There it is then. Things like this just don’t happen to me. Well, there was that one other time, but that was clearly not my fault. There was the move and stuff, and others were involved where they shouldn’t have been, and then there was…but best not to get off subject here.
I can deny it all I want close my eyes and pretend this isn’t happening, but when I open my eyes the proof is still sitting right there on the bed, lying there in sullen silence, wordless rebuke oozing from every fiber. ‘This is your fault, now fix it’ is insinuated in every second of silence.
You are supposed to be better than this, you with all your planning and scheduling, you with your lists and systems and anal attention to detail. How does something like this happen to you? How is it possible?
I have to look away from the bed and the silent recriminations and begin a mental systematic check of my policies and procedures. First I need to see if I can find a flaw in my foolproof and carefully manufactured system. If I find no flaw and all checks out well in that area, then I must begin a careful backtracking to see where I let the system down.
Muttering to myself I mentally move from step to step in my prudently constructed methods. Methods that though you might laugh have developed over years hands on experience. Years of tweaking and perfecting a system to make it time efficient and labor economical as well as showing the utmost care for individual needs; for their well being and proper handling.
And yet there is the dour proof on the bed, I’ve made a mistake; a misstep. How does something like this happen to me? Suddenly, like the quick and unexpected jolt of static shock you get when you reach for a doorknob, it comes to me. I bolt from the room where I can still feel the sting of criticism aimed at my retreating back and rush out to the garage. I pull open the drier door and there it is. Sitting on one of the drum paddles looking at me as if to say ‘what took you so long’. I pull it out apologizing and take it to the bed to reunite it with its lonely partner. All rebuke and recrimination forgotten in the joy of the reunion.
Another pair of socks happily reunited.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
In Other News…
'Permit de Conduire'
Last Thursday S and I finally went down to the Préfecture to trade in our American Drivers Licenses for French ones.
We gathered all of our paperwork that we were told we needed. Official translations of American licenses, completely filled out form, passports, cartes de séjour, 2 passport sized photo’s, proof of residency, American licenses and 46€ each. We also packed into S’s briefcase anything else that we anticipated could possibly be asked for, birth certificates, marriage certificate, birth certificate of first born, death certificates and urine samples.
I found the Préfecture web site so I could find out what time they opened. We decided that if we arrived when they first opened at 9:00 am, we would be likely to catch the public servant that dispenses these revered items, in a good mood and we could get in and out of there quickly and without also having to supply blood.
We arrived at the prefecture at 8:45 in the cold morning to find a small crowd of about 40 people already waiting outside the gate. We waited across the street with a handful of others, stomping and shuffling our feet to stay warm.
At 8:55 it was like there had been a silent alarm going of somewhere and the crowd surged forward, compressing in front of the gate that was not sliding open on its track. As more people arrived the jockeying for position grew increasingly hostile. At 9:02 the tension in the crowd was palpable. S and I had held our positions across the street for a while but slowly started to move forward.
“You know where you’re going in there?” S asked me while eyeing the crowd.
“Yes, just follow close. Some of these folks are likely here for car registrations and some are here for Visas, Cartes de séjour, work permits etc. Of course some are also here for drivers’ licenses so we’ll have to be quick”
Strategy at the ready, we waited.
At 9:06 as the gate started to trundle open on its track, those skinny folk near the front squeezed through and sprinted toward their destinations. By the time we finally made it through the torturously slow opening gate there were lines everywhere.
“Keep going, we’re straight down the hall and on the right” I shout to S over the babble of the crowd.
We pass the long line already forming at the Visa etc. area. As we pass the car registration room we can see that the chairs in that waiting room are already ¾ full. I start walking as fast as possible in full evasive maneuver mode. We reach our destination and take our numbers from the ‘take a number’ machine and enter the room to find two other people there besides us.
This is too easy.
When my number is called I go up with S following and I hand the already scowling civil servant my paperwork. I shoot a murderous look at the back of the man departing ahead of me for pissing her off already. She asks a couple of questions, stamps some paper, writes stuff down and hands me a temporary drivers license. S hands her his stuff, mumble mumble, staple staple, spindle spindle, stamp stamp and voila his temporary license.
This is too easy
She asks us for a contact phone number in case they have any questions. I give it to her. I ask her if the licenses will be mailed to us and she says no that we’ll have to come back and pick them up. When can we pick them up I ask. In TWO MONTHS!
I knew it was too easy!
