Well," said Pooh, "what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called. ~A.A. Milne

I don't really know what to say here right now which is why I've been gone for a while, thinking. I am on a journey, a vision quest whatever you want to call it. I'm trying to balance a plate of dishes on the end of a stick, all the while spinning around myself. I know I'm being mysterious but there isn't much else to say. I'm still here but not there is all I wanted to say.

Cleaning closets

Remember when I talked about frump? I'm minimising again.

The other day when I got to the school to drop off Little S, I was late. Myla was late too and she was out of breath because they were about to do the lockout (which by the way just means you have to ring the doorbell and they don't let you walk your child to his class, not like most French schools). These days I'm always late because of Charlotte's morning fussiness and Myla always teases me about it because she's never late, one of these superwomen who runs a business from home, bakes cookies and repaints her hallway once a month. She's perfect and I'm always jealous. How can I be that put together? How can I keep my house that clean? I walked back to her house with her for a coffee and noticed, the perfectly looped scarf casually flung, the belt, the jewelry. That scattered yet put together look. Like many French women she makes it look effortless each time, even that day, late and rushing. It's flawless every single day. Once I even came by her house by surprise. She was doing yardwork and she still looked perfect, ratty navy blue converse, a pair of khaki fishing shorts, cotton tank t-shirt and a chunky belt. She had her hair twisted up in a scarf that looked like something off a runway, I'm sure she'd not done it in a mirror, just threw it together, and it just worked, casual chic. She always looks elegant but it never looks forced or planned.

I've been cleaning out my closet for the past few days and paring down. I'm motivated partially by Myla and her sleek look and partially (mostly) by the fact that I don't have a closet and my clothes are stacked in two boxes. I can't find anything and so to get dressed in the morning I have to shift through old clothes that no longer fit. It's driving me nuts to have to search through the same old things searching for something presentable.

I made five piles. The give away to people I know pile, fun little packages of things I'm tired of but I know others will like. The give away to charity pile (five bags!) and the sewing pile, (meaning I love the fabric but the clothes don't fit or I don't like them). Then I had a sportswear pile. I'll only wear these things to hike, jog or bike and never in a hurried rush like I sometimes do. Finally there was the keep pile divided in to two seasons. The summer one (huge) and the winter one considerably smaller. Then I went through each season's pile and took out the things I really love and couldn't part with. The piles were really small by then. And then I resorted each leftover garment and said "why didn't I immediately put this in the adoration pile, hmmm? Do I really like it after all?" And in that I really got things pared down to nearly nothing. At the end everything, minus the jackets would fit into a single medium sized box. I was really happy.

My new goal is to start a little fresher. I'll buy wisely, a new pair of jeans each fall and winter and a smart new white blouse each year. I'll splurge on a few things like boots and a skirt every so often but also purge one old skirt that I'm not completely crazy about if I buy a new one. I'll avoid the sales without something specific in mind, and I'll avoid thrift stores or at least stay focused if I do go in them. I love vintage clothes! One thing too is I vow to shop more online because I think you can find more specifically what you like instead of settling for what's in the shops.

I've also cleaned out the kids closets but since they change sizes it's pretty easy to know what to get rid of. We're becoming minimalists and it feels good.

Polly put the kettle on

These are my new Chinese teapots that I talked about a few posts back. The middle one is more like a teacup with a lid. There is something about the shape of a teapot that pleases me to no end. It's such an interesting form. And I love what the teapot represents,--comfort, warmth, and home. My mother made me Lipton tea with lots of milk and sugar from as long back as I can remember. It is still her way of saying "I'm here for you." or comforting me when I'm not feeling right. Even over the phone she often says "go make yourself a cup of tea and you'll feel better."

The imposter

Someone at the baptism said to me, "you take a lot of pictures!" and I smiled. "I'm a photographer" I said. That's something I never used to want to call myself for fear of sounding pompous or self-rightous about my hobby. After all it's just a hobby. It's been a hobby my whole life. Lately though I'm enjoying saying it. I spend ninety percent of my time with a camera around my neck. Why am I afraid of being labeled an imposter by putting a label on what I love to do?

