The Bold Soul

Making the best of it

So I'm still here at the family ranch (house) in New Jersey, until Sunday afternoon when the car arrives to take me to the airport -- and home to my wonderful husband and kids. I'm really glad I came back to help my mom and to see for myself that she is doing better than I could have hoped, even though she won't be driving again for at least a month and she's still dealing with a fair amount of pain. But she'll have my sister nearby to help out with cleaning, laundry and food shopping, and there's a physical therapist and home health aide who will also come until she can drive, so she's got lots of support. Thank you all for your good wishes and thoughts for my mother's recovery; they must have worked because right now I hear her out in the kitchen preparing her own breakfast and she couldn't do that when I first got here!

I admit that I really had mixed feelings about making this trip. Of course I was happy to be here for my mom and to give my sister a break for a while, but this trip was unplanned and therefore a disruption in my life. For one thing, I hated the idea of being away from Georges for such a long time, and that part hasn't been easy although a once or twice-daily Skype session helps. I will never like being away from my husband, even though sometimes it's necessary and perhaps even good for us to be briefly separated -- so that we can have the fun of reuniting again!

For another thing, I was concerned the trip would really prevent me from getting any serious work done on my SSP*, not to mention several client projects already in progress. Fortunately, being in Boring-town, NJ has actually been a little bit of an advantage because other than taking care of mom and doing a little local shopping, there is nothing else for me to do BUT work. So I've made some good progress on the SSP, finished one client project and made progress on another, all in the past week. Sometimes an enforced isolation is exactly what we need to get anything done!

My attitude this week has been "making the best of it". Sometimes things happen in life that we wouldn't necessarily choose if it were left up to us, but we have to cope with it and go forward. And in so doing, we have two choices: to be miserable about it and complain about it every step of the way, or to make the best of it and do our best in spite of the way things are. I always choose the latter, because not only does it give me more peace of mind but also because I generally accomplish more with that attitude than if I were sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

I was telling a coaching client, just the other day, that we always have the option of choosing how to feel about things. This came as a bit of a surprise to her at first, but she quickly saw what I was talking about. We are generally pre-conditioned to think that our emotions are things that just HAPPEN to us, and we have little control over our feelings. This isn't true. We have much more control than we think, and in fact the ONLY things we can really control in our lives are our own choices -- including choosing how to feel. So when something happens in your life that you wished hadn't happened, you can't change the event itself or the reactions of the other people involved, but you CAN decide for yourself how to feel and how to react.

And it is our choices which define us, more than anything else. So when a coworker at work ignores you or is rude to you, and you feel hurt, angry or insulted... you don't HAVE to feel that way. You have the choice to look at the other person and realize that their behavior says more about them and their state of mind than it says about you, and you can walk away and let it go. It's a choice to feel badly about it. When a pickpocket cleaned me out by stealing my wallet in Paris in 2001, I had a choice, too: panic and get hysterical and angry -- which would serve no useful purpose and wouldn't get me my wallet back -- or be calm and just deal with the aftermath. I chose the latter and everything turned out fine in the end and my 40th birthday trip wasn't ruined.

So when I knew I had to come back here, I knew what it would mean to my daily life, and although I wasn't thrilled about the disruption, I decided that what I could do was make the best of it and be happy anyway. If I had come here feeling resentful or stressed out, the week would have been a disaster and it wouldn't have helped my mom much to have me grumping around the house (she's been doing enough of that for both of us, but she's sort of got a good excuse right now: pain!) My work would have suffered, too, had I been sitting around here feeling sorry for myself because I miss Georges and because I hadn't been planning on a trip back so soon after my last one.

Before coming here, I had no idea what to expect in terms of my mother's health and how well she might be feeling or coping with pain and with getting around the house, so I had to be prepared for anything -- since that was the part I couldn't control. Choosing how I wanted to feel -- happy, at peace with the situation, and productive -- in advance of coming here helped me keep my emotional equilibrium and gave me a much better experience this week than I would have had otherwise. I took control over the one thing I COULD control -- ME! -- and let the rest unfold naturally without resisting it.

If you have never thought about being able to choose your emotions and feelings, think about it now. Is there something going on in your life right now that you're feeling badly about (angry, sad, frustrated, scared) where, if you were able to shift your feelings to something more positive, it would make a huge difference in how you are experiencing the event itself? Remember: we can't change events once they've happened, all we can change is how we feel and react to said events. So how would shifting your feelings and reaction change the outcome for you? How would it help if you were simply to make the best of it?

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*If you like articles like this one, please join my new eZine mailing list! The eZine is free and is called "The Exception™" and will be focused on helping you boldly create the life you want. This is, of course, all a part of my Secret Summer Project which will launch in late August-early September, and those of you who are BOLD enough to sign up for the ezine in advance of the launch will receive a special Thank You gift in your email come the official launch date!

Sign up here:

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P.S. I will never, and I mean NEVER, give away or sell your email address to anyone. Period.

Bored is good... sometimes

I warn you now: this is going to be a boring post.

It's early morning, Joisey time. Jet lag keeps waking me at 6:30-ish every day. Which really isn't so bad as it will make it easier going back to Paris if I'm not sleeping until 2pm Paris time.

