So- VD recap. The eclairs were an utter disaster. The recipe for the filling was no good either. I never managed to get it thick enough so I ended up freezing it and scooping it up like ice cream just before serving. The Champagne shrimp was great, but it used up so much champagne that I ended up sending B back to the shop when he got home so that we could have a glass or two ourselves. Also, I would probably serve it with a small herb salad next time because for all that work, there wasn't very much food on the plate. The main was fine but nothing spectacular. Of course, as predicted, we were in the kitchen at 11:30 loading the dishwasher in our robes. I hadn't had a chance all afternoon to straighten things up. Everytime I had a break, the phone would ring and I ended up probably spending 2 hours chatting, when I probably would have been better occupied washing dishes. And finally, B did not seem to notice at all that I hadn't made it to my waxing appointment. I think I have Sonia Rykiel to thank. He really loved the lingerie, although it is a bit frustrating to spend a fortune on something gorgeous like that and only end up wearing it about half an hour. All in all, a success. There was champagne, bouquets of flowers, a candlelit dinner, funny poems in cards, and an early bedtime :-)
Poor little Ella was being a sweetheart and played nicely in her room all evening while I was rushing around getting things organized so when I took her into her room to get her pyjamas on, I was playing with her, carrying her upside to make her giggle. As I swung her over to grab with my other arm so that I could put her upright and on to the changing table, she twisted and slipped out of my arm and landed on the floor right on her head. I just about died when I heard the "thunk" her head made on the carpet (there is no padding and its cement underneath). She must have sobbed for about 10 minutes and every time I asked her where it hurt, she would howl even louder. I was a bit worried that she had hurt her neck as well. After she calmed down, I had a look and there is an enormous goose egg right along her hairline in the middle of her forehead. Who is the worst mommy?
I don't mind admitting my little bumble. The other day I stumbled across this blog entry and started reading the comments. I guess everybody has atleast one of these bad days when you feel like nominating yourself for the Worst Mommy of the Year award. And when I started thinking about my own childhood, I can think of one or two moments when my own mother must have worried whether she was up to the job- and yet all five of her children survived to adulthood. I don't want to spill all her deep dark secrets out on the internet, but I do remember driving away in our van more than once and noticing one of the seats empty. Of course, us kids would never mention it until we got home because I suppose we were hoping to thin the pack a little bit? Gosh, I'm sort of warming up to this topic. How about tomorrow I recap some of my favorite childhood disaster stories? With a family of 5 kids, plus the summers when we added another 4/5 cousins to the mix, I have enough stories to keep me blogging for days. And coincidently, removing any residual guilt I might have over dropping Ella on her head.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Disaster!
Just did the heart puffs. The recipe was totally wrong and told me to take them out too soon so they fell down and are now little heart pancakes. Waaaahhh! I have enough choux pastry left to do probably another 4 or 5 correctly or I can just make an entire new batch, only I had planned on going to get my legs waxed before picking up Ella. What do I do? Legs or dessert?
Editted: I chose legs. Ran out of the house and realized that it was pissing down and I was wearing my Repetto slippers and had no umbrella plus I had forgotten my cash in the house so I turned around and went back to do the dessert. I'll guess we'll have to play "Lets Pretend We're in High School" and keep it all above the belt. Do you think he'll see the fun in that? To be honest, I do think a good long kissing session is sort of great.
Editted: I chose legs. Ran out of the house and realized that it was pissing down and I was wearing my Repetto slippers and had no umbrella plus I had forgotten my cash in the house so I turned around and went back to do the dessert. I'll guess we'll have to play "Lets Pretend We're in High School" and keep it all above the belt. Do you think he'll see the fun in that? To be honest, I do think a good long kissing session is sort of great.
Happy Valentines Day
I am exhausted today, which is so inconvenient since I have a million things to do to get ready for dinner tonight. Plus, Paris is grey and rainy and miserable, not really conducive to slogging through the streets running errands. I hate days like this mostly because I don't have a warm rain jacket which seems impossible considering the number of coats jammed in our hall closet, but there you go. I have warm jackets and rain jackets, but no crossovers. Do I have to fit an impromptu shopping trip into the afternoon as well?!
Speaking of which, I have to swing by the parapharmacy as well this afternoon for soaps and creams and lotions, etc. My mom had told me that she put a package in the mail with all the things that I forgot at Christmas when I did our packing, among which was an order I had placed with SkincareRX.com. Not only did I order lots of nice things but they are brilliant about throwing in samples and there is nothing I like more than itty bitty bottles of strange facial products. But it wasn't just the lotions that I forgot, there was ton of other stuff as well. If I remember correctly, I was home alone, Ella was taking a marathon nap and I decided that it was no good leaving the country without having truly had my fill of Tom and Jerry's. And since I never drink brandy except at Christmas, no reason to skimp on that. So, all in all, not too surprising that I was desperately awaiting the arrival of the package. Yesterday morning, the doorbell rang at a very early hour, which could only mean one thing- the package had arrived. I came dashing, ripped open the wrapping only to find a stack of pressies for Ella. OK, its now official that my mom loves her more than she loves me. There was room in the box for Dora brand Valentines Day yogurt covered raisins but apparently not for my face cream, without which I turn into the Elephant Man. All I got was some stupid electric cord that belongs with B's cell phone. Yeah, nothing says I love you like "battery recharger". All I've got to say is B had not better not be asking my mom for advice on what to get me for a present.
No time to wallow in self pity over that. I have my own Valentines Day prep to do. Have been skimming my fav recipe sites looking for ideas for our meal. I am thinking of this for a starter and basically this for main. And still planning on the eclairs for dessert. The only downside is that it seems like we will probably be to stuffed to participate in any other sort of Valentines Day activities. Hmm. Maybe I should think this though.
Yesterday morning we went to the playgroup Valentines party and handed out our cards. Which I just realized were not photographed. Oops. On the one hand, I appreciate that it was a good idea for a mommy/baby craft project but from what the other moms said, the kids participated for about 5 minutes before getting bored and wandering off. Same thing happened at our hosue. So we have come home with a bad full of cards lovingly prepared by my girlfriends, which is nice but not really the point. Maybe next year they will get into it a bit more. The party was lovely in that there were lots of yummy things to eat (which I mainly looked at longingly while sipping at my tea- remember only 15 days remaining on the Bikini Countdown 2007) and Ella is very good about entertaining herself while I catch up on the gossip. One little girl that I have only met once before kept coming up to Ella and banging on her head with whatever toy was handy. Her poor mother was horrified but Ella didn't seem too bothered about it. Amazing. At home, it takes me 5 minutes to calm her down if she gets bumped by a cupboard door while I am in the kitchen cooking. This kid was like the drummer in a heavy metal band and Ella hardly batted an eyelash. Glad that she is so tough. On the other hand, this might be an indication that she has picked up on some of her father's spaciness. We were once walking down a crowded street in the middle of the day and a clown passed us, nearly brushing B's arm as he walked by. I turned to B and asked where he thought that the clown was off to, considering that the neighborhood was almost all office buildings. He looked at me and answered "What clown?" He honestly hadn't noticed it, and acted like I was on drugs even suggesting that I giant clown would be walking down the street in the middle of the day. You guys, this clown was like 6'5, wearing a giant rainbow wig, strippy pants, full face paint and passed within 6 inches of B. Well, you might say, surely B was thinking deep thoughts, too absorbed to notice random passing carnies. That would mostly be people who have never met B. The worst part is that it is accompanied by an almost total lack of recall for the things he does notice. And rather than admit that he doesn't notice stuff and even if he does, will rarely remember it, he looks at me like I am certifiablely insane when I try to get him to remember stuff. It drives me crazy and the mere thought that I might end up living with TWO people whose purpose in life appears to be convincing me of my insanity is enough to just check myself into the hospital right now. If there is a God, please let Ella have missed out on this paternal legacy. She can have his ears, his hairiness, his under eye circles, his love of disco- anything else but not this.
Gosh, don't know if that little rant was the best way to show my loving devotion to my dear husband. If only I could write limericks better...
Speaking of which, I have to swing by the parapharmacy as well this afternoon for soaps and creams and lotions, etc. My mom had told me that she put a package in the mail with all the things that I forgot at Christmas when I did our packing, among which was an order I had placed with SkincareRX.com. Not only did I order lots of nice things but they are brilliant about throwing in samples and there is nothing I like more than itty bitty bottles of strange facial products. But it wasn't just the lotions that I forgot, there was ton of other stuff as well. If I remember correctly, I was home alone, Ella was taking a marathon nap and I decided that it was no good leaving the country without having truly had my fill of Tom and Jerry's. And since I never drink brandy except at Christmas, no reason to skimp on that. So, all in all, not too surprising that I was desperately awaiting the arrival of the package. Yesterday morning, the doorbell rang at a very early hour, which could only mean one thing- the package had arrived. I came dashing, ripped open the wrapping only to find a stack of pressies for Ella. OK, its now official that my mom loves her more than she loves me. There was room in the box for Dora brand Valentines Day yogurt covered raisins but apparently not for my face cream, without which I turn into the Elephant Man. All I got was some stupid electric cord that belongs with B's cell phone. Yeah, nothing says I love you like "battery recharger". All I've got to say is B had not better not be asking my mom for advice on what to get me for a present.
No time to wallow in self pity over that. I have my own Valentines Day prep to do. Have been skimming my fav recipe sites looking for ideas for our meal. I am thinking of this for a starter and basically this for main. And still planning on the eclairs for dessert. The only downside is that it seems like we will probably be to stuffed to participate in any other sort of Valentines Day activities. Hmm. Maybe I should think this though.
