working out for as long as I've known him. I think I saw him pick up a fifteen pound weight a year ago. He lifted it a couple of times, said "ow!" and put it right back in the rusty pile of free weights by the pool at our house in Hollywood.

Here in the south of France, the only thing Dad lifts is his calculator. He likes to take his calculator out for walks. He takes it and his list of expenses and he goes to the LAVE CLUB, which means wash club in French. Whenever Dad comes back from the Lave Club, he looks happy. He brings home a giant load of hot, clean clothes like he's been out hunting or something.

Mom stays home a lot because of her broken foot. She's got crutches and everybody has to be careful not to knock Mom over. I kind of like her broken foot because we get to hang out on the couch and be all cozy with her.

It's funny that what the people think are bad things, like Dad's show getting canceled and Mom's foot getting broken are really good things for us. Dad losing his job only gives him more time to do what he wants to do. He wants to spend time with me and he wants to nap and read. Mom's broken foot is making Mom a better person. She's finally understanding what's important in life. The simple act of walking to the beach or to the park...with me.