If the shoe fits.

I don't get paid for taking photos yet but who cares. And you want to know something--it had always been my dream to have a photo exhibit. These are all things I used to never tell people for the same reasons, --self doubt. Why are we so afraid to talk about our dreams and make them our realities. Are we afraid they won't come true? Do we think someone will laugh at us and accuse us of being someone we aren't? Do we think it's too late? Do we feel like we only have one role in life--mother, wife or insurance adjuster?

I don't care anymore really if I tell people one thing and then they find out I'm an imposter. I am a photographer. When people ask me what I do I have started telling them this. "I am a photographer and a writer." They don't have to know that I don't get paid yet for it. That will come in time. And besides does the making money part somehow validate it? And is it really even any of their business?

What are you? No I mean really what are you? Who is that person in your mind's eye?

I'm a photographer and a writer.

Six more things

Meredith tagged me for a "six more things" meme. I think if I remember correctly you have to write six things that you do that are quirky. You're supposed to tag six others but I'm really bad about that so I'll just ask whoever responds in the comments to do it if they like. There's no obligation and you can still comment without doing the meme, whew! If you do want to do it just write tag in the comments and I'll keep an eye out for your meme.

1. I love to eat lemons with salt. (although I don't do this anymore because my sister just had to have her teeth re-enameled from her years of our eating lemons)
2. I play with my hair when I'm tired, twirling it round and round. It's very soothing. I've been doing it since I was a little girl.
3. I like to eat mueslix cereal mixed in my cafe-creme bowl in the morning. I love the coffee flavor mixed with oats and grains. People sometimes ask me if this is a French thing I picked up and I'm often tempted to say "yes, but of course!" because then it would be chic instead of weird.
   
4. I'm a cat person. I do like dogs but I guess I don't like that they take so easily to people and there's the whole jumping up and down sniffing crotches thing. I'm more into cat personalities, --aloof, seemingly uncaring, lazy. I love that they act like humans are insuperior. Seb is a dog person but he respects my cat relations. He defended me and my cat Milly when mil booted her out saying cats were dirty. Dogs are allowed to eat scraps at my in-law's table but cats are considered farm animals and are most certainly NOT welcome.
5. I hate cell phones. They really annoy me. I carry one but I am really not chained to it at all. I sometimes forget it in the charger or on the table. I got in trouble for this yesterday when Little S had a temperature and I couldn't be reached for two hours. I know it was really stupid but it just isn't automatic for me to walk out the door with it. I felt terrible and the directrice of the school screamed at me in front of all the parents for this. I felt about this big. I have to wonder what we did before there were cell phones when people went shopping and couldn't be reached! Hmm...?
6. I'm super lactose intolerant and how unjust that I live in the land of cheese! I love all dairy products. Yogurt is the worst for me. Well almost all dairy products. They make me cough and my skin breaks out in a rash and I usually have to run to the bathroom a lot (sorry to share that). I have no willpower though. I eat cheese anyway and I suffer. I just try not to eat too much at one time. (ed. my friend P reminded me to watch this really funny scene from the movie French Kiss )
   

Bullet brain

There isn't much of a blog post to write mainly because there's just a lot of ramblings in my brain which is normal I think given all the change and shock of returning somewhere (anywhere) after spending considerable time in Mexico. Mexico is so different from anywhere else, but especially France with all its ...how to say...Frenchness. It all feels strange right now.

This is going to be a bullet post which I hate but can't do anything about unless I find the gumption to pull it all together into one post (I won't) so...

We are staying in the airport hotel in a little village called Roissy en France. It's an adorable little town with cobblestone streets and flowers everywhere, kind of surreal like a movie set or something. French towns can be like this sometimes, especially if they're small. Every ten minutes or so a flight attendant rounds the corner or comes out of the boulangerie carrying a baguette and it occurs to me that this is where they live. It makes sense because it's about five minutes from the airport but it's surreal to see them milling around outside of the airport like regular people. Anyway it's a good transition phase for me and Little S--kind of comforting to ease our way back into the country because it feels like we're still at the airport or Disneyworld or both.