Yesterday morning we went to the playgroup Valentines party and handed out our cards. Which I just realized were not photographed. Oops. On the one hand, I appreciate that it was a good idea for a mommy/baby craft project but from what the other moms said, the kids participated for about 5 minutes before getting bored and wandering off. Same thing happened at our hosue. So we have come home with a bad full of cards lovingly prepared by my girlfriends, which is nice but not really the point. Maybe next year they will get into it a bit more. The party was lovely in that there were lots of yummy things to eat (which I mainly looked at longingly while sipping at my tea- remember only 15 days remaining on the Bikini Countdown 2007) and Ella is very good about entertaining herself while I catch up on the gossip. One little girl that I have only met once before kept coming up to Ella and banging on her head with whatever toy was handy. Her poor mother was horrified but Ella didn't seem too bothered about it. Amazing. At home, it takes me 5 minutes to calm her down if she gets bumped by a cupboard door while I am in the kitchen cooking. This kid was like the drummer in a heavy metal band and Ella hardly batted an eyelash. Glad that she is so tough. On the other hand, this might be an indication that she has picked up on some of her father's spaciness. We were once walking down a crowded street in the middle of the day and a clown passed us, nearly brushing B's arm as he walked by. I turned to B and asked where he thought that the clown was off to, considering that the neighborhood was almost all office buildings. He looked at me and answered "What clown?" He honestly hadn't noticed it, and acted like I was on drugs even suggesting that I giant clown would be walking down the street in the middle of the day. You guys, this clown was like 6'5, wearing a giant rainbow wig, strippy pants, full face paint and passed within 6 inches of B. Well, you might say, surely B was thinking deep thoughts, too absorbed to notice random passing carnies. That would mostly be people who have never met B. The worst part is that it is accompanied by an almost total lack of recall for the things he does notice. And rather than admit that he doesn't notice stuff and even if he does, will rarely remember it, he looks at me like I am certifiablely insane when I try to get him to remember stuff. It drives me crazy and the mere thought that I might end up living with TWO people whose purpose in life appears to be convincing me of my insanity is enough to just check myself into the hospital right now. If there is a God, please let Ella have missed out on this paternal legacy. She can have his ears, his hairiness, his under eye circles, his love of disco- anything else but not this.
Gosh, don't know if that little rant was the best way to show my loving devotion to my dear husband. If only I could write limericks better...
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Happy Birthday Ella
Two years ago exactly, the doctor came in and asked me if I minded waiting for about 45 minutes so that he and the nurses could have a sandwich before we finished things up and Ella made her grand entrance. Being an accomodating Midwesterner, I said "Of course not! I'll just lay here and meditate on not pushing!" And I did, and they did, and she did.
I am going to try and find the story of that day that I started writing and never finished. Except for the part about breaking for lunch, its all a bit blurry now, unfortunately. Uh oh- between the forgetfulness over the gruesome birth details and the weepiness that came over me when sorting through old baby clothes, I think I better look into more serious birth control. This is the way second babies happen.
I am going to try and find the story of that day that I started writing and never finished. Except for the part about breaking for lunch, its all a bit blurry now, unfortunately. Uh oh- between the forgetfulness over the gruesome birth details and the weepiness that came over me when sorting through old baby clothes, I think I better look into more serious birth control. This is the way second babies happen.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Finally feeling human again after a trip to the salon to have my roots done. I was there the end of November, which isn't ages ago, but my hair had grown something like 6 cm in 10 weeks. Ok, maybe its been more than 10 weeks but I can't be bothered to find a calendar and count. The point is that it is the middle of winter and I would appreciate it, hair follicles, if you would hibernate a little bit. 6 cm of roots is ridiculous. So ridiculous that the girl who did my nails asked if I was last there in the summer. (Admittedly, she is a bit of a space cadet but the fact remains that my hair has grown too much) Take the next few weeks off, what do you say? Surely you deserve a holiday and my wallet would really appreciate it as well.
I suppose, I should put this in perspective. If I go to do the color every 10 weeks, that is really only 5 visits a year, which isn't bad. But since I go to a different place for the cut, and I have to get a cut about every 8 weeks, that means 6 or 7 visits to a different salon every year, which in total is 12 visits a year. Once a month. Still, that isn't very much. Why does it seem like I spend my life trying to squeeze hair appointments into my schedule? And waxing. Its like my life revolves around hair maintenance. Another reason I need a job- so that my agenda has something a bit more exciting in it.
Ella received her first birthday present last night- a new set of crayons. We had lost about half of the old set on the airplane coming back at Christmas but I was holding off buying more because a) her color sense is not so refined that she can't scribble perfectly well in the 4 colors she still has and b) she has so many toys from Christmas that I couldn't even think of anything else to give her for her B-day. I had to give them to her early because we are working on cards to give out for Valentine's Day and there was nothing red in the house for her to use.* So, armed with a full set of crayons, she colored away all yesterday afternoon. I drew hearts all over some white paper and let her fill them in. I think she did a brilliant job, considering that she is only 2. She practically stays in the lines, atleast until she gets mad about something and then she she scribbles all over the paper. I dug into my big box of craft supplies and found all kinds of fun things. Ella is particularly enamoured by the little brads in the shape of a heart. I punch a tiny hole with a special punch and then she uses her tiny tweezer fingers to slip it in the hole. The cards were definitely a team effort- I even let her stamp the letters on the top despite the fact that she ended up with ink up to her elbows. Its so hard to just relax and let her make a complete mess of things. A lesson in zen. I'm not sure that I will test myself like this on a regular basis- the amount of cleaning supplies required makes it too expensive, for one thing. I'll have to remember to take some photos before I send them all off because they turned out really well.
Speaking of Valentine's Day, B and I can't find a babysitter for love or money for the 14th so its looking like we are going to have to spend the night in. B doesn't mind, since his original idea was to just do a sort of candle light picnic in the living room. That would be great but I won't be able to set anything up until after Ella is in bed and then we have to clean it all up before she gets up the next morning. Nothing sexy about loading the dishwasher in your bathrobe at midnight. On the other hand, beggers can't be choosers. And doing nothing would make it feel like we've been married for a million years and call each other "mother" and "father" (or the french equivalent, which just makes me gag I hate it so much). I bought some gorgeous lingerie from Sonia Rykiel that is just sitting in my drawer waiting for a special occasion (original occasion having been scraped due to bad timing...), can't let it go to waste. I should just resign myself to the picnic idea and get over to Picard before all the nice things are gone. And inform B that since he's not paying for a night out, be better show up with a really fab present.
For my part, I am going to make him these. I love making choux pastry and I know that B loves eating it, so it is a definite winner. I had thought about giving him some sexy photos but my attempts have been... what's the word I am looking for? Unintentionally hilarious? Bizarre? Scary (and not like Scary Spice. Like Stephen King)? I tried to tell myself that it was just a question of photoshopping and cropping the photo. Well, its not. I think it would be a fun present but I have used up an entire set of batteries shooting and re-shooting so I may just have to settle for making a double batch of eclairs. And lets face it, B is more of chocolate guy than a homemade porn kinda guy.
* I had to throw out her pink marker that day she scribbled all over our white sofa. Did I mention that here? It took B and myself about 2 hours of scrubbing and 3 bottles of leather cleaner to get it all off. I left her alone with the marker for about 10 minutes while I was on the phone and my jaw nearly hit the floor when I walked back in the room. That kid can seriously work fast- she covered the seats, the arms, the seat back and the back in giant pink scribbles PLUS both her hands and her face. She gets her efficiency from me. Anyways, I took the marker from her, tried to snap it in half before whipping it in the bin, and then went into the kitchen to breath deeply and count backwards from 100 while I calmed myself. She was without any type of writing instrument for a week and since then has only had her 4 remaining crayons to play with.
I suppose, I should put this in perspective. If I go to do the color every 10 weeks, that is really only 5 visits a year, which isn't bad. But since I go to a different place for the cut, and I have to get a cut about every 8 weeks, that means 6 or 7 visits to a different salon every year, which in total is 12 visits a year. Once a month. Still, that isn't very much. Why does it seem like I spend my life trying to squeeze hair appointments into my schedule? And waxing. Its like my life revolves around hair maintenance. Another reason I need a job- so that my agenda has something a bit more exciting in it.
Ella received her first birthday present last night- a new set of crayons. We had lost about half of the old set on the airplane coming back at Christmas but I was holding off buying more because a) her color sense is not so refined that she can't scribble perfectly well in the 4 colors she still has and b) she has so many toys from Christmas that I couldn't even think of anything else to give her for her B-day. I had to give them to her early because we are working on cards to give out for Valentine's Day and there was nothing red in the house for her to use.* So, armed with a full set of crayons, she colored away all yesterday afternoon. I drew hearts all over some white paper and let her fill them in. I think she did a brilliant job, considering that she is only 2. She practically stays in the lines, atleast until she gets mad about something and then she she scribbles all over the paper. I dug into my big box of craft supplies and found all kinds of fun things. Ella is particularly enamoured by the little brads in the shape of a heart. I punch a tiny hole with a special punch and then she uses her tiny tweezer fingers to slip it in the hole. The cards were definitely a team effort- I even let her stamp the letters on the top despite the fact that she ended up with ink up to her elbows. Its so hard to just relax and let her make a complete mess of things. A lesson in zen. I'm not sure that I will test myself like this on a regular basis- the amount of cleaning supplies required makes it too expensive, for one thing. I'll have to remember to take some photos before I send them all off because they turned out really well.
Speaking of Valentine's Day, B and I can't find a babysitter for love or money for the 14th so its looking like we are going to have to spend the night in. B doesn't mind, since his original idea was to just do a sort of candle light picnic in the living room. That would be great but I won't be able to set anything up until after Ella is in bed and then we have to clean it all up before she gets up the next morning. Nothing sexy about loading the dishwasher in your bathrobe at midnight. On the other hand, beggers can't be choosers. And doing nothing would make it feel like we've been married for a million years and call each other "mother" and "father" (or the french equivalent, which just makes me gag I hate it so much). I bought some gorgeous lingerie from Sonia Rykiel that is just sitting in my drawer waiting for a special occasion (original occasion having been scraped due to bad timing...), can't let it go to waste. I should just resign myself to the picnic idea and get over to Picard before all the nice things are gone. And inform B that since he's not paying for a night out, be better show up with a really fab present.
For my part, I am going to make him these. I love making choux pastry and I know that B loves eating it, so it is a definite winner. I had thought about giving him some sexy photos but my attempts have been... what's the word I am looking for? Unintentionally hilarious? Bizarre? Scary (and not like Scary Spice. Like Stephen King)? I tried to tell myself that it was just a question of photoshopping and cropping the photo. Well, its not. I think it would be a fun present but I have used up an entire set of batteries shooting and re-shooting so I may just have to settle for making a double batch of eclairs. And lets face it, B is more of chocolate guy than a homemade porn kinda guy.
