today I feel French ...

For some reason, today was a day where I really felt like I am living here. Like, hey people I AM ALL LIVING IN FRANCE AND SHIT!

ahem.

I went to the Prefecture in Périgueux for the 4th time with my last, previously missing document (recovered this week-end). It was basically a form letter with pictures at the bottom of 5 taxation stamps. Apparently, monsieur has to affix my 5 'timbres', purchased for the princely sum of 55euros each, to these pictures and then send my file to Paris. Even better news than finding the previously missing document is today his opinion was that I wouldn't have to get an extension. But keep an eye on the dates just in case. I was so pleased I jumped up and, after a few mercis!, ran out and forgot to ask him my questions about getting papers in order to run my own business.

I'll just look forward to another trip to Périgueux. Which actually is true, the little city is beginning to grow on me. I headed off back to the parking lot and then decided, what the hell ... why not stroll around the city? It was around 11:00 and what else was going on? We've paused this week on my house (another story) so ...

I headed up one of the tiny streets in a shopping district I unearthed the last time I came here. I just took a deep breath and let myself enjoy strolling along with others, pausing to window shop at boutiques, the fromagerie, the patisserie, etc. I discovered a coffee bean vendor and ducked in and bought a bag of beans. I continued strolling and came across a hair salon. I looked inside at several attractive stylists and smartly-dressed patrons. There was a 'avant and aprés' display in their window, with many clients looking better for the visit. I completed my internal debate and went for it. Lo and behold, they had time to take me and the lovely and well-coiffed Celine did my hair. I actually ended up loving it! I left the length and added soft layers all over. She took the time to show me how to replicate her style. I have some of those adorable, super-short bangs (just a few) that I've always wanted but never got. It was the first time in years I have sat in that chair and not looked at myself with distaste, internally disparaging my fat chipmunk cheeks!

I left feeling like a million bucks ... I moved on to lunch in a little spot discovered last trip. The one with the 10 euro Plat du Jour that was so delicious. It was slightly rainy today so everyone was inside. I entered to discover the entire restaurant (small, actually only 24 seats) was filled with women! I felt right at home and today the Plat du Jour was only 8.50 euros! I got out with wine and coffee for less than 12 euros. I mosied along to Monoprix and bought some hair stuff for my new do. On the way back, I popped in to a candy shop I had spied earlier and bought Etienne (J-Y's son) a little Halloween treat.

As I continued back to the car, again doing my best to be fully present in the moments, I really felt a sense of belonging.

Tonight, I finally attended the yoga course I discovered about a month ago but haven't enrolled in because of visitors. It is in Brantome, taught by an older French woman. Seven students, 6 French and me! It was a little unnerving, especially when Madame asked me (I think!) to introduce myself to the class. Of course, after I said a few sentences and laid down, I spent about 15 minutes wondering if that REALLY was what she asked me or if I just made a damn fool of myself! ha! But everyone was kind and welcoming, especially since I arrived sans mat. A couple of the women loaned me their extra blankets and I made do.

My journey progresses and it was all in all, a good day.

blog fatigue.

well, I wouldn't exactly call it that ... but I've noticed a lull in my inspiration. Not to mention that whole self-editing thing which means some of what has been happening in Francy-pants is just not publishable.

I had a really strange week. I was sick for 2 days with a bad cold that felled me. I was in bed for 2 days. Then I had a couple of really late nights, and a visitor for 3 days. In the middle of it all, I had several unproductive trips to my prefecture in Perigueux, attempting to wrap up my Carte de Sejour. It seems I had lost an important paper, which I thought was just for instruction but is apparently required. By Friday I was exhausted, frustrated and somewhat emotional.

Saturday, after depositing my visitor at the Gare Perigueux, I returned home. I decided to bring order to my room (my bedroom is my haven, the one finished room in the house). It was in turmoil after 4 plus straight weeks of guests. I folded clothes, organized stuff, etc. I placed a huge pile of papers and folders on my bed, climbed in and began sorting. After several hours, I found the paper I needed stuck in a random folder. Zut.

Following said discovery, I remained in bed. I slept 12 hours plus, and have now awakened.

I wish I felt refreshed but I don't. I have a rendez-vous today for lunch with a woman I met in French class. I think that is a good thing as I'm feeling a bit blue still.

No visitors next week means I hope to revive my more regular posting schedule. my fingers are crossed.

small divergence from regular programming. just had to share this fact check.

Fact check: Plumber Joe's taxes

"McCain has entrepreneurs spooked about tax hikes, but fewer than 2% of small business owners would pay more under Obama's plan."

Link to rest of article...

"The bottom line: McCain's claim only works by using an overly broad definition of what counts as a "small business" - and even with that definition, fewer than 2% of business owners would be hit by Obama's proposed rate increase. For those who are affected, the increase would be levied only on a part of their earnings, not all of them. "

Just sayin'....

speaking of kindnesses.

I mentioned my friends Kathleen and David were here for a week. I've had trepidations about hosting visitors in my "under construction" home ... yet not only did they make sure their stay was hassle-free, they actually came with work clothes and did projects! gasp!