My mother is doing remarkably well. With a major surgery, like knee replacements (doubles!), it's impossible to predict in advance how well a patient will handle the pain, discomfort and difficulties, and my mother is a retired RN and sometimes medical people make the worst patients. But I'm really proud of her because I know she's sometimes in a lot of pain but she's doing what she needs to do anyway. Like daily exercises on her own, several times a day. This week (starting today) she has a new home physical therapist coming and I think that will accelerate her recovery even more. She needs more strength in her legs before it's safe to give up the walker -- although yesterday she walked from her bedroom all the way down the hall WITHOUT IT, just bracing her hand along the wall as she walked, and she didn't even realize what she'd done until I screeched: "WHERE IS YOUR WALKER?" The look on her face was comical and just showed that she is starting to get stronger. But she's not ready to dance the lambada quite yet so she needs to be more prudent. There is also a home health aide coming, a very nice woman, twice a week to help her with taking a shower and she does some light cleaning as well.

My roles in all this are as follows: chauffeur (for two doctor appointments this week), errand-runner, food-shopper, lottery-ticket-buyer, medication-picker-upper, laundry-doer, meal-preparer, pill-supervisor, and also the entertainment committee. I had a little time yesterday to go out and do some clothes shopping while the health aide was here, and Thursday I plan to visit a good friend who is recovering from breast cancer surgery. But as busy as all that sounds, it actually doesn't seem to take up all that much time, really. And so... I've been bored.

But there are times when being bored is a good thing. I've been leveraging my boredom to really immerse myself in my Secret Summer Project in my business and it's going VERY well so far, although there is still so much to be done and I just can't seem to get it all done fast enough! I suspect that if I were back in Paris I would not be making such good progress so I want to take full advantage of being virtually trapped in North Jersey to crank out as much quality material as I can (you'll thank me later -- if the SSP ends up being of interest to you, I mean).

Therefore I'm rather grateful for the boredom. I seem to have really kicked the American TV addiction during my time in France, and I'm watching only marginally more TV here than I do there -- for one thing, every channel seems to be talking about Michael Jackson and to be honest, while I enjoyed his music when I was younger, I didn't feel that "bond" that so many people seemed to feel (he was just too bizarre for me, I guess) and I'm just over it already. I do feel badly for his children and I hope they'll be well with their grandmother. But the world moves on and life goes on and I've got better things to do with my time than sit glued to the over-saturated American TV media.

So it's just about filling the downtime with my work. And because I'm excited about the project, it doesn't feel like "work" at all. Bring on the boredom! The more, the better!

And now... time to make the morning coffee.

The hardest part of living abroad

Damn it. In 24 hours I will be on the RER-B headed toward the airport. I'm going to the States - again. My mother recently had double knee replacement surgery and will need someone to stay with her while she gets back on her feet, literally. My sister, who lives nearby, has been taking care of our mom through this process the past few weeks and I need to come home and give her some much-deserved time off. My mother sort of decided at the last minute that she wanted her "French" daughter to be around, too, and so she gifted me the airfare. I'm glad to be able to go there and be supportive of my mom, and I'm especially glad that my freelance working life allows me to just go when I need to go without having ask some boss for the time off.

But it comes at a price, this "free" trip. I also have to be apart from the person I love the most in the world in order to be with other people I love a whole lot.

This is the hardest part of living abroad. It's the part you don't really want to think about when you're making the decision to move across an ocean, the part where you will be far away from people you love. And that maybe, just maybe, you won't always be able to be there when they need you most. Of course I knew this was a factor given my own age when I came here (45) and my mother's advancing age. I knew that by leaving, I'd be in effect dumping all future direct elder care issues on my sister because it's not like I can hop in the car and drive over there on a moment's notice. And I have to live with the knowledge that some day, my mother will pass over, and I may or may not get the chance to be there at the end. These are things over which I have no control, and although it makes me sad to think of it, I have to remind myself that I'm doing the best I can.

For the moment, though, my mom is okay and came home yesterday from the rehab place (Sis is staying with her until I get there and she's done a great job of organizing all the after-care nursing and therapy) so on this trip, at least, I am not dealing with a worst-case scenario, for which I am very grateful. What I AM dealing with, however, is a bit of guilt over the mixed feelings I am having about the whole thing. While I'm glad I'm in a position to go there and help, I also hate leaving my wonderful husband for so long (11 days) and I will also miss the kids who are on the verge of being done with school and going off to their summer holidays; after tomorrow morning I won't even see the Little Guy until August! 

So for the next 11 days, my heart will be split in two directions. Half of it will be glad I'm with my mom because I know she really needs me, the other half will be aching to come home to Georges. Half of me will be happy I can be a good daughter, the other half would much rather go back to being a wife again. The bottom line is, I'm torn between my old life and my new life. In my new life, I'm happier. I'm well in my skin, as we say, and I'm able to be my true self. In my old life, I'm happy to see people I love (although I'm actually going to miss seeing my best friend this time as she'll be away on her family vacation) and to stay connected to my past, but every moment I'm there, I'm thinking about how I'd rather be HERE.

It is what it is, of course. This is part of the choice you make when you decide to move far away from your roots, even if all your reasons for moving are the "right" ones. I knew what I was getting into when I came here, and then when I fell in love with Georges I knew what it meant to my family life back home. There's no "solution" other than to accept it, do the best I can, and try to be happy in the moment on whichever side of the ocean I'm on.

But it still sucks. The wishbone never wins. I'm just saying.

