Tuesday, February 5, 2008
I love la Poule. Xavier introduced me to her. She has been a big part of my life and amusement since we met. La Poule is a very large – larger than life – hen, well, kinda. She is a metaphysical sort-of hen with a killer personality: she is self-important, prideful, genial, ready to lend a (useless) hand, and really, she is always putting on airs. She is totally unacquainted with the size of her own body; she has a complete lack of proprioception. (I can really relate to la Poule in that sense – I don’t do a good job of knowing where my body parts are in relation to things – la Poule and I are completely maladroite (clumsy).)
La Poule has always traveled with Xavier and me – she follows us on any voyage, short or long, and usually spends the length of the trip riding around the baggage claim carousel. One of her classic traits is embodying, actually appropriating (in her psyche), the objects around her. While riding endlessly on the baggage carousel, she roosts on the paneled rubber she sits on and psychologically becomes a suitcase. She actually thinks she is the larger version of the ruby red trunk revolving to her right.
When La Poule skis, she wears oven mits for gloves.
Xavier is close to la Poule – it was a couple of his older cousins (Icar et Matao, below) who initially introduced him to her. She was constantly popping up in their lives (sort of like Shannon and Tiffany for those of you who know about them). But she’s been hanging around Xavier a lot since then.
La Poule is usually seen wearing underwear on her head, thinking it is a hat, making this face:
(and yes, those are my ribs.lungs.xray up there in those first pictures. You see, the frenchies want a picture of any foreign person's ribs before they can start working here. Good idea, if you ask me...and they even let you take the x-ray home afterward to hang above your stove. Cool. And no, neither Xavier nor la Poule can cook.)