Travel Arrangements
After two days (mine) and two long nights (La’s) we have finalized our travel arrangements for the summer. ‘Last Minute La’, with much help from her more alert half M, was able to finagle two trips to France on American Airline miles. These plans were discussed back and forth on the phone between the hours of 2 am and 5 am California time either because La is a night owl or because she suddenly woke from a dead sleep in panic over not yet having finalized flight schedules. Either way it still took two days of wrangling to get flights scheduled that would work for everyone. Of course I had to wait for their plans so I could then schedule my departure from here with them and then the rest of my trip so we could schedule J’s flight to SD and then also so S could schedule his trip in August so we could depart the US together then. Phew, what a mess. But it’s all under control now. We hope.
My twin and her hubby will arrive in Paris on May 20th where S and I will pick them up and spend two days with them, running from must see tourist sight to must see tourist sight. We will then head back to Toulouse where we will do tourist stuff and hope to hit Barcelona the following weekend.
We will depart together, La & M and myself (S is not coming), on June 2nd for San Diego. Our flight stops in NYC and then on to the coast. That is about 14 hours of flying time in one marathon day.
We will arrive exhausted and cranky in SD on the 2nd where J will be meeting us as she leaves Chicago on the same day for SD.
On the 3rd we begin and finish planning, shopping and organizing the rehearsal dinner for Ardo and KM. Said dinner will be held on the night of June 4th at La’s house.
We hope to catch a showing of the new Harry Potter on that night and still be bright eyed and bushy tailed for the wedding on Saturday. After which we will all collapse and sleep for a week.
I will hang with Z & La and their gaggle of kids and my brothers and parents too, for about 5 weeks. (At this point La and I will have been together for a little over 7 weeks and I hope we both will live through it.) I leave SD for home in IL on July 12th where I will hang with J and hopefully Ky and my Ya-ya’s until I leave with S on August 20th. S will arrive sometime around August 1st for a weeks worth of meetings in St. Louis, after which he hopes to spend 2 weeks of 'vacation' time on fixing a years worth of neglect at IL house.
That in a nutshell (nut being the operative word) is the plan for the summer.
File Under Strange But True
I stole the following story from Fletch and had to share it with you all. Who says they don’t make women like they used to.
Last Thursday S and I finally went down to the Préfecture to trade in our American Drivers Licenses for French ones.
We gathered all of our paperwork that we were told we needed. Official translations of American licenses, completely filled out form, passports, cartes de séjour, 2 passport sized photo’s, proof of residency, American licenses and 46€ each. We also packed into S’s briefcase anything else that we anticipated could possibly be asked for, birth certificates, marriage certificate, birth certificate of first born, death certificates and urine samples.
I found the Préfecture web site so I could find out what time they opened. We decided that if we arrived when they first opened at 9:00 am, we would be likely to catch the public servant that dispenses these revered items, in a good mood and we could get in and out of there quickly and without also having to supply blood.
We arrived at the prefecture at 8:45 in the cold morning to find a small crowd of about 40 people already waiting outside the gate. We waited across the street with a handful of others, stomping and shuffling our feet to stay warm.
At 8:55 it was like there had been a silent alarm going of somewhere and the crowd surged forward, compressing in front of the gate that was not sliding open on its track. As more people arrived the jockeying for position grew increasingly hostile. At 9:02 the tension in the crowd was palpable. S and I had held our positions across the street for a while but slowly started to move forward.
“You know where you’re going in there?” S asked me while eyeing the crowd.
“Yes, just follow close. Some of these folks are likely here for car registrations and some are here for Visas, Cartes de séjour, work permits etc. Of course some are also here for drivers’ licenses so we’ll have to be quick”
Strategy at the ready, we waited.
At 9:06 as the gate started to trundle open on its track, those skinny folk near the front squeezed through and sprinted toward their destinations. By the time we finally made it through the torturously slow opening gate there were lines everywhere.
“Keep going, we’re straight down the hall and on the right” I shout to S over the babble of the crowd.
We pass the long line already forming at the Visa etc. area. As we pass the car registration room we can see that the chairs in that waiting room are already ¾ full. I start walking as fast as possible in full evasive maneuver mode. We reach our destination and take our numbers from the ‘take a number’ machine and enter the room to find two other people there besides us.
This is too easy.
When my number is called I go up with S following and I hand the already scowling civil servant my paperwork. I shoot a murderous look at the back of the man departing ahead of me for pissing her off already. She asks a couple of questions, stamps some paper, writes stuff down and hands me a temporary drivers license. S hands her his stuff, mumble mumble, staple staple, spindle spindle, stamp stamp and voila his temporary license.
This is too easy
She asks us for a contact phone number in case they have any questions. I give it to her. I ask her if the licenses will be mailed to us and she says no that we’ll have to come back and pick them up. When can we pick them up I ask. In TWO MONTHS!
I knew it was too easy!