A House + Studio 4 Sale in Paris 18th! (and it's OURS)

BIG NEWS (and no, it's not about my SSP): for various reasons too numerous (and personal) to mention, our* house in Paris is for sale! Not only that, with the house comes a HUGE atelier/studio with storage box!

I know what you're thinking: OH MY GOD! WOW! WHAT THE HELL? and HEY, I'D LOVE A HOUSE IN PARIS, WHERE CAN I GET MORE INFORMATION?

We've got a web site with a full description (French and English) and numerous photos. For obvious reasons, we don't list the actual address but it's in a nice and diverse neighborhood in the 18th with easy access to transportation, shops, schools and so on. You've seen my walking tour photos of the area so you know I'm within walking distance of the Butte and Sacre Coeur as well as Pigalle, Place de Clichy, and the Marché aux Puces. We like this area a lot.

Please help us get the word out, if you feel so inclined and happen to know someone who is looking for something unique in Paris! We do ask that SERIOUS BUYERS ONLY request more information using the email on the other website.

I'm sure that this announcement raises all sorts of questions (like "Why?"), most of which I'm not going to answer. But I'll just say this in order to quench some of the natural curiosity. We're not leaving Paris and not even leaving the neighborhood. There's no rush to sell. Sometimes, moving is just moving.

Oh, and by the way. Clachat has informed us that she has no desire to change houses, and she's not moving with us to our new place when we finally DO move. Cats can be so stubborn at times. So if you buy the house and would like a 5 euro discount, we'll be happy to throw the cat into the deal.

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* Just to be clear, I am not the owner of the house or atelier and am not personally involved in the transaction.

Summer Secrets

Summer is now officially here (or very nearly, depending on what day you're reading this) -- although you might not notice it if you're in Paris because the weather has been cool and unpredictable as usual. Still, summer is summer and I'm getting into the summertime frame of mind. Our three kids are doing the usual end-of-year stuff like finishing special projects (the oldest), taking very important exams (the girl), and participating in year-end events like a school play (un spectacle as it's called here) for which we are making things like a crown and sabre (the Little Guy is playing a prince). Then it's summer vacances for two months for the kids -- and all three are going different places and doing different things -- and a mix of work, family and vacations for us, as well. Plus our first wedding anniversary falls on July 12th -- but then we treat every day like it's a special romantic day (we are, however, making a weekend pilgrammage to Melon Beach to celebrate where it all began).

I look forward to summer for two reasons, neither of which has to do with the urge to bake myself on a beach even though I love being sea-side. First, I love the relaxed feeling I get in the summer months, and who doesn't need to feel more relaxed, right? But mainly I like summer because I get VERY creative in the summer months. It's like the summer brings out the innovator in me, the true entrepreneur. I start getting ideas for special projects, for new ways to reach out to more people and perhaps make a difference in someone's life. Eventually, I narrow it down to one special summer project, something that excites and motivates me, which I then work on steadily and SECRETLY throughout July and August, preparing to let "it" break free in September (or October at the latest). Maybe it's that "back to school" thing but September has always felt like a time for a fresh start, even more so than the 1st of January.

So I'm excited at the arrival of summer because this year, I've got a whopper of an idea for a project, and it's my biggest, best and most innovative idea yet! I am itching to dig in and get started, because I have long wanted to do something on this level, to find a way to reach out to more people and be of service by using what I know and what I have to share -- and now I have the perfect opportunity, plan and strategy to do exactly that!

Are you cringing at the thought of taking on a a "project" for the summer? You might believe that a Secret Summer Project could end up being just another stress-filled item on your "To Do" list, when summer is the time when you want to take time OFF from the pressure of the To-Do's. But actually it's quite the opposite. When you are working on something or towards something that excites, energizes and inspires you, it doesn't feel like work at all. In fact, you often can't wait until you've got some time to work on it! Of course, it's important to take breaks from your regular work/life routine; your kids might be off school and you need to spend time with your family, and you need to recharge your own batteries with a bit of down-time. But it's the break from routine that can free up your mind to go in new directions. Just as you sometimes get your best ideas or solutions to problems while your brain is relaxed from sleeping, so you can find inspiration for your special project while hiking in the mountains, visiting a far-off land you've always dreamed about, or even sitting on the deck by the pool in your own backyard.

The secrecy part of this project is important because when you're up to something new, different and BIG, it's never a good idea to tell too many people. Number one, someone might steal your idea; sad, but true. Number two, although it's good to tell maybe one or two people whom you know you can trust to be unconditionally supportive of you (I've told Georges and just two others besides), beyond that if you tell too many people you'll get the Negative Nellies hovering around you, telling you why your idea is bad or wrong or stupid or won't work. And who needs THAT? Better to keep it close to the vest until you're ready to go public with it.

And this year, my secret summer project is probably the biggest thing I've ever contemplated doing as a solopreneur. It will require, on my part, an investment of my ideas, my creative energy, and every ounce of faith I've got to pull it off. I can't say much at the moment about the details other than to say that what inspired me was YOU. You, the Bold Soul readers who have written to me and commented so often to let me know that what I've done/am doing has been inspiring to you in some way. I have been moved and humbled by your stories and it's made me want to do more to help other people live more boldly and create the kind of lives or careers or businesses they really want.

So for the moment, all I can say is my Secret Summer Project is well underway and I'm so excited I can't see straight sometimes! When it's ready to roll there will be a major announcement here, but if you want more frequent progress reports on how it's going (and some sneek previews perhaps?), I will be posting those via Twitter or my Facebook Fan* page so sign up on one or the other (or both!) to get the SECRET inside scoop!