I've become to think that French people are way too anal about kids and their behavior. Maybe the Mexicans were too liberal letting their kids do whatever they wanted but today a French grandma screamed at her grandson "on monte pas le toboggan comme le jeune anglais--c'est interdit!" (we don't go up the slide like the little english boy because it's against the rules!) and all Little S was doing was going up a baby slide backwards in a playground with no kids. And we also stopped going to the breakfast at the hotel because of the dirty looks we keep getting from the staff and customers. It has been like this since we got here. I never noticed this before but really notice it now. And not many people smile at the kids. What's up with that?

I feel a little lost bit luckily the weather is nice and there's way too much going on to notice.

My little, black polka dot dress is way too short after going in my mom's dryer (I'm anti-dryer) and it will now have to become a shirt. I really loved this dress but I can't bend over in it anymore.

The hotel staff discovered that we have a cat. This really portly African maid accidently opened our door without knocking and noticed the calico streak flying through the room to seek refuge under the bed. If you know these women and their accents you will find humor in her screaming "eeel eee ya una shawww!" and then she said to her boss "may say pawr ecreevee sur le fish" (there's a cat but it isn't written on the roster). I burst out laughing because it was clear that she was scared of cats and because she was just so funny. Evidently animals are allowed in the hotel for a supplemental charge. This is France after all. I still haven't offically declared her though so I'm awaiting the cat police.

I can't find anything in these suitcases because Seb packed our stuff in Florida and of course used shoes and spare luggage spots as space to cram underwear and face creams and fill-in-the-blank for whatever belongs to me. Living out of suitcases with two kids and a cat will drive you mad. I bought Little S his school clothes for the year and Seb packed them with all of his regular summer clothes and it's all such a mess. "shorts? no, ski jacket, oops.!"

Next week we get to live in our old house. Talk about weird. Our cat will be the most weirded out of all. She'll be standing there thinking "wait...didn't we...weren't we...hmmm." Yes I will take pictures of her reaction.

I have to wash my hair but I don't have any shampoo or money or even a car, all because Seb and I haven't organized any of these things yet. It has suddenly become clear to me that returning home and restarting your life can be just like going to a foreign country and starting your life.

I make a bad bohemian. I miss all my girly stuff and have each time I move or travel. I like perusing my closet and choosing necklaces from my jewelry. I like washing my face with exotic new soaps. I like an enormous bathroom cupboard full of products. I make a grumpy bohemian traveler.

We had to buy internet time from the hotel at an exorbitant rate so I've been composing my posts offline and I haven't been reading many blogs or if I have it has been sans comment. It will be nice when we get settled and have internet again. I wonder when that will be? Hmm

?

Kapow!--a little break

With a huge lightning storm kapow! out went our internet and the baby woke up crying. Tampa Bay is the lightning capital of the nation and a July storm here is not for the faint of heart, --ironic given the median age of most of the residents and proof that somebody in the universe has a Monty Pythonesque sense of humor, hee-hee.

I grew up knowing everything NOT to do during one of these storms and I have to pound this into my stubborn French husband's head every Summer when we visit as he blatantly insists on doing his best imitation of a dumb Florida tourist by standing under trees, swimming in the rain and bike riding on the trail between strobes of light. "Are you nuts!?" I scream. And then my mom runs out and screams at him and then he gets to hear a ten minute story by my step dad about all the people killed each year, and by then he's ready to get on the next available flight anywhere but here. I will remind you though that he is an engineer from a highly respected school in France so this is just falling on deaf ears out of defiance for his mother-in-law. His defiance may get him killed one day though and the proof is in my blog here that I told him more than once.

This one on Monday was a particularly nice boom but strikes and mini power snips are so common here that we didn't even call anybody for 24 hours. Internet goes out ...and then magically comes on the next day. Finally after a day we started getting worried and so we called and grabbed a place in line. This particular strike fried one of Verizon's main units in the area and about 25 homes in our neighborhood alone were without service, so we had to wait a few days before they could even think of getting to us. My dad called threatening to switch back to Brighthouse Networks if they didn't speed things up and that had them sending someone out a whole 12 hours faster. Still it was slow getting everything back up and running. And for a whole extra day my mom's computer was still not online. Yes we each have our own computers and we really don't like to share!