Kathleen arrived and scrubbed my makeshift kitchen from head to toe, organized some of the cookware and the fridge! David dug a hole in the garden where the petite solarium will be extended, removing dirt and a huge concrete foundation block from a space about 2 feet deep and 4 x 4 feet wide! They both resituated an old metal arch to the smaller garden, securing it so it now supports the ancient grapevine that Jean-Yves redirected from the rooftop of the solarium.

While they were here, my wood was delivered. The wood was dumped in a huge pile by my atelier entrance. The four of us quickly and systematically stacked three lines of wood (not sure but I do believe it exceeds a cord or 2). Further, David went and bought a huge woodsplitter ... (it scares me) and split at least half a cord of logs into pieces that will burn better. My wood was kind of wet and thus smoky.

Kathleen and David pitched in on shoveling wheelbarrows full of sand from the stone-cleaning process in my new kitchen, hauling it out into the garden to a spot where someday a wood deck will emerge.

And this doesn't begin to cover the free life-coaching sessions from Kathleen, listening to me natter on about my insecurities and frailties during this life upheaval.

I'm sure I've missed loads of things - oh yeah, here's another one: David cleaned out (as in bailed water and ooky gook and mosquito larvae) from a huge old washing sink in the garden, some sort of stone and then found corrugated metal that just happened to fit perfectly as a cover. They are worried about me getting malaria, I think!

I, in turn, carelessly tried to torment them by planting nail polish remover next to what appeared to be make-up removing pads and Kathleen almost blinded herself .... and David grabbed a bottle of what he thought was water but was watered down Windex and took a huge mouthful ... but thankfully didn't swallow much. I joked with them that on the next visit I would have to kid-proof the house.

They pretty much bought all of my meals out AND drinks. We cooked together often, sharing lunches al fresco in the garden, the 4 of us workers taking a break.

I've never had such amazing houseguests ... and it isn't like they were repaying Ritz-level accomodations, either. They have left their mark on this experience and there will always be a "room at the Inn" chez Mancha ... just for them.

Merci beaucoup and bises to my dear friends!

(you can check out the flickr stream for more pics, link in my sidebar...)

learning to accept kindness.

One of the lessons I've been (albeit) slowly learning from this experience is to accept kindness. For my entire adult life, it seems to me that I have had to be ... no that I have insisted upon being fiercely independent. To the point of being found hard. Or angry. Or a bitch. Or all three, ha.

But being plopped into the middle of a country where you know virtually no one and don't really speak the language is a humbling experience. I had a small taste of it when I moved to Portland and found one or two dear friends who extended kindnesses to me. Maybe that helped pave the way on a small scale.

My friends Kathleen and David just left, and one of the observations that Kathleen made was how gratifying it was to see me reflect vulnerability. That apparently is an unusual state for me. (like I was unaware).

It is very difficult for me to ask for help. Or to accept it when offered. Typically when someone offers to do something for me, I attempt to pay them for it. I've found that can be deemed insulting in these here parts. So many kindnesses have been placed my way that, even if I could get acceptance, I probably couldn't afford to repay them.

I also seem to have lost touch with what are normal extensions of human goodness. Had I isolated myself so completely that day to day gentilities were unrecognizable by me? so it seems.

One would think that in my present state, I would be even more isolated than previously but no. This brings me to a point of reflection (ergghh, I hate reflection.) How did I get to be so insular? better question yet, how can I bring more balance back?

My mind is in a constant whirrrr! of analysis. What did he/she mean by that? Did I understand her/him to say thus or am I lost in translation? Am I mistaking business for love(like)? (Like)love for business? (Ben Harper fans will connect this last). One might think that it wouldn't be so difficult but it is. Especially in another language. and culture.

Are these kindnesses politeness? or true demonstrations of heartfelt feelings? And let's not even GET into the male/female dynamic and is it the same with French as American (which of course I know it isn't 100% due to culture, but surely we are male and female before we are French and American?)

I think that last bit is a good spin off for a post all its own.

Well before I digress into a completely different direction, let me say that a 3rd party observer has verified that I am learning to accept kindness without repayment, but as a natural extension of the human condition. No matter how undeserving I believe myself to be.

I hope that is a good thing and it doesn't come back to bite me in the ass. (looks over her shoulder just in case).

I'm it.

aha, during my Evelyn Woods-style catch up scanning, I've discovered that not only did Monsieur one-L NOT go see Amy Rigby, after she and Wreckless Eric spent hard-earned cash to come perform for him ... but now he has gone and TAGGED me. again.

grrrr. self-revelation. shudder. but this one is pretty tame so I'll give'er'a'go.

1. Clothes shop. hmmmm. Well, currently it is a little boutique up the lane in Brantome. When I came here I swore I wasn't going to buy any new clothes for one year. After going through the massive downsizing ... sorting, selling, tossing of crap that included excess clothing, I felt I could go at least a year with what was left. However, my body is in a state of flux ... a state of reduction ... and my pants were literally falling off of my ass. And belted was just NOT a pretty sight. So my first idea was to have Johnelle bring me 2 pairs of jeans from my old standby, Ann Taylor. The only store where previously I could walk in, grab off the racks and pay ... none of that horrendous, demoralizing, debilitating trying on in a cube lined with mirrors and fluorescent lighting for me.