Travel Arrangements
After two days (mine) and two long nights (La’s) we have finalized our travel arrangements for the summer. ‘Last Minute La’, with much help from her more alert half M, was able to finagle two trips to France on American Airline miles. These plans were discussed back and forth on the phone between the hours of 2 am and 5 am California time either because La is a night owl or because she suddenly woke from a dead sleep in panic over not yet having finalized flight schedules. Either way it still took two days of wrangling to get flights scheduled that would work for everyone. Of course I had to wait for their plans so I could then schedule my departure from here with them and then the rest of my trip so we could schedule J’s flight to SD and then also so S could schedule his trip in August so we could depart the US together then. Phew, what a mess. But it’s all under control now. We hope.
My twin and her hubby will arrive in Paris on May 20th where S and I will pick them up and spend two days with them, running from must see tourist sight to must see tourist sight. We will then head back to Toulouse where we will do tourist stuff and hope to hit Barcelona the following weekend.
We will depart together, La & M and myself (S is not coming), on June 2nd for San Diego. Our flight stops in NYC and then on to the coast. That is about 14 hours of flying time in one marathon day.
We will arrive exhausted and cranky in SD on the 2nd where J will be meeting us as she leaves Chicago on the same day for SD.
On the 3rd we begin and finish planning, shopping and organizing the rehearsal dinner for Ardo and KM. Said dinner will be held on the night of June 4th at La’s house.
We hope to catch a showing of the new Harry Potter on that night and still be bright eyed and bushy tailed for the wedding on Saturday. After which we will all collapse and sleep for a week.
I will hang with Z & La and their gaggle of kids and my brothers and parents too, for about 5 weeks. (At this point La and I will have been together for a little over 7 weeks and I hope we both will live through it.) I leave SD for home in IL on July 12th where I will hang with J and hopefully Ky and my Ya-ya’s until I leave with S on August 20th. S will arrive sometime around August 1st for a weeks worth of meetings in St. Louis, after which he hopes to spend 2 weeks of 'vacation' time on fixing a years worth of neglect at IL house.
That in a nutshell (nut being the operative word) is the plan for the summer.
File Under Strange But True
I stole the following story from Fletch and had to share it with you all. Who says they don’t make women like they used to.
| In what is thought to be the first case of its kind,
a pregnant woman in Mexico performed a caesarean section on herself with a kitchen knife and gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The 40-year-old woman lived in a rural area without electricity, running water or sanitation, and it was an eight-hour drive from the nearest hospital. "She took three small glasses of hard liquor and, using a kitchen knife, sliced her abdomen in three attempts...and delivered a male infant that breathed immediately and cried," said Dr R.F. Valle, of the Dr Manuel Velasco Suarez Hospital in San Pablo, Mexico. The woman told one of her children to call a local nurse for help before losing consciousness. The nurse stitched the wound with a sewing needle and cotton thread, and the mother and baby were taken to the nearest hospital.
From Bizarre News |
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Rant or Oh For Pete's Sake What's Next?
Have been awake for some time this early morning, tossing and turning over THIS news story. It is mind bogglingly preposterous.
The ludicrousness of this news story just begs the question ‘What next’. I mean this is only the tip of the iceberg isn’t it. This opens a whole can of worms. So here we go, ‘what’s next’ as I see it.
Lets get all 50 states to go ahead and enact laws similar to the ‘Job Protection’ laws of South Dakota and Arkansas …no wait …let’s make it a federal law. Yeah a federal ‘Job Protection’ law with a ‘Conscience Clause’ that says that I cannot be fired from my job, no matter what my job is, for refusing to do a part of my job that I find to be against my religious/political views/beliefs. Ok, that works right, got everyone covered.
I mean let’s just get a little perspective here. What we’re talking about is this in a nutshell. I chose my job, which means I had a desire for this type of work or a ‘calling’ of sorts to this particular field. But now I find that I object to some parts of my job. I find some of my required job tasks to be objectionable. However, instead of getting a new or different job that is not so objectionable to me I would rather impose on and inconvenience you.
Sure so now not only can Christian pharmacists refuse to sell women their birth control pills but Catholic pharmacist can in addition, refuse to sell anyone condoms and spermicides. This would also cover the Christian Scientist pharmacist who instead of your prescription would hand you a copy of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. Heck, who’s to say your doctor would even agree to write you a prescription for birth control if it’s against his religious beliefs.
Or, what about the social worker who refuses services to a woman because she is poor and pregnant for the 6th time and he believes she should be using birth control?
Shall we take it one step further…oh lets, why not take a few more steps down this slippery slope.
This new law would also cover the young devout Muslim youth working at Wal-Mart who could then refuse to sell to women any objectionable clothing like shorts, pants and short skirts because it’s against his religion for her to wear them. Heck let’s make this young Muslim man a total fundamentalist and he can refuse service to all women not wearing burqas and know that his job is secure.
