Fourths

Stop me if you've read this one before. It too sounds vaguely familiar. Sorry Jess, I know you read this one before and were deeply insulted. On the bright side, you proved to us that you were definately up to the challenge.

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France - posted May 25,2003

I was outside today pseudo-gardening. Just puttering around, pulling a weed here and there, watering this and that, moving, dividing. I say pseudo-gardening because I was really too distracted to stick with any one project long term. In addition to my A.D.D. I just kept thinking that there is nothing I can do, that two (or three) years of neglect aren’t going to undo anyway.

I set up the oscillating sprinkler over the main ‘mound’, as we refer to the big bed in the middle of the front yard, we’ve had plenty of rain but it was calm enough out that the water wouldn’t get blown all over so I thought I’d just take advantage and make sure everything is good and watered.

My giant hosta is three years old and its leaves are finally beginning to live up to expectations. The delphinium is gigantic too. The oriental poppies are in full bloom, the reds almost done, the pinks and whites just starting. Everything is doing gloriously this spring; the garden is having a rare year.

My A.D.D. was brought on by an on-line session today ‘googling’ France. I found an expatriate web site that had loads of information on moving to and living there. Unfortunately, the more I read the more stressed I became. So many things to do and remember so many things will be different. I have lists all over the house. “Furniture Measurements”, “Questions for Scott” (our attorney), “Questions for their attorney” (tax and immigration attorneys hired by the company), “Questions for the HR Orientation Person”, “What to take – air shipment”, “What to take – sea shipment”, “People to call”, “Services to Cancel”…Then on line looking for apartment/house rentals, although the company promises help with this, we only get one week (June 7 – 14) to look for houses. I want a head start, one week is not nearly enough time and we have to have a place set before the movers arrive so I know what we can take. All info says to be prepared for size shock; accommodations in France are smaller. Houses are not so small but, only in suburbs. Apartments in town are small and I would rather be suburban but there will be a car issue. I won’t have one, or at least not right away. The expat. page also has advice on shopping, services and language, all of it useful but so overwhelming.

Have begun packing and sorting things like photo albums I’ll take, Christmas ornaments (must remember to add Christmas tree stand to “Things to Take List” as expat. page says that although trees are easy to find, stands are not.)(??) Trying to find a converter/surge protector strip for computer peripherals, but Radio Shack says no such animal. Have to purchase individual converters for Printer, Scanner, etc. but how will I plug everything in that I need? Have to e-mail peripherals companies and question individually to see if any special things I should know…The more I think the longer the lists the more stressed I get. What kind of trouble am I going to have getting hooked to the internet? Am I going to have to go back to PHONE LINES? Do they have DSL or cable?

J will be staying here, but will visit often. She and our other 'adopted' daughters are already plotting the complete take-over and makeover of our house. J is looking forward to some independence and responsibility and some partying too no doubt (but we really don't want to know about that). She'll be starting her junior year of college in the fall. The neighbors have been alerted and she has a long list of emergency contact people for every conceivable eventuality and feels prepared to be an adult. Continuing my penchant for lists I've spent the last couple of months creating a "Who You Gonna Call" list, a list so detailed and extensive that it is quickly becoming a "Who You Gonna Call" notebook.

I have also spent the last few months telling Jess the truth about the dishwasher, grocery and toilet paper fairies. Two years ago when we finally broke the news to her about the 'new school clothes' fairy, she took it well and began an ambitious project to purchase her own new school clothes. I hope that the new revelations spark an equal response and I have great confidence in my beautiful daughter to overcome these blows and rise to the occasion. We've also begun responding to every request for assistance with "Mom and Dad live in France, they can't help you..." so far it's going well.

Haven’t really slept in days and the move is still at least seven weeks away (hoping for 9). Keep waking up at 3:00 a.m. (the witching hour) with stuff just racing through my head. I’d get up and write it all down but I’d be up all night making lists. So instead I just lay there awake, tossing and turning, at this rate…wait a minute, bright side looming... MAYBE I’LL LOSE WEIGHT!

Looking outside to see how the ‘mound’ watering is going and a wind seems to have come up. There is water all over the neighbors drive way. This doesn’t usually happen, this wind is blowing in from an unusual direction though; it seems to be coming from the east? Unusual. Hmm…must be the wind of change.

A Third Course

This blog post seems familiar to me. I wonder if I didn't share it before, but the thought bears repeating.