I was the worst off. I had to wait two days for the password on my guest computer because with the new router there was a new password. They could have told us this when they reset everything but that took a whole afternoon to sort out why the old one didn't work. Finally though after much frustration and pencil tapping I'm back online.

Was I not supposed to be blogging for some reason? I always think there's a reason especially when nature is involved. What is it some higher purpose needed me to skim over on my days stranded without access. I must have run to the computer about 10 different times over these four silent days to look up information, grab a recipe, search for a book title, or look up a baby tip only to stop and scratch my head and say "hmm, what now?" I am probably a little too reliant on this thing. It wasn't such a bad thing actually to take a break.

*pic-looking out my parent's front door during a bad storm.

Spring! I thought you were already here!

It's official. It's Springtime in the Alps, ... well sort of. Someone forgot to tell Old Man Winter that it's time to pack up his things and git! We walked to Little S's gym class this morning bundled tight against a gale blowing off the lake and snow flurries. Not much of a welcome if you ask me!

I love the change of seasons. I think I always have even if I didn't get to see it much. Growing up in Florida I was deprived of events most people take for granted in the northern hemisphere: the changing leaves, the first day of snow, and the first buds and bulbs of Spring. It's always either "balmy" or "balmy with a chill" in Florida. You miss all the in between.

Seasons are wonderful. They set up a rhythm and give meaning to all the different phases of your life. They are distinct enough to make time not blur into one hazy blob of mundane events. I feel like in tropical climates days tend to bleed into each other and we lose track of things.

Anyway I'm happy about this Spring and I'm looking forward to all the changes it already seems to be throwing my way (even if a little overwhelmed *gasp*).

Goodbye summer

The first whiff of fall assaulted my senses yesterday as I walked out to water my plants, mostly potted herbs scattered erratically up our stair steps. I had mixed feelings, first of regret and then a feeling of acceptance and even delight at remembering all the things that go with fall, the crunch of leaves and brisk evening air, the empty fishing port suddenly void of tourists, wonderful homemade soups and the holidays, and now of course the tradition of celebrating my son's birthday.

We eat every meal outside on our small terrace starting in spring as soon as the first bulbs peak their heads up and study the tourist parading by through summer and continue dining there long into fall until we are forced to bundle up in sweaters rubbing our hands together with a little shiver. At that point we'll begin to take the final course of dessert or tea inside the house and gradually we will find it too cold to take anything outside. It's a cycle we've followed for four years now, a sort of family tradition and a one of those discreet little markings of the passage of time.

Another season and soon another year is coming upon us and I try to imagine what it will bring us. The optimist in me has a small list of things that can happen, all good and wonderful things. The pessimist is too busy looking at the past and worrying to pay much attention to all that, maybe to afraid to believe. I'm feeling strangely attached to the optimist this season though.

Bienvenue automne.

Back to the 80's

TEMPTED (Squeeze)

Video Code provided by VideoCodeZone.Com

Thanks to Jemma for this fun link. Here's one of my favorite bands from the 80's, Squeeze. I had all their album yes albums, what of it!

I had a total crush on the lead singer, the sandy blonde one, Glenn Tilbrook. He kind of looks like Seb now that I look at him, that's funny.

"Tempted but the truth is discovered"...dancing in my living room like the girls in the video

Miss yuck mouth at defcon 5

I got in early, got an appointment with Caroline the prom queen dentist, and boy do I feel lucky.

My tooth is fine. I was worried. My mother-in-law left me with an image which I have permanently engraved on my psyche--teeth in a jar. I freaked out when I read online that the common reason for an abscess is root decay. It's like the tooth is fine but underneath where you can't see it's a whole other story. Things are a mess, and sometimes as many as two and three teeth in a row can be bad. Freaked me out, ... just a little bit. Reading the internet can be bad like that.