* I had to throw out her pink marker that day she scribbled all over our white sofa. Did I mention that here? It took B and myself about 2 hours of scrubbing and 3 bottles of leather cleaner to get it all off. I left her alone with the marker for about 10 minutes while I was on the phone and my jaw nearly hit the floor when I walked back in the room. That kid can seriously work fast- she covered the seats, the arms, the seat back and the back in giant pink scribbles PLUS both her hands and her face. She gets her efficiency from me. Anyways, I took the marker from her, tried to snap it in half before whipping it in the bin, and then went into the kitchen to breath deeply and count backwards from 100 while I calmed myself. She was without any type of writing instrument for a week and since then has only had her 4 remaining crayons to play with.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Nostalgia
Yesterday afternoon, I did my first tanning session in preparation for our holiday. B is super organized and managed to go and get us both cards for the local tanning place so that we can get a base tan before going and take full advantage of the beach when we arrive. He doesn't have to worry so much since he has such think chest, leg, arm hair that the sunny barely reaches his skin. He is secretly more concerned with maximizing his tan, I suspect. I, on the other hand, break out in an itchy rash on my arms if I start to get too much sun. Have you ever tried covering your forearms but no other part of your body when outside? Its nearly impossible. But unless I am slathered in 30 SPF sunscreen from sunrise til sunset, I develop this rash the first few days I am out in the sun and then am forced to sit in the shade for a week while it fades. So, despite the inconvenience? I will be running over to the "ovens" every other day for 10 minutes for the next three week building up a nice glow. Secretly, I love the feeling of climbing in the oven on a cold cold February day. Always makes me think of Hansel and Gretal.
I think that I was a bit ambitious running straight from the tanning bed to the swimsuit shop, though. I was so pleased with my weight loss and Pilates results that I thought even my pale white body would look OK under the shop lights. Wrong wrong wrong. Have decided to put off the bikini purchase until the end of the month. Besides, since the sales are officially still on, could hardly find anything out on the racks. And all that happened is once again, I ended up in the shoe section looking through the sale racks. I have been having dreams about those pretty gold Balenciaga heels, they are so inexpensive its just a shame to not buy them. I think that I deserve a medal for walking away and leaving them there. Honestly, I don't go out enough to justify buying them. Too many things in my closet already just gathering dust.
This is practically the best motivation for getting a job. I need a place to go every day, a place that does not require me to spend money but does require me to be a bit more inventive in my wardrobe choices, although just watch- I'll find a job in a casual office where the "uniform" is jeans, white t-shirt, wooly sweater. The only thing that I'll need to do is trade in my lovely isotoner slippers for a pair of loafers. Would the universe be that cruel? I might have to start carrying around more change for the homeless or something to work on getting some good karma out there in the universe. Actually, my project for this afternoon when Ella is napping is to re-do my CV for a job that I spotted the other day. I'm not pushing myself- in order to not get overwhelmed all I have to do to consider the day a success if finish one task on my to-do list. Writing a cover letter can be for tomorrow. Sending it all out can wait til Monday. OK, its not the most efficient way to do things, but its better than throwing myself into bed in tears and exhaustion from the mere thought of the mountain of things I need to do. Not that I have ever done anything as melodramatic as that, obviously.
I already did one little project today and brought up a box of baby clothes from the cave. I promised my sister a box of Ella's baby clothes if the ultrasound showed that the new baby would be a girl. She's very sceptical of the results, but is telling us that there is a 70% chance that her third (and last, god willing. That girl thinks about sex and gets pregnant) child will finally be of the female variety. Its shocking to see how tiny these clothes are- and I remember that Ella was just swimming in them for the first 2 months. God, its weird how you just forget things. Doesn't seem possible, let alone normal, that she was that small. Of course, when you are on the other side, waiting for the baby to be born (more specifically, find his way from the inside to the outside), you look at those same little pyjamas and pray that your baby will not be big enough to wear them for months and months.
I was really surprised to be feeling a bit sad about shipping all the pretty little things off. I'm really happy for her and was thrilled to hear that she would be having a girl. I immediately volunteered to send her everything I had. Its not that I am at all interested in having another baby, and I am way to practical just to keep that sort of thing around because one day I will have fun looking at it and remembering when Ella was a baby. But it does sort of feel like I'm giving away her babyhood. It wasn't so bad packing things into boxes and sending it down to the cave. But getting rid of it and knowing I'll probably never see those things again? I am feeling really sad. Not broody, just notalgic. And it was AWFUL when she was that little. The lack of sleep. God. I still turn with wonder to B almost every evening (not making this us) and say to him "Isn't it fantastic how she just lays down and goes to sleep? Isn't she just the sweetest child alive, not crying at us?" The scars run deep, my friends. So what do I think I am missing? Hmm.
I think that I was a bit ambitious running straight from the tanning bed to the swimsuit shop, though. I was so pleased with my weight loss and Pilates results that I thought even my pale white body would look OK under the shop lights. Wrong wrong wrong. Have decided to put off the bikini purchase until the end of the month. Besides, since the sales are officially still on, could hardly find anything out on the racks. And all that happened is once again, I ended up in the shoe section looking through the sale racks. I have been having dreams about those pretty gold Balenciaga heels, they are so inexpensive its just a shame to not buy them. I think that I deserve a medal for walking away and leaving them there. Honestly, I don't go out enough to justify buying them. Too many things in my closet already just gathering dust.
This is practically the best motivation for getting a job. I need a place to go every day, a place that does not require me to spend money but does require me to be a bit more inventive in my wardrobe choices, although just watch- I'll find a job in a casual office where the "uniform" is jeans, white t-shirt, wooly sweater. The only thing that I'll need to do is trade in my lovely isotoner slippers for a pair of loafers. Would the universe be that cruel? I might have to start carrying around more change for the homeless or something to work on getting some good karma out there in the universe. Actually, my project for this afternoon when Ella is napping is to re-do my CV for a job that I spotted the other day. I'm not pushing myself- in order to not get overwhelmed all I have to do to consider the day a success if finish one task on my to-do list. Writing a cover letter can be for tomorrow. Sending it all out can wait til Monday. OK, its not the most efficient way to do things, but its better than throwing myself into bed in tears and exhaustion from the mere thought of the mountain of things I need to do. Not that I have ever done anything as melodramatic as that, obviously.
I already did one little project today and brought up a box of baby clothes from the cave. I promised my sister a box of Ella's baby clothes if the ultrasound showed that the new baby would be a girl. She's very sceptical of the results, but is telling us that there is a 70% chance that her third (and last, god willing. That girl thinks about sex and gets pregnant) child will finally be of the female variety. Its shocking to see how tiny these clothes are- and I remember that Ella was just swimming in them for the first 2 months. God, its weird how you just forget things. Doesn't seem possible, let alone normal, that she was that small. Of course, when you are on the other side, waiting for the baby to be born (more specifically, find his way from the inside to the outside), you look at those same little pyjamas and pray that your baby will not be big enough to wear them for months and months.
I was really surprised to be feeling a bit sad about shipping all the pretty little things off. I'm really happy for her and was thrilled to hear that she would be having a girl. I immediately volunteered to send her everything I had. Its not that I am at all interested in having another baby, and I am way to practical just to keep that sort of thing around because one day I will have fun looking at it and remembering when Ella was a baby. But it does sort of feel like I'm giving away her babyhood. It wasn't so bad packing things into boxes and sending it down to the cave. But getting rid of it and knowing I'll probably never see those things again? I am feeling really sad. Not broody, just notalgic. And it was AWFUL when she was that little. The lack of sleep. God. I still turn with wonder to B almost every evening (not making this us) and say to him "Isn't it fantastic how she just lays down and goes to sleep? Isn't she just the sweetest child alive, not crying at us?" The scars run deep, my friends. So what do I think I am missing? Hmm.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
The road to recovery
I am recovering slowly but surely. I ended up having strep throat and ever since I was in hospital with rheumatic fever years and years ago when I was at boarding school, it just knocks me on my ass. I had another trip to hospital when I was in uni even though I thought I was only a bit sick and when I woke up on Wednesday morning, I couldn't even lift a glass of water to my mouth, my joints were so swollen. So it seems like I am getting sicker, faster, every time. Yesterday I had a list of things to do but ended up falling asleep on the sofa and I didn't wake until Ella started yelling for me three hours later. I didn't actually realize until doing a quick google search for home remedies (for rheumatic fever. Ummm, I think my confidence in the internet is a bit exaggerated...) that it can be really serious. I thought it just made you have stiff joints. Oops. Better to be safe than sorry- next time I guess I'll go to the doctor straight away. Have decided that I am keeping all activity and stress at an absolute minimum until I really feel better. I feel a bit like a Victorian lady with the vapors, draped across my chaise longue. Note to self: stock up on smelling salts and poetry for full effect.
Its a shame that Ella's birthday is this Saturday. I had thought I would have a party for her but there is no way that I can take that on right now. Luckily, B talked to his parents and said that maybe we would come to visit them this weekend. We can have cake and a present or two at their house making up for having spent Christmas with my family and at the same time giving me an excellent excuse for not organizing something here with the playgroup kids. Win, win.
We booked all the tickets for our holiday to the Maldives. 2 weeks on the beach. I cannot wait. That is the real motivation for getting well as I won't do anything to compromise our holiday. Am preparing the packing already. Also, will be taking suggestions for a big order from Amazon. Need atleast a dozen big thick books to take with- last time I made the mistake of thinking that I would just borrow books from the hotel's library. The "library" consisted of two shelves in the lobby of the hotel, the majority of which appeared to be harlequin romances in either russian or japanese. After 5 days I was so desperate for something to read that I was stalking anglophone guests around the pool- if I spied a book with the book mark anywhere in the last third I popped over to make my introductions, begging to trade them/pay them/ provide sexual favors for first dibs on the book when they finished. No wonder B changed his mind about paying for my diving lessons- anything was better than watching me prostitute myself out for a month old Heat magazine.
My suitcase will be mostly books, and not a lot else. Need a new swimsuit (have only got my black Eres which is still in good shape but I feel like something a bit bright- found a Melissa Odabash which is cute but want to go through the shops tomorrow as well), some sandals, a hat, a sarong or two, a barrel of sunscreen (I think the hotel shop sells it for something like 30 dollars a bottle, insane, so running out is not an option), another barrel of Nuxe Huile Prodigeuse, and some sunglasses. Should have bought some in the sale but am thinking maybe I can score a good pair at the airport in Doha? Its going to be my birthday while we are on holiday so I certainly should be allowed to pick out a new pair of sunglasses, despite my pathetic history of loosing expensive sunglasses within minutes of purchase.
