The Bold Soul: A Writer's Life in Paris

Don't you wish you were me?

Friday: Packing Saturday: Packing Sunday: Packing Monday: Slept all day (bad cold) Tuesday: Packing + food shopping Wednesday: Clean new apartment, then packing (Georges goes to Tunisia for 2 days) Thursday: Wait for delivery of new sleeper sofa at new apartment, and also packing Friday: Packing Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday: Packing, Packing, Packing, Packing Wednesday: Another delivery (maybe) of new stove/oven and a coffee table; our last night at the old house Thursday: MOVING DAY Friday: Unpacking Saturday: Moving other stuff into self-storage, and unpacking Sunday - end of May: Unpacking That's all, folks! Read more →

It's in the details

More reasons I love our new apartment: The 1930's-era spiral staircase, as seen from our door. We're on the top floor of a 4-story building. I love that the building is NOT "Haussmannian" in design; it's a nice change, although I love the old architecture as well. There is an elevator but 4 floors is not so bad if you're not carrying anything heavy. The skylight over the staircase is a really nice touch. I really love the rich colors of the carpet and how the trim paint on the staircase is the same dark teal green as in the carpet. It's lovely to see COLOR in a city that is known for it's drab neutrals. More photos to come, but probably after we get some furniture moved in and boxes unpacked. I will be slowly decorating for months to come, what with our travels in May and summer holidays in July. The gardienne seems quite nice; she showed me where the various garbage cans are for trash and recyclables, and I gave her the list of names for incoming mail, which she delivers to our door daily. The shared areas of the building are spotless, so she clearly does... Read more →

Flashback to Melon Beach

With all this moving nonsense, it might be easy to overlook what really matters. But I just noticed the date It was just two years ago today that Georges dropped the melon... and we got engaged. Two years later, I love him more every day than the day before, and still haven't found the answer to the question I asked as part of my wedding vows: "How big can love get?" Read more →

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and smile, smile, smile

The moving starts today. Well, sort of. We pick up the signed lease and keys today, and the apartment is officially OURS! My oldest step-son (who hasn't seen the apartment yet) will come with me to meet Georges at the apartment, and we'll bring a folding table and a couple of folding chairs, as well as a cart full of cleaning stuff, toilet paper (V. IMPORTANT!), and some juice and plastic cups. Nearly every day between now and our ACTUAL moving date (May 4th), I will be making trips up the hill (thank you, Montmartrobus!) with the wheelie cart and anything else I can tote to get things ready in advance. After today, the race begins. First thing tomorrow, I will take the lease to the EDF to get an official letter stating our new official address (a utility bill is THE sacrosanct "proof of legal address" document in France). After that, we have a list of others to contact: utility companies, banks, La Poste, tax office, friends and family -- and last, but not least, the Préfecture de Police where I will have 30 days in which to change the address on my Carte de Séjour. The new apartment... Read more →

How to organize a house move

Order packing cartons: CHECK. Start assembling and packing the cartons: CHECK. Get kids to start packing cartons: CHECK. Have a glass of wine: CHECK. Break down huge library (husband's big project before going on unavoidable long business trip to Haiti) and pack in cartons: CHECK (nearly) Realize have run out of book-sized cartons, even though had ordered 100: CHECK. Have a glass of wine: CHECK. Make rough inventory of what will be moved to new house vs. what goes in self-storage: CHECK. Revise inventory because way underestimated number of cartons: CHECK. Make list of moving companies to contact for estimates: CHECK. Make list of self-storage places to contact for estimates: CHECK. Have friend who is dating a cop tell you that boyfriend advises NOT using certain self-storage places as frequently broken into: CHECK. Be grateful for friends with connections, and revise list of self-storage places accordingly: CHECK. Kiss husband goodbye (crying, comme d'habitude) as he leaves for Haiti for NINE FUCKING DAYS: CHECK. Avoid calling moving and self-storage companies in husband's absence, because will need to speak French on the phone: CHECK. Eat too much chocolate, stressing about husband being in Haiti: CHECK. Skype with husband and feel better afterward:... Read more →

And... exhale

My usual M.O., whenever Georges has to go away for more than, say, 48 hours on a business trip, which he has to do maybe twice a year, is that I get a little bit weepy as he's leaving. He knows this about me and he humors me, never criticizes or tells me I'm being a big damn baby and just suck it up, already, woman, you're getting salt water all over my favorite tie! He's good that way, putting up with my emotional nature and loving me because of it rather than in spite of it. Which is why I am willing to overlook it when he leaves his socks on the floor. I don't know why, after all this time, I cry when he has to go on a trip (or on those roughly once-a-year occasions where I have had to go back to the States without him). I am more secure in this relationship than ever before in my life; I never worry about him voluntarily leaving me, it's never been a question for even one second since the day we met. So I don't know why I get so worked up at a separation of a... Read more →

Blur

I know I'm in there. Somewhere. (Photo by Georges, February 2010) Read more →

A splash of color

Feeling rather guilty now

... about having eaten kangaroo meat the other day at Kiwi Corner. And liking it. Look how accusingly that one 'roo is staring at me. Its like... he knows. Read more →

So, two yellow mongooses walk into a bar, and...

... and this is why mongooses shouldn't drink. Liquor makes 'em easy. Not laughing and pointing was the hardest thing ever. But I'm a mom now and sometimes I just have to suck it up. I wanted to, though... oh, how I wanted to. Read more →