Actually everything is okay. I simply have a severe case of gingivitis between two cramped molars. It's been a year and a half gasp blush since I've had my teeth cleaned, and I've become lazy about flossing and have totally bailed on the noontime brushing that was once a very normal habit. It all has something to do with raising babies and not having the time or energy, or let's face it brain cells for anything as mundane as weaving thread between my teeth for 20 minutes a day.

So yes, I am a yuck mouth. I obviously don't brush enough. And my gums have rebelled screaming, "hey lady enough with the kid...what about US, huh, huh? You think you got time for HIM and not US...well, well take this you stupid heartless wench!!" So, okay guys, I got your message at full volume. Thanks for that because suddenly you guys just became my number one priority and carefully arranging The Perky Puppy Adventure Tails on the baby bookshelf five times a day just got knocked down a few notches. You are my world now. It helps that you sent some friendly bacteria, a pulsing sac of pus and the image of my toothless mother-in-law into my world. I am all ears but those are a little stopped up thanks to you, but hey that's cool.

I'm feeling much better. I didn't die last night and that's already a good thing. Tonight I have my ammunition all lined up: some very expensive toothpaste which I am to use forever (still prefer Colgate, sorry Caroline), bain de bouche (it's Listerine in tiny, overpriced glass bottles okay) and Amoxicillin to kill the teeny tiny bad guys in the pus factory. Sadly I was given no pain killers! I really think that part's very unfair. Everyone gets painkillers right. It's like a little dental abscess gift. I mean a little Vicadin would have been a nice gesture. Come on I have suffered. Let me enjoy my weekend a little bit.

Toothache

I've spent the whole morning on the phone trying to find a dentist who can see me today. Apparently there is a huge problem with one of my upper molars, nothing you can see with your eye, but I have an abscess which is a sign that something is terribly wrong in toothville. If you don't know what an abscess is, trust me when I say stay misinformed. It's disgusting and painful and if I describe to you what happened when I pushed on the swollen lump of my gum this morning, you will shudder and put your clasped hands to you mouth and bite your knuckles while waving your other hand frantically for me to stop speaking. I'll just leave it to your imagination. It was pretty gross.

So I have an appointment scheduled for Thursday morning with my dentist. I can have an earlier appointment with a scary, unknown dentist of sketchy origin if I like, but I prefer waiting for Caroline-- blond, perky and petite with a lovely smile, than risking the likes of Jean-Claude who probably has his office in a musty smelling, dank back bedroom of a house where he lives with his mother and a ratty looking terrier. I've been to enough Jean-Claude types in the past in France and I'm very happy with Caroline and more than willing to suffer the time it takes to wait for her.

Meanwhile I hope the infection doesn't spread to my other organs. I'm really looking forward to my weekend away and I don't want to spend Easter Sunday hooked up to a machine which drains fluid from my brain into a bucket under the bed while everyone else is enjoying their dinner.

Oh happy day

My hopes and fears are what runs through my head each birthday morning. I always have a difficult sleeping the night before. Two cups of Turkish coffee didn't help.

I didn't look into the mirror Wednesday morning for fear of what I'd find, this woman who I hardly recognize anymore or worse. It's difficult to look at yourself honestly on such a day anyway. You'll always scrutinize yourself after age thirty. Each year it gets a little bit worse.

On Saturday Seb and I spun off about 10 little photos taken at arms length of us together and then us as a little family, and these are the photos I looked at when I woke up after a long night tossing and turning and a brief glance in the mirror. I tried to look at them objectively, like someone shopping for a car or a camera.


She looks happy enough and he looks pleased with her. That's all I needed to see to remind me to hang on until next year, hold out for the good times. Even if this year has been rough as all get out, it can always turn around and get 300 times better in a matter of minutes.

Look, here's more proof of that...

A Little Deacon Blues

When I saw this on Alison's blog my heart skipped a beat. Song titles and lyrics constantly run through my head anyway.

Pick a band/artist. Then answer these questions using only titles from the band/artist’s songs.