Meanwhile, let me float this question for all of you: What will YOUR Secret Summer Project be this year? What will inspire you? What will motivate you to change something in your life? What do you need to clear out, let go of once and for all, or start doing on a regular basis that will dramatically shift something in your life, relationships, job or business by September 1st? What will make you feel lighter, healthier, more at peace, more energized, happier with who you are? What will allow you to finally BE the bold soul you KNOW you're destined to be?

Whatever the answer is? THAT is your Secret Summer Project. So stop putting it off and hiding behind your "to do" list and all the little things you tell yourself are so important. What's more important than being your best self? Go do it!

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*Although I really appreciate Facebook Friend requests, I reserve my "friend" page for personal communications with people in my private life, and the "fan" page is for staying connected to blog readers and fans of my writing and coaching work. So if you ask to "friend" me on Facebook, I'll be happy to redirect you to the Fan page instead.

Snippets

Yeah, I know, I know... too long since last post. (At least I know that's what Georges is thinking.) In between, well, LIFE I've been thinking about new material but then the LIFE part got in the way a bit. So to catch you all up, here's what's been going on:

• My mother had double knee replacement surgery back home in New Jersey last Thursday. About five days before that, she suddenly decided she would feel better if I came back there and she's be willing to pay for the ticket, and how do you say no to your mother under those conditions? Well, you can't. So several days of scrambling to figure out what dates would work to coordinate with my sister's own after-care-for-Mom efforts, what flights were available, and at what prices led to me booking a 11-day trip AWAY FROM GEORGES to stay with my mother when she gets out of the therapy rehab place. I'm happy to be able to be there for her and to give my sister a much needed break, but not one bit happy about being apart from my husband for that long. Mom's surgery went well although she did have a rough 2 days afterward (the pain meds didn't agree with her) but she's moved to the rehab and they've had her up and walking, and I'll bet it hurts like hell. She's a trooper, our mom! I am hopeful this surgery will give her such good results that before long she'll be willing to get on a plane and come visit us in Paris! 
• My twice-weekly English tutoring with my young friend (13-year-old daughter of Georges' friend) has gone well and she brought her grades up well enough to satisfy the teacher and both her parents. We'll continue this week and next and then take a summer break, and resume in the fall which I'm happy about. After all, we have only just started reading "Little House on the Prairie" together! If anyone knows of someone who would like some English tutoring here in Paris, feel free to hook us up; I promise not to make them read "Little House" if that's not their tasse de thé.
• Work, work, work! After a couple of months with virtually no new projects coming in (and therefore no income, either), things have suddenly turned around and I have a flurry of requests from repeat customers who want to work with me again, plus a few new clients as well. Despite my resolve to retire from web design, a few former clients needed some help and I needed the work, and fortunately they're all people I really loved working with the first time. Juggling all of this is keeping me very busy, especially as I am trying to finish some of these projects before I go to New Jersey next Friday.
• Family life has been keeping me busy as well. On the days/weekends when we have the Little Guy with us, there's a set routine to be kept and I have my role as well. This weekend he announced out of the blue that he'd never been to the Arc de Triomphe before, and he wanted to go. I'd never been there either, even after nearly three years here, and Georges couldn't remember when he'd last gone there. So Sunday morning, off we trooped like good little tourists (in fact, the guy at the ticket booth was surprised to hear Georges speaking to him in French!) We lucked out and the line was non-existent (go in the mornings apparently because the lines for tickets get longer as the day goes on). And up we climbed. And climbed. (And stopped for breath -- never mind how many times.) And climbed. They very thoughtfully put padded benches at the top of the spiral staircases for tired climbers to collapse upon before they die recover. And you're still inside the monument at that point where there's a rather interesting display/gift shop area where you can also see the view of what is directly below you via a camera (the eternal flame and all the tourists). Then a few MORE stairs (you can imagine my delight in seeing them) got us to the roof for a lovely 360-degree view of Paris. Photos will follow soon as I have time to get them out of the camera. 
• I am working on a new idea for my business which I can't really say much about at the moment but which I'm rather excited about. More on that in a few weeks, I think.
• And I'm still NOT pregnant. [sigh] Very much not. Disappointed about that, of course, but nothing I can really do other than accept what is and know that I am still married to the most wonderful man in the world, and if we're meant to be blessed with a baby then it will happen anyway. Perhaps when we least expect it although I had sort of hoped it would be before I'm 50! I would appreciate it, though, if my body would STOP sending me symptoms and signals that could indicate pregnancy but which also appear to be some sort of odd PMS stuff. It's no fair for my hormones to fool with my expectations in this way!

So there you have it... life at the Bold Soul's place. How's life at YOUR place?

Clach-achmed, the Cat Terrorist

A few days ago, I realized that we are living with the feline version of Achmed, the Dead Terrorist:

Clacha, our resident Jekyll-and-Hyde Psycho Cat, frequently sits under the kitchen table, plotting her next terrorist attack on the legs of whomever happens to be walking innocently by.

"I KEEL YOU!" -- that's her M.O.

When she screeches in the morning or evening (7am and 6pm on the dot!) to be fed, we know she is saying "Hurry up, Infidel... or I KEEL YOU!"

When she races out of the kitchen window or front door to viciously chase our gardienne's dog, Lady, down the courtyard, she is clearly trying to chase the occupying forces out of her "country". "Go home or I KEEL YOUUUUU!"