Good thing I have the beach to look forward to. I don't know if it was getting sick that did it or if it is just that time of year. It just seemed like everything was going so badly. The apartment sale, the apartment hunt, my job search, lots of friends leaving Paris, stupid little things going wrong, etc. B and I actually got in such a big argument last weekend that I really thought that I would have to pack my bags, I was wondering which of my friends would let me spend a few nights on their sofa. We sorted it out, but even that went badly since I ended up deathly ill and we sort of put it aside for later. Its always fun to know that there is a big fight waiting in the wings to finished up.
Must try and remember to just deal with one thing at a time. I desperately need to get my papers together if I am going to try to apply for a course next year so that is my number one priority. Even feeling overwhelmed by that at this stage. But I fear I will feel even more suicidal if September roles around and I have no project in site. Anyways, no chance of my killing myself now- stress and illness have helped me attain my lowest weight since 2003. Again, with the silver lining. Who can be sad when they are wearing size 36 Joseph trousers?
Its a shame that Ella's birthday is this Saturday. I had thought I would have a party for her but there is no way that I can take that on right now. Luckily, B talked to his parents and said that maybe we would come to visit them this weekend. We can have cake and a present or two at their house making up for having spent Christmas with my family and at the same time giving me an excellent excuse for not organizing something here with the playgroup kids. Win, win.
We booked all the tickets for our holiday to the Maldives. 2 weeks on the beach. I cannot wait. That is the real motivation for getting well as I won't do anything to compromise our holiday. Am preparing the packing already. Also, will be taking suggestions for a big order from Amazon. Need atleast a dozen big thick books to take with- last time I made the mistake of thinking that I would just borrow books from the hotel's library. The "library" consisted of two shelves in the lobby of the hotel, the majority of which appeared to be harlequin romances in either russian or japanese. After 5 days I was so desperate for something to read that I was stalking anglophone guests around the pool- if I spied a book with the book mark anywhere in the last third I popped over to make my introductions, begging to trade them/pay them/ provide sexual favors for first dibs on the book when they finished. No wonder B changed his mind about paying for my diving lessons- anything was better than watching me prostitute myself out for a month old Heat magazine.
My suitcase will be mostly books, and not a lot else. Need a new swimsuit (have only got my black Eres which is still in good shape but I feel like something a bit bright- found a Melissa Odabash which is cute but want to go through the shops tomorrow as well), some sandals, a hat, a sarong or two, a barrel of sunscreen (I think the hotel shop sells it for something like 30 dollars a bottle, insane, so running out is not an option), another barrel of Nuxe Huile Prodigeuse, and some sunglasses. Should have bought some in the sale but am thinking maybe I can score a good pair at the airport in Doha? Its going to be my birthday while we are on holiday so I certainly should be allowed to pick out a new pair of sunglasses, despite my pathetic history of loosing expensive sunglasses within minutes of purchase.
Good thing I have the beach to look forward to. I don't know if it was getting sick that did it or if it is just that time of year. It just seemed like everything was going so badly. The apartment sale, the apartment hunt, my job search, lots of friends leaving Paris, stupid little things going wrong, etc. B and I actually got in such a big argument last weekend that I really thought that I would have to pack my bags, I was wondering which of my friends would let me spend a few nights on their sofa. We sorted it out, but even that went badly since I ended up deathly ill and we sort of put it aside for later. Its always fun to know that there is a big fight waiting in the wings to finished up.
Must try and remember to just deal with one thing at a time. I desperately need to get my papers together if I am going to try to apply for a course next year so that is my number one priority. Even feeling overwhelmed by that at this stage. But I fear I will feel even more suicidal if September roles around and I have no project in site. Anyways, no chance of my killing myself now- stress and illness have helped me attain my lowest weight since 2003. Again, with the silver lining. Who can be sad when they are wearing size 36 Joseph trousers?
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
sick day
I am so sick today and of course it is the one day this week when B has to be at work. I started feeling bad last night, then I had weird fever dreams all night. This morning I woke up and felt like the walking dead. I have a temperature and am achy and can hardly move and am having a very hard time explaining to Ella that I cannot carry her around today. My throat is really hurting too so naturally the only thing that she wants to do is read books. I croak out a few pages, painfully swallowing every couple words. And then halfway through the book she gets up and walks away or hands me another book. I kinda hate her today.
But in typical toddler fashion she turns around and does something so sweet that I feel like a complete shit for having all these evil thoughts. After finishing feeding her lunch I laid down on the sofa to stop my head from spinning and she came over and started stroking my forehead. Plus she laid down very very nicely for her nap and has been in there for two hours. Thank god.
Looks like there will be no indemnities for us, boohoo. But B called this afternoon and told me that he had booked our plane tickets to the Maldives and so atleast that is settled. We talked over dinner last night- I made us a fancy candlelit dinner with the china and crystal and silver and flowers and champagne to toast the many happy years we will be still living in this apartment. We decided that maybe, MAYBE, we will just keep the flat listed in PAP and do an open house on Saturdays. I don't know. The only reason I think I am interested in keeping trying to sell this place is because of the surface we visited in the third. Having the unwashed hoards tramping through here, pointing out how shit this place is kind of wears on my nerves.
This is so hard, makes my head hurt even more. I think I'm going to go back to my sick bed, my orange juice, and my afternoon of Two and a Half Men. Thats how sick I am. I am watching Two and a Half Men. Normally I hate that show. Actually, I should have realized that I was getting sick on Sunday night when I was entertained by the Ali G Movie.
But in typical toddler fashion she turns around and does something so sweet that I feel like a complete shit for having all these evil thoughts. After finishing feeding her lunch I laid down on the sofa to stop my head from spinning and she came over and started stroking my forehead. Plus she laid down very very nicely for her nap and has been in there for two hours. Thank god.
Looks like there will be no indemnities for us, boohoo. But B called this afternoon and told me that he had booked our plane tickets to the Maldives and so atleast that is settled. We talked over dinner last night- I made us a fancy candlelit dinner with the china and crystal and silver and flowers and champagne to toast the many happy years we will be still living in this apartment. We decided that maybe, MAYBE, we will just keep the flat listed in PAP and do an open house on Saturdays. I don't know. The only reason I think I am interested in keeping trying to sell this place is because of the surface we visited in the third. Having the unwashed hoards tramping through here, pointing out how shit this place is kind of wears on my nerves.
This is so hard, makes my head hurt even more. I think I'm going to go back to my sick bed, my orange juice, and my afternoon of Two and a Half Men. Thats how sick I am. I am watching Two and a Half Men. Normally I hate that show. Actually, I should have realized that I was getting sick on Sunday night when I was entertained by the Ali G Movie.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Silver lining
B took off work this morning so that we could go and look at that space near Square du Temple. I loved it. LOVED it. It was absolutely perfect for us- lots of work but it would have been the most amazing apartment. B was hesitating because of the roof, the coproprieté, the price. But even he was ready to make an offer (much lower than the asking price anyways).
Then his phone rang and the agent who sold our apartment told him that the buyers for our place had backed out.
I have to admit that we didn't burst into tears. Because I'm not working and we can't get any loans, we were stressing out over the fact that we might not find something to buy that was in any way better than the place in which we are currently living. Even the great place we saw this morning would not be ours if they didn't lower the price a lot. But the good news about the cancellation is that we might get paid an indemnity from the buyers. Normally, if they were going to cancel the sale, they had until Friday to do it. The agent said that they cancelled yesterday. We would get paid about 85,000 euros if they missed the deadline, which really softens the blow.
Thank god we didn't book our hotel for the Maldives yet. Paradise Island would just be a band-aid. I think I will only be able to get over this terribly stressful experience by spending two weeks in 5 star luxury at the Banyon Tree. It is true what they say about there always being a silver lining.
Then his phone rang and the agent who sold our apartment told him that the buyers for our place had backed out.
I have to admit that we didn't burst into tears. Because I'm not working and we can't get any loans, we were stressing out over the fact that we might not find something to buy that was in any way better than the place in which we are currently living. Even the great place we saw this morning would not be ours if they didn't lower the price a lot. But the good news about the cancellation is that we might get paid an indemnity from the buyers. Normally, if they were going to cancel the sale, they had until Friday to do it. The agent said that they cancelled yesterday. We would get paid about 85,000 euros if they missed the deadline, which really softens the blow.
Thank god we didn't book our hotel for the Maldives yet. Paradise Island would just be a band-aid. I think I will only be able to get over this terribly stressful experience by spending two weeks in 5 star luxury at the Banyon Tree. It is true what they say about there always being a silver lining.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Bought another pair of boots
This morning, B and I jumped out of bed at 8:30, which for us is like the break of dawn, and got Ella off to garderie so that we could run over to Bon Marche to do a bit of shopping. Originally, we had hoped to be visiting an apartment in the 3rd- well, apartment is sort of big word for what is apparently an empty warehouse tacked on to the back of a very dilapidated building just near the Square du Temple. But it is in our price range, is 200 m², with the possibility of adding on a terrasse of 85m² as well as recuperating all the space in the attic. We could do something incredibly amazing and I for one spent all of last night wildly fantasizing about the possibilities. (you know you are middle aged when your fantasies are less hot oiled bodies on deserted beaches and a bit more square footage and carpet samples.) Now, if only the agent would set up a visit. I don't know what the story is but no luck for this morning.
All the better. B had been nagging me for the last week to go and buy some more Juliette stories for him to read to Ella. B is so tired of reading the same 4 stories to Ella every night that he truly thought it worth a morning off work to go and buy a few more books. I am not sure if this makes him a really awesome dad or just a man with very few hobbies/imagination. I needed to return the pair of boots I had bought.