1. Name of band/artist: Steely Dan
2. Are you male or female?: Peg
3. Describe yourself: Daddy Don't Live In That New York City No More
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Reelin' in the Years
5. Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Hatian Divorce
6. Describe current girlfriend/boyfriend: Do it Again
7. Describe where you want to be: Hey 19
8. Describe how you live: Pretzel Logic
9. Describe how you love: Any Major Dude Will Tell You
10. What would you ask for if you had just one wish?: Glamour Profession
11. Share a few words of wisdom: Throw Back the Little Ones
12. Now say goodbye: Home at Last

Wasn't that fun? I thought so.

What's your perfect major?

This is a fun little quiz that is spot on accurate! It has actually listed as number one, two and three my top three university majors, I changed majors a lot you see, and apparently feels my best bet would be Professional Blogger or something along those lines.

It's no small wonder that math and engineering have found their way to the very bottom. Sorry Seb honey, but they do say opposites attract.

********************************

You scored as Journalism. You are an aspiring journalist, and you should major in journalism! Like me, you are passionate about writing and expressing yourself, and you want the world to understand your beliefs through writing. English 92% Art 92% Journalism 92% Theater 83% Dance 75% Linguistics 75% Psychology 75% Philosophy 58% Anthropology 58% Sociology 58% Biology 33% Chemistry 25% Engineering 17% Mathematics 17% What is your Perfect Major? (PLEASE RATE ME!!<3) created with QuizFarm.com

Seven things meme

D tagged me for this and since I'm a cheap and sleazy meme 'ho' with a rather slow agenda today I of course jumped on it right away.

7 Things to do before I die:

1. eat in all the trois étoile restaurants in France

2. learn Spanish once and for all

3. have a wedding

4. make another baby

5. be in a play

6. sew some curtains for my living room so the neighbor will stop watching me

7. have a tiki bar in my back yard!


7 Things I can't do:

1. dance, no rhythm but so wanting to learn....

2. stop smiling when I talk to people, it's because I'm shy but it makes me look like a dork

3. lose my nasally American twang

4. focus on one thing... at a time

5. stand up straight,-- I slouch

6. keep my house clean

7. keep up with my friends, --I'm a terrible, awful, lazy friend


7 Things that attract me to Europe:
(focusing on France...)

1. little cafés with terraces for people watching, my favorite sport...

2. people who don't interfere when you do something...sometimes nice sometimes not (like when someone tries to steal your purse in Paris and everyone keeps walking while you're sprawled out on the sidewalk...misschris May 1998, ahem)

3. the low priced & very good food in the restaurants (but let's face it,--crappy service...)

4. people who are more globally informed, who regularly read newspapers & follow world news

5. the scenery...lots of "purty" in one small country

6. Paris! City of Lights (and apparently my home town...it seems)

7. rondpoints, those are awesome for getting home fast


7 Things I say:

1. GeT out! (adopted from Elaine on Seinfeld)

2. I mean...

3. It's like... (I'm always explaining myself)

4. quoi? (a lost in Francelation blurb)

5. Oh that's cool

6. no freaking way!

7. what an idiot!

*I've just realized that I speak like an 14 year old s8ter punk. Oh dear.

7 Good books:
These books are by my bed and I'm currently reading them all at the same time (see focusing on one thing at a time...) I actually do that a lot which is scary when I see them all here in print in all their diversity.

1. The Joy of Cooking 2004 revised edition (I'm studying soups right now...)

2. Homéopathie Pour La Femme Enceinte (no not preggers yet, it's just a good female medical reference book that I like)

3. The Americans - Daniel Boornstien (this is actually a reread... a good book)

4. The Making of a Chef - Michael Ruhlman (aka "in hell's kitchen'...funny book about going to cooking school at The Culinary Institute of America)

5. When Do The Good Things Start? - Twerski (a psych book based on the philosophy of Charlie Brown. V. amusing)

6. At Risk - Alice Hoffman

7. Existentialism & Human Emotions - Sartre (philosophy another passing interest...I will probably never finish this one but it looks good by my bedside. I seem intellectual...n'est pas?)


