Fermented squash. I ferment a lot of produce I get from my garden, even stuff I could eat fresh. But squash is first tier.

J’habite à 412km de Paris. De chez moi, ça veut dire 25 minutes de voiture pour aller prendre le car (il n’y en a pas entre 11h30 et 16h, et un seul entre 10h et 11h30), 1h20 de car pour aller à la gare, 3h de train (direct, ouf). Mais comme la région sabre les horaires des cars, et qu’au fil des ans la SNCF supprime certaines liaisons quotidiennes, il n’est pas rare que je doive partir de chez moi vers 9h du mat pour arriver gare d’Austerlitz à 20h. 11h pour faire 400 bornes.

(Et il n’y a pas de car qui me conduise à la préfecture. Rien.)

Moi, j’ai choisi d’habiter ici. Mais pas les mômes de mon village. Ni leurs parents, pris dans l’engrenage du manque d’instruction et de l’isolement.
On ne demande pas une desserte TGV dans chaque village. Mais on est en colère.

In my late forties and I couldn’t tell you what year I graduated. I know I fucked up so bad freshman year I had to switch from an Ivy League to an okay school with zero credit to my name, and lost a whole year, I know I got to 90% done with three different minors I ended up hating and dropping. I know I’m successful and happy in my career.
It doesn’t matter a bit.
Also, you’re struggling BUT doing it. That’s way more impressive than cruising through college.

French here: it works. Miam.

Honestly, when I remember it, I can hear the fabric of reality tearing.

I was 16, on a road-trip in the US with my dad and my sister. We’re French. First time in the US. Get to NYC after a month. That was before Internet existed: we had booked a room in the Central Park YMCA by mail. Reception goes: “Yes, you’re in the book. LastName, 2 people, today through next Saturday.”
“Err, no, sorry, the dates are right but there are 3 of us.”
“Oh, we must have written it down wrong, no problem, we’ll give you a bigger room.” We get to our room. 5 minutes later there’s a knock on the door. My sister opens it. My dad’s jaw clatters on the lino floor. It was his estranged dad and very much estranged step-mother. He hadn’t been in touch for 20 years; I had met them once when I was 3; my sister, never. They had booked a room under the same LastName (duh), for the same 6 nights, in the same hostel, for their first visit to the US.
We did spend some time with them in NYC, but it didn’t lead to any happily-ever-after, family-healing breakthrough, because they were jerks or, to be honest, monsters.

J’attends de voir le dawa dans mon village de 170 habitants, avec que des femmes de 80 ans et plus et des agriculteurs hommes de 40 à 70. (Non, je ne sais pas où est passé le reste de la pyramide des âges. En ville et au cimetière, j’imagine.)

Same.

A few months ago our neighbor’s cat decided he likes us a bit better. He switches homes every 5 days or so, but visits several times a day when he’s at her place. For some reason he doesn’t trigger my partner’s allergy. He’s only moderately cuddly, but very smart and considerate. He naps on my bed but spends every night on Kid’s pillow and she’s over the moon. He waits for her on the porch after school.

Neighbor will be moving and she’s considering leaving him with us. We can only hope.

Because you’re a witch?

Quand j’étais gamine les témoins de Jéhovah sonnaient chez nous, c’est vrai que ça n’arrive plus…
Ma mère, bourgeoise de gauche intello, m’avait appris à gueuler, si c’était moi qui leur ouvrais la porte : “Maman, c’est encore ces idiots, je leur dis d’aller se faire foutre ?”

Glad that you asked! I weave rag rugs from dead clothing and sheets. It goes Sheet > Rag for spills > Cleaning rag > Teared into strips for weaving. When I have a full bag, I weave a new rug, having fun with the colors on hand. I get 60cm*1m absorbent rugs for the bathroom or the mudroom. Some are so cute my kid preempts them for her bedroom. They’re resistant, thick, easy to wash, easy to discard when they get ratty.

Mon neveu a appris vers 16 ans que la mémoire n’est un muscle qu’au sens figuré.

Never had your issue, but Dim is okay. Mid-range quality.

I’m speaking for all of us when I say: What?

I have one. It’s awesome. But don’t do it if you’re not absolutely sure you want it.

Which country?.

While I feel the pain of his wives, with their 8 or 9 (living!) children each.

We’re in France.

He got the maximum sentence.