Of course this would also grant the same rights to the Mormon grocery store clerk who can refuse to ring up your alcohol and caffeine products because it’s against her religion for you to drink them. She’s just conscientiously objecting.
And how about the Christian public school science teacher who can now refuse to teach Darwin.
And if we’re going that far how about the staunch Democratic bank teller who turns her back on any all Republican clients? Why not?
I’ve got a million of them but I’ll stop now before I get completely out of hand.
Has America gone completely mad? This is the kind of thinking that makes it ok to sue McDonalds because they didn’t warn me that the coffee they were about to serve me would be HOT. This is the mentality of people who want to sue Burger King because the food they ordered, paid for and ate has made them FAT!
Who are we becoming? What gives me, you or anyone the right to impose our personal beliefs on everyone else?
Someone do me a favor, whoever is closest, reach over and bitch slap THESE people before the madness goes any further.
I am not anti-Christian or anti-Religious, I AM ANTI-STUPID!
That is all.
The ludicrousness of this news story just begs the question ‘What next’. I mean this is only the tip of the iceberg isn’t it. This opens a whole can of worms. So here we go, ‘what’s next’ as I see it.
Lets get all 50 states to go ahead and enact laws similar to the ‘Job Protection’ laws of South Dakota and Arkansas …no wait …let’s make it a federal law. Yeah a federal ‘Job Protection’ law with a ‘Conscience Clause’ that says that I cannot be fired from my job, no matter what my job is, for refusing to do a part of my job that I find to be against my religious/political views/beliefs. Ok, that works right, got everyone covered.
I mean let’s just get a little perspective here. What we’re talking about is this in a nutshell. I chose my job, which means I had a desire for this type of work or a ‘calling’ of sorts to this particular field. But now I find that I object to some parts of my job. I find some of my required job tasks to be objectionable. However, instead of getting a new or different job that is not so objectionable to me I would rather impose on and inconvenience you.
Sure so now not only can Christian pharmacists refuse to sell women their birth control pills but Catholic pharmacist can in addition, refuse to sell anyone condoms and spermicides. This would also cover the Christian Scientist pharmacist who instead of your prescription would hand you a copy of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. Heck, who’s to say your doctor would even agree to write you a prescription for birth control if it’s against his religious beliefs.
Or, what about the social worker who refuses services to a woman because she is poor and pregnant for the 6th time and he believes she should be using birth control?
Shall we take it one step further…oh lets, why not take a few more steps down this slippery slope.
This new law would also cover the young devout Muslim youth working at Wal-Mart who could then refuse to sell to women any objectionable clothing like shorts, pants and short skirts because it’s against his religion for her to wear them. Heck let’s make this young Muslim man a total fundamentalist and he can refuse service to all women not wearing burqas and know that his job is secure.
Of course this would also grant the same rights to the Mormon grocery store clerk who can refuse to ring up your alcohol and caffeine products because it’s against her religion for you to drink them. She’s just conscientiously objecting.
And how about the Christian public school science teacher who can now refuse to teach Darwin.
And if we’re going that far how about the staunch Democratic bank teller who turns her back on any all Republican clients? Why not?
I’ve got a million of them but I’ll stop now before I get completely out of hand.
Has America gone completely mad? This is the kind of thinking that makes it ok to sue McDonalds because they didn’t warn me that the coffee they were about to serve me would be HOT. This is the mentality of people who want to sue Burger King because the food they ordered, paid for and ate has made them FAT!
Who are we becoming? What gives me, you or anyone the right to impose our personal beliefs on everyone else?
Someone do me a favor, whoever is closest, reach over and bitch slap THESE people before the madness goes any further.
I am not anti-Christian or anti-Religious, I AM ANTI-STUPID!
That is all.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Thanks Mom!
Received care package from my Mom and Dad today. Tortillas, yummy! You'd be surprised at the things you miss. Finally found pinto beans, well, in Spain, but still they're accessible. But good corn tortillas are impossible. If you go to the foreign food section in any of the local Hyper-marches their idea of Mexican food is shelves full of Old El Paso products (no beans though). Let me just say, YUCK! So yeah, tortillas arrived today in time for perhaps some chicken fajitas? Hmm...dinner time approaches. Thanks mom!
P.S.
Good for those Inglewood, CA folks! It can be done!
And on the 'This is just my opinion but give me a break' front - What next?
And on the 'This is just my opinion but give me a break' front - What next?
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
The Thing Is…
Don’t you love the feeling of riding a bike. The wind in your hair the sense of speed, the landscape flying by. Heck in the time it took me to walk from one bridge to the next I could ride the distance 3 times. The thing is that yesterday when I went riding (for the third day in a row [go me!]) I was finally starting to feel comfortable with being on a bike again and was just zipping circles around S who was walking because he doesn’t have a bike. Well, then I had to share the bike with him and walk for a bit. Let me just say right now that walking lacks a certain grace and…well speed…after you’ve been riding. I mean, I’m walking as fast as I can and the trees just aren’t zipping past like they should be. It was a little disorienting at first to have my feet back on the ground. I’m just saying, it’s just not the same.