And those little "surprises" she leaves on the floor -- the dead rodents or birds, the vomit, or the little cat poos she kicks out of her box -- are the kitty equivalent of a terrorist bomb because you never know when one will strike. After which, she has such a self-satisfied expression on her face, I know she's laughing maniacally in her little kitty head: "Bwah-ha-ha... I KEEEEEL YOU!!!!!!!!!"

Her terror campaign is fairly effective. The little kids won't touch her -- even the 2-year old next door has learned to steer clear of her. The teens either ignore her, or bait her to make her mad, but being teens they are naturally more apt to take unnecessary risks and it's only a matter of time before she leaves visible scars on their hands or feet to match the ones on my own. I've taken to checking where she is hiding before venturing to walk across my own living room floor, because she could be ANYWHERE, waiting to pounce. Even Georges has started to wait to get out of bed until after I've fed her (but that's sort of OK because then HE has to be the one to clean the cat box).

It's perfectly obvious to us that this cat came from one of those terrorist training camps we're always hearing about in the news. Who knew they were using cats as their new secret weapon of mass destruction? Who needs a suicide bomber when you can plant a highly trained psychotic cat in every home? I'm far more afraid of this cat sometimes than I am of anything I see about Al Quaeda on the news.

Punchline

Once, there was once a snail who was tired of being slow.

He went out and bought himself a really fast sports car...

 

... and asked the dealer to paint a big "S" on the top of it.

When the car dealer asked the snail why he wanted the big "S" on the car, the snail said:

Because when I whizz by them, I want people to say:

Hey, look at that S CAR GO!

Photos of this lovely French escargot taken two nights ago when we discovered him climbing up our glass front door, and how interesting is it to see the UNDERSIDE of a snail in (slow) motion? Not really sure where he thought he was going, but he obviously thought better of "up" because he did that U-turn and headed back to terra firma. We seem to have a few of these big snails in our courtyard plants (fortunately not like the masses of these little white ones Linda has been getting in her Provençal garden every year), and the kids in the building love hunting for them. Don't know if they're the edible kind, so I'll stick to having my escargots in a restaurant with garlic, oil and pesto.

On this day, 1945

This afternoon, I have been watching (via TV) the D-Day ceremonies being held at the American Cemetery just off Omaha Beach in Normandy. President Obama is there, along with Prince Charles and Gordon Brown of the U.K. and Stephen Harper of Canada, hosted by France's Nicholas Sarkozy.

I decided to use Twitter to capture my impressions as the event was unfolding. I realize that watching it on television can't compare with being there, but I must admit I got rather choked up when I saw all the crosses (and stars) on the graves, and listening to some of the speeches. Rather than writing more here about what I witnessed, instead I decided to just reprint my Tweets (along with a few cross-Tweets with a friend who is actually THERE) without additional commentary:

I'm watching the 65th D-Day ceremonies on TV. Saw Sarko and Obama together. Obama's official US helicopter landing at cemetery now.

Very moving to see so many of the D-Day vets there, in full uniform, some in wheelchairs, many smiling and laughing and even dancing!

Obama about to depart the helicopter...oh, there's Michelle... and the Prez!

She's wearing a white coat-dress with a silver belt. Elegant as usual. They are a truly striking-looking couple.

But WHY isn't BBC or CNN carrying this so I can hear it in English? I'm watching on the French TF1...

1st couple met and embraced by some veterans... American on French TV speaking badly accented French. Secret Service everywhere.

They're playing such great 1940's-era music at the ceremonies while waiting for the 2 presidents and Prince Charles to arrive. Gotta love it

Totally wishing I were in Normandy today for this. Will really need to get up there and visit the American Cemetery and D-day sites soon.

Some Americans think the French don't remember what America has done to ensure France's freedom. Not true... esp. in Normandy.

Military band playing medley: Anchors Away, Halls of Montezuma...

... When the Caissons go Rolling Along... (taking me back to school days when we learned these songs)

The Obamas are coming to Paris tonight... going to Notre Dame, then some kind of official dinner, and then to the Centre Pompidou.

I think the daughters are here with their parents as well. Good "educational" trip for them to visit Paris, even if they miss school.

A very sad and moving sight... all those white crosses on the perfectly manicured lawn at the American Cemetery... rows and rows of them.

TV just said that 10,000 soldiers are buried there. TEN THOUSAND.

OK, a live feed available via France 24 here: http://bit.ly/ApatS

And CNN has some kind of live feed also: www.cnn.com and click the link on the Live Developing Story link. It looks to be delayed slightly

First ladies Michelle and Carla escorting/escorted by some elderly vets. Very sweet. Prince Charles, Gordon Brown & Canada's Harper there 2

Wow... the Dalai Lama is also in Paris today, unrelated to Obama's visit and D-Day. Will be hard getting around town tonight I think.

Now the 4 national anthems will be played and sung by a French choir, starting with the Marseillaise (bien sur)

And now the Star Spangled Banner... I'm standing.

Nice to see that Obama knows the words (it's astonishing how many Americans do NOT know the words!)

@k_sam Are you actually at the cemetery and ceremonies? Where are you now?

Sarkozy to Obama and the audience: "France will never forget"

Wishing these commentators would stop talking over Stephen Harper. Let the man speak and stop editorializing!

