The Bold Soul

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.

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?

Deep breath... I. Am. Forty. [ugh] Eight.

What do you mean, one day I'll be 48? Are you freaking nuts?

VE Day

Today, May 8th, is a national holiday in France. Which one, you may be wondering, because there seem to be so many days off lately. It's "V.E. (Victory in Europe) Day"! This is the date in 1945 on which Germany finally surrendered to the Allies, and the war in Europe was officially at an end although the aftermath would continue for quite some time. Of course Hitler, the coward, committed suicide just a week earlier, so he didn't stick around to sign the surrender agreement.

Although I am at home, getting some work done for a change, I decided to dig around online to see what more I could learn about the day Europe became free of that terrible war.

• A bit of background
• And more background
• Text of General de Gaulle's radio broadcast (translated to English)
• Sainte Maxime, France
• Berlin (video)
• Newsreel documentary, London, May 8, 1945

Blog Bytes: from a 15-year-old Not-Very-Bold-(Yet)-Soul

In digging through some of my few remaining storage boxes "back home", I came across a diary that I kept sporadically between 1977 (age 15) and 1981 (age 20). I am just now reading through it again, and thought I'd share some of the more pathetic (and therefore painfully funny) passages.

March 14, 1977: "I went with Joe F. for two weeks and 4 days. Mom had a fit when she found out he kissed me in school (he does kiss good). As if it mattered. No one really cared if I did, but she doesn't realize that times are changed and people don't care about stuff like that anymore (except prudes & stuff)."

It goes on to say that the infamous Joe had stopped talking to me without warning and of course I did not understand this. He told a friend of mine he "couldn't be bothered" and that he "never really liked" me. Sixteen-year-old boys are shits, aren't they? But remember how it was in high school when you were allegedly "going with" someone, and how most of the time it meant you just stared at each other in the halls, and maybe held hands and kissed, but rarely did you go out on any real dates... and the "relationship" lasted maybe a month at the most? Yeah, this was one of THOSE. No great loss, but I didn't realize that at the time.

March 15, 1977: "I never have much luck with boys, all the good ones are taken already, all the really nice ones anyway. I don't know what's wrong with me, I don't seem to know how to act around boys. I always promise I will get myself together, but I never do. I am too lazy for one thing. Must lose weight. Stop biting nails. I need to find a new hairstyle, I can't do anything with this one, it stinks. I need to work on my skin & makeup. And various other odds & ends. Oh brother, am I a mess. So much for self-evaluation. One more thing. I am gonna stop being so snotty to everyone. Have to remember to shut up more & give others a chance to say a word or 2."

I remember how many hours of my life I wasted in those years, looking in the mirror and hating nearly everything I saw about myself. By the time I was 15, I was already entrenched in a pattern of self-critical behavior (gee, couldn't have possibly gotten that from my mom, could I?) and this was the tip of an iceberg that took years to melt (and I still catch myself doing the "must lose weight" thing).

I did stop biting my nails, though. And I don't think I've been snotty to anyone in years. The 15-year-old me would probably be happy to know that.

1977 was the last year in which I studied French during high school. Our French teacher was this very bitchy Italian woman (who had a German married name) and I think she was bitter that she had to teach French and not Italian. Even then, I would sometimes write in Franglish, as in this entry from my 16th birthday in May:

Le 19 Mai, 1977: "Today est mon anniversaire et je got (1) les sandals du chinois, (2) 2 prs. of earrings, (3) 4 silver bracelets, (4) a silver necklace from [a friend], (5) two lip glosses and a kissing potion from [another friend] & she made me some oatmeal cookies which I eventually threw away cause they weren't too great but it was nice of her anyway."

You have my permission to wince after reading that. Since then, not only have I ceased saying things like "je got" -- I also learned how not to write run-on sentences. By the way, I think the "kissing potion" was probably the name of a particular brand of lip gloss.

A few weeks later, it was... "I got my first job! I had my job interview with Mr. S. and he asked me stuff like "Do you smoke marijuana? Did you ever get caught shoplifting? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you boy crazy? Are both parents alive?"

I guess in 1977 it wasn't illegal in America to ask someone questions about their personal relationship status, because this guy could get in trouble for asking the same questions today. The strange irony of this passage is that this same guy ended up getting fired from this drug store about a year or two later, and he took a job another store in the neighborhood... and ended up being the manager on duty the day I got caught -- my one and only time -- trying to shop-lift some nail polish.

As my sophomore year wound down, I was still pining over the elusive Joe; God only knows why... but then again I hadn't yet read He's Just Not That Into You. Someone should have written that book sooner, for stupid teenage girls like me, saving us years of wasted energy and monumental therapy bills.

I'll post more of these another time; there are just too many bad memories to cram into one post. What I'm already realizing, though, is how far I've come in the past 30+ years, both as a writer and as a woman. Not to mention that I finally learned how to deal with "boys"... and that I had to move to France 30 years later to find the one who not only "kisses good" but never, ever makes me question myself or our relationship.

I guess "je got" it right at last.

Not according to plan

Well, it's my last day in New Jersey -- this time around, anyway. Funny to think it's over already, although at the same time I'm feeling ready to come back to Paris. Seems like my toleration limit for country life is about 10 days; after that I start getting antsy for the city again. Even my initial thrill of having the freedom of driving has been replaced by irritation with traffic and stupid drivers, as well as back pain from sitting in the car for too long instead of walking where I need to go.

This trip to New Jersey has, overall, been very nice, because I've been able to spend time with my family and also get to see a few (although not all) of my friends. However, not everything has gone as planned or anticipated.

Upsides of the trip: getting to see at least some of my dear "back-home" friends (which for me is always like a tonic for the soul). Going to my niece's school play (she was AWESOME and totally took my breath away!) Putting in a little quality time at stores like Target, DSW, and Kohl's (Georges' favorite brand of shirts, on sale for 50% off). The weather's been getting better every day, and I got to watch spring POP in full bloom here, which is a joy. Finally getting my new netbook, which I love so far. And being able to spend some time with my wonderful husband, and watching him get along so nicely with his new American family and friends.