She brought the 2 pairs, one was one size smaller, one was two sizes smaller ... as requested ... and they were both too big! So I had to break down and go on in to town. Wish I could tell you the name of the boutique but alas I don't remember ... but my beautiful black jeans with delicious waxy denim are unforgettable.

Oh and I also kind of like Zara. Dropped a little coin there in Spain because I had to have more than one pair of pants that fit me. Now I have 4. yay me!

2. Furniture shop. Mignonne Décor, of course. We find the absolute best vintage pieces and my daughter refinishes and refurbishes by hand. We also carry cool new pieces too like stuff from Kartell.

I really am not a big fan of purchasing new furniture. I feel like there is enough stuff in the world, let's all just reuse it. I do like browsing furniture catalogues for ideas though. I have an eclectic design approach and love a melange of epochs, styles and colors.

3. Sweet. hmmm. well, I am more of a savory lover ... but Valhrona chocolate IS the bomb. Okay? Also, I will tell you that the absofuckinglutely BEST dessert on the planet, consumed by me, resides at the Blue Hour in Portland, Oregon. It is a chocolate pot-de-creme that is better than sex. Yes, I said. ME. better than sex. Well okay maybe not better than that one time on Stinson Beach in the 90s or that one OTHER time .... but I digress. Generally speaking, better than most sex. the average sex average Americans have....

If you ever find yourself in Portland and pass up the opportunity to indulge, you are just plain crazy.

4. City. ummm. derrr!!!!! PARIS. mais oui, bien sur. (eyeroll). Duhhh!!! Can you say, Place des Vosges? la Seine? Montmartre? le Marais? Luxembourg Gardens? Tour Eiffel? Isle de St. Louis? bah, oui!

5. Drink? slurp. A Figoun cocktail from À Côté in Oakland, California is delish. A French 75 from the Heathman Hotel in Portland is divine. A Hendricks Gin and Tonic with lime mixed by moi is heavenly. And my latest favorite, le rum punch by Monsieur Jean-Yves suits me to a T. (rum, sugar cane syrup and fresh squeezed lime warms all the way down).

Oh wait a sec. this WASN'T about alcohol? bummer. Okay then Pellegrino with fresh lime is my stand-by. Even here. In Evian and Badoit land.

6. Music? God. Who on earth could pick just one favorite musician? C'est impossible! truly. I love Django and Edith, Miles and the Bird and Coltrane, I love Aretha and Rev Al, the Beatles and the Stones ... gimme some Loretta Lynn or Patsy Cline ... Teddy Pendergrass back in the day, got by with some O'Jays (can you hum Desire Me?) ... or then there is The Bird and the Bee, The Jets, Van Morrison, Leonard Cohen, Ella and Nina and Sarah and Billie ... what about Louis Armstrong? ... Joao Gilberto? Sanseverino? Ben Harper? Stevie? Bob Marley? Donny Hathaway?

Merde. C'est impossible. My list is never ending.

7. TV Series? hmmm. The Office. Six Feet Under. Sex And the City. Deadwood. Sopranos.

8. Film. Another impossibility. But currently, La Mome springs to mind.

9. Workout?! LMAO. that's right, I'm currently using the laughing my ass off regime for health and well being.

10. Pastries. again, not really my domain. I'll have to go with fresh croissants from my local boulangerie. Or the Elvis Presley cupcake from St. Cupcake in Portland.

11. Coffee. Major Dickason's beans from Peets. Brewed by me in my Italian Espresso Pot.

Now comes the part that is difficult. passing it on. Utah Savage, Notre Vie Juteuse, La Framericaine, and In an old house in Paris.

october is visitors month.

Somehow all of my visitors have managed to schedule for October and, while I truly love the company, it is messing with my blogging routine!

I owe my readers an apology ... so much is going on and that, coupled with some ongoing internet access issues, has made my posting sporadic.

I considered blaming it all on Randal with one L ... after all, he was a no show after Wreckless Eric & Amy Rigby came all the way to Cleveland to perform for him.  I'm sure that there is some kind of connection there ... je réfléchi ~

I've had my daughter for 3 plus weeks, then a brief but fun visit from a work colleague, followed by a week with my dear friends Kathleen and David (here now).  Tuesday another guest arrives for 4 days ... then a break and my son will be here the end of the month.

I haven't had a lot of time for reflection ... reading blogs ... coming up with the smart-ass wisecracks or philosophical balderdash that I'm normally spouting.  But I am gathering loads of material, so when I do have time ... the volcano will erupt once more.

furreal.

ma fille, l'artiste ...

Johnelle has returned home, but she has left her mark. 

During her stay, she was able to reconnect a bit with her artiste soul and completed a painting on canvas and a painting on the door to my bedroom that is not only beautiful but incredibly symbolic to me.

Jean-Yves made a great suggestion to her when learning she wanted to paint something in the house for me ... a mural on the ceiling was first considered but the time it would take to prep the ceiling would not leave room for the actual painting.

Not only did he suggest a great alternative ... the door ... but also recommended including a 'souvenir' from the United States as well as something from here.

We had some good laughs over what that souvenir should be ... because I don't have a whole lot of positive 'souvenirs' from my former life.  What should it be?  a picture of my office and desk? a computer and telephone?  some freeways?  these were some of the funnier ones.  I'll leave the morbid ones to your collective imaginations.