Ah, much better on BBC news... now Gordon Brown speaking.

k_sam@TheBoldSoul yep, I am sitting in the audience.

I'm rather liking Gordon Brown's tribute... considering what's going on in his government this week, nice that he can be there

But wow, Prince Charles has AGED. I still picture him in my mind as the younger man he was when he and Diana got married.

Obama: "One word will still bring forth the pride of men and women... D-Day"

"When the ships landed at Omaha, the men went into an unimaginable hell..."

"By the end of the day, against all odds, the ground on which we stand was free once more..."

I like watching the faces of the veterans in the audience. THAT is where the history still lives.

Obama speaks of a veteran who visited the cemetery one last time last night... and then passed away in his sleep. God bless.

In a parallel universe

Long-time readers of The Bold Soul know that every so often, I read about some utterly ridiculous story in the media and it's so off-the-wall that I simply MUST pass it on and write about it here. Well, the other day I came across what may just be the most hysterically funny evidence of insanity I've ever heard, and it didn't come from the media but from a business contact of mine.

I subscribe to a writer's discussion list and one of the other members recently put a question out to the group: should we freelance writers see clients in our own homes, and if so what are the risks and how to avoid them? It seems that Steve, who among other types of career-related services writes resumes, had a new client come over to the house... and the client made him and his wife rather nervous. The general concensus of the writer's group was that it's so much easier to just meet with clients outside your home office that it's not worth the risk to invite them to meet with you in your home. [Read more over here on my writer's blog about this topic.]

Then Steve shared what it was about this particular client that set his poor wife's nerves on edge:

The guy who came over to my house for a resume had drafted what he wanted me to say. He started a program for AIDS in Egypt, helped teens kick alcohol, and a few other very impressive things. But when I questioned him, it turns out he didn't actually do those things.

Then, he said, "Well, I did them in a parallel universe. I WOULD have done those things if I had the time."

I'm going to use that parallel universe bit next time a cop pulls me over.

Is that not the BEST excuse you've ever heard for lying on your resume? And think about it, Steve's onto something, because you could TOTALLY work that excuse for just about anything you want in life.

Missed a deadline? Oh, well in your parallel universe, you exceeded that deadline and brought the project in 50% UNDER budget, too... so it's all right.

Wish you'd become an astronaut and sorry you never made the effort to study harder in science class so you could get into NASA? Well, your parallel universe self has already done that, so you can hold your head up high and go back to your boring desk job.

The possibilities are endless. Especially when you are certifiably insane. But wow, the guy gets points for imagination, I'll say that.

Story reprinted with permission. Contact Steve Fredericks.

Reproductive Twitterquette

So you all know about Twitter, right? It's this new internet thing where you are essentially "micro-blogging" in 140 characters or less. People sign up to "follow you" and you can "follow" others, which means you can see what they're Twittering (or "Tweeting") about. Really, it's just another abbreviated form of social networking, of staying connected to people. Companies (CNN) and celebrities (Oprah, Ashton Kutcher) are Twittering. Bloggers are Twittering. Non-bloggers are Twittering. Seems everyone is all a-Twitter these days. On the recent Space Shuttle flight, an astronaut even sent the first-ever Twitter message from outer space!

There's even a whole new vocab to deal with. A "Tweet" is a Twitter message. "Tweeters" and "Tweeps" and "Tweeple" are people who Twitter. The "Tweetdom" and "Twittersphere" refer to the wider world of Twitter. And so it goes, with new terminology springing up almost daily. And I thought I had problems keeping up with teenage slang -- both American AND French -- and now I've got this new language to learn.

I have fun with Twitter although it can get to be time-consuming -- reading messages, posting my own messages, and sometimes posting responses to other people's messages. Some of the people I follow are good friends and fellow bloggers I like to read; some are people who post info or tips on subjects that interest me; and I do follow a handful of celebrity bloggers like Oprah and Larry King. During the US Presidential Election I followed Barack Obama and now that he's in office I'm still on his list and get an occasional Tweet from our new Prez. Kinda makes me feel special, it does.

I am still learning some of the finer points of Tweetville and I'm certain I'm probably not leveraging its power as well as I could be, in terms of building an audience for my blog, business and any future books I may write. But that's just a learning curve and in time I'll figure it out. By way of an example, for a long time after I first got on Twitter, I couldn't figure out how to get notifications when people I was following were posting new material because I live over here in France and thus the cell phone notification features that Twitter provides does not work for me. Then I found out about TweetDeck which is a 3rd-party application that lets you manage all your Twitter activities in once place, and now I'm getting more out of the experience. There are many of these 3rd-party apps out there to help you expand your Twittering horizons.

What just occurred to me is how damned personal Twitter can get. Like, people will drop these little TMI bombs on you, and nowhere is this more obvious than people telling you their reproductive business -- and in under 140 characters, too. I mean, yes, it's totally cool that Lance Armstrong has just Twittered today that his girlfriend had their baby last night... certainly faster and cheaper than sending out the traditional birth announcements and he managed to scoop the media on his own terms, too.