Minor downers: I seem to have developed certain allergies since I was last here in the spring time, because the day the lawn care guys came to cut the grass, I had such a severe impact on my breathing that I thought I was having an asthma attack and it was horrible until I took some Benadryl.

Also, I'm fairly certain, although not 100% yet, that I'm not pregnant this month. Which really is not a huge surprise as our travels sort of got in the way of some of the "timing", if you know what I mean, but which is still a bit disappointing. I've had what I think is probably my usual pre-menstrual migraine, but the next few days will tell us for sure one way or the other. Still crossing my fingers for now, though, as are family and friends.

The not-according-to-plan part has been the part where my mother, who was all scheduled to have knee replacement surgery in two weeks, has just found out there's a bit of a cardiac issue to be dealt with first; a pre-op stress test shows some sort of "minor" (so we're told and so we hope) blockage in 1 or 2 places. She'll need a heart cath for them to check it out further, and if there's really something minor, they'll put in a stent (or perhaps two?); if it turns out to be a more severe blockage then they may opt to schedule her for bypass surgery, although it sounds like this is probably the more unlikely scenario. This discovery has meant rearranging some of our plans this week with little or no notice so we could be there to support my mom through additional doctor appointments, setting up other tests, canceling the original surgery and so on.

For instance, we'd planned to go to New York on Thursday. That didn't work out, so we tried to set it up for Friday. Then we realized that by the time we actually got into NYC, we'd have about 3 hours to enjoy ourselves before having to come right back again in order to make it to my niece's play. So one more time, we tried to arrange it for Saturday, only to find out they no longer run trains or buses on the weekends between this town (or any town within a 30-minute drive of this town) into New York. (Those bastards at NJ Transit must be trying to cut costs again.) Saturday was our last full day here, so we have just resigned ourselves to skipping a day in the city this time around; makes me wonder if I will EVER get to the Met again as it was closed the last two visits I attempted. In any event this is just one of several things I had planned and then had to re-plan, and not just because of my mother's situation; for whatever reason, scheduling get-togethers with some friends also proved a bit challenging and in some cases I wasn't able to pull it off at all. Also didn't get to see my nephew at all, as he's doing year-end finals at college and couldn't come home to see me (I'm only pouting a little about that).

Such is life though. Sometimes, shit happens and you just have to roll with it, and that's what we've done. This trip has reminded me that while it's good to have a plan when you travel (or any time in your daily life, for that matter), it's even more important to remain flexible when life throws you a curve ball. I could really care less about seeing New York, in comparison with being able to be there for my mom when she needed some extra support and help this past 10 days. In the long run, I know my mother will be OK and although she's a bit unnerved by the recent turn of events in her health, she's also a retired nurse and able to be practical about these things once she gets her mind around it all. I am seeing this as a possible blessing in disguise, us finding out she's got this thing which is at the moment "minor" but which would have gotten worse had no one detected it, and which could have proved disastrous if she'd had the original surgery without the doctors knowing there was a cardiac problem. The problem sounds like something that can be fixed and managed, and that after a short delay of a month or two, she could proceed with her knee surgery and then also get her mobility back.

So that she can finally get on a plane and come visit us in Paris. She's dying to come over (she loves Paris) and I'm dying for her to come, see our girl again and meet our two boys for the first time, and stay with us while we show her around the city. I'm hoping it is this thought that will give her an extra shot of something positive to focus on, while she is dealing with what's going to happen in the next few weeks or months.

I want her to come and see my new life. Because I love her and would like to share more of my life with her. And because since I've been back, she didn't make one single remark about my hair... and only once did she mention that I've gained weight (and that was only during our discussion of my risk factors for pregnancy so at least for once there was some sort of context for her pointing out that my ass is getting as big as a bateau-mouche). That sort of Herculean self-restraint on her part deserves a reward of a free Angelina's hot chocolate, don't you agree?

Suspended animation

So yes, I know I haven't blogged in FOUR WHOLE DAYS and some of you are probably going through blog-withdrawal (I don't even think there's a 12-step program for that). Georges has even mentioned it; he says he misses reading his favorite blog. Then in the next breath he's telling me to take it easy and/or get myself to a doctor because while I don't feel all THAT sick, I am still barking quite a lot in a most unpleasant way and its wearing me out. I have an appointment for a medical consultation on Friday anyway, over at the British Hospital (which it turns out will accept both the standard French medical coverage and my husband's mutuelle coverage, PLUS of course they speak English if not American -- well worth the hike over to Levallois I think, just for the peace of mind) so I'm trying to hold out for that instead of going to two different doctors in the same week*.

Nonetheless, it's actually SPRING (the calendar SAYS SO in spite of the usual schizophrenic Parisian weather), and despite my body's attempts to forcibly eject my lungs, I am feeling that sense of anticipation that I usually feel this time of year when the weather changes and I can chase away the winter blahs. And this year, the feeling of suspended animation is even more pronounced than usual. It's like I am waiting for something to happen. Something interesting. Something big. Something wonderful. Spring does that to me, gives me this feeling of sort of hovering over my own life as an observer, as I wait and watch with bated breath to see what the season of renewal will bring. You know that "Christmas morning" or "birthday party" feeling you had as a kid, knowing there was a gift or two sitting right in front of you, all wrapped up... and in the moments just before you ripped off the paper and ribbons like a monkey tearing into a slice of birthday cake, you thought: "WOW... there could be ANYTHING in there!"

So you scrunched up your eyes and wished real hard that it was that very special gift you'd been waiting for. You held your breath, opened your eyes, tore off the paper... and sometimes you got exactly what you wanted.

If you could see me now, eyes all scrunched up...