But no, I decided upon poppies to represent my Californian roots ( I do still adore my dear state of California ... ); a sparrow to tie into my love of the strength and music of La Mome, (Edith Piaf) ... and the phrase 'Je Ne Regrette Rien' ... my life motto as I move forward into my adventure.

If you click on the picture, you can view it for yourself.

on being warm.

I wish I could say it is because I had a man in my bed, but saying I have some heat will have to do.

For weeks, I've been (at first) gently chided by friends regarding my heating situation ... my house has a radiator system and 3 fireplaces so I've responded with my usual harumphs and eyerolls.

I've been repeatedly warned about the fast and unyielding change in temperature that accompanies the move into autumn.  

"Je sais, je sais! Les Etats-Units ont les saisons aussi! C'etait froid en Oregon!"  his turn to harumph and eyeroll.

Then my daughter arrived.  Complaining from day one about the cold.  I told her to put on a sweater.  

I was hounded to order wood.  I didn't know where to get wood.  Then at dinner one night at Marjo's, Johnelle regalled the table with stories of the climate in our house.  She pronounced me to be half bear!

Peals of laughter ensued.  One nice thing about being in France is the entertainment factor I provide to all of my new friends...

So, last week was colder by the day.  The weather right now is glorious sunny skies during the day, even inching up to warmish.  At night the thermostat plummets.  Well it would if I had a thermostat.

Samedi soir (Saturday night) was the climax.  The reverse climax, I guess.  And not the kind I've been longing for.  I slept in pyjamas, a pullover sweater, my huge winter robe, socks, a down comforter and an extra blanket.  It was painful to don my pyjamas because it meant removing my warm layer of clothing and putting on freezing cold articles of clothing and then climbing in to a freezing bed.  I tried to get the fire going in my bedroom but it would kick in and I was too cold to keep trying so I just got into bed.  I don't think I really got even close to comfortable..all night.

The even more pathetic part is that Saturday, after taking Johnelle to the gare, I drove straight to BricoDepot and bought a portable petrol (kerosene) heater.  and a huge (maybe 5 liters?) container of petrol.

But it was the last heater in stock, out of box and with no instructions.  So I didn't know how to use it.  So I froze in my frigid house with a heater sitting in the hallway.

Sunday morning I called Jean-Yves and left a message.  On Monday, can you please bring that electric radiator you found? (slight chuckle) d'accord J-Y.  Tu es vrais.

Fifteen minutes later my phone rings.  Laughter on the other end.  "Oh Keem, were you cold last night?" more laughter.

I can't really get mad ... especially since he came over later in the day and put together the kerosene heater and showed me how to work it AND installed the electric radiator in the other bedroom so my freshly arrived houseguests (more on that and their crazy selves later) don't become human popsicles.

So here I am, early Monday morning, basking in the glow of my first night's sleep with a heater in my room.  I swear it was almost too warm!  no, not really.

Wish I could say I slept like a baby, but was another rather fitful night.  a warm one though.  very very very warm.  and warm is good.  

spanish lullaby.

Upon boarding the train and exchanging a little conversation, we realize that the absentmindedness continues with the failure to bring along any of our guidebooks for Spain AND the name/number of the Pension we reserved at.

Being expert at Plan de B's, I suggest that upon arrival, we seek out an internet café.  Johnelle agrees.  Of COURSE we will recognize the spot we booked.  cough.

We nap fitfully.  At one point, we move to a smaller car with only 16 seats, thinking it will be quiet.  Little did we know that 12 of the seats were occupied by the only rowdy French in civilisation, en route to a brief vacance sur la mer.  They acted as if it were their own private party car, breaking out a 2 course lunch and wandering through the car, laughing, talking and jostling each other.

Meanwhile, we attempted naps.

Finally, we arrived in San Sebastian.  We headed for the centre, determined to find an internet café.  After extended wandering, we poked our heads into a little five and dime and asked about the closest internet spot.  THIS is an internet spot, we were informed.  We googled pensions and Johnelle chose ours.  We trudged many blocks there...walked upstairs and were informed that this could not possibly be our spot.  We continued our quest until Johnelle ultimately spotted a nondescript sign that turned out to be our Pension.  Success at last.

So, despite guidebooks, maps, phone numbers, actual pension names ... well virtually ANYTHING that would indicate our resting spot, we located said place and collapsed with loud sighs.

San Sebastian ultimately provided us with many distractions ... film festival paparrazi, tapas bars, trip to Guggenheim in Bilbao, beaucoup de shopping for pants that fit and knee high leather boots. promenades on a beautiful bay gazing upon the generations of Spanish doing the same.

Also, a mom/ daughter evening of card playing and trading clothes...the same evening where I discovered i fit into a 27 jean...that's right, ladies, a TWENTY-SEVEN!!!!   oh, snap!

the weather was phenomenal, the people incredibly kind, the food mediocre.  All in all, we managed to have an absolutely lovely time.

on how we arrived in Spain.

I awoke with a start. Looking at the alarm clock, I shrieked, "Wake UP! Johnelle, it is 7:39 a.m.!" "Whaaaaa? what about the alarm?".