We went straight to the shoe section and returned them no problem, which is something I love at this store. They NEVER make a fuss, unlike 99% of the shops in Paris. I quickly started grabbing other pairs and waving them at B, asking what he liked. He is generally really good help when I shopping but I knew he was dying to go down to the children's section so I had to work fast. In the end I found a perfect pair of black equestrian style boots from St Germain, but what I like is that they aren't as stiff as a lot of pairs I tried on. The leather is really soft and they squish up a bit. I mentioned that my Repetto slippers were thrown out because I had worn them so much so B told me to get a pair of those while we were there. See why I love shopping with him? Then he went and picked out a dozen Juliette story books and we came home.
In the shop I didn't bother trying on the boots she brought out to me since I figured that I had made B wait long enough and I just wanted to pay and leave. So guess what? The boot I didn't try has something wrong with the heel and every time I try and put my foot in, it sort of crumples up instead of keeping the heel shape. Its not impossible to wear them, but clearly its a fault in the construction. So I will have to go back one more time. I have tried everything to fix it, including stuffing giant kitchen spoons in with my foot to try and keep the heel up but even if it had worked, I am not entirely sure that would be a successful long term solution. Will wait til B gets home tonight and ask if he has any ideas- I don't know if I have mentioned here that he is quite the MacGyver. Who knows, maybe he'll think of some trick involving gum, paper clips, and lighter fluid and I won't have to schelp across Paris yet again.
Editted: Who needs B? I took a nap this afternoon and dreamed up a contraption all by myself. I found a shoe horn in this shoe shining kit I had bought B last year, I took a long meat fork from the kitchen and duct taped them together and Voila! Boot is on!! Honestly, this blog is like Survivor for the Ladies who Lunch.
All the better. B had been nagging me for the last week to go and buy some more Juliette stories for him to read to Ella. B is so tired of reading the same 4 stories to Ella every night that he truly thought it worth a morning off work to go and buy a few more books. I am not sure if this makes him a really awesome dad or just a man with very few hobbies/imagination. I needed to return the pair of boots I had bought.
We went straight to the shoe section and returned them no problem, which is something I love at this store. They NEVER make a fuss, unlike 99% of the shops in Paris. I quickly started grabbing other pairs and waving them at B, asking what he liked. He is generally really good help when I shopping but I knew he was dying to go down to the children's section so I had to work fast. In the end I found a perfect pair of black equestrian style boots from St Germain, but what I like is that they aren't as stiff as a lot of pairs I tried on. The leather is really soft and they squish up a bit. I mentioned that my Repetto slippers were thrown out because I had worn them so much so B told me to get a pair of those while we were there. See why I love shopping with him? Then he went and picked out a dozen Juliette story books and we came home.
In the shop I didn't bother trying on the boots she brought out to me since I figured that I had made B wait long enough and I just wanted to pay and leave. So guess what? The boot I didn't try has something wrong with the heel and every time I try and put my foot in, it sort of crumples up instead of keeping the heel shape. Its not impossible to wear them, but clearly its a fault in the construction. So I will have to go back one more time. I have tried everything to fix it, including stuffing giant kitchen spoons in with my foot to try and keep the heel up but even if it had worked, I am not entirely sure that would be a successful long term solution. Will wait til B gets home tonight and ask if he has any ideas- I don't know if I have mentioned here that he is quite the MacGyver. Who knows, maybe he'll think of some trick involving gum, paper clips, and lighter fluid and I won't have to schelp across Paris yet again.
Editted: Who needs B? I took a nap this afternoon and dreamed up a contraption all by myself. I found a shoe horn in this shoe shining kit I had bought B last year, I took a long meat fork from the kitchen and duct taped them together and Voila! Boot is on!! Honestly, this blog is like Survivor for the Ladies who Lunch.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
New hair cut, new attitude
I just got back from a lovely afternoon at the hairdressers. Actually had plans to meet up with a friend who is leaving Paris very shortly but I cancelled, having decided that things had reached a critical stage and I could not inflict myself on the public eye any longer. I have been going to the same person for about, oh, 8 years now and if he decided to leave Paris, I really would have through myself from a bridge. The joy, the pure joy, of being able to sit down and say, with no fear, "Do whatever you want." He delivers every single time. Guy, at Toni & Guy St Germain is, for me, the best haircutter in Paris. Love love love him.
So now I have gorgeous shiny hair and no place to go. The constant low-grade stress that I am inflicting on myself has me totally worn out and I am definitely not motivated enough to call a babysitter so B and I (and my new hair) can go out for dinner tonight. Will just have to sleep standing up so it will still be nice tomorrow for a big Thursday night at Les Planches*.
Will also need to run back to Bon Marché tomorrow morning and return those boots that I bought. I am so mad that I cannot find something nicer for a decent price. I think instead I'll just pick up a pair of black ballet flats from Salvatore Ferragamo that I tried on the other day. They are practical, since they are flat, but sort of cool and quirky in "I just stole these off my Grandma" kind of way. And some little top as well. I'm realizing that my closet is getting a little heavy on the Afternoon in the Park clothes, to the detriment of the Nights in a Smoky Bar clothes.
Hmmm. Maybe I should rethink the grandma flats? When I was at Printemps on Monday I saw that they were having a pretty awesome sale on their designer shoes. They had the most beautiful stilletos from Gina (of London). I tried on a pair of oyster satin pumps covered in round crytals and a pair of canary yellow silk/rhinestone sandals, either one of which I would have very happily sacrificed a night of marital harmony for (B says NO MORE RIDICULOUS STILETTOS, since I have what can only be described as a very wonky ankle after multiple sprains and a shrill whine around 3 am when we can't find a taxi home and he's trying to get me to walk.)
*Am praying that my girlfriends decide to go somewhere else tomorrow night because I do not want to spend another night in that horrible horrible bar. But, in the interest of keeping my social life alive, I will sacrifice one of my rare nights out and go meet my friends there if I must. Those girls will do the stupidest shit for a few free Cosmos. Don't tell them I said so...
So now I have gorgeous shiny hair and no place to go. The constant low-grade stress that I am inflicting on myself has me totally worn out and I am definitely not motivated enough to call a babysitter so B and I (and my new hair) can go out for dinner tonight. Will just have to sleep standing up so it will still be nice tomorrow for a big Thursday night at Les Planches*.
Will also need to run back to Bon Marché tomorrow morning and return those boots that I bought. I am so mad that I cannot find something nicer for a decent price. I think instead I'll just pick up a pair of black ballet flats from Salvatore Ferragamo that I tried on the other day. They are practical, since they are flat, but sort of cool and quirky in "I just stole these off my Grandma" kind of way. And some little top as well. I'm realizing that my closet is getting a little heavy on the Afternoon in the Park clothes, to the detriment of the Nights in a Smoky Bar clothes.
Hmmm. Maybe I should rethink the grandma flats? When I was at Printemps on Monday I saw that they were having a pretty awesome sale on their designer shoes. They had the most beautiful stilletos from Gina (of London). I tried on a pair of oyster satin pumps covered in round crytals and a pair of canary yellow silk/rhinestone sandals, either one of which I would have very happily sacrificed a night of marital harmony for (B says NO MORE RIDICULOUS STILETTOS, since I have what can only be described as a very wonky ankle after multiple sprains and a shrill whine around 3 am when we can't find a taxi home and he's trying to get me to walk.)
*Am praying that my girlfriends decide to go somewhere else tomorrow night because I do not want to spend another night in that horrible horrible bar. But, in the interest of keeping my social life alive, I will sacrifice one of my rare nights out and go meet my friends there if I must. Those girls will do the stupidest shit for a few free Cosmos. Don't tell them I said so...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Somebody buy this girl an agenda
This morning I jump out of bed, get Ella dressed, get in argument with B over who gets to take a shower first (win), speed blow dry my hair, quickly wrap up one of Ella's Christmas presents to give to the birthday girl at the party we are going to since I forgot to buy her something yesterday, bundle Ella in her all her outside clothes since it is FREEZING today, gather a small suitcase full of "necessaries" for the morning playgroup and dash out of the house.
First thing wrong: I didn't put a scarf on and am wearing my fur coat which opens in a sexy deep V, completely inappropriate for cold weather. But terribly sexy. So I clutch the collar closed with one hand while trying to steer the over-loaded stroller with the other.
Second thing that went wrong: After visiting a dozen shops in search of a pair of flat black boots, I buy a pair that I decide are too tight in the leg and therefore need to return. Second choice pair was mistakenly put on the sale rack and so was not actually 50% off but still 400 euro. So they stayed in the store. Therefore decided that I would just wear the black boots that I already own, the heel is really not that high and they are gorgeous. Correction: 5 minutes into my 30 minute walk I realize that, yes, in fact, the heels are incredibly high and trying to push a stroller in those heels with one hand is impossible. So I start looking in shop windows to see if I can find a pair of black ballerina slippers to buy so that I can walk faster.
Third thing that went wrong: Ella decides that she wants her gloves off so that she can hold the empty bottle that she spied inside her bag. I stop, show her that it is empty, and explain that it is too cold out to take off her gloves. She proceeds to scream all the way up rue de Turenne. My sincerest apologies to the residents of the 3rd arrondissement. Decide that she is too noisy to take in a store so I do not stop to purchase appropriate footwear. Decide to battle on (am truly a martyr).
Fourth thing that went wrong: I get to my friend's house, where there is the playgroup/birthday party, 30 minutes late and there is not a single stroller in the courtyard. Am hit with the sudden realization that it isn't Tuesday. Or maybe it is, but it isn't the 23rd? OR maybe it is the 23rd, but the party was actually on a Wednesday? I have no idea since I last read the email 2 weeks ago but see that I have clearly come on the wrong day or the wrong time or both. So I think about calling the host to see if we can just come up to play for an hour, since we are there and I have two freshly baked loaves of banana bread in my purse. Check in purse, there is no cellphone. Ella is still howling and I fear that my head will explode in Mars Attack manner so decide to simply totter home as fast as I can. Remind self that walking in heels helps make legs look nice. Grit teeth. Take mittens off Ella, enjoy the quiet, and remind self that prothestics technology is amazing these days if her fingers do actually freeze off.
Fifth thing that went wrong: when I finally got home and peeled bloody feet out of boots, crawled over to the computer to check my mail. Oh- the party was today at 10:30. Everyone else must have been late. Shoot self in head. The end.
First thing wrong: I didn't put a scarf on and am wearing my fur coat which opens in a sexy deep V, completely inappropriate for cold weather. But terribly sexy. So I clutch the collar closed with one hand while trying to steer the over-loaded stroller with the other.