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*After coughing most of the morning I caved in and took myself to the doctor's office around the corner from our house, not knowing whether anyone there would speak English but figuring I knew how to say "bronchite". I lucked out; got a doctor who I liked and who spoke enough English to match my French -- and some antibiotics to knock this stupid thing out.

Family time

We're off to the South to spend some time with some of Georges' family members, one of whom has been very ill. Posting will be light, if at all... but I'd really appreciate everyone sending some good thoughts and prayers to his family right now. Merci and I'll be back early next week for sure.

When it was fun to run

Just now, our nou-nou called out to the boys (the Little Guy and his buddy from next door), "Les garçons!" which was their cue that lunch is ready. And the next sound I heard was the thunder of 7- and 5-year-old feet as the two boys ran from the upstairs bedroom to the staircase and down to the kitchen. We have sheet-metal flooring up there (it's a contemorary house) and when they run, they might just as well be a herd of vaches on the loose rather than two small, rather light-weight little boys.

And my first thought -- well, after thinking "My God what a noise!" -- was this: "Remember when it was fun to run everyplace you went?"

Kids just love to run. Once they learn as very young children, they basically don't stop running for years. They run even when they don't really need to run -- like when lunch is served. Then I suppose they hit their pre-teens or teens, and it is then no longer considered cool to run... so instead they adopt some bored-looking poses as they slow down and slouch their way through the next few years. And as adults, they only run for exercise or sport, and the older they get, the more running feels like a chore and it feels anything but fun. Frankly, on those rare occasions when I run now, for even a few yards, it hurts. Everywhere. Not fun.

How wonderful it must be to run just for the fun of it, with no agenda and no real destination in mind, just because you feel like it. Or maybe because in your imagination, you are the fastest person ever born or because running is the closest thing to flying.

All good things

... must come to an end. So it is with our wonderful holiday vacation. We leave for Paris tomorrow and arrive there early Sunday morning.

Where we will do more holiday celebrating with the kids, so there is still fun to be had... along with some jet lag, I'm sure.

Our last trip here was, of course, full of wedding plans, immigration paperwork and me cleaning out and selling the majority of my stuff. So this past 11 days of just being able to relax, shop, go to the movies (just saw "Benjamin Button" and HIGHLY recommend it despite it being 3 hours long) and hang out with family and friends was simply perfect. Even with our frigidly cold day in NYC.

I'll post some pix after we get back and unload our digital cameras, but I hope you all had as nice a holiday as we did, whatever you've been doing!

A slightly belated Joyeux Noel to all, and to all a good night!

Oh, la Vache! or, Economic Models Explained with Cows

My best friend sent me this email today and I haven't laughed so hard since I don't know when. Since this blog is often about discovering and adapting to cultural differences ("It's not WRONG, it's just DIFFERENT"), I figured I should share it with all of you, too. Don't know the origins, sorry.

Have a good laugh, enjoy and happy Tuesday!

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SOCIALISM

You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbour.

COMMUNISM

You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and gives you some milk.

FASCISM

You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.

NAZISM

You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and shoots you.

BUREAUCRATISM

You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the
milk away...

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM

You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.

AN AMERICAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.

ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM

You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of
credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a
debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all
four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a
Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who
sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company.
The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on
one more.
You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving
you with nine cows.
No balance sheet provided with the release.
The public then buys your bull.

A FRENCH CORPORATION

You have two cows.
You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want
three cows.

A JAPANESE CORPORATION

You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and
produce twenty times the milk.
You then create a clever cow cartoon image called 'Cowkimon' and market
it worldwide.

A GERMAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and
milk themselves.

AN ITALIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.

A RUSSIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.

A SWISS CORPORATION

You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.

A CHINESE CORPORATION

You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity.
You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.

AN INDIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.
You worship them.

A BRITISH CORPORATION

You have two cows.
Both are mad.

AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION

You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.

A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION

You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive.

A comment on comments, and an update on life

I'm experimenting with a new type of comments on Typepad, so if you're reading comments or trying to leave a comment, you might notice some changes. I'm still sorting through how it all works, but it appears that you can set up a free account with Typepad which can include optional links to your own blog or web site, a photo or image, and some profile information. With this new type of comment system, they also recommended that I disable that annoying spam-filtering device that made you type in some alpha-numeric code, because they claim they have an internal spam-filtering device already included. So THAT's kind of a relief.

I like the way the new comments are formatted and numbered but I'm still trying to work out why the image in my profile is NOT showing up on my past comments -- perhaps it will only appear on new ones in the new system. Anyway if you have any difficulty with comments, please let me know as this system is in beta and still has some kinks to be worked out. Feel free to send feedback to me about this new system.

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In other news, I had a FABULOUS time on Saturday night at the Katia and KylieMac Episode 200 Extravaganza, and an extravaganza it was -- with M&Ms and goodies galore, contest prizes, a live opera performance by Emily, drawings, loads of laughs and over 60 devoted podcast listeners there. Check out the audio of Episode 200 (and 201 when it's posted... also recorded at the same event, and both featuring The Bold Soul as one of the guest "hosts" and debate participants with her favorite Frog with a Blog).

Believe it or not, I am still not completely over the upper respiratory crap I've been dealing with for well over five weeks now. Finally saw my doctor yesterday and now on antibiotics, trying to knock it out once and for all before I get on a plane for New Jersey next Tuesday. Last thing I want is to be sick for my holiday visit with my family and friends! Unfortunately now we have a sick teenager in the house, too... again. When there are kids in the house, it's always something. I love my step-kids but you know what? I was healthier before. Oh well, they're still worth it.

Making some headway on my projects finally so that's making me a little less stressed. But adding TO the stress is the knowledge that tomorrow I go for my medical exam just prior to FINALLY getting my new spouse Carte de Séjour. It will be a 1-year card to start with, but that's one year from end of OCTOBER and I have to initiate the renewal process three months before it expires, so this basically gives me only six months to relax and not have to chase down any paperwork. Oh joy.