…………………………………….
Had to go into town today to get my ATM card fixed. You see, when you are making a debit purchase (everyone uses their debit card here, I rarely see anyone write checks) and you are required to enter your PIN, and you enter it wrong three times in a row, your debit card is then ‘blocked’. This means it cannot be used anymore until you contact the bank. This is for your protection but that makes it no less annoying. So learn from my mistake, the lessons here would be to a) remember your PIN correctly and b) if you enter it wrong twice, pull your card out of the machine and pay another way.
Anyway, I think I knew better than to get it wrong three times in a row, but I was sure I was typing in the correct code (I am always right!). Well I was apparently slightly confused, I was typing in my PIN for my US ATM card. Ooops. So today I had to go to my local bank branch and tell the boy behind the counter that ‘Mon Carte Bleu n’ marche plus, j'ai fait le code personnel faux trois fois.’ The boy then informed me that he could not help me, that I would need to go to the main branch down town where they have a machine that could fix my card. Of course there couldn’t just be an easy fix could there, oh no, not in the life of Missy.
So I went back home and I got on-line (god bless the internet) and was in the process of getting a map from Mappy when Mags called and asked me to come have a salad with her. (She’s on a diet) We ate, we chatted, she quizzed me on what I would say in French at the bank and we had a pretty good time. She tried to convince me not to drive into town but to take the bus, you know, public transportation, and I told her she was dead crazy. (Control freaks DO NOT ride the bus!) She did provide me with an important tidbit of info though. The queen (of England) will be in town tomorrow so I needed to take care of stuff today to avoid a repeat of the Arial Sharon incident. No putting it off, into town I went.
Of course as I drive into town it’s not a real good omen to see signs that say ‘Evitez Blvd. de Strasbourg. Travaux.’ especially when Boulevard de Strasbourg is where I was planning on parking. You see, most of downtown Toulouse is a giant construction area, they are adding to the metro lines and there are giant cranes, cavernous holes, roads closed and detours all over town. The best part is that when you finally get the hang of one set of detours and road closings, the construction moves on and they re-configure the roadways again. Keeps you on your toes but it really sucks when you’re trying to get some place quickly. I drove around for about an hour in the, on again, off again, rain until I found a place to park, and not just any place to park mind, but a miraculous place one block from the bank. That never happens; I usually have to walk for blocks and blocks. Thank you to whomever the patron saint of parkers is.
I take a brief walk and go into the bank and at the ‘accueille’, the reception desk, I explain my problem to the cheery young woman and ‘voila’ she has me fixed up in no time and I’m on my way.
Woo and Hoo, another positive France experience.
…………………………………….
Had to go into town today to get my ATM card fixed. You see, when you are making a debit purchase (everyone uses their debit card here, I rarely see anyone write checks) and you are required to enter your PIN, and you enter it wrong three times in a row, your debit card is then ‘blocked’. This means it cannot be used anymore until you contact the bank. This is for your protection but that makes it no less annoying. So learn from my mistake, the lessons here would be to a) remember your PIN correctly and b) if you enter it wrong twice, pull your card out of the machine and pay another way.
Anyway, I think I knew better than to get it wrong three times in a row, but I was sure I was typing in the correct code (I am always right!). Well I was apparently slightly confused, I was typing in my PIN for my US ATM card. Ooops. So today I had to go to my local bank branch and tell the boy behind the counter that ‘Mon Carte Bleu n’ marche plus, j'ai fait le code personnel faux trois fois.’ The boy then informed me that he could not help me, that I would need to go to the main branch down town where they have a machine that could fix my card. Of course there couldn’t just be an easy fix could there, oh no, not in the life of Missy.
So I went back home and I got on-line (god bless the internet) and was in the process of getting a map from Mappy when Mags called and asked me to come have a salad with her. (She’s on a diet) We ate, we chatted, she quizzed me on what I would say in French at the bank and we had a pretty good time. She tried to convince me not to drive into town but to take the bus, you know, public transportation, and I told her she was dead crazy. (Control freaks DO NOT ride the bus!) She did provide me with an important tidbit of info though. The queen (of England) will be in town tomorrow so I needed to take care of stuff today to avoid a repeat of the Arial Sharon incident. No putting it off, into town I went.