But did I really need to read -- and just before dinner, too -- that a 9-month pregnant Dooce lost her mucus plug at 7:34 pm Paris time? I love reading her blog and I know she posted that Tweet purely for shock value. She's already got a hugely successful blog that pays for her mortgage and her husband stays home and runs the blog as the family business; she has two books out; and already well over a half million Twitter followers to add to the over 1 MILLION blog visitors she gets PER MONTH. How do the rest of us compete with that? Next thing you know, she'll have her husband Tweeting photos straight from the Delivery room and THAT is something NO ONE needs to see! Do I now have to send out a Conception Attempt Tweet each time Georges and I... well, um... you know? Will you want to know if my basal body temperature is at optimum levels? I mean, I feel I'm already stretching the boundaries of privacy by divulging that we're even TRYING to have a baby. Will I now be expected to tell the Twitterverse how often we're doing it, and in what position?

I think I can already answer that. That's a big Tweeting NO. I think I can feel your palpable relief from here.

Which means that you can safely follow me on Twitter now. And I promise to keep it (reasonably) clean.

June Cleaver doesn't live here. Try next door.

It is a clear blue sky day, with a breeze that makes it a bit chilly, but I don't care; I'm sitting outside at the small table in our courtyard, loving the freedom this netbook brings me to work anywhere I choose, in or out of la maison. The good weather is just one compelling reason I'm out there, the other reasons being that my step-son has commandeered the kitchen table because it's the only surface big enough for him to do his architectural schoolwork and he's got a bit year-end project going on. And our cleaning lady is hard at work inside, so I want to stay out of her way and give her space.

We used to have her coming two mornings a week but since January we cut that back to just one, the economy being what it is and all that. But we both stubbornly cling to this one morning a week because whatever she manages to fit into that time is a blessing for me and Georges. It represents more free time for us, and even with this help it's still a good-sized house with three kids (plus assorted extras) traipsing through here daily. No matter how much cleaning gets done by me, Georges or our helper, there is always going to be MORE: more dirty dishes, more dirty clothes, more dirty bathrooms and toilets and kitchen counters and floors, more toys and school books lying around waiting for someone to move them, and more cat mess to take care of (you already know how I feel about that last part, but I don't have the heart to take her to a shelter, in case you were thinking I really was that callous).

Sometimes, I get overwhelmed by the realization that I now share my living space with four other people. It's not just me anymore. When it WAS just me, I could let the laundry go for sometimes up to 2 weeks (because I have that many clothes). I ran the dishwasher every other day or sometimes every third day instead of daily. I would run the vacuum or change the sheets and towels when I couldn't stand it anymore, and my own clutter didn't really bother me much until it got to the point where the piles were taller than I am. I could get away with all that, and focus on the things I WANTED to do, because I was a singleton and therefore entitled to be a slob if I felt like it. No one else needed to know about it.

It's different now. I admit to still being a bit of a clutterbug with my papers and books, but other people's messes get on my nerves a lot more. I have this lovely cleaning lady to take some of the load off my shoulders (she just left and the house looks and smells so much better, plus she always does the ironing and the floors) but there is still always something more that needs to be done. Georges takes care of the "man work", i.e. snaking out clogged drains, going down in the creepy crawl space under our living room floor to store things like our luggage (honey? that reminds me...), carrying heavy things, and cleaning out the cat box and picking up any dead mice she's left for us (I mainly feed her, he mainly cleans up after her... I think this is a fair trade). Georges also does more of the cooking of weekend lunches and our nightly dinners and he's more creative about it than I am, although I do some cooking as well, with a limited repertoire, so I appreciate that he enjoys cooking. And above all, he works hard to make our lifestyle possible.

I do the "woman's work", which includes doing the bulk of the food shopping -- which for 5+ people is considerable and I still can't get over dropping over 200 euros for one cart full of food that may or may not last an entire week (OK, I did have to buy a lot of shampoos and cleaning products this time around) and the laundry (except the ironing). I seem to be the only one in the house who knows what a really clean kitchen looks like (Georges does OK though). I will clean toilets, vacuum dust balls and cat hair, and dust the piano keys (I hate playing when they're dusty). I pick up toys that little people have left lying around. I take special orders for the weekly food shopping when asked. I also work, although freelancing means sporadic cash flow, and contribute what I can to the household budget, and working means I really do NOT have all day to take care of the house and everyone in it. Even Mrs. Brady had Alice.

Oh, and I pet the evil cat. That seems to have become my job. The cat has decreed it.

We are not the Cleavers. We may have fallen, somewhat, into a more traditional division of labor but that's more about convenience than gender. Georges knew when he fell in love with me that I was no domestic goddess, never have been, never will be. He doesn't care. He never criticizes how I'm managing things. I'm the one who gets my culottes in a knot when things aren't tidy "enough" to suit me and when I think others aren't pitching in to help, and I never thought I'd be that kind of person (nor did my mother, based on the fact that I never once willing cleaned anything when I grew up in her house). I never thought I'd have to force myself not to scream at the top of my voice: "WILL SOMEONE PLEASE GET THEIR ASSES DOWN HERE AND CLEAN UP THIS KITCHEN?" That is not MY voice, it's my mother's voice, and it is running inside my brain whenever I realize someone has put most but not all of the dishes in the dishwasher but they've left the dirty pots for someone else -- me? -- to scrub.

If I am not careful, I will become my mother -- or worse yet, Martha Stewart, and that is every woman's worst nightmare. This is what I do not want to become. I don't want to be the Screeching Step-Mother, the Shrewish Spouse. So I am working on Not Letting It Get To Me. Easier said than done, but really I know I can't change them, can't make them do what they don't want to do, can't make them be other than who they are. Sure, as parents/step-parents we do need to teach our kids about being respectful of others and responsible for themselves, but screaming and demanding obedience isn't the way to accomplish that and I refuse to be that woman. I grew up with that to some degree, and it wasn't pretty. I want and need to find a more zen way of managing my periodic flashes of hostility about the housework, for my own peace of mind.