Second thing that went wrong: After visiting a dozen shops in search of a pair of flat black boots, I buy a pair that I decide are too tight in the leg and therefore need to return. Second choice pair was mistakenly put on the sale rack and so was not actually 50% off but still 400 euro. So they stayed in the store. Therefore decided that I would just wear the black boots that I already own, the heel is really not that high and they are gorgeous. Correction: 5 minutes into my 30 minute walk I realize that, yes, in fact, the heels are incredibly high and trying to push a stroller in those heels with one hand is impossible. So I start looking in shop windows to see if I can find a pair of black ballerina slippers to buy so that I can walk faster.
Third thing that went wrong: Ella decides that she wants her gloves off so that she can hold the empty bottle that she spied inside her bag. I stop, show her that it is empty, and explain that it is too cold out to take off her gloves. She proceeds to scream all the way up rue de Turenne. My sincerest apologies to the residents of the 3rd arrondissement. Decide that she is too noisy to take in a store so I do not stop to purchase appropriate footwear. Decide to battle on (am truly a martyr).
Fourth thing that went wrong: I get to my friend's house, where there is the playgroup/birthday party, 30 minutes late and there is not a single stroller in the courtyard. Am hit with the sudden realization that it isn't Tuesday. Or maybe it is, but it isn't the 23rd? OR maybe it is the 23rd, but the party was actually on a Wednesday? I have no idea since I last read the email 2 weeks ago but see that I have clearly come on the wrong day or the wrong time or both. So I think about calling the host to see if we can just come up to play for an hour, since we are there and I have two freshly baked loaves of banana bread in my purse. Check in purse, there is no cellphone. Ella is still howling and I fear that my head will explode in Mars Attack manner so decide to simply totter home as fast as I can. Remind self that walking in heels helps make legs look nice. Grit teeth. Take mittens off Ella, enjoy the quiet, and remind self that prothestics technology is amazing these days if her fingers do actually freeze off.
Fifth thing that went wrong: when I finally got home and peeled bloody feet out of boots, crawled over to the computer to check my mail. Oh- the party was today at 10:30. Everyone else must have been late. Shoot self in head. The end.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Wallowing in regret
So, we went to the notaire's on Friday morning and signed the papers, despite my repeated entreaties to B that we just don't show up and forget about the whole stupid "Let's make ourselves homeless" idea I had dreamed up way back in December. So, the good news is that we don't have to move out until the 1st of June. The bad news is that we still have to move out. BUT the buyers are getting on in years and I cheer myself up by imagining the likelihood of one of them kicking it before June. A quick perusal of actuarial statistics points out that the chances are in fact quite high. Then, I tell myself, not only would they back out of the sale and leave us in peace in our lovely little home, but we would get to keep the 10% deposit.
Shut up. It could happen. And I am not evil for thinking that.
On the off chance that one of them doesn't die suddenly, I have begun the long hard slog that is finding an apartment in Paris. Its not pretty people. Everything is old and dirty and smelling of cats, on the first floor on a major boulevard, with a view out the kitchen of a brick wall, for the knockdown drag-out price of 1,000,000 euro. In all fairness, I do keep telling the agents that we are looking for a fixer-upper. But I fear they have over-estimated by abilities when they show me apartments like the one I just mentioned. Much as I would like to create a detour around the Blvd Malesherbes and plant a lush garden to look out on, I don't have enough pull with Delanoe to manage that.
So basically, we have come to the realization that the only way we are going to find a decent place to live, one that doesn't make us regret every single day the decision to sell our current abode, is for me to go back to work full-time so we can get a bigger loan. Obviously, I was planning on going back to work anyways but now we have some serious time limits. I need to find a job first of all. Then I need to make sure that there is no trial period for my contract. Then I have to manage to find full-time childcare for Ella.
And then I have to actually work.
Why oh why did we ever sell our apartment. (All this angst maybe related to my somewhat ill-timed purchase of the DVD's for Season Two of The Office. Nothing makes you more excited about job market than remembering how many of your bosses ressembled Michael...)
Shut up. It could happen. And I am not evil for thinking that.
On the off chance that one of them doesn't die suddenly, I have begun the long hard slog that is finding an apartment in Paris. Its not pretty people. Everything is old and dirty and smelling of cats, on the first floor on a major boulevard, with a view out the kitchen of a brick wall, for the knockdown drag-out price of 1,000,000 euro. In all fairness, I do keep telling the agents that we are looking for a fixer-upper. But I fear they have over-estimated by abilities when they show me apartments like the one I just mentioned. Much as I would like to create a detour around the Blvd Malesherbes and plant a lush garden to look out on, I don't have enough pull with Delanoe to manage that.
So basically, we have come to the realization that the only way we are going to find a decent place to live, one that doesn't make us regret every single day the decision to sell our current abode, is for me to go back to work full-time so we can get a bigger loan. Obviously, I was planning on going back to work anyways but now we have some serious time limits. I need to find a job first of all. Then I need to make sure that there is no trial period for my contract. Then I have to manage to find full-time childcare for Ella.
And then I have to actually work.
Why oh why did we ever sell our apartment. (All this angst maybe related to my somewhat ill-timed purchase of the DVD's for Season Two of The Office. Nothing makes you more excited about job market than remembering how many of your bosses ressembled Michael...)
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Remembering Kim Wee
I think I mentioned in one of my post-holiday posts that the Christmas season wasn't awesome in that I was at the hospital twice, once with my grandfather and once with my mom. There was another tragedy that didn't touch me personally, but it hit my brother and my youngest sister really hard. The day after Christmas, they found out that a good friend of theirs had died of leukemia.
In the news today, there is an article about how cancer rates have fallen for two years in a row. That is fantastic news, but it still means that people are dying, and when it is someone who is young and healthy, it seems shocking that medical technology failed them. Actually, its not that shocking. There is still a lot to learn and many many people who can be saved.
And because of that, my younger brother has decided to do his bit. He is committed to raising $4,100 for TheLeukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS) by April 1st. He will also be completing an Olympic Distance Triathlon through an organization linked to LLS called Team In Training. If you would like to support Leukemia Research, please think about helping Ross meet his goal. He works really hard and spends with his family and still makes time for things like this. He's a good guy and I'm really proud of him.
5 things that you didn't know about me
I have been tagged by Sally and actually, have been fairly interested in reading everyone else's replies to this so I could not let her down. Have been scouring my brain to come up with 5 little known facts.
1. I speak Spanish. Not a very well known fact, since I have forgotten nearly everything I ever learned, or atleast it seems that way. I studied Spanish from the age of 12 until 19. I did 2 years of Higher Level IB and was predicted a 7 (genius level- kidding) but ended up with a 4 (barely passing). I was convinced that my Spanish teacher was not being 100% altruistic when he repeatedly asked me to come to his office after classes for extra help for the final exams. Why so sceptical? The "extra tutoring" was scheduled in a deserted building at 8 or 9 at night. Hmmm. Anyone else smell a rat? Then after finishing school, I thought about travelling around South America with a girlfriend to work on my Spanish (purely a working holiday...) and my parents nixed that idea. So I came to Paris. Never left. Never spoke any more Spanish.
2. I don't have a toe nail on either of my pinkie toes. When I was a kid, my cousins would tease me and tease me about this but I didn't ever really get it. Big deal. No toe nail. But I guess I always figured I better keep it on the down low, just in case this was universally recognized as freaky. It still doesn't really bother me. Cuts down my pedicure time by 20%. What's bad about that?
3. The first concert I ever went to was Joan Jett. I was only 12 and me and my friend Renee went with her oldest sister (I have no idea why the sister ever agreed to take us.) It was super scary because we were surrounded by drunk college students screaming and dancing and puking. But "I love Rock 'n Roll" will always hold a special place in my heart.
My second concert was Nelson. My friend Laurissa was in love with them and asked me to go with her to the concert and I have no idea why I went. Then we managed to get front row seats and my friend is such a babe that they spent the entire concert making eyes at her and hanging out on our side of the stage. And then afterwards some roadie, I guess, came up to us and asked us to come backstage to meet them. And then my mom said, no way and we had to go home. But I bought a T-shirt that I wore to bed for months.
4. I was a Girl Scout for like 11 years. I even got to go to some big Jamboree at the Kennedy Center in DC when I was about 10 to celebrate the 100 years of Girl Scouting or something like that. I had tons of badges, but my leader was a total flake so basically we would just tell her that we did the stuff and give her the money for the badges and she would order them for us. I totally think she was using the cash for pot.
5. I remember the first time that I ever swore (Renee's 9th birthday party, I said God as we were walking down her driveway, talking trash about the Amish kids that lived across the street. Such a bunch of Catholic school badasses.) I remember the first time I stole (I took a piece of gum from my friend Amy's brothers desk when I was like 6. I don't even like gum so I don't know what that was all about). I remember my first kiss (Afterwards, he said "Hey I think you need to chew on some gum." then I think my head went up in flames. Then he said, "Oh, hey, I was just kidding around."). But I barely remember the first time I had sex (like the part where I decided to do it with that guy on that night remains a total mystery to me. I have no idea what was in my head. Although I think I remember that there was a lot of tequila sloshing around in there. So maybe thats my answer?)
There's other stuff that's far more interesting and unknown, but back to that ole anonymous thing. Sometimes stuff is not widely known for a reason...
1. I speak Spanish. Not a very well known fact, since I have forgotten nearly everything I ever learned, or atleast it seems that way. I studied Spanish from the age of 12 until 19. I did 2 years of Higher Level IB and was predicted a 7 (genius level- kidding) but ended up with a 4 (barely passing). I was convinced that my Spanish teacher was not being 100% altruistic when he repeatedly asked me to come to his office after classes for extra help for the final exams. Why so sceptical? The "extra tutoring" was scheduled in a deserted building at 8 or 9 at night. Hmmm. Anyone else smell a rat? Then after finishing school, I thought about travelling around South America with a girlfriend to work on my Spanish (purely a working holiday...) and my parents nixed that idea. So I came to Paris. Never left. Never spoke any more Spanish.
2. I don't have a toe nail on either of my pinkie toes. When I was a kid, my cousins would tease me and tease me about this but I didn't ever really get it. Big deal. No toe nail. But I guess I always figured I better keep it on the down low, just in case this was universally recognized as freaky. It still doesn't really bother me. Cuts down my pedicure time by 20%. What's bad about that?