In my free moments this week, I bought some Christmas decorations and a potted Christmas tree instead of a cut one, because we'll be gone for 11 days and we wanted a healthy tree when we return to celebrate a belated Christmas with the kids. The only problem was, the florist sneakily hid the fact that the tree was "potted" in a broken plastic container with nearly NO earth inside it. So today I have to go out and find a big terracotta pot and some soil to keep the tree from falling over. Currently it is living inside my biggest pasta pot and sort of leaning against the wall! Anyway, it's nice to have a tree to look forward to decorating... I haven't done that in a few years, not having had a place of my own. My collection of ornaments is still in New Jersey this year but I do have one new one that we bought in July just after our wedding, and it's sort of symbolic of our first real Christmas together (if you remember, last Christmas I was in NJ and Georges was back here in France so we didn't actually get to BE together on Christmas).

So that's what's happening here, in case you were wondering why posting has been a little spotty lately. Just lots of little things going on that make up a full-time "job".

To 'pause, or not to 'pause... THAT is the question

I am sitting here quietly with the window open, cold air rushing in and cascading over my hot, perspired face. It gives me some relief, yet I don't stop sweating. This has been happening more frequently of late. Having been sick for the better part of the last two weeks I was chalking it up to the upper respiratory infection although I never really spiked a fever. But other symptoms are showing themselves also, and I think I may have to face it.

These are the real thing. Hot Flashes. I think the "pause" is upon me.

Frankly, I do not dread this at all, the idea of being old enough to go into menopause. I have no issues with feeling like I won't be a "real woman" anymore if I stop being officially fertile. I just wish my body would freaking get it over with already, because I dislike uncertainty and my body has been one mass of contradictions, having been in the ramp-up (peri-menopause) to the Big "M" for several years now. My younger sister went through it already, albeit exceptionally early, but since both her kids were teenagers at the time this was more of an inconvenience for her than anything else. I have been jealous of her ever since. For me, at 47 and having long ago decided to remain childless (and now having three step-kids to show for THAT decision!), menopause can't come soon enough.

It's these hot flashes I can't deal with. I don't like being overheated, ever. I will never be someone who wants to move to Florida in my retirement years because I hate the heat and humidity. I tend to perspire easily when other people remain annoyingly cool, like in the overcrowded #4 metro line which is too hot even in January. I carry a folding paper fan with me because in Paris it seems everyone but me is too cold and all indoor spaces are too warm.

So add some hormonal hot flashes into the mix and you can just imagine.

Of course, there is not much to be done about this. Sure, there are natural remedies I could be taking to ease the symptoms. But for the most part this is something I have to wait out, as long as its going to take.

And it could take awhile. I may not even BE in full-blown menopause (they won't say you're really IN it until you've got a whole year without a period; gee, thanks, THAT'S definitive!) and this could all be just a fun preview of things to come (damn it).

Abducted by aliens?

I wanted to reassure everyone that my recent lack of posts was not caused by me being abducted by aliens in the night, nor did I suddenly win the lottery, nor did I witness a violent crime and have to enter the witness protection program.

I've just been down for more than a week with some nasty upper respiratory thing that has been either bronchitis, a sinus infection, or most likely a bit of both. Whatever it is, it knocked me flat on my ass with fatigue and I've just had no brain for blogging whatsoever. I spent most of the weekend and nearly all of today alternately dozing, playing computer games, or watching chick flicks in bed while the rest of the family went on with their cheery lives.

I'll be back when my head clears up. Hopefully I'm on the mend a bit now. I definitely need to go out for supplies tomorrow because we're nearly out of Kleenex.

An international perspective on our new President

I received a wonderful letter yesterday from a regular reader, Krystyna Larkham of London, and asked her permission to share a portion of it with the rest of you because I thought she did a brilliant job of describing what Barack Obama's presidency represents for the international community as well as for Americans. It's an article she wrote in the wee hours of the morning after watching the election on TV.

I hope you enjoy what she had to say, and for those who may still be harboring lingering negativity about the outcome of the election, I hope that at the very least her thoughts provide you with something more positive to focus on for the future. Because as much as we may individually disagree with one another or with the President-Elect himself, in the end as Americans we need to come together and look for ways to bridge the gap, or nothing can ever be accomplished.

I'm on the road (well, the rails) today heading to the south, so without further fanfare, let me present Krystyna as my first "guest blogger"!

* * * * * * * * * *

At 5am this morning, a good friend of mine sent me a text message. It said, 'I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character' (Martin Luther King, 1963). My friend is a British Asian, who works in Politics and has literary ambition; I was surprised that he resorted to the words of someone else which, powerful though they are to my white middle-class ears, have been repeated so often as to become almost cliché.

It was exciting at 5am this morning. It was exciting to see the election of a president who, whatever you think of him, is not simply a replica of something which has come before. It was exciting to see so many people motivated by the promise of change, mobilised in their thousands to a park in Chicago and stirred into a frenzy worthy of a pop star, by politics of all things. It was exciting, and also a little scary. It was scary to see the negative reaction of Republicans at their headquarters in Arizona, booing every time Obama was mentioned in McCain's concession speech. It was scary to look into a future which is a complete unknown, with the promise of 'Change'. Human beings are creatures of habit. We do not like change.

But regardless of your political preference, something already has changed. McCain last night silenced his dissenting crowd with the following words "it's natural, tonight, to feel some disappointment. But tomorrow, we must move beyond it and work together to get our country moving again". Obama celebrated his victory by urging the crowds to "summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other". This is a new politics, not one man on a stage promising the moon (although it is surely impossible to achieve all that Obama has promised), but two men, from opposing political parties saying 'look, it can be good, but we have to do it together. There is no magic wand, just you and me'. "I will listen to you, especially when we disagree" he says, and this is what makes me hope.

My boyfriend has a postcard in his office, which says 'Hate something, change something', and this is what to me Obama really stands for, behind the healthcare and the repealing of Bush's tax rebates and whatever other policies you may or may not believe in. As Shami Chakrabarti, director of Liberty*, so eloquently said on Desert Island Disks -- if she wasn't doing the job she does, she would just be sitting in the pub with her mates, complaining about the very things she campaigns so vociferously on: Guantanamo bay, 42 days*, etc. Obama, in the words of McCain, "inspir[ed] the hopes of so many millions of Americans who had once wrongly believed that they had little at stake or little influence in the election of an American president". He may not be in charge of our country (political jokes aside), or even your choice of president, but let him inspire you to make Change, to have Influence. Go on demonstrations. Write letters to your MP, to the Mayor, to the train company who held you up for three hours last Sunday. Get some backbone; use our gift of free speech, while it lasts, so that our politicians too want to listen to us, especially when we disagree. Because I understand now what my friend meant at 5 o clock this morning. We are no longer judged by the colour of our skin, but by the contents of our character. Make yours count.

~ Krystyna Larkham, London, England

* * * * * * * * * *

Thank you again, Krystyna, for your heartfelt words. It's so nice to know that our friends around the world may now be able to see more good than bad in America and in Americans once again. Because really, we're quite nice once you get to know us!

* For those of us outside the U.K. who may not be familiar with some of the references in the article, Krystyna told me that Liberty is a human rights/civil liberties organization in the U.K., and the reference to 42 days concerns a piece of controversial anti-terror legislation the British government tried to pass that would have permitted house arrest without charge for up to 42 days.

Tired, but hopeful and happy

I was able to stay awake until 4:30 am Paris time -- that's 10:30 pm on the East Coast and 7:30pm on the West -- with my French husband to keep me company and keep me awake long enough to realize that Obama was going to win it. We had three news sources playing simultaneously: CNN, ABC and NBC (how nice to see some familiar faces on the TV for a change!) I just couldn't stay awake to see the official call or his live acceptance speech, but first thing this morning (after coffee) I was able to catch the replay and highlights online. And he didn't just win it, he REALLY won it!

Watching the faces of the crowd in Chicago where PRESIDENT-ELECT Obama gave his first speech as the future commander-in-chief, I was very moved. Their expressions ranged from radiantly joyful to tearfully overwhelmed. They knew they were seeing history in the making, and they were thrilled and grateful, you could really see it. I thought both Obama's acceptance speech and McCain's concession speech were wonderful; I've never thought McCain was a bad guy and he really showed, in defeat, what kind of a man he really is at the core. Of course, he's disappointed as are a lot of people who believed in him, and I can understand and appreciate that.

Aside from the results, I am so proud to know that the voter turnout was so high across the entire country! As Georges says, that's a victory for democracy. This election day, despite long lines, polling glitches and the desperate attempts to mislead voters with phony SMS messages, Americans did it RIGHT and they got out the vote!

Mainly what I am feeling right now, other than eager to go back to bed, is HOPEFUL. First of all, I am hopeful because Obama's election means that a signficant portion of Americans were able to overcome any personal biases they may have had, and vote for the MAN rather than the color of his skin. Are there many who may not have voted for him for that same reason? Sure, but this was a HUGE step in the right direction.

I'm also hopeful because for the first time in a long time, I can see the possibility for positive change to occur in our country, and then for our country to effect a positive change elsewhere in the world. It will not be easy, and it will not be fast; you don't undo several decades of bad policies and decisions (notice I said DECADES... I'm not blaming the current administration solely for the problems we've got) overnight.

But maybe for once, something will get accomplished in Washington. Maybe people will be able to realize that having a social conscience and some government programs for those who are struggling is not the same thing as being a Communist. Maybe people will realize that it's not a crime to want to help people who may WANT to help themselves but for whom circumstances prevent that from happening. And maybe they'll realize that if you only focus on yourself and don't extend a hand to a brother or sister, you only hurt yourself in the long run because at the core we are all ONE.

Call me an idealist but that's how I see it. And that's why I'm hopeful that as of today, things will start moving in a new, better direction. I can't wait to see what will happen.

Of course, there's one more added bonus for me and other Americans hanging out in Paris. We can finally hold our heads up and stop feeling like we have to apologize for George W. It gets so boring to have to explain to new people you meet: "No, I didn't vote for him".

Another reason I'm glad I'm not in New Jersey today

I am warm, dry and cozy in my little home office in the 18th. I am working well today; I started and finished one chapter of a client's book and shipped it off to her via email before starting the next chapter and already being four pages into that. I'm happy when I finally get into a good writing groove on a project, especially this one which while a fascinating memoir for a great client, I had been stalled on for some time until more recently. So things are progressing well and both client and ghostwriter are happy.

While I work, I am reworking my entire iPod music list. Somehow when I last uploaded several different albums called "Greatest Hits", the iPod software screwed up and loaded the SAME two albums like six times, so I have a long repetitive list of "Greatest Hits" I have to wade through and it's annoying. Georges and I got, as a wedding gift, a carte cadeaux for FNAC, and we used it to get a clock radio that is also an iPod player for our bedroom. We really love it and my iPod is getting more of a workout than it used to as a result. It's nice when I can multitask, working while listening to Simon and Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" from the Concert in Central Park album and uploading more music to my iPod at the same time.

(Or perhaps you prefer Clay Aiken's rendition from his American Idol finale:)

Still, I'm aware the damned effing election (I can't seem to say the word "election" without adding "damned effing" these days, so forgive me if this offends) is in just one week. Talk about the need for a Bridge over some troubled waters, because people, we surely have some troubled waters in America. I don't have to be there every day for me to be aware of what's going on (despite what my sister sometimes accuses me of). I have already cast my vote weeks ago, so my conscience is clear. Now I only hope my candidate wins, and that if he does win (which it seems he very well could), that he succeeds beyond my or anyone else's wildest dreams, because what America needs now is a freaking miracle or two. Seriously, there are a lot of people in a world of hurt, and for the upper-middle classes (not to mention a large segment of Washington DC itself) to act like that isn't true is nothing short of blind. So I surely hope the tide will turn after next Tuesday. I may be living in France now but that doesn't mean I don't want America to shine again.

I'd be lying, however, if I said I wasn't relieved NOT to be there right now. Because of the mind-numbing, endless campaign ads that are running 24x7 everywhere you look. You can't escape them. Well, not without leaving the country.

In talking with my mother on the phone a little while ago, I found one more reason to be glad I'm not there at the moment. She said it was actually SNOWING* today! Before Halloween? That NEVER happens in New Jersey, where the first snowfall typically doesn't happen until December and sometimes not even then. WTF?

All those who believe global warming climate change is a myth, raise your hands. Then... just go away, I can't look at you right now.

*My family lives just one county south of High Point, NJ, mentioned in the article as having had 14 INCHES OF SNOW!

Olympiques

Just watching the opening ceremonies in Beijing -- really spectacular! -- the parade of athletes has just begun. Of course the nations are entering the "bird's nest" stadium in alphabetical order in Chinese, plus I'm watching this on French TV, so basically I have no idea what's really going on and I'm just enjoying it anyway. So far neither France nor the U.S. have come in yet... Belgium has entered, and oops, there goes Denmark.

I like watching the athletes during the opening parade, with their colorful outfits (from a distance, I thought the team from Barbados was wearing marching band uniforms until I got a closer look!) and carrying their own cameras, with such joy and excitement on their young faces, particularly when I see the many countries who have just a handful of people to represent them... sometimes even one lone, brave athlete. That's when you realize that for most of these participants, it's all about the experience of being there, not about doping and winning and how much money you can make in product endorsements afterward if you happen to medal in your event.

So I hope these games will be a safe and amazing experience for the athletes who have worked so hard to get to Beijing. They deserve it.

And now, I have not one, but two countries to root for.

Live from New York...

Coming to you live from the Apple store on Fifth Ave. Just being tourists for a day with Georges, his daughter and my neice. Its really hot and humid. Wedding on track. Wish you were here.

Easy does it

It's a nice 'n' easy weekend. No kids at all -- they're all off doing other things. We started off our weekend by going yesterday to surprise a friend (her husband's lovely idea) for her upcoming birthday, which I discovered is the 20th, the day after MINE!

After that surprise breakfast party, Georges and I headed over to Rivoli to do a little shopping, and came away with something beautiful, lacy and dare I say sexy, for me for my birthday (what can I say, the man has good taste). Next we strolled down the Rue a bit and found a really nice shop that had all kinds of things for the home and kitchen, and he found me the one thing I had been looking for since Christmas but hadn't yet found -- a small pair of simple silver-plated candlesticks to hold tapered candles. (Seriously, why is it so hard to find nice candlesticks here? Most of the few I've seen have been gaudy and cheap-looking.) His daughter bought me these adorable candles as a Christmas gift but I haven't been able to display them, so now I can. We also scored a paper towel holder and a funky orange flexible hot plate that is pretty cool on the table even when we're not using it.

After our shopping excursion, we kept strolling and ended up over at Chatelet, so I took Georges to one of my favorite sushi places, Japkora (as the name implies they also do Korean food). After lunch, we both felt the need of a major nap because we'd eaten too much between our normal breakfast, the surprise breakfast party (we didn't need that second pastry, that's for sure) and sushi, so we headed home.

Where we slept blissfully until we heard a neighbor right outside our window with a POWER SAW. [Insert your favorite expletive here and that's pretty much what was coming out of my mouth at that moment.] So much for a long nap, but we enjoyed it while it lasted.

Inspired by the promise of the new Indiana Jones movie which comes to Paris next week (could we BE more excited about this movie? Harrison Ford is still hot, even if he is 65) we watched Raiders of the Lost Ark last night and will watch The Last Crusade tonight. We're skipping Temple of Doom as we agree that was the worst of the series and the only good part was watching those adorable Indian kids being reunited with their families, but you have to watch the entire annoying movie to get to that part and it's just not worth listening to Kate Capshaw whine for two hours.

Today we're being even lazier. We slept in (slept?) and then had some breakfast (by candlelight, just for fun), followed by a stroll to the part of our quartier where the Sunday marché is located and shops are also open. We had an errand at the local bricolage for some hardware to fix a broken baby gate (not our baby, but the neighbor's, who is here often and about to start walking, and our spiral staircase is no place for him!) and then to Picard to stock the freezer.

I've been playing the piano this afternoon in between doing things on my computer. Georges is doing the same thing. I just made myself a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich for a light lunch (one thing I do not have to hide in this house, in order to keep it to myself, is my peanut butter. My French family hates it!) There is a pile of dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, but I don't care. I'll get to them later. I'm too relaxed right now.

Boring, mundane, easy weekend days: we love them. We could have gone out to a museum or to dinner or out to a movie, but this weekend it's just the two of us here at home, and we savor our alone time. Tonight we'll be booking our airfare to New Jersey for our wedding. Tomorrow is my birthday, and hopefully the day we get the rings back from the jewelry store (I miss my engagement ring even though I had it on my finger less than 24 hours before sending it to be resized!)

The sun is shining (for a few minutes at least) and I am reminded once again how lucky I am to have this man in my life, this wonderful man who loves me so strongly and so well that every single day I wake up and am grateful that he found me. And he's just so easy to love in return.

Pressée

If you've wondered why there have been no blog posts since Wednesday, the answer is: simply too damn busy.

I am under significant deadlines for two different ghostwriting clients (and frankly, not making much progress), finishing up odds and ends for a third client from my web business (from which I have now officially retired but still have a few loose strings to tie up), and trying to get a fourth client to make some progress so I can wrap up his book proposal (my clients can often procrastinate better than I can). I am now taking French classes for four hours a week - that doesn't sound like much but when you add in transportation time and the fact that after the class ends at 12:30 I have to stop for lunch, I don't get home again until around 2pm on average those two days.

I had my income taxes to prepare and file (and pay) this week -- ugh, but at least unlike last year I did not procrastinate and file an extension, so it's done and off my plate for another year.

There have been social commitments. I have a friend in town who is visiting from NYC and we had her over for a lovely dinner last night. We have house guests coming all during the early part of this week. We made plans to go away for a week's vacation for the first part of school holidays, starting the 19th (during which I will meet another of Georges' sisters -- we have been very eager to finally meet so this is something I am looking forward to, except that I might have to put on a bathing suit which I NEVER look forward to). The evening of the day we come back, we are attending the wedding of couple we know here in Paris, so it's off the TGV, a dash to get home and change, and we're going to the mairie to watch them get married and then party the night away at a jazz club rented for the occasion. (Can you say champagne and mojitos and great jazz? Yeah, I'm there.)

On a more somber note, I found out yesterday evening that my brother-in-law's father passed away Thursday night after an illness of several months, and although I will not be going home for any services (they will do a family memorial over the summer because the family is very spread out), of course this adds to the people I need to be mindful of right now.

And last but definitely not least, I've been doing a lot of research into -- well, let's call it a "personal project" -- that requires a HUGE amount of planning, documentation and paperwork, and which will, by necessity, take up an increasingly HUGE amount of my time for the next three to four months (but it's all for a very wonderful purpose -- to be discussed in some future posts, so be patient). For now suffice to say, this project creates an even more pressing need for me to be hyper-organized and learn how to allocate my time to all my commitments so that I can keep everyone happy, keep some money rolling in, and everything that I want and need to accomplish gets done, and done properly, especially with this personal project which is more important to me than everything else combined.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. [slaps forehead in disgust with self] I've started working, albeit sporadically, on MY next book, too.

I am still struggling to find my new writing/work "routine" since moving in with Georges -- which makes me laugh as I look at the words I just wrote, because to be brutally honest I didn't exactly have an OLD routine, not since being in Paris at any rate. I have never been a creature of routine, someone who has a need to schedule everything. In fact, I have studiously avoided routine throughout my life, preferring the "well, let's see what looks interesting today and do THAT" model, but since becoming self-employed ten years ago (Wow! Has it really been 10 years? Cool!) I have realized the necessity of at least some routine, or there is nothing to drive you forward and it's all too easy to become distracted. I suspect I will be one of those people who always struggles with this idea of "routine" my entire working life because I am a creative type with many interests and there is always something new to be explored. Yet to be successful, I know it's important to stick to something until you finish it, even if you don't quite feel like it and ESPECIALLY when you've made a commitment and someone is paying you good money to do it.

So here I am... once again avoiding one of those aforementioned deadlines by blogging -- which for me is a completely joyful kind of writing, no pressure and no stress involved, just pure FUN. But now I've pretty well run out of excuses to go write a chapter or two for this person's book, or I will have one very unhappy client tomorrow.

I will therefore quietly excuse myself to go do some writing and keep the paying customers happy, and I apologize in advance if blogging is sporadic over the next two weeks. Don't worry, I'm still "out here", and April in Paris is still April in Paris.

Move over, June Cleaver

All is quiet. I'm temporarily alone in the house... well, except for the cat.

I have just kissed my two men goodbye at the door: both the tall one with the Gregory Peck eyes, and the very short one who lost his second tooth hier. I wished them both a bonne journée and waved them off with a smile.

OK, I stopped short of handing out lunch bags at the door. My hair and makeup wasn't done, and I was still in my pajamas -- no high heels and perfectly coiffed hair here. Both the nanny and the femme de ménage arrive soon, so it's not like I have an entire household to run; I don't even have to iron Georges' shirts myself. And I have a lot of work to do for my clients; also have to go across town to clean up the old apartment and make sure I didn't leave anything behind. 

But there is a grocery shopping list on the fridge, some things to be dropped off at the pressing and some laundry I could be folding. And I know that around 6 or 6:30 tonight, I will be eagerly waiting and watching for l'homme de ma vie to come home to me, and tell me about how his day went.

I am definitely having a June Cleaver moment. Without the pearls.

Démenagé!

Well, we did it. We moved me across town, and into Georges' life. Or should I say, we've merged our lives together -- into one big pile of boxes and a lot of things to reorganize.

Saturday was Moving Day. We picked up the small van at noon, and our first stop was to head out to Ikea where we made our first major purchase together: a new bed and mattress, and Georges insisted on a new desk chair for me (on which I am comfortably installed at this very moment!) Plus a small area rug for the office/guest room and assorted small household items, because when you're at Ikea it is impossible to resist all the great deals and cool designs. They can even make a wastebasket look interesting, those people at Ikea. Total time getting to and shopping at Ikea: approx. 3.5 hours, including lunch and the wait time to pick up our order.

Then, we headed back into Paris and down to the 15th to my apartment, where Georges will now never let me hear the end of it for telling him, "Oh, it's really just a few little boxes, amour". Well, there were just a few boxes -- mostly packed with books and papers. Plus about 648 bags of things that wouldn't fit into boxes. Thank God for a building with an elevator and that we were able to park the van right in front of the door. While I frantically finished packing up the food in the kitchen and the last remaining books, and putting piles of things near the elevator, Georges moved it all downstairs and loaded the van. Fortunately he had the foresight to upgrade the size of the van and everything just fit.

Cutting across town in the late Saturday afternoon traffic, we had a chance to take a breather and drink some water. The next challenge would be to find a parking space close to the door of his building. This proved to be no small task, and he had to circle the block about six times before a spot opened up nearby, just barely big enough to squeeze the van in, with a little creative "bumper car" action on Georges' part. (This is how people park cars in Paris; c'est normal.) Then it was the two of us, sprinting back and forth into the entry of the building with all the things, trying to get it all in before it got dark and started raining. Then of course we had to do the second step, carting it all from the entry to the far side of the courtyard and into the house. Afterward, we decided to take the van back and go get ourselves a much-deserved drink. When we got home, we were both too exhausted to bother with putting the new bed together or doing any kind of serious unpacking, and instead settled for arranging the piles so we could walk across the floor without killing ourselves. The cat didn't know what to make of it all but she liked having new places in which to hide before jumping out to attack our unsuspecting feet (a hobby of hers).

Sunday, first I went with Georges while he cast his vote in round one of the mayoral elections. We also hit Picard to stock up on frozen foods and to the hardware store for a few odds and ends we needed. Then Georges spent nearly four hours -- bless his heart -- putting together this very complicated bed frame and the four big storage drawers underneath, and not once did I hear him swear at it. Meantime, I sorted which things needed to go upstairs and took as much as I could, leaving the heaviest boxes for him (it's awkward, this spiral staircase, when you are carrying bulky things). Then I put away groceries, we cleaned out the bathroom cabinets so I could put things away in there (and out of the reach of small children). So as of this morning we had the downstairs floor cleared enough that the nanny can do her job with the little guys without having too many obstacles.

The nice weather of Saturday has since turned horrible... starting with rain most of yesterday and today it's rain with some vicious wind gusts; a good time to stay home and work. This morning I spent a couple of hours unpacking some clothes (but not all) and making space in the office to unroll the new tapis. Soon, the boys will be home for lunch and I will go and visit with them before forcing myself to come back up here and do some much-needed W-O-R-K.

Last night, before falling asleep, we talked about the weekend, and about the future. Then we just looked at each other from the comfort of our new bed, and smiled. There were simply no words big enough to answer "How do you feel?"

Spud

So fatigued. Damn bronchitis really takes it out of you, doesn't it? I'm not that sick, just completely exhausted by the least little physical effort, which is not like me.

Still, I shouldn't complain. It's giving me an excuse to catch up on episodes of Ugly Betty and Brothers & Sisters. Some good comes out of everything.

Excuse me as I shuffle back to the comfort of the couch. How DOES one say "couch potato" in French? Patate de canapé?

Domestic bliss

It is Sunday evening. I have just had a relaxing and much-needed shower. I finally have a little energy to think about blogging something. I've been out of commission most of the past three days, laid out by a cold + bit of bronchitis... you know the kind of thing I'm talking about. Where when you're sitting still and not doing much, you think you're feeling OK and getting better, but the minute you get up and move around you start getting woozy and need to crawl under the covers with a box of Kleenex and a strong expectorant for company? Yeah, that's been me, all weekend... a lazy slug.

We managed to make it out of the house for a few hours on Friday night (after I rested all day) for a small party to celebrate Petite's book; there was no way I was going to miss that! Had a lovely time with my friends there (and Alice, you looked so great -- pending motherhood really suits you! And HUGE kudos to Frog for his custom-designed Petite doll -- when I get published, I hope you'll make me one because it was TOO DAMN WONDERFUL) but the trip wore me out. We only had to go from the 18th to the 19th, but had two subway changes with too many stairs with the elevated platform at Jaurès, and then discovered the Buttes Chaumont station was closed so had to walk an extra 10 minutes. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal but try doing it when your breathing is constricted by about 30%.

Saturday we attempted a movie at a theatre where normally, we'd walk there just for the exercise but where I was so tired we took the bus... then found out we got the movie times mixed up and we were too late. (Hey, it happens.) While we were using the WiFi and Georges' iPod Touch in the local McDo's to see if we could find the same movie at another theatre at a convenient time, I suddenly felt SO dizzy and woozy that Georges had to let me lean against him, propping me up in case I passed out (which I did not, thank goodness -- who wants to pass out in a McDonald's? Ugh.) Once I felt better, we decided the Universe was telling us to just go home and have a quiet afternoon. Good decision.

That night, I cooked dinner for Georges, me and the two oldest kids -- the first time I've cooked here, ever, unless you count making coffee, tea or toast as "cooking" (and I don't). I cook two special dishes really well, and the shrimp scampi over rice (with a mesclun salad -- Georges made the dressing as he's better at it) I made last night was one of them. Fortunately it's an easy, quick dish to make and doesn't require a lot of prep work (other than beheading and peeling a lot of shrimp), so I had just enough energy to cook and serve. We had a really nice dinner together, en famille.

Today we had thought about heading to the big agriculture show because it sounded interesting (if a bit smelly) but I still wasn't feeling perky enough to deal with the crowds, plus we slept really late AGAIN (what a luxury!) so instead we turned it into a de-cluttering day. Georges has, bit by bit, been sorting and purging and rearranging things to make room for me and my stuff, bless his heart. And wonder of wonders, he has a teenage daughter who prefers things neat and tidy, and initiates cleaning projects UNPROMPTED. God knows I was never that way! I helped to the best of my ability (did some laundry, handed things to Georges when he was putting them in the little storage cave, cleaning up the kitchen, took some things upstairs to the office to deal with later) but mainly Georges just told me to rest and not exert myself. Between the two of them, each doing their separate little household projects, I cannot believe how much they accomplished.

So now, here we are... 9:45 on a Sunday night. Done with the work. Ate a delicious (cooked by Georges) but quiet dinner because we were all ravenous and tired; I did the dishes. She is watching TV in the other room. He is in the kitchen on his laptop, listening to classical music and reading something on the Internet. And I'm in the bedroom, cozy and relaxed and doing what comes naturally -- writing. For someone who is used to a lot of alone time, I am finding the adjustment to family living is a pleasure so far. At the end of the first week... even with getting sick (and how more real does it get than THAT?) I can honestly say: it's been fun, comfortable, and really wonderful.

That soft sound you hear is a sigh of contentment.