"I don't know. Shit. I still feel ........ erm. TIPSY." "MOM! (laughing) you mean drunk?"

"NO. I mean like I just had a glass of rum. 2 hours ago!!! Now get up and help me figure this out!".

From which we call the taxi driver. Who had been waiting 10 minutes for us at the gare in Thiviers. To take us TO Perigueux.

Now we call and plead with him to drive to Brantome. And deliver us to Perigueux. Which he agreed to. Even though we had no chance in HELL of making an 8:25 a.m. departure. Since I am 29km from Perigueux.

In the meantime we grabbed baggage and began throwing shit (I mean clothing and other necessary articles) randomly into the suitcases.

He arrived in record time (Thiviers is 25 km from Brantome). We leap into the taxi. He appears to depart at a snail's pace and continue at such.

Until we arrive in Perigueux. Wherein he begins to run red lights and accelerate!

Now. I'm sure you will not be surprised at the fact that on top of not awaking on time, we had zero cash. So of course, it was necessary to make a pitstop at an ATM. After the time our train was set to depart.

It was then our driver shared with me that after receiving our phone call, he called a friend in Thiviers who told him the train for Perigueux had STILL not arrived. So there was an ever so small chance that we could still make our train. Except of course for the fact that we ALSO had to make a stop for cash. cough.

We squeal up to the gare, he tosses our bags at us and barks at us to "RUN! VIT!"  while we are running into the station, he whistles across 2 tracks to the idling train, with conductors at the door. He yells at them to wait while we run down a set of stairs, through an underground tunnel, up a set of stairs and leap onto the waiting train. We tip him well, beaucoup de mercis; and we collapse into our seats.

I kid you not. It was better than a scene from a movie. I was there. I know.

ay yi yi yi.

It is time to regale you with tales of what I have been up to the past week.  Johnelle and I had promised J-Y a mexican dinner ... and so last Friday we arrived at his apartment laden with bags of ingredients.  Johnelle planned the menu ... mojitos, homemade tortillas, ceviche, 2 kinds of small tacos, refried beans, rice, guacamole, pico de gallo, and fried bananas.

We thought another couple was coming and so we really put it down in the food buying department.  When we got there we learned, it would be just us, J-Y and his son.  So the amount of food we had was a bit absurd (we always buy generously anyway!)... 

We started with J-Y's special rum cocktail and Johnelle's mojitos.  Jean-Yves and I were assigned to sous-chef prep work.  Armed with very sharp knives, we minced onion and cilantro, diced cucumbers and tomatoes, scooped avocado.  Fish and chicken were washed.  I then set to frying the beans.  

In the meanwhile, J-Y's son was famished! Johnelle made him a special quesadilla and earned a special smile.  

We cranked up some Aretha Franklin and shimmied our way through lots of laughs, drinks and good eats.  The corn flour here is not great, but we managed to get it to work itself into some tortillas, small ones.  All the little soft tacos were delish ... I don't think we put a dent in J-Y's rice.  There was so much food it was ridiculous ... and I'm sure the leftovers lasted the entire week-end.

I'm proud to say we did all of our dishes ... like all single men I know, dishwashing is a much detested chore so at least we didn't leave that unwelcome mark.

Following dinner (we arrived at 8:00 ish so it was an extended meal ...) we continued the laughing, talking, and goofing around.  Libations continued to flow and when I caught a glimpse of the clock at 2:00 a.m. I began making time to leave murmurs.  Which continued until 3:00 a.m. when we finally deposited ourselves in the car and slowly, ever slowly made our way home. We had 8:25 a.m. train tickets to San Sebastian! We had to leave our house at 7:00 a.m.!

Which paves the way for the next story.  Which starts with the line, "I awoke with a start.  Looking at the alarm clock, I shrieked Wake UP! Johnelle, it is 7:39 a.m.!"

speechless.

Yesterday on the train ride home, Johnelle and I were futzing with our cameras ... she asked me to show her which setting I used to mute the camera's 'beeping' noise it makes when performing functions.

Getting right down to brass tacks, let me tell you that it seems while I was fooling around in the 'format' section of my camera,  I have deleted all data on the memory card in my camera. Which is basically all the photos I have taken since I arrived here. and for a few weeks before leaving.

Until recently this wouldn't be a big deal. But my laptop has been having some memory issues and so I deleted all the photos from my computer ... until I could figure it out.

So basically ... except for photos on my blog and the few I transferred to a recently opened flickr account, the photos are gone. Unless someone out there in blog land knows how to recover images from a memory card on a Pentax Optio.

(blog updates soon, we are home now.)

(lack of picture courtesy of the clumsy american@geeiamstupid.com)

guess I'm not a very good stalker.

I lost track of my madcap Wreckless Eric & Amy Rigby publicity hijinx somewhere in the middle of that big North America landmass.

The good news is they haven't hit Cleveland yet, so I can still warn Randal way in advance to get his frenchified derriére in gear and get on down there. (Can't miss it, RG!)