3. The first concert I ever went to was Joan Jett. I was only 12 and me and my friend Renee went with her oldest sister (I have no idea why the sister ever agreed to take us.) It was super scary because we were surrounded by drunk college students screaming and dancing and puking. But "I love Rock 'n Roll" will always hold a special place in my heart.
My second concert was Nelson. My friend Laurissa was in love with them and asked me to go with her to the concert and I have no idea why I went. Then we managed to get front row seats and my friend is such a babe that they spent the entire concert making eyes at her and hanging out on our side of the stage. And then afterwards some roadie, I guess, came up to us and asked us to come backstage to meet them. And then my mom said, no way and we had to go home. But I bought a T-shirt that I wore to bed for months.
4. I was a Girl Scout for like 11 years. I even got to go to some big Jamboree at the Kennedy Center in DC when I was about 10 to celebrate the 100 years of Girl Scouting or something like that. I had tons of badges, but my leader was a total flake so basically we would just tell her that we did the stuff and give her the money for the badges and she would order them for us. I totally think she was using the cash for pot.
5. I remember the first time that I ever swore (Renee's 9th birthday party, I said God as we were walking down her driveway, talking trash about the Amish kids that lived across the street. Such a bunch of Catholic school badasses.) I remember the first time I stole (I took a piece of gum from my friend Amy's brothers desk when I was like 6. I don't even like gum so I don't know what that was all about). I remember my first kiss (Afterwards, he said "Hey I think you need to chew on some gum." then I think my head went up in flames. Then he said, "Oh, hey, I was just kidding around."). But I barely remember the first time I had sex (like the part where I decided to do it with that guy on that night remains a total mystery to me. I have no idea what was in my head. Although I think I remember that there was a lot of tequila sloshing around in there. So maybe thats my answer?)
There's other stuff that's far more interesting and unknown, but back to that ole anonymous thing. Sometimes stuff is not widely known for a reason...
Chaos
There is no other word for the present situation. We are signing the promesse de vente on Friday and are busy getting together all the papers we will need for that while frantically scanning the real estate websites to find something to buy and arranging visits. Oh- and also cancelling our vacay because we seriously will not be able to disappear for 2 weeks while simultaneously packing up our house and moving into a rental. BUT as soon as all that is done, B better be ready to fork out whatever it takes for us to spend 2 relaxing weeks in the sun. It will be worth every penny. I think I am going to need that so I can keep my eye fixed firmly on the light at the end of the tunnel.
I also have to point out that contrary to my predictions, B did in fact have a glass of champagne with me that night after we finished finalizing the details of the sale with the agent. He still wasn't bouncing off the walls with excitement, and I did point this out to him. He said that he was just feeling find of sad about the idea of leaving our place, since we were so happy here and this is where Ella has grown up (so far.) Oooh. What a big softie. So then I started getting sad and we've both been moping around ever since then, thinking that we'll never find a place that we like as well.
Then Tuesday morning, I found out that yet more friends are moving away from Paris for good. I woke up this morning at 6 am and thought about the difference between this time last year and now- I was having a brilliant time, going out on a regular basis, with a fantastic group of friends and now I am going to be practically back to zero. Abandoned and alone. And moving out of my neighborhood is the icing on the cake. Here, I know lots of people and have lovely neighbors and a wonderful concierge. I know all the other mommies at garderie and we talk in the street and the shops when we pass one another. All my doctors are in this neighborhood now. I know all the shopkeepers and they greet me by name. It makes me depressed to think about how lonely its going to be in our new place. This is just the worst time for people to be moving away. They are so inconsiderate.
On a positive note, my love affair with Leonor Greyl hair products continues. I bought some Huile de Palme the other day since my sister uses it and her hair always looks lovely afterwards. It is fantastic. My hair is gorgeous and soft and shiny. So its not all doom and gloom around here, I guess. Must look on the positive side. Life is falling apart but hair is shiny. And the universe balances the scale once more.
I also have to point out that contrary to my predictions, B did in fact have a glass of champagne with me that night after we finished finalizing the details of the sale with the agent. He still wasn't bouncing off the walls with excitement, and I did point this out to him. He said that he was just feeling find of sad about the idea of leaving our place, since we were so happy here and this is where Ella has grown up (so far.) Oooh. What a big softie. So then I started getting sad and we've both been moping around ever since then, thinking that we'll never find a place that we like as well.
Then Tuesday morning, I found out that yet more friends are moving away from Paris for good. I woke up this morning at 6 am and thought about the difference between this time last year and now- I was having a brilliant time, going out on a regular basis, with a fantastic group of friends and now I am going to be practically back to zero. Abandoned and alone. And moving out of my neighborhood is the icing on the cake. Here, I know lots of people and have lovely neighbors and a wonderful concierge. I know all the other mommies at garderie and we talk in the street and the shops when we pass one another. All my doctors are in this neighborhood now. I know all the shopkeepers and they greet me by name. It makes me depressed to think about how lonely its going to be in our new place. This is just the worst time for people to be moving away. They are so inconsiderate.
On a positive note, my love affair with Leonor Greyl hair products continues. I bought some Huile de Palme the other day since my sister uses it and her hair always looks lovely afterwards. It is fantastic. My hair is gorgeous and soft and shiny. So its not all doom and gloom around here, I guess. Must look on the positive side. Life is falling apart but hair is shiny. And the universe balances the scale once more.
Monday, January 15, 2007
We got an offer
and B is ready to take it. I think our apartment is sold. I know I should probably go and buy a bottle of champagne now but I think I might have more need of stomach antacids. Do they sell Tums in France?
Seriously. We sat down last night to talk about what was the lowest possible offer we would accept. And that is what the buyers have agreed to pay. But still- since we can only add on another 10% in loans from the bank (due mainly to the fact that I am not working. Bad me.) I am thinking we are a bit cray-zay thinking about moving. Do we really think we are going to find something bigger in a nice neighborhood for basically the same price (since the entire loan will go to taxes and fees)?
Deep breathes. Deep breathes.
And just as an aside. B told me this as if he was telling me that he got a sandwich for lunch. Except not tuna like he wanted; his second choice sandwich. He sounded kind of uninterested and maybe a bit bummed. I had to actually have him repeat what he said and then confirm that it meant what I thought it did. He is so unimpressed by everything. He just sold this apartment and doubled his money, compared to what we paid 4 years ago. Does this not merit a bit of celebration?!! Granted- my reactions tend towards the extreme, I am probably not the best example about how to deal gracefully with intense emotion. But he couldn't get a little excited about this? A tiny little "Yahoo" wouldn't have killed him. I don't know why I even care. I guess, its just that life throws enough bad stuff at us, we should celebrate all the good things as much as possible. This is a good thing- even taking into account how chaotic things are going to be for the next couple months. We should cheer and dance and smile so big that we look like muppets with flip-top heads. Make the neighbors bang on the floor, tell us to pipe down, fer Chrissake. Throw Ella in the air, spin her in circles til she starts stumbling around like drunk garden gnome. Instead, its like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop; I think he's jinxing us. If you look for bad stuff, you'll find it. That is the truth.
I think I might need to point out to him tonight, that even if something happens and the deal falls through, no one ever reflected back on their life and regretted spending time being happy. No one ever says, Gosh, I wish that I had known things were going to go wrong SO I COULD HAVE STARTED CRYING ABOUT IT SOONER. If it goes bad, we have plenty of time to be sad later. Tonight it it champagne. And then maybe a few Tums. But definitely more champagne.
PS Nobody say congratulations yet! That will definitely jinx it. And then I will use all the sources the Internet has available to come and hunt you down. (I talk big , but I have lived with B for 10 years . )
Seriously. We sat down last night to talk about what was the lowest possible offer we would accept. And that is what the buyers have agreed to pay. But still- since we can only add on another 10% in loans from the bank (due mainly to the fact that I am not working. Bad me.) I am thinking we are a bit cray-zay thinking about moving. Do we really think we are going to find something bigger in a nice neighborhood for basically the same price (since the entire loan will go to taxes and fees)?
Deep breathes. Deep breathes.
And just as an aside. B told me this as if he was telling me that he got a sandwich for lunch. Except not tuna like he wanted; his second choice sandwich. He sounded kind of uninterested and maybe a bit bummed. I had to actually have him repeat what he said and then confirm that it meant what I thought it did. He is so unimpressed by everything. He just sold this apartment and doubled his money, compared to what we paid 4 years ago. Does this not merit a bit of celebration?!! Granted- my reactions tend towards the extreme, I am probably not the best example about how to deal gracefully with intense emotion. But he couldn't get a little excited about this? A tiny little "Yahoo" wouldn't have killed him. I don't know why I even care. I guess, its just that life throws enough bad stuff at us, we should celebrate all the good things as much as possible. This is a good thing- even taking into account how chaotic things are going to be for the next couple months. We should cheer and dance and smile so big that we look like muppets with flip-top heads. Make the neighbors bang on the floor, tell us to pipe down, fer Chrissake. Throw Ella in the air, spin her in circles til she starts stumbling around like drunk garden gnome. Instead, its like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop; I think he's jinxing us. If you look for bad stuff, you'll find it. That is the truth.
I think I might need to point out to him tonight, that even if something happens and the deal falls through, no one ever reflected back on their life and regretted spending time being happy. No one ever says, Gosh, I wish that I had known things were going to go wrong SO I COULD HAVE STARTED CRYING ABOUT IT SOONER. If it goes bad, we have plenty of time to be sad later. Tonight it it champagne. And then maybe a few Tums. But definitely more champagne.
PS Nobody say congratulations yet! That will definitely jinx it. And then I will use all the sources the Internet has available to come and hunt you down. (I talk big , but I have lived with B for 10 years . )
Yet another lazy weekend
So, since B was working all weekend- and I mean leaving while Ella and I were still in bed and not returning until Ella was ready for bed- I didn't have the energy for anything as exciting as braving the boutiques and he did not have the slightest interest in getting off the sofa once he did get home, we had an extremely lazy weekend around here.