Meanwhile I will enjoy this brief period of time when the house is clean and orderly, and all the laundry is done. Because in about 5 minutes, three little boys will come home for lunch and that will be the end of the calm, clean serenity.

C'est la vie.

Flashback, circa 1969

40 years ago, I would have just turned 8 years old. Our family lived in the same house in which my mother still lives now, a relatively new housing development started the year I was born and including mostly 3 bedroom, 1 bathroom ranch-style houses with a handful of 2-story colonial or Cape Cods thrown in. Most of the lots were about a half-acre in size, which meant we had a really nice-sized back yard, big enough for a vegetable garden, a swing-set and an above-ground pool. Totally 1960s living for young families just starting out.

And young families were everywhere. On a late spring weekend evening, the yards would be crawling with everyone's kids going from one house to the other, yelling and playing and generally making the most of the good weather. Oftentimes, we'd have backyard barbecues, which we called "cook-outs" or just "get-togethers" with one or more of the neighbor families where all the parents and kids got along well together. And in general, we kids would already be in our pajamas before the fun began, so that the parents could relax and enjoy themselves until it was time to pack the kids off to bed.

I used to love being able to run around outdoors in my pajamas. It felt like sometime special, a privilege, something almost forbidden (but still sanctioned by Mom and Dad).

This flashback courtesy of the fact that I am right this moment watching my step-son and his little friends run around in their PJs in our Paris courtyard, milking every last second of daylight on this last evening in May. They are loud, they are rambunctious, they are probably killing some of the potted plants with their wild tennis play and I'm waiting for someone to start fighting over nothing, but it still brings a smile to my face.

Because I may be in the city in a foreign country, but it's so nice to see that some customs transcend all cultural and geographic boundaries. And to see "my" kid getting to enjoy something so simple that made my own childhood memorable.

Picnic moments

We took another picnic to the Buttes-Chaumont today to kick off our three-day weekend (yes, another one)... despite the fact that last week, just AFTER we had been there on our other picnic, a 1.4M-long PYTHON was found hanging around in a tree in that very park. It was humanely captured alive, and it IS a very big park so it could have been anywhere, but still I'm very glad I didn't look up into a tree and see that thing leering down at me. The Garden of Eden, it ain't, or are we Adam and Eve.

This time, we took the Little Guy with us. Weather: perfect, cloudless blue skies and a nice breeze so not too hot. Still took sunblock to avoid repeat of last weekend's uneven sunburn. Also brought hats, a ball and frisbee that went unused in favor of the iPod Touch, and books to read. Lots of good things to eat and drink. A blanket and some small pillows for comfort.

Ahhhh.... what a life.

After lunch and a siesta, and watching four or five wedding parties walking around taking photos (the Mairie de 19ème is just across the way), the sun shifted onto our more shaded area, so we decided to walk around the lake and show the Little Guy the waterfalls (manmade but to a kid, rather impressive) and afterward he caught sight of a pack of other little children wading in the small (manmade) stream leading into the lake, so we let him take off his sandals and roll up his shorts (knowing he'd get wet anyway) and join in. It was so adorable seeing all those little children, some half dressed and a couple of very little ones totally sans attire, splashing and laughing and having a wonderful day. Oh, to be that young, free and unselfconscious!

As we relaxed on the banks of the stream, Georges and his son did some gymnastics (the young one balancing on his dad's knees, hands, feet, etc.) while I took little videos for posterity, and then they read a book together while I alternately read and stared up into the green foliage above me... fortunately not seeing any more snakes.

It occured to me as I looked around at all the other families and groups of friends who were walking and talking and picnicking and playing, how nice it is that the French are so family-oriented. Even on a non-holiday weekend, you'll find them out together on a picnic or going out together for Sunday lunch. Americans love their families, too, of course, but I don't think they often make it a priority to spend nearly every weekend with their families the way so many French families seem to do.

After a warm bus ride home, during which my little step-son fell asleep on my lap, we finally are home. He's had his bath, and is now sitting next to me while I write this... with Papa's iPod Touch, of course. Wearing the new pajamas I bought him last week.

Yes... oh, what a life, what a very good life.

Traveling safe

Passing on to Bold Soul readers this article from CNN with 15 travel safety tips worth thinking about, with summer holidays nearly upon us. Pickpockets are only one security challenge when you're traveling; this article will alert you to others you may not have thought about before.

Also, my favorite travel products catalog at Travel Smith offers several excellent safety-minded items, not to mention clothing that packs and hand-launders well (in plus and petite sizes, too) and much more. They offer a 100% no-questions-asked money-back guarantee. Among my current favorites:

• Doorstop Alarm which could come in handy if you're traveling to places where the hotel rooms might not have a deadbolt lock
• An array of ladies' bags with special security features like steel cables inside the straps
• Bags made from recycled plastic bottles, of all things!
• This dress, which is so damn cute that I will buy one just to wear around Paris if I can figure out a cheap way to have it sent here

However, I think I could do without the Germ Finder in my hotel room. Somehow, I think I'll sleep better not knowing. Denial can be a good thing.

The Fortune Teller by Georges de la Tour. Source: Wikipedia.