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Ever - Posted May 14, 2003

Have to teach CPR tonight and I really don't want to. I hate doing it so much. On the bright side this will be the last time I ever have to teach it. Well let's not say ever, let's say for a long time.

This brings me to other recent happenings.

I heard someone say across the table from me during yesterday's meeting that she danced with her father at a wedding. He told her it was the first time he had danced in 25 years. This brought to mind the whole thing of 'last' anything. Why can't someone tell us at every point "This is the last time you'll ever (fill in activity)". Would I have said something different besides "See Ya" if I had known we would never see Joe again after sixth period math 22 years ago? What if the last time I roller-skated back in high school is the last time I'll ever do that. Would I have enjoyed it more/savored it more if I'd known? Or even if I knew I only have 3 more times to do... would I make an effort to mark the moments. On my wall in my office I have a bulletin board filled with a collage of photographs of family, friends and memorabilia. It's there to remind me of happy times. There's a photo there of me holding an adorable baby named Olivia at a recent work related event. The baby was so sweet and I fell in love. Is that the one and last time I'll ever see her?

I recently heard of the death of a pre-school student of mine from 11 years ago. Her name was Sarah. I remember Sarah as a round faced, golden haired little imp. Sarah was a twin and she and her brother Daniel were favorites of mine from the moment I saw them. They were adorable children even when they were up to no good. Their home lives were troubled and I became an advocate for these children (and later for their little brother David) in a family situation that was sometimes frightening and endlessly transitional. I watched that little girl go from stubborn and recalcitrant to teachable and compliant.

I have a memory of this little girl sneaking out to the courtyard of the school to pick sweet peas one afternoon. I was beside myself when I couldn't find her. I had searched in all the usual places and was about to sound the alarm when I saw her out the window. I went out and dragged her inside, scolding her the whole way for scaring the life out of me. As I stopped to catch my breath and continue my tirade she brought those flowers out from behind her back and said 'for you'. Anyone who knows me would know that of course I cried.

I taught her for three years from when she started in diapers at age 2 until she 'graduated' to kindergarten. I watched her learn to love learning. I taught her to read and tie her shoes. I taught her to identify the seven continents and how to add. I knew that I could always find her in the 'Practical Life' area fixing herself a little snack of peanut butter on crackers. I knew that her favorite things to show and tell were things she found on the ground. I knew that she loved art especially anything that involved paint.

I loved that little girl and that is the person I lost two weeks ago; not the teenager who had just gotten her drivers license the day before her death. I lost Sarah and no one told me that that day in June after the 'goodbye' swim party 11 years ago was the last time that I would ever see Sarah. I moved across the country a few days later.

The children and staff of the Montessori school made me a quilt as a going away gift. Each child had decorated a square with fabric paint. I have Sarah's handprint on my bed.

Danger Will Robinson, Danger!

Aidric is 3 in four days and he refuses to be potty trained. Is there an obedience school or something I can send him to for that? Is there a Potty Training boarding school, cause I would do that. Can I hire a nanny for a few months just to get him through this process without me actually having to be involved.

I've never potty trained a kid before. No really, I think Jessica potty trained herself. She had to have done it herself because I don't remember anything about it! (I'm a grandmother remember)(Ooh, I just remembered, Jess has been asking what I want Cormac to call me and I think I want 'Grand mama' but he has to say it with an English accent.)

One day I just stopped buying diapers because we seemed to have a huge surplus and then I realized it was because Jess wasn't using them anymore. She found the underpants I'd put in her drawer and she just started using them instead.

Ginkgo Biloba tablets, right, they're on my list...

Cats are smarter than dogsYou can't get eight cats to pull a sled through snow.

See, you didn't believe me did you? Yes, this is a Christmas decoration, I know this because the pig is wearing a Santa hat. Any ideas?

A Second Taste

Mr. Crumb's was a fabulous bake shop near the NIU campus. They made the best oatmeal raisin cookies and oh so much more. I always loved their sandwiches too, but there was usually only one or two people working behind the counter and sandwiches, as you'll see, took a while. Sadly Mr. Crumb's closed its doors a few years ago, and those cookie recipes are gone forever.

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Ahhh, Lunch - Posted May. 9, 2003

Went to Mr. Crumb’s today for lunch where a young man we'll call 'flirty college boy' or FCB for short, was behind the counter. FCB was a true sandwich artist. You'll see.

“I’d like a turkey sandwich on a croissant with honey mustard, muenster, lettuce and tomato.”