That makes it sound like I didn't enjoy myself. Far from it. It's kind of nice to be well rested. I had almost forgotten the sensation. And while keeping the house clean has become the overriding factor in determining how we amuse ourselves indoors (ie no projects have been attempted since all the Christmas Craftiness was wrapped up and cooking and baking has reduced to one pot meals. Less mess, you see. ) I am not quite bored yet.
Have been reading loads (such a low-mess activity, how could you not love it?) I have been meaning to mention that I read the book Lignes de Failles by Nancy Huston just before Christmas and loved it. In fact, I actually went to the local bookstore last week and picked up another of her books L'Empreinte de l'ange. I am a bit proud of myself that these are French books, in French, but I don't have a problem reading French so its a minor accomplishment. What is a bit surprising is that I enjoyed them so much. I don't generally like French books. I think they are generally a bit heavy on the philosophy and a bit lacking in storyline. Unless I just make really bad choices. I suppose part of the reason I liked these two books so much is that the auther is an anglophone Canadian, by birth. Maybe she has enough of the anglophone storytelling tradition in her to keep me interested. Maybe I am - horrors- beginning to like French literature? Next thing you know, I'll learn how to tie a scarf and start serving entrees for our dinners at night.
Spending Saturday night at the house was irritating me a bit all day long. I feel like the weekend has been wasted if we don't go out, no matter how tired we are. I had forgotten though about our new discovery on BBC prime- there is a fantastic program on Saturday nights called Night Night written my Julia Davis, who also plays the main character. Its a bit like The Office, in that you keep sort of flinching and covering your eyes to avoid watching just how horrible everyone is. But you can't turn away. We stumbled across it last week and I think that we may have seen the final episodes of this series. The one thing really horrible about British programs is the way they cut seasons so short. How can 8 shows be a series? American TV is completely messed up, with the commericials every two and a half minutes but British TV is irritating beyond belief with the way they get you hooked on a show and then end it just when you are starting to love it. Well, with any luck, we will be out all night next Saturday and it won't make any difference.
Like I said, B worked again all day Sunday which was even more frustrating considering how gorgeous the weather was all day. I took Ella out for a nice long walk along the quais in the afternoon and we stopped at Ile de la Cité to look at the animals. Ella was mesmerized by the birds, her eyes nearly popped out of head. Up til now I think she has really only got a good look at dirty Parisian street pigeons. She was so speechless in front of the display that I think it took her a minute to connect the dots in her head- "Ok, I know birds. Pigeons are birds. These things have feathers. And beaks. And fly... but they aren't totally disgusting. What could they possibly be?!?" The stand we were at had cage after cage of beautiful colored parrots and... other parrot-like birds. I loved how they set it up so that you could see the type of bird, and then choose which color you wanted it in. Like sweaters (that chirp). I almost didn't tell B because he has been harrassing me to let him get a new pet. He loves animals, all kinds, but especially birds. I cannot think of anything I would hate more than having a stupid bird in my house. Ok; that's a lie. I would hate even more if he got any sort of reptile/snake. And after having had a prairie dog (May he rest in peace...) I guess I would equally hate having another rodent type pet. Anyways, after about a half hour of me trying to convince Ella to not stick her finger in any of the cages I tried to get her back in the stroller only to have a meltdown of epic proportions. If anyone was in the vicinity of central Paris yesterday around 2:45, those screams were not the sound of low-flying jets, they were coming from Ella. All the way from the flower market to Bertillion she howled as if a limb had been removed. Have not quite figured out how to transport the naughty chair with me on outings, which is a shame because after one trip there, she only has to be threatened with it to immediately stop and desist while in the apartment. We are very much a work in progress...
The real problem of course was that it was naptime; as soon as we walked in the door she was put straight to bed and stayed there for a good long while. I took advantage of the calm to steal her DVD player and break in to the DVD's I had bought for myself while in the States. I had the entire Season 2 of The Office which I had only seen once or twice on TV while on vacation and it ended up being the nicest afternoon. I can totally see why Ella loves the portable DVD player. Its so fun to cuddle up with a blanket and the movie playing on the little screen balanced on your knees. After Ella was in bed for the night, I tried to get B to come to bed and watch an episode or two with me and he refused, stating that he would never waste his time trying to watch something on that itty bitty screen so long as he had his giant plasma screen. Boys; bigger is not always better. When will they learn?
After I had inhaled an entire bag of chouqettes that morning with my coffee, I decided to be very virtuous and have homemade veggie potage for lunch and then order sushi for dinner. And yet, the scale shows that I gained weight over the weekend. Clearly I didn't eat enough Cheesy Potatoes- dumb dumb dumb. Gratin it is, ce soir.
That makes it sound like I didn't enjoy myself. Far from it. It's kind of nice to be well rested. I had almost forgotten the sensation. And while keeping the house clean has become the overriding factor in determining how we amuse ourselves indoors (ie no projects have been attempted since all the Christmas Craftiness was wrapped up and cooking and baking has reduced to one pot meals. Less mess, you see. ) I am not quite bored yet.
Have been reading loads (such a low-mess activity, how could you not love it?) I have been meaning to mention that I read the book Lignes de Failles by Nancy Huston just before Christmas and loved it. In fact, I actually went to the local bookstore last week and picked up another of her books L'Empreinte de l'ange. I am a bit proud of myself that these are French books, in French, but I don't have a problem reading French so its a minor accomplishment. What is a bit surprising is that I enjoyed them so much. I don't generally like French books. I think they are generally a bit heavy on the philosophy and a bit lacking in storyline. Unless I just make really bad choices. I suppose part of the reason I liked these two books so much is that the auther is an anglophone Canadian, by birth. Maybe she has enough of the anglophone storytelling tradition in her to keep me interested. Maybe I am - horrors- beginning to like French literature? Next thing you know, I'll learn how to tie a scarf and start serving entrees for our dinners at night.
Spending Saturday night at the house was irritating me a bit all day long. I feel like the weekend has been wasted if we don't go out, no matter how tired we are. I had forgotten though about our new discovery on BBC prime- there is a fantastic program on Saturday nights called Night Night written my Julia Davis, who also plays the main character. Its a bit like The Office, in that you keep sort of flinching and covering your eyes to avoid watching just how horrible everyone is. But you can't turn away. We stumbled across it last week and I think that we may have seen the final episodes of this series. The one thing really horrible about British programs is the way they cut seasons so short. How can 8 shows be a series? American TV is completely messed up, with the commericials every two and a half minutes but British TV is irritating beyond belief with the way they get you hooked on a show and then end it just when you are starting to love it. Well, with any luck, we will be out all night next Saturday and it won't make any difference.
Like I said, B worked again all day Sunday which was even more frustrating considering how gorgeous the weather was all day. I took Ella out for a nice long walk along the quais in the afternoon and we stopped at Ile de la Cité to look at the animals. Ella was mesmerized by the birds, her eyes nearly popped out of head. Up til now I think she has really only got a good look at dirty Parisian street pigeons. She was so speechless in front of the display that I think it took her a minute to connect the dots in her head- "Ok, I know birds. Pigeons are birds. These things have feathers. And beaks. And fly... but they aren't totally disgusting. What could they possibly be?!?" The stand we were at had cage after cage of beautiful colored parrots and... other parrot-like birds. I loved how they set it up so that you could see the type of bird, and then choose which color you wanted it in. Like sweaters (that chirp). I almost didn't tell B because he has been harrassing me to let him get a new pet. He loves animals, all kinds, but especially birds. I cannot think of anything I would hate more than having a stupid bird in my house. Ok; that's a lie. I would hate even more if he got any sort of reptile/snake. And after having had a prairie dog (May he rest in peace...) I guess I would equally hate having another rodent type pet. Anyways, after about a half hour of me trying to convince Ella to not stick her finger in any of the cages I tried to get her back in the stroller only to have a meltdown of epic proportions. If anyone was in the vicinity of central Paris yesterday around 2:45, those screams were not the sound of low-flying jets, they were coming from Ella. All the way from the flower market to Bertillion she howled as if a limb had been removed. Have not quite figured out how to transport the naughty chair with me on outings, which is a shame because after one trip there, she only has to be threatened with it to immediately stop and desist while in the apartment. We are very much a work in progress...
The real problem of course was that it was naptime; as soon as we walked in the door she was put straight to bed and stayed there for a good long while. I took advantage of the calm to steal her DVD player and break in to the DVD's I had bought for myself while in the States. I had the entire Season 2 of The Office which I had only seen once or twice on TV while on vacation and it ended up being the nicest afternoon. I can totally see why Ella loves the portable DVD player. Its so fun to cuddle up with a blanket and the movie playing on the little screen balanced on your knees. After Ella was in bed for the night, I tried to get B to come to bed and watch an episode or two with me and he refused, stating that he would never waste his time trying to watch something on that itty bitty screen so long as he had his giant plasma screen. Boys; bigger is not always better. When will they learn?
After I had inhaled an entire bag of chouqettes that morning with my coffee, I decided to be very virtuous and have homemade veggie potage for lunch and then order sushi for dinner. And yet, the scale shows that I gained weight over the weekend. Clearly I didn't eat enough Cheesy Potatoes- dumb dumb dumb. Gratin it is, ce soir.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
On being anonymous
There is this thing going on right now, which I found out about on Friday, that I am dying to sit down and write about because it is taking up all the space in my head, but I can't do it here because I'm not sure who is reading and since it isn't just my story and would probably be upsetting for certain people who aren't "in on the secret" yet, I can't do it. (Just realized what a very long and complicated sentence that was. I think it captures quite well the feeling in my head of unresolved thoughts running in circles in my head. Possibly less successful as an excerice in correct sentence structure and puncuation...)
For about 3 years I had an anonymous journal, which I loved having because I could write about absolutely anything. Which I did and light votives on a regular basis in the hopes that it never comes back to haunt me. But I felt that it was starting to get really negative and self-indulgent and I thought that by starting something new and not keeping it a secret from everyone I knew, I could use the journaling in a more positive way. And mainly, that is exactly what has happened. Its nice to do a bit of a whinge every now and again, of course. And its a bit irritating and smug, I think, when someone's blog never hints at anything wrong in their life. You can't just assume everyone's got their problems, you want to hear about it as well. The dark side. Hopefully, I've kept things at a happy medium.
But voila. Still have things like this that I would love to sit down and dissect but I can't do it here without facing messy consequences. I kind of hate the idea of writing something down on paper because then what? Lock it in a box and hope that