7 Good films:

1. Secretary (just saw this and I loved it...hilarious)

2. The Goodbye Girl (I love Richard Dreyfess in this)

3. Spellbound (all Hitchcock is great...)

4. The Godfather I and II (but not III...I've seen them both a million times)

5. When Harry Met Sally (I unfortunately only have the French dubbed version on video..."Quand Harry à Récontrée Sally"...it's annoying)

6. Shall We Dance?

7. Save The Last Dance (I collect dance movies...can ya tell?)


7 Bloggers to tag:

Riana, Em, Jemma, Sammy, Wendy, dilaïdo, and Sarah (Felix's mom)

Hey everyone it's my blogiversary

Amazing. I have been blogging for one whole year. Wow. I know, I know, you forgot and you wanted to buy me something but there wasn't enough time. That's okay, just keep writing in your blogs so I can read them and, continue wasting precious hours of my life squinting at the screen laughing, saying "oh wow," "how did she do that..." and saying "Oh My God" to my husband while he says' "it's those blog people right?" like I'm involved in some sort of cult.

This started off as a baby blog and I guess that's because that's who I was a year ago, a new mom trying out some dusty wings. I've changed a lot over the last year, become more confident as a mother, taking motherhood as for granted as a field workman brushing away a fly. My blog it seems has gradually evolved right along with me. I know because I read all my archives last week. What a crazy year.

I started blogging because I was inspired by Julie who writes A Little Pregnant. She's hands down brilliant. Edgy, sarcastic, witty, biting, bitchy and smart she has always made me laugh out loud, and it takes a lot of wit to get me to laugh out loud. She's brilliant, as are most of the women who write the infertility blogs I've been following for over three years. There are no other blogs quite like them and many people who are perfectly normal and fertile read them on a regular basis. There must be something about busted reproduction that's poetic because what they write touches a lot of people.

Lately though I find myself reading more expat blogs, which is also who I am. Wait, I'm sorry I meant "culturally challenged" blogs. People aren't supposed to call themselves expats anymore because it is soooo yesterday, that word. We are "INpats." We are "stuckinfrancepats". I don't know what to call us but it makes for some excellent blog material, especially if you have a French mother-in-law and a few friendly French neighbors. Anyway, expat blogs are great because everyone loves to hate the French, and unfortunately many of us are actually married to them. It's like living in a juxtaposed universe that you don't really even understand yourself, but yet you somehow do, if that makes any sense. It's like, Hey you can bash the French all you want but not my kid or my husband okay! It's good to have a blog for working through this kind of stuff.

So okay, well bonne blogiversary to me! and many, many more...

Four Thangs

I stole this off of Alison's blog. I know she won't mind.

Four jobs you have had in your life:

Hand Model for The Home Shopping Channel
Resumé Writer
Car Hop at the Retro Dog and Suds
English Teacher in a Japanese High School in France


Four movies you would watch over and over:

La Chateu de Ma Mére
Annie Hall
The Godfather
Groundhog Day

Four places you have lived:

Columbus, Ohio
Clearwater, Florida
Blois, France
Faverges, France


Four TV shows you love to watch:

Debbie Travis Painted House
Design on a Dime
Project Runway
Nigella Bites


Four places you have been on vacation:

The Turks and Caicos
Malmö, Sweden
Crater Lake, Oregon
Lake Erie


Four websites you visit daily :

Fertility Friend Online
The Animal Rescue Site
Limewire
everyone on my web page links


Four of your favorite foods:

chocolate cheescake
homemade tiramasu
grouper reuben sandwiches from this dive
grilled tuna steaks with lime sauce


Four places you'd rather be right now:

Boca Grande
Lake Como
Casis
My mom's house in Florida


Four bloggers you are tagging:

The first
four bloggers
to leave a
comment

"Conceal a flaw and the world will imagine the worst"

I got tagged by Sammy to admit some faults. I tried to be as honest as pride would allow. Here's a peek.

I'm pretty sloppy. If you surprise me and come over you'll probably catch me hunched over the computer with dirty dishes in the sink. I can have the house spotless in minutes which always amazes Seb, but I generally live in chaos when no one is around. Only very close friends and family know this dirty little secret.

I'm also very lazy. I think the sloppy goes hand in hand with the lazy. I really like to veg with a book or a movie when I have some down time. I have to curb myself because if I start a book I always want to finish it in one or two sittings, even if there's a mountain of laundry sitting right next to me. It's what my husband calls "lazy genes" because my mom and sister are the same way. Everyone in my family is lazy in fact.

