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Suzanne White

Author • Adventuress • Astrologer

Life on the Run

God Doesn't Do Coincidences. You Can Bet Your Ass.

by Suzanne White - on Saturday, December 23, 2017
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God doesn't do coincidences. You can bet your ass.” Matthew Quick , The Good Luck of Right Now

Monday morning at 9 I went out to move the car. I was shocked by the freezing cold day. So I decided I better drive to the mall to look for gloves. As the French say, "I broke my nose" on that mission. No gloves this year. I gave up on gloves. This store I was in is one of those mammoth football field-size we-sell-everything stores, complete with blaring voices promoting cheap smoked salmon or champagne for Christmas.

I needed chutney. So I went to the “foreign foods” aisle. I found Mexican spicy glop food, Italian delicate multicolored pasta foods, middle eastern couscous food and then English food which offered mint sauce, lemon curd, Marmite, a hundred jams and jellies, 30 varieties of cookie (biscuits), a jillion teas and some other tasty delights nobody French ever eats. I start looking for chutney and an arm stealthily slips in behind my cart with fingers that gather up 5 Reeses' Peanut Butter Cups in one hand. In France, peanut butter makes people throw up. So Reese’s are definitely "foreign foods" here.

I look up and say to the person in whose basket those peanut butters cups now live. “Are you American?"

"I'm Belgian.” he said in American English. “But between the ages of 6 and 12 I lived in America. I loved it there. But I hated the people.” Usually people don’t bad mouth the warm, friendly pat you on the back Jack Americans. I was puzzled.

“Racists. They are all racists. I’m a scared little Belgian kid who doesn’t speak the language and in school they treat me like an intruder.”

“That’s too bad.” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you still live in Belgium?” I wondered.

“I live in Flayosc.” he said.

Flayosc is a pretty medieval village about 10 kms from where I live. “Really?” I said. “Right in the town?”

“No. You pass the town and keep going toward Salernes till you come to a sharp turn and just there – right after that turn, you hang a sharp right into a dusty road.”

“I used to live on that road,” I told him. “I know exactly where that is.”

“Well you drive in and you see a white wrought iron gate....

“... and a big piece of land and a white sort of sprawling ranch house with blue shutters at the back of the property?” I asked.

“Yes. That’s the house. I live there with my wife now.”

My mouth dropped, “That’s my house.” I said. “It’s an old Olive oil Mill.”

He replied. “It’s my father-in-law’s house actually.”

“Did they put you in the guest room way at the end?” I asked.

“We are the only ones in the house. My in-laws live in Belgium. They want to sell the house so we are there to keep it warm and cozy. It’s a nice house. Lots of land. Tiny swimming pool though. I’m a professional diver so it looks pretty puny to me.”

This fellow was tallish, fiftyish, a bit skittish and amply tattooed. He told me about his career as a diver/welder and how he had hurt his knee so badly that he couldn’t work anymore at that job. “I hope to be teaching scuba diving on the beach in summer.” he said.

I laughed. The pool at my house really was tiny. Kidney-shaped. But stingy small and not deep enough to come up to his shoulders.
“Does your house have a name?” I still couldn’t believe I had met a person who lives in my house. My ex-house of course. But once a house is my house, it stays my house. Must be Scorpio/Tiger trait.

“It’s called Le Moulin de l’Avenon.” The guy said then. It has a pretty blue tile name cemented on the gate post.”

“That’s my tile. I put that tile up there. I had it made over in Grimaud.”

I wanted to cry. Instead I asked, “When is your birthday ?”

“I’m Aries.” he said.

“And what year were you born?”

“Sixty-eight. I’m a Monkey.” he said, gesturing toward his back. “I have a Monkey on my back.” he smiled. “It’s a tattoo.”

Then, he went on to say, “I’m writing a book about Chinese Astrology. In my book I use all the signs. There’s this Monkey sailing up a river. He tastes the water and it’s oddly salty... story goes on from there. He meets all the signs.”

Now my mouth dropped opened wider. I hoped I wouldn’t drool. I just managed to ask, “You know about Chinese Astrology?”

“I read a lot.” he said.

I just messaged this guy on Facebook. I figure anybody who buys 5 Reese’s peanut butter cups in one go, lives in my house and is writing a book about Chinese Astrology is somebody I ought to know.

PS... Never found any chutney.


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Author Suzanne White

About Suzanne White

Suzanne White is the High Priestess of Chinese and Western Astrology. She's American and has lived in France for 50 years. She spends some months in America every year on house swaps. Suzanne says: One day I'm a rip-roaring Yankee and the next day I'm an dainty, elegant Parisienne My totally bi-lingual life is a kind of "managed schizophrenia". It's fun. I live for fun. I will probably die of it too.

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