In an attempt to retrieve my reputation as a class A stalkerphile, I'm just going to post the rest of their tour dates now and bump it up when necessary. Lame, I know but I'm busy. and distracted. and other stuffs. But I have seen your footprints from cities below and I can assure you, you will not regret checking them out. Dammit, I want one reader to tell me they went ~ and I'll have questions ready, so no fibbing!


Sep 23 2008 8:00P, Thunderbird Cafe, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Sep 25 2008 8:00P, Jammin Java, Vienna, Virginia

Sep 26 2008 8:00P, North Star Bar, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Sep 27 2008 8:00P, Southpaw Brooklyn, New York

Sep 30 2008 8:00P, Beachland Tavern, Cleveland, Ohio

Oct 2 2008 9:00P, Schuba’s Chicago, Illinois

Oct 3 2008 8:00P, 7th Street Entry, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Oct 4 2008 8:00P, Sam’s Saloon, Indianapolis, Indiana

Oct 7 2008 7:00P, University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario

Oct 8 2008 8:00P, The Bop Shop, Rochester, New York
,
Oct 9 2008 8:00P, Cafe Nine, New Haven, Connecticut

Oct 12 2008 8:00P, TT the Bears, Cambridge, Massachusetts

Also check out Amy's blog to read all about their Grand Tour! Check out their myspace.com page to hear a clip of their cool music!

buenos dias.

hello readers, my days have been otherwise distracted with the return of my daughter and much frivolity. I am sending you a note in a bottle from San Sebastian, Spain ... where we are currently having a little side trip and basking in the warm Spanish sunshine and hospitality.

Later today we are off for Bilbao and a peek at the Guggenheim.

I have some typically JNRR variety stories to share with you upon our return. Travelling with Kim always provides the unexpected!

Sorry for my lack of blogworthiness this week ... but duty calls ...

recent musings regarding living in France.

and more specifically, living in my house in France.

I now wear sweaters to bed. and socks. perhaps this is the beginning of my slide into old ladydom? note to self. (and all of you). Sleeping alone is far more tolerable with heat.

Living alone in a foreign country has some downsides. What, pray tell? hmmmm. well, when you are a notoriously clumsy American, things like the potential for slipping and falling down my trés typique stairwell and collapsing in a broken heap and left to molder for days, unattended is a distinct possibility. Also, just sitting around and obsessing about this very same possibility.

Or when your two canine companions insist upon sitting at the top of the stairwell, looking downward and growling fiercely, always after dark. That too can be somewhat unsettling. And cause for gun shopping.

That sweaters in bed thing is none too appealing, either.

Discovering mice evidence in your pantry. Which is actually a lovely vintage cupboard that is basically meant to be the haven for dishes and foodstuffs in the midst of complete and total chaos masquerading as living quarters. And have I mentioned the bugs? ha.

Upsides as well. Like the nightly fireworks show. okay well they aren't fireworks. They are actually stars. Star studded glorious midnight skies. Who needs jewelry when millions of tiny diamonds light up the sky, seemingly within arms reach, just waiting to be plucked?

The landscapes fill in for Monet and Van Gogh. Just take a stroll or a short drive and your choice of priceless artwork awaits. Visual feasting, no charge.

The absolutely joyful, nerve-wracking, tongue twisting, curse-inducing experience of learning a new language.

Over 13 centuries of history a 2 block stroll from my doorstep. Yes, dear Americans, I said 13.

The burst of rediscovered vitality and improved health that has resulted in just 2 months of my new lifestyle.

Participating in the (re)creation of my dream home ... including physical labor and actual design... good for the soul and good for the body.


This is probably a topic I will return to. I've not done either list justice, but for now there's a peek.

a few more tidbits for the parlez-vous'ing

ça vaut la peine (it's worth it)
à peu prés (approximately)
s'a me touche (it touched me)
se sentir bien/mal (I'm feeling good, bad)
combien de temps (how long, referring to time)
combien de fois (how many times)
J'ai besoin de ton aide (I need your help)
Je me suis bien amusé (I had a good time)
appeler = téléphoner (to phone)
ça t'a plu? (did you like it?)
oui, ça m'a plu or non, ça ne m'a pas plu
faire la grasse màtinée ('sleep in' morning)
Mes amis m'ont dit que (my friends told me that)
il m'a dit/elle m'a dit (he/she told me)
un roman (novel)
perdre les clés (lose the keys)
à l'étranger (abroad)
un étranger (a stranger)
sauf (except)
je n'ai pas bien dormi (I didn't sleep well)
une autre fois (another time)
enlever (take off)
Merci pour ton aide (thanks for your help)
se tromper (mistake)
prendre un verre (take a drink)
Tu aimerais déjeuner avec moi? (Would you like to have lunch with me?) chez moi? (at my house)
faire les devoirs (doing the homework)



Oh, the poppy image is one that will be incorporated into a mural on the ceiling of the 'cage escalier' (staircase) ... do you like it?

forever a girl.

random stream of semi-consciousness on the aging process. While our bodies change in ways we don't always care to reflect upon, much of who we are on the inside remains the same. Funny how all of this life experience doesn't eliminate many of our earliest acquired thoughts and self-images.  For me, it isn't "first I was a girl.  Then I became a young woman.  I then left that for womanhood." I feel like I am all of the stages I have ever been, wrapped up into one slightly addled being, existing in whatever spirit moves me.