Look out Sybil. I have a dual personality. Even though I'm sloppy and lazy I have a very neat side to me. It's completely weird. People often remark on it when they've lived with me for a week or so. Like I'll leave my socks on the floor by the bed, but my bathroom products are all neatly organized by size. My tupperware is all stacked perfectly together but I probably have smudge marks on my fridge. Stuff like that. It's a real personality quirk. How can these two people live in the same body?

I'm dominating in the kitchen. Everyone will tell you this about me. I can't stand being in a kitchen and not taking over. It drives me mad! I hate being invited to people's house for dinner because I really can't stand not controlling the cooking. Likewise I can't stand having anyone touch anything in my kitchen when I'm cooking. Oh even just thinking about it drives me crazy. I've had legendary fights over this with friends and family over the years. Everyone knows to stay away.

I leave my keys everywhere. I always forget to lock my house or invariably when I come home I leave the keys in the door. My mailman is forever tapping on my door saying "courier madame...et les clés."

Okay tell me your quirks in your own blog. I'm not going to tag anyone in particular just drop me a link.

Moi-meme

I've never been "memed" and this week I got lucky. The very cool ,Dalïado transient French citizen extraordinaire, interviewed me with five burning questions. Read on.

1. You mention that your in-laws don't seem to notice you when they visit you, Baby S and Seb. Why do you think that is?

Oh my, that's where sarcasm will get me--"memed" into being grilled about my mother- in-law! I was being sarcastic and silly in that post. They don´t notice Seb either anymore. It´s all about baby S haha. Well, okay but being in all humor there is a ring of truth I'll fess up. Okay, let's try stepping back into the past. For a year or two when I first came to France Seb's family simply could not communicate with me. That was really hard for all of us. So without realizing it they just kind of talked over my head. No one can truly understand the difficulty and frustration of being plopped right into a foreign country with zero language skills. It's like having masking tape over your mouth. Besides the fact that people will often lose patience while you're struggling to find the right word. My mother-in-law used to cut off the end of my painstakingly slow French sentences sighing, then turn to my husband and say "I have no idea what she's saying."

Now it's better because I've learned French, although my father-in-law stilllll... taaaaalks... liiiike... thiiis... to me. It´s actually kind of funny.

And yet as I said before, baby S has lousy French and they never cut him off. How fair is that?

2. How often are you able to visit with your family?

I try to visit every year. These are my chicken soup visits. They're very important for morale. I make a lousy expat.

3. Are there any advantages to living "near" your in-laws?

Actually we don´t live neear them. They live about 8 hours away completely in the North of France. We only see them for holidays and vacations. We only see them periodically and then during those periods it´s like for two weeks straight they kind of move in with us. Whats hard about being an American with French in-laws is that the French live very much by a food clock and we Americans positively don't so we adapt to a new schedule schedule for days on end. I´m terrible at preparing lunch at 12:00 sharp. I'm usually still washing up dishes from breakfast at 11am. I just can't live by a clock and I'm a very bad hostess after the first 24 hours. I think I drive them nuts when they come and visit!

4. Do you think that you and Seb would be considered "hippie" parents if you were raising Baby S in the USA?

Oh probably. I don't think I've ever done much of anything the typical way. I've always been sort of a hippie fish. Seb isn't really a hippie parent though. He's very straightlaced. He's just a hippie parent by proxy, poor thing.

5. Do you have any concerns about raising your baby bilingually? Do you have any specific language learning methods in mind?

No not really. I think he'll have a much easier time than his parents do with the languages. He'll probably just pick both languages right up. They're very sponge-like these little critters.

We have no methods really. We're an English speaking household overall. It's just been our habit to always communicate in English. Seb speaks to baby S in French. I always speak to him in English. When we're around others or outside the house we tend to speak French.

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Okay it's your turn everyone. If you have the inclination and a blog I'd love to "meme" you. The first 5 people who would like to be interviewed by me must leave a comment with a resounding "yes darling please do."
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