Now, for a few stories of this past week...
We have discovered this Greek guy in this sketchy alley who has the best food of my life. 
Seriously. I get this grilled sandwish with tzatziki sauce and mashed up eggplant and tomatoes and lettuce and it's CHEAP. 2.50 euros, sounds good to me! (Most dinners here where you would sit down are at least 10 euros, it seems). We made this discovery, George, Lindsey and I, when wandering around looking for cheap food (something we do often, as everything tends to be expensive here). He just yelled at us to come inside of his tackily decorated (seriously, there is metallic wrapping paper hung up all over the place and random postcards taped up everywhere), tiny place and eat. So we did. He asked where we were from, and we told him. Except I apparently said 'Colorado' incorrectly or too mumbly or something, so he taught me to do it better and made me repeat him until he was satisfied. And then Lindsey was nervous to say New Jersey, but managed to get it out without him caring too much. George and Lindsey ordered and then I was having the hardest time deciding, and he was just yelling out "Number four!! Numéro quatre!" while he made theirs, which was what I ended up getting, sans meat style. The entire time, he was yelling out random phrases in English and sometimes Spanish. George asked him what his name was, and he said, "Greek boy!" (in English), which is especially neat because he's probably in his 50s. There wasn't any seating inside, but there were white, plastic lawn chairs in the alley, which is where we sat, facing into his shop. And he'd continue to yell things as we sat and ate. And then yell at people who passed by. And when we left, we got a lot of, "Hasta la vista"ing. Haha. My absolutely favorite.
Patricia (host mother), my other favorite, is aware of Desperate Housewives and watches it (they have pretty much every American show dubbed into French... watched three episodes of the Simpsons today, which was just absolutely bizarre). Anyway, she often refers to herself as a desperate housewife and was gone this weekend, so told me I got to take over for her, since I'll be the only female here. She says men just don't get it and when Alain (her husband) has to occasionally take the boys to football (soccer, really) or horseback riding or whatever else, he gets a bit upset, even though she does it constantly, plus studies, plus works, plus cooks and cleans and etc. But her sister comes over to clean her house every Tuesday and do laundry and whatnot. I don't have class on Tuesday, so I met her this week (which Patricia was a bit worried about, as she warned me beforehand that she tears through the house with cleaning equipment). She was hilarious though and cleans Patricia's house because it helps her lose weight, she says.
Okay, next story... the new fun game is to have
David (14 year old) speak English at dinner and I answer in French. Patricia loves it. And some stuff translates so awkwardly-- they say 'I have hunger' and not, 'I am hungry', for example. So David sometimes says it the wrong way and I am in charge of correcting him and then responding. And Hugo has taken to shouting, 'I'm a big dog!' at the dinner table. And last night, David asked Hugo 'Do you want me to kill you?' Not sure what they're learning in school. And Hugo (9 years old) takes Chinese. The other night he was speaking in Chinese (during which he looks very focused and concerned) and I had no idea what was going on. Everyone else apparently knows his phrases, and not me, so I got to guess the meaning. The entertainment never ends.
I was worried about being a vegetarian in France, but have come to realize it's not a big deal, at least not in Aix. They sell soy milk, tofu, and sorts of other soy products and things without meat or cheese. I bought some tofu at the store, and Patricia thinks the name is hilarious because it's spelled 'tofou' and 'fou' in français means crazy and 'tu' (same sound as 'to') means you. So she takes the word to mean that I'm crazy, as it clearly refers to me. And I had to cook it, which went, um, okay. She liked it and then decided it was bland (because it was just plain stuff and I cooked it and suck, really... didn't know what I had to work with, so just put some garlic on it). I've since purchased only pre-seasoned tofu and other such products. And at dinner, she is continuing to make me eat too much. She asks what I have for lunch all the time, which is usually nothing big... just like a crêpe with Nutella or a crossaint. She thinks I may die. And then Alain was in charge of meals this weekend (cause Patricia is off...somewhere) and was all sorts of stressed out because he is into meat and terrified of my diet. It's quite funny.