Of course as I drive into town it’s not a real good omen to see signs that say ‘Evitez Blvd. de Strasbourg. Travaux.’ especially when Boulevard de Strasbourg is where I was planning on parking. You see, most of downtown Toulouse is a giant construction area, they are adding to the metro lines and there are giant cranes, cavernous holes, roads closed and detours all over town. The best part is that when you finally get the hang of one set of detours and road closings, the construction moves on and they re-configure the roadways again. Keeps you on your toes but it really sucks when you’re trying to get some place quickly. I drove around for about an hour in the, on again, off again, rain until I found a place to park, and not just any place to park mind, but a miraculous place one block from the bank. That never happens; I usually have to walk for blocks and blocks. Thank you to whomever the patron saint of parkers is.
I take a brief walk and go into the bank and at the ‘accueille’, the reception desk, I explain my problem to the cheery young woman and ‘voila’ she has me fixed up in no time and I’m on my way.
Woo and Hoo, another positive France experience.
Saturday, April 03, 2004
Excercise is Good For You!(?)
Went over to the Canal du Midi
to ride and walk today. The canal runs through Castanet. It is a man made waterway that spans the length of southern France. It starts at the Atlantic and comes out at the Mediterranean. The cool thing is that most if not all the length of the canal is bordered on one or both sides by paved paths. The paths accommodate skaters, cyclists, joggers and walkers. In a few spot there are two paths running sided by side; a gravel path for slow foot traffic and a paved path for the wheelers. These bike paths are bordered by huge sycamore trees on both sides that offer shade in the summer and great fall color too. If you click on the link above it'll take you to a site that has some history about the canal also other links to places where you can rent a barge and travel the river. S and I have discussed the possibility of doing that. It sounds very fun and quite romantic.
This is the first time I’ve been on the old Bianchi in well let’s just say a long time. If I were to actually quantify how long it’s been Rich is likely to slap me upside the head the next time he sees me.
The ride was great, the path is smooth and wide enough to pass people and it’s pretty level only the tiniest bit of a grade in spots, usually near the locks. I really enjoyed how far you can go in so much less time than walking. But one mile into my great ride and my thighs started to kick up such a fuss I had to stop. I had to turn around and head back to S, who was walking the route.
‘Time to go home I said’. S had not walked far so he took a turn on the bike. It was hard not to laugh though as he pedaled away. He looked like a grown up trying to ride a tricycle. His long legs on my little bike, I would have laughed if I wasn’t in so much pain. When he came back I took another short ride this time the left thigh piped down but the right thigh was having none of it, it started to shake. Is it possible that I could be so out of shape. I walk. But I guess the riding uses muscles that haven’t been used in quite some time.
When we got home though, the rest of me was screaming for a real workout. My thigh, however, was threatening to strike if I pushed it one step further. I couldn’t just sit though because we all know that that would have been worse. So S and I went for a brief one mile walk through town, with a brief stop at my favorite bakery. My right thigh and butt cheek screamed the whole way and not even promises of buttery croissants would shut them up. Is it possible that I could possibly be in that bad of shape?
Now I’m going to have to take the bike out again tomorrow just to show my thighs and butt who's the boss. Assuming of course that I can get out of bed tomorrow, I fear they may have a meeting with other parts while I sleep and try to show me who's boss
Alright then, on the book front. I have just finished reading:
City of the Beasts by Isabel Allende. She is one of my favorite authors and she has written this book for young people. It’s about a young man and his coming of age during a dangerous and magical voyage into the Amazon with his paternal grandmother. It offers a picture of the simplicity of life of the natives. It gives an insight into how cultures can collide and how ancient cultures can be devastated by greed and mere curiosity. I really enjoyed it and Allende has a real knack for character development. Yeah, I know, yet another kids book. But I think you’ll like it. Allende is Chilean and has written many fabulous books. I loved The House of Spirits and if you get a chance and are able, read it in Spanish. The language is beautiful and you get a sense of how sometimes some nuances of meaning do not translate well.
That’s all for today. You'll notice that my page now has some blatant Amazon.com plugs. That’s where I get all my books, DVD’s and CD’s and I recently received an e-mail from them about this new program where I can get credit for stuff you buy from them through links on my page. So you know, I figured why not. There's absolutely no pressure for you all and a shameless plug for them. However, if you find that it’s completely offensive, let me know and I’ll quit putting the advertising links in my posts.
This is the first time I’ve been on the old Bianchi in well let’s just say a long time. If I were to actually quantify how long it’s been Rich is likely to slap me upside the head the next time he sees me.
The ride was great, the path is smooth and wide enough to pass people and it’s pretty level only the tiniest bit of a grade in spots, usually near the locks. I really enjoyed how far you can go in so much less time than walking. But one mile into my great ride and my thighs started to kick up such a fuss I had to stop. I had to turn around and head back to S, who was walking the route.