I still retain the silly humor and tomboyish competitiveness I had as a schoolgirl. I like to think I would try anything once, get a rush from the highest rollercoaster or daredevil challenge. And yet, the babyish reaction to spiders, snakes, bees... fear and anxiety remains. So much for a big brave tomboy!

I still feel that young woman's self-conscious awareness when around a fellow I am attracted to. I carry with me the teenage triumphs and girlish wounds from those years of striving to understand what kind of woman I would be. I remember many achievements and nurse many hurts from all those years past. I react in kind with the thoughts of all those girls swirling through my mind ... I can bat my eyelashes or provide a reasoned soliloquy, dependent on my mood and frame of mind.

I am the whorish 20something woman who, in a period of depression and denial, sought love or the semblance of it with my burgeoning sexual appetite, youthful beauty and harsh disdain.  Discarding the best of the lot, the cynicism I carefully nurtured is with me to this day and curtails many of my reactions, coloring my hopes and dreams with its dismal hues dulled to grey.

The accomplished 30s feed my ambition and drive, casting new light on my ability to outperform and outshine my competitors, should I desire to shift into overdrive.  That whole realization that I actually COULD bring home the bacon AND fry it up in a pan ... and YES never let him forget... although that was at my discretion.  This late discovered confidence served to help me find an internal box in which to store many of my failures, missteps and poor decisions.  As well as the hurts and ingnominies of the 20s, mostly deserved and yet barely earned.

Now ... in my 40s, finally seeing much of it all knit itself together into a new fabric ... stronger due to the variety of threads, more resilient because of the wear and tear of it all.  Ready to be recut and fashioned into something stylish and fitting for the me that is now.

Yet, I believe it goes beyond the remembrance of those days. I am still that girl, in my mind pumping my fist in the air when attracting the attention I desire, conquering a new fact, receiving a compliment from my professor or friend, or just having one of those 'best hair/jeans/makeup' days ... swaying my hips confidently as I stroll the avenue. And then, a reflection is caught in the window and I see less and less of that cocky yet insecure girl in the image.  Or those other women of various decades.

It is that startling moment which drops us squarely back to earth. When we realize the gap between our self-image and actual image is growing wider and wider.

The moment when (probably more so for women than men) increased consideration of various products to inject a bit more youth and vitality into our visage occurs. When maybe that harsh offense against various 'procedures' or a little bit of 'work' begins to drop ... maybe a little something around the neck wouldn't be so bad? (pick the problem area of your choosing) ... as long as we don't get the wind tunnel effect, pour-quoi pas?

Hearts still skip a beat when phone rings, or fretting begins when it doesn't. Invitations are still compared and registered for continued popularity and acceptance. Caution is still tossed to the wind and then reviewed from a 3rd party's point of view (did we go too far that time?) Judgements rendered and reversed. Risks are taken and then results fretted over.  Regrets are considered and then heartily discarded.  

It's exhausting being human sometimes! especially of the feminine variety!

(image from squidoo.com)

compendium of (dubiously) useful French words and phrases.

why dubiously? because they are considered so in my estimation and maybe not yours.  Of course, I learned loads more like a bigger start on verbs, passé composée, etc.  But these are just little bits applicable to my life and also more regularly used by the French.

I just completed 4 weeks of 1:1 French classes, twice a week for 90 minutes each session.  I only missed one class (my last one, yesterday) due to sudden change of itinerary related to my doctor's appointment.

so ... here they are, in no particular order.

c'est nul.   (It's crap.)

faire les courses.  (shop for food, go grocery shopping).

un garagiste/mécanicien (mechanic).

sans le voir. (sight unseen).

il le faut, il a fallee (necessary, was necessary)  (( ban c'est necessaire from your lexicon!))

bouger (move - as with a piece of furniture about the room).

demanager (move from a country)

à tout de suite (a few minutes)

à tout a l'heure (later today)

je t'ai dit (I told you)

je me doute (I guess)

insupportable (unbearable)

je suis énervée (I'm irritated)

ça m'énerve! (on my nerves)

avoir peur de quelque chose (to fear something - like huge nasty spiders!)

avoir besoin de (a need for, I need .. with je)

un mure en pierres apparentes (exposed stone)

il y à dix ans (it's been 10 years or 10 years ago)

je te plainds (poor you, as in poor you for having to try and speak French with me ...)

comment ça s'est passé (so, how did it go?)

décontracté (casual)

qu'est-ce-que ça veut dire? (what does it mean?)

ça suffit (it's enough)

la semaine derniere (last week)

la semaine prochaine (next week)

des rideaux (curtains)

dénicher (found a special thing)

la belle famille (in-laws)

dépeche-toi! (hurry up)

je me suis excusé (I apologize)

le sable (sand)

la poussiére (dust)

allumer (switch on)

éteindre (turn off)

donner à manger (to feed...like the dogs)

des placards de cuisine (kitchen cupboards)

de temps en temps (time to time)

perdre les clés (lose the keys)

j'ai envie (I've been craving)

ni vu, ni connu (nobody could tell)

sauter de joie (jump with joy)

hier, avant-hier (yesterday, day before yesterday)

demain, aprés demain (tomorrow, day after tomorrow)

il y à des jours 'avec' et des jours 'sans' (some days are better than others)

se sentir bien/mal (feel good/bad)

ça t'a plu? (did you like it, common phrase of the French)

le décalage horaire (time difference)

c'etait pas terrible (it isn't great)

je dois (I must)

Our process during the lesson is Laurence (mon professeur) takes a colored sheet of paper and jots down all the words and phrases I haven't understood throughout the lesson. The lesson ends with me reviewing this paper and identifying the meaning in English. I have all of these various papers for reference, in addition to many exercise sheets from homework.