“Ok” he says smiling sweetly and heads over to the sandwich counter (his palette). Once there and in the right frame of mind he carefully chooses a croissant from a bin and proceeds to, very meticulously butterfly it.

“Did you want honey mustard or hot and sweet mustard? Not that you need any more sweetness.” He delivers smoothly.

(Cute, very charming, but I'm pretty sure I said honey mustard.) “Honey.”

“Yes dear?” he replies, now grinning like an idiot. Man, I walked right into that one didn't I.

Return my best un-amused un-smile.

“Would you like mayo too?” he asks, ‘mayo’ bottle poised over my not- so-soon-to-be sandwich

Freeze frame a second...Ok, I know some of you have heard this rant before but, why oh why is it that some people do not know the difference between Mayonnaise and Salad Dressing (a.k.a. Sandwich Spread, a.k.a. Miracle Whip)? Can they not taste the difference? Once when ordering a sandwich here at Mr. Crumb’s I was asked if I wanted Mayo on my sandwich. I asked the young woman if it was REAL MAYONNAISE or some sort of sandwich spread wanna-be. She said, “Oh, no it’s real”. I said ok. Well, you know, of course it was Miracle Whip, rendering the sandwich ruined and completely inedible. Now back to our show...

“NO” I say sharply to stop him from squeezing the poison onto my sandwich.

“Sorry” he mumbles. And I then, by way of apology, have to launch into the speech. I have to once again educate another person on the difference between…

Then comes the lettuce. Each leaf selected, inspected and judged. Those that pass inspection are carefully and almost lovingly placed on the prepared bread in an intricate pattern designed to render full coverage of total sandwich surface. Those leaves not passing the rigorous inspection process are ruthlessly crumpled and tossed in the waste bin. I wish I could more articulately explain the time consuming process this actually was, but that would make this not so interesting story that much longer and less interesting.

“What else did you want?”

“Muenster.”

Cheese process less lengthy but since cheese is cut square and croissant is, well, croissant shaped; there was a careful bending/breaking/shaping process for each of three carefully placed slices.

Knowing what’s coming I say “Tomato”.

Two slices carefully placed. Now, I begin to rethink my beverage. Was going to order a large breve latte with a double shot of vanilla to take back to my frigid office. However, my mind reels at the thought of spending another 10 minutes waiting for that! Not to mention having to watch the slow arduous process this would no doubt be. (Insert mental screaming and incoherent babbling here.)

“Chips or pickle?”

“Chips.”

“Beverage”

“Large Coke”

“Anything else for you today” he smiles his best charming smile.

(Aaahhhh, god no, nothing else, please, I only get an hour for lunch!!)

“That’s it thanks” I smile at him praying he can add and make change.

Vintage Stuff

You all don't know this, but I used to keep a blog before I moved to France. Yes, I know, how could I not share this information with you before. Well, mostly because it was a therapeutic writing exercise for me and some of the entries are very private. However, I recently received an e-mail from this other blog site saying that if I didn't post again soon my blog would be considered 'abandoned' and consequently, deleted. They can't do that, can they? Just delete ME?

So, I went to the site and started reading these old posts, to see if I cared whether it was deleted or not. Turns out I do care, but also turns out that if you're willing, I think I'd like to share just a few of these entries.

I'll post these entries here over the next couple of days, with their original titles and dates of post. There aren't but maybe a handful of them. Remember that these were written when I was working for 'The Agency' in DeKalb just prior to the move to France. The names will be changed to protect the innocent. I hope you enjoy these blasts from my past.

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The Little Green Troll - Posted May 8, 2003

Having small battle of wills with Little Green Ticket Man. You see I work in a five-story building that has enough parking around it for 15 cars. Let’s do the math; hmmm… probably 150± people work in this building? Am I the only one that sees the problem?

There is a public parking lot that is adjacent to our buildings lot that has probably 40 spaces, which is very handy. Or would be very handy except for the fact that it is a 2-hour parking lot. There is a 12-hour parking lot behind the businesses across the street, but it’s just not too convenient. At least not for me and especially in the winter (or when it rains, or when it’s too hot, or when the breeze is blowing or …).

So OK, the LGTM is a little troll like creature in green civil servant uniform pants and jacket (always the jacket) who walks the downtown DeKalb area in a route designed to allow the ‘parker’ exactly 2 ½ hours of parking time. He’s very meticulous and very prompt. I’ve paid many a $3.00 fine, because I’m not so prompt about moving my car every couple of hours. Really it makes no sense since it’s ok to move it over one space every couple of hours so long as it’s not in the same space. So where’s the logic in that? The same number of cars are always in that lot, they’re just playing musical spaces. Is this system designed specifically to irritate me?