‘Time to go home I said’. S had not walked far so he took a turn on the bike. It was hard not to laugh though as he pedaled away. He looked like a grown up trying to ride a tricycle. His long legs on my little bike, I would have laughed if I wasn’t in so much pain. When he came back I took another short ride this time the left thigh piped down but the right thigh was having none of it, it started to shake. Is it possible that I could be so out of shape. I walk. But I guess the riding uses muscles that haven’t been used in quite some time.
When we got home though, the rest of me was screaming for a real workout. My thigh, however, was threatening to strike if I pushed it one step further. I couldn’t just sit though because we all know that that would have been worse. So S and I went for a brief one mile walk through town, with a brief stop at my favorite bakery. My right thigh and butt cheek screamed the whole way and not even promises of buttery croissants would shut them up. Is it possible that I could possibly be in that bad of shape?
Now I’m going to have to take the bike out again tomorrow just to show my thighs and butt who's the boss. Assuming of course that I can get out of bed tomorrow, I fear they may have a meeting with other parts while I sleep and try to show me who's boss
Alright then, on the book front. I have just finished reading:
City of the Beasts by Isabel Allende. She is one of my favorite authors and she has written this book for young people. It’s about a young man and his coming of age during a dangerous and magical voyage into the Amazon with his paternal grandmother. It offers a picture of the simplicity of life of the natives. It gives an insight into how cultures can collide and how ancient cultures can be devastated by greed and mere curiosity. I really enjoyed it and Allende has a real knack for character development. Yeah, I know, yet another kids book. But I think you’ll like it. Allende is Chilean and has written many fabulous books. I loved The House of Spirits and if you get a chance and are able, read it in Spanish. The language is beautiful and you get a sense of how sometimes some nuances of meaning do not translate well.
That’s all for today. You'll notice that my page now has some blatant Amazon.com plugs. That’s where I get all my books, DVD’s and CD’s and I recently received an e-mail from them about this new program where I can get credit for stuff you buy from them through links on my page. So you know, I figured why not. There's absolutely no pressure for you all and a shameless plug for them. However, if you find that it’s completely offensive, let me know and I’ll quit putting the advertising links in my posts.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Stuff
This is going to be one of those posts. You know those introspective, meandering, chatty posts. So just change the channel…um page… if this will bother you or you’ve lost interest already.
I’m baking scones and sipping wine. In the US the garbage (recycling) man would have serious concerns about us based on the number of wine bottles that go to the curb each week. But, no worries, just being French and I hope lowering my already pretty low cholesterol. Where was I? Oh yeah, baking and drinking.
Spring has arrived and flowers and trees are blooming. Today the temperature topped nearly 64° and I wore a linen skirt and a long sleeve T while out doing the grocery shopping. The French are mostly still wearing coats and some even down, craziness I tell you. They still look at me funny but I’ve adopted a ‘screw em if they can’t take a joke’ attitude. I tried to look like them and talk like them and they don’t seem to appreciate it so I don’t care anymore, let them stare. Apparently it’s a bit early for white a T and white ‘skippies’ but I don’t care, to my body it’s spring.
Speaking of spring this is the current view from my bedroom window:
It’s official though that the French hate me. Today in the grocery store a small child smacked me with a stick he was carrying. Now why the child was wondering around the grocery store with a long tree branch in his hand I don’t know, perhaps testing his boundaries. So as I walked down the isle in the opposite direction he flicked me with his weapon. Of course I yelped when he caned me, drawing the attention of his mother. Mom had the decency to be embarrassed by this behavior and proceeded to apologize to me, seize the stick and reprimand the 3 year old who then shot me a murderous look. I almost laughed as I thought, ‘Damn another Frenchman that hates me now’.
Though today I had the second positive experience, since I’ve been here, at the local Mairie. I’ve been there at least a dozen unhappy times over the past few months and have finally figured out that Mdm. Schmitt (the nice one) works on Tuesday’s and Thursdays only. So now I go conduct my business on those days and it’s great to deal with someone sympathetic and understanding and who apparently doesn’t resent me like the others do. (For reasons I don’t understand)
So mixed reviews on the French front today.
A package arrived from J & R today, (S’s parents) they sent Ranch Dressing and books. S did a happy dance (mentally). S loves Ranch dressing for dipping his veggies in (yeah, I know weird…he likes veggies) and I only brought two bottles with. He’s been deprived poor guy since he ran out about a month or more ago. Only problem is that it’s made with milk and MAYO. I’ll have to share my carefully horded mayo to make dressing. I think the mayo will hold out a few months until I go back to the US and stockpile more though, so we’re ok. Thanks J & R for the dressing, I thank you, S thanks you and his vegetables thank you.