I do think I've made progress in the last month. Next week I begin a fall group session with 7 other people. Should be fun!

(image from images01.trafficz.com)

zut alors!

It is Thursday and I haven't blogged since Monday!  I've been busy with a visiting daughter, commencement of my kitchen renovation, attempting to learn to speak zee franche, scraping lead based paint and old mortar in the entry and stairwell, enjoying 'al fresco' the first home-cooked meal from my new cuisiniére prepared by my daughter, strolls through the old village with said daughter and other general tomfoolery.

Oh, I forgot to mention the starter died on my car and shortly after its demise, I re-read my letter regarding the next steps for my carte de sejour and discovered my appointment with the doctor was Today instead of Tomorrow.  So that meant I needed to get to Bordeaux and I was without transport.  And my daughter decided to depart for Paris today for a long week-end with our good friend Lucille.

So, my supercalifragilisticexpealidocious friend and mec extraordinaire offered to drive me.  Let's just say that much of the day was delightful.  I was introduced to the Latin Quartier which seems to be primarily inhabited by individuals of Arabic descent.  We wound our ways through tiny streets packed with spice shops and tea dens.  We tumbled out into an old, old place where a makeshift vide-grenier was occurring...with many Arabic men selling goods, or gathered in groups smoking and talking loudly.  There were a couple of good deals ... but I decided with everything on my plate for the day, trying to drag a table around was probably not the best idea.

We walked and walked through Bordeaux, admiring the amazing sights and searching for a particular restaurant that, once discovered, was found to be closed.  permanently!  We continued until we found a spot offering a 9.90 euro menu (the place across the street was 10 euros so I imagine competition was in full swing).   The food was delicious!!!  We enjoyed the starters of smoked salmon and herbed cheese on toasts; and marinated tomatoes and feta, followed with a mushroom risotto that rocked with filets of dorade in a savory butter sauce and sauteed brussel sprouts that melted in the mouth.  Dessert?  Profiteroles ... mmmm... accompanied by vin rouge (an extra 3 euros).

If you ever find yourself in Bordeaux, definitely stop at the petite restaurant, nicely appointed, L'Assiette du Vieux Saint-Pierre at 14, Rue des Foussets.  Mag-ni-fique!

We panicked a bit when we looked at the time and realized in less than 1 hour my appointment loomed.  I had left my dossier in the car, which of course was the opposite direction of the clinic.  We power-walked to the car, fed the meter, and power-walked to the clinic.

Now, I expected my companion to deposit me and wander off ... returning later.  Instead, he waited patiently and was there when I exited ... extremely stressed.  There are actually men who do such things?! who knew!

The whole thing was more and less than I expected.  We arrived with time to spare so I waited in line and attempted to breathe myself down a notch or two.  Plus I was hot. "More" because I was immediately ushered into a tiny room where I was instructed to 'deshabille'.  Well,  I removed my shirt and when the nurse arrived I was informed that was not sufficient.  I was given a chest x-ray and escorted to another room, x-ray in hand.  There I was weighed (down 25 pounds!!! yay for me!!!), eye-tested and interviewed regarding my reasons for coming here and the state of the American economy!  (I was asked what my profession was in the U.S., once banking is mentioned, it is downhill from there!)  "Less" because, after much worrying about not having proof of vaccinations from the U.S. and expecting to have to be re-innoculated, I was delivered to the doctor (female) where I was asked more questions, like why I didn't have my 'carnet de vaccinations' ... and then told "c'est pas grave" and that I needed to find a local doctor, get boosters and get a couple of moles removed (TMI, I know).  The doctor also chatted with me about the differences in French and American life, the reduced stress, etcetera. On the whole, everyone seemed a little more human than the folks at Kaiser! ha! Maybe because they aren't being pressured to find ways to cut corners and deny services ... hmmmm.

After that, I was provided a clean bill of health, in writing, and told I was finished.  I was given a large and reassuring smile from said mec, we exited and I confess I then smoked a cigarette!!! ahhhh, tooooo stressful for me.  We walked (much more slowly) back to the car ... with a detour at FNCM for a decadent c.d. shopping spree.  

On the way home, we danced in our seats to Aretha Franklin, Thomas Dutronc and the Blues Brothers.  We made a quick pitstop in Perigueux at a spice shop we've been eyeing ... guess who was delighted to find 'con bawa' fruit (beats me!  Looks like bumpy limes, but smaller - I bought one for me to test so I'll let you know).  After a slightly testy discussion regarding reimbursement for gas (a resounding NO...), I was returned safely home to my 2 poor little dogs who were waiting for me with legs crossed  ... after over 11 hours alone.

guilty sigh.