Well then, today as I returned from lunch he was in the downstairs lot writing tickets and marking tires (with chalk). I decided to wait him out. I did not get out of my car until he was on his way down the road. Waited a bit longer and then went into the building. On my way up the stairs I look out the window and there he is! The Little Green Troll is coming back down the street toward the parking lot. Now I’m not saying he was waiting for me to get out of my car so he could mark it, or that the whole walking up the street thing was a ploy to trick me out of my car, but it sure as heck was suspicious. He goes over, marks my tire and proceeds down the street.

Well you KNOW I went right back out there and backed my car into the space across the lot. Take that you Little Green Troll!

This all just begs the questions – Is avoiding a $3.00 ticket worth all this aggravation? Wouldn't it be easier to just go ahead and park down the road in the 12 hour lot? Nah, that would be too easy, forget I even mentioned that option. Would it be considered a bribe if I just taped $3.00 to my windshield with a note asking him to just take the money and save me a trip downtown? Could I just meet him on Monday, hand him $15.00 and call it even for the week?

It’s hard to be nostalgicwhen you can’t remember anything

I've wanted to write for so long, but I just don't have the time. I think I’ve mentioned before that for me writing isn't something I just throw together, it's a process. It's writing and editing and tweeking and rewriting and ... well you get the point. (And to emphasize this point, as I'm typing these very words Aidric has come into the room and asked for his vitamin. "Where's my vitamin mommy?,...where's my vitamin mommy? Mommy I want my vitamin...Mommy..." Hang on, I'll be right back)

This will continue all day, just substitute ‘my truck’, ‘my woobee’, ‘my crayons’ for ‘vitamins’ then ad in “Mommy you read my book”, “Mommy you sit here”, “Mommy you make a tower”, “Mommy you draw me a truck”…See, I've completely lost the thread, ...Oh yeah..

As I drive around through my daily life I see stuff and I want to write about it. I start to compose and edit in my brain, great stuff, really. But since my brain is not electronically wired to my computer that's usually as far as I get. I used to stop and write a brief note about what I saw, but two weeks later, it's just a note that has failed to capture the real point of the story (because I usually don't remember what point I was trying to make.) (Yes, I've got the Ginko Biloba vitamins on order, thank you). Yes, I know that many of my stories are pointless, but still. Well anyway, in that vein below are a few observations from the past few weeks. Wish me luck.

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In my younger days I fell in love with the MG Midget. (That's a car not a circus performer.) Click here for the Wikipedia entry in case you've never seen an MG

So picture me in my car, top down, wind in my hair, scarf blowing… and then me working on the little engine myself, little smudge of grease on my cheek, wiping my hands on an oily rag, another little job successfully managed...you can see what I mean, how romantic is that! So with that image in mind…

The other day I was heading home after dropping Aidric at school. As I joined the traffic coming into town I was cut-off by two men in a clown car, well, I wish it had been a clown car. It would have been far less sad and less humiliating for the little red MG.

The men were so large that the little red car had to have been built around them or they were shoe horned in with the world’s largest shoe horn. They rode in the little sportster with the top down. Not so that their hair could blow in the wind, since they both were sporting shiny pates, but probably because the little soft top could not have contained them. As the driver stepped on the gas, to complete his little maneuver of smuggly and effectively cutting me off in his speedy little roadster, the little cars engine growled in anger and humiliation. Anger at being forced to endure the humiliation of not quiet being able to pull of the 'in your face' maneuver to its true potential because of the two giants wearing it. As I pulled up next to them at the next corner I looked to see if their feet were sticking out the bottom a la Fred Flintstone. I felt bad for the little red MG, being forced to endure this torture and sort of bad for the man driving it because he couldn't afford a mid-life crisis that was closer to his size.

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Invest in Band-aid, now's the time as Aidric has apparantly entered his dare-devil phase. I'm going to start a notebook, for posterity, of his "A Bump Happened Today" reports from school. They all read 'Aidric fell off of "insert name of outdoor toy here" today and scraped his "insert name of body part here - usually knee or elbow but sometimes forehead or nose". A band-aid and TLC were applied'

Get in while he's still building up momentum. I bought tree boxes today, so we're off to a good start, I noticed the bump in stock prices immediately.

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And now a little something for the Aidric fans: