The Bold Soul: A Writer's Life in Paris

First day

My friend Cathy sent me this photo of the two of us on our first day of school: Welcome to 1967 (when cordovan shoes were the height of fashion for 5-year-olds, apparently). We were five years old and I was such a midget (with a bad haircut à la Mom, I think -- my little sister got the GOOD hair in the family). I see that we both have cards pinned to our dresses, probably so the teachers would know where to put us when we got off the school bus. Do we look brave? Bold? Excited? Or a bit hesitant? All of the above, probably. Read more →

In which I discover yet another way I am not really French

Gentlemen, you have my permission to skip this post if you'd rather not read about "girl stuff" -- like my first visit to the gynecologist in France. First things first: I had to get there, and it wasn't anywhere near my neighborhood. I opted for the slower but infinitely more tranquille bus route with just one change. It took a full hour to get all the way to Levallois, but the bus stops right next to where I needed to go -- the British Hospital -- and I arrived 15 minutes early. Most of the staff there seem bilingual and it was kind of a relief to just walk in and easily ask for directions to where I was supposed to be. I had expected to have to fill out a lot of forms, like I do in America each time I go to any doctor and especially the first time going to a new doctor, but other than producing my Carte Vitale, I didn't have to do anything except check in and take a seat. A short wait later, I was called in by the doctor, a young-ish British woman who seemed pleasant enough. So far, so good, and... Read more →

Uh-oh, she's up to no good again

I think she's up to something, people. Has she joined a human-hating cult? Should I be worried? Read more →

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... Read more →

Like looking in a mirror

Kind of how I both looked and felt this morning, after a night of spotty sleep and a touch of bronchitis (again). Half of a double door in the Marais; the other half had the same face on it... Medusa? Read more →

A la récherche du sommeil perdu

At the Musée Carnavalet (one of the few museums in that part of Paris that was NOT closed today for the big national strike), you can see Proust's bedroom furniture and the desk at which he reportedly wrote his most notable work, which probably gave him at least an occasional bout of insomnia. Which, I blush to confess, I have also not yet read. You know what? Living in America it was a lot easier being less well-read. Here I'm constantly surrounded by philosophers and intellectuals -- dead or alive. Read more →

Waiting

Grace

A little something to start your week off with a smile: Il Divo - Amazing Grace / RUS from ILDIVORUS on Vimeo. Thought you might need this on your Monday morning as much as I did. Sent to me courtesy of my mother back in New Jersey; she says it's her favorite hymn, and although I'm not a church-person I have to agree with her -- and now Il Divo's is my favorite rendition. Wishing you peace -- and amazing grace -- as you go through your week, whatever you're doing and wherever you find yourself. Read more →

Knock-off

Under the heading of "Don't Try This at Home (or Work)", this just in: When I read this story about the woman who claims she slipped some tranquilizers into her boss' coffee because she thought he needed to "chill out", my first thought was that she probably saw my favorite scene from the movie 9 to 5 just one too many times. Knocking off one's boss is a fantasy many of us have probably had at one time or another especially those of us who've had the "boss from hell". Acting on it is another thing altogether. Not too bright, even if your boss is a total butt-head. By the way, I actually have one of those "poison rings" that Lily Tomlin uses in the movie clip. Found it at an antique show years ago and just had to have it; but I never wear it as it's huge and clunky, although it's beautiful. Still, I don't think I'd be tempted to use it on MY boss... as I'm self-employed. Read more →

Stranger than fiction

Read in the March issue of FUSAC while indulging in a hot chocolate at Ladurée this morning (a small private celebration for having successfully -- I hope -- submitted my name changes/passport renewal at the Embassy): Oh. My. God. I might have answered the ad, except for the part about needing my own weapons and no guarantee of my safety. If I went back in time and could choose the time I wanted to visit, I sort of picture myself being like Laura Ingalls Wilder... and she never had to fight off the bears, wolves and Indians herself. She had her Pa to do that for her while she cowered under the covered wagon with the rest of the women-folk. Or maybe going back like in the movie "Somewhere in Time" or "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" might not be so bad. But "bring your own weapons"? And not getting paid until AFTER you've risked your life? What's up with THAT? Never do anything on spec; get the money up front, that's my motto. Who wants to bet that the person who had to accept this ad at FUSAC probably wet his/her pants laughing after reading this one for the... Read more →