Have started a collection of French music. People suggest stuff they think I’ll like and I go buy it. Most of the artists and music are hmm…older…not current…. Like one album is sort of R&B the artist is Francis Cabrel and I love the music two songs in particular that I’ve learned the words too are Samedi Soir Sur La Terre (Saturday night on earth) and Je t’Aimais, Je t’Aime, Je t’Amerai (I loved you, I love you, I’ll love you). I also bought a good Jazz album by …damn it’s in S’s car and I don’t remember the guys name. Anyway, it’s got some great songs on it. I also bought some Patrick Bruel who is rather Frank Sinatra-ish and I really like it. I think I mostly have taken to these guys because their songs are slow enough to hear and understand the lyrics.
Because I sit in my little office for a good portion of my day, reading or writing (today writing this blog while simultaneously IMing with Ky [We've solved most of the world problems today, so if you have an issue let me know, we're on a roll]) or whatever, I’ve surrounded myself with pictures of friends and family in here. They’re tacked up on the bulletin board, in frames around the room and in those little paper-weight-photo-clippy-things.
Here are the pictures that I really look to when I need a smile though, these are the ones that really cheer me up:
That is all.
I’m baking scones and sipping wine. In the US the garbage (recycling) man would have serious concerns about us based on the number of wine bottles that go to the curb each week. But, no worries, just being French and I hope lowering my already pretty low cholesterol. Where was I? Oh yeah, baking and drinking.
Spring has arrived and flowers and trees are blooming. Today the temperature topped nearly 64° and I wore a linen skirt and a long sleeve T while out doing the grocery shopping. The French are mostly still wearing coats and some even down, craziness I tell you. They still look at me funny but I’ve adopted a ‘screw em if they can’t take a joke’ attitude. I tried to look like them and talk like them and they don’t seem to appreciate it so I don’t care anymore, let them stare. Apparently it’s a bit early for white a T and white ‘skippies’ but I don’t care, to my body it’s spring.
Speaking of spring this is the current view from my bedroom window:
 |
|
The cherry trees are finally getting started.
|
It’s official though that the French hate me. Today in the grocery store a small child smacked me with a stick he was carrying. Now why the child was wondering around the grocery store with a long tree branch in his hand I don’t know, perhaps testing his boundaries. So as I walked down the isle in the opposite direction he flicked me with his weapon. Of course I yelped when he caned me, drawing the attention of his mother. Mom had the decency to be embarrassed by this behavior and proceeded to apologize to me, seize the stick and reprimand the 3 year old who then shot me a murderous look. I almost laughed as I thought, ‘Damn another Frenchman that hates me now’.
Though today I had the second positive experience, since I’ve been here, at the local Mairie. I’ve been there at least a dozen unhappy times over the past few months and have finally figured out that Mdm. Schmitt (the nice one) works on Tuesday’s and Thursdays only. So now I go conduct my business on those days and it’s great to deal with someone sympathetic and understanding and who apparently doesn’t resent me like the others do. (For reasons I don’t understand)
So mixed reviews on the French front today.
A package arrived from J & R today, (S’s parents) they sent Ranch Dressing and books. S did a happy dance (mentally). S loves Ranch dressing for dipping his veggies in (yeah, I know weird…he likes veggies) and I only brought two bottles with. He’s been deprived poor guy since he ran out about a month or more ago. Only problem is that it’s made with milk and MAYO. I’ll have to share my carefully horded mayo to make dressing. I think the mayo will hold out a few months until I go back to the US and stockpile more though, so we’re ok. Thanks J & R for the dressing, I thank you, S thanks you and his vegetables thank you.
Have started a collection of French music. People suggest stuff they think I’ll like and I go buy it. Most of the artists and music are hmm…older…not current…. Like one album is sort of R&B the artist is Francis Cabrel and I love the music two songs in particular that I’ve learned the words too are Samedi Soir Sur La Terre (Saturday night on earth) and Je t’Aimais, Je t’Aime, Je t’Amerai (I loved you, I love you, I’ll love you). I also bought a good Jazz album by …damn it’s in S’s car and I don’t remember the guys name. Anyway, it’s got some great songs on it. I also bought some Patrick Bruel who is rather Frank Sinatra-ish and I really like it. I think I mostly have taken to these guys because their songs are slow enough to hear and understand the lyrics.
Because I sit in my little office for a good portion of my day, reading or writing (today writing this blog while simultaneously IMing with Ky [We've solved most of the world problems today, so if you have an issue let me know, we're on a roll]) or whatever, I’ve surrounded myself with pictures of friends and family in here. They’re tacked up on the bulletin board, in frames around the room and in those little paper-weight-photo-clippy-things.
Here are the pictures that I really look to when I need a smile though, these are the ones that really cheer me up:
 |
| Dani |
 |
| Jess and
Lauren |
 |
| Nick,
Lauren and Johnathon |
 |
| Michael |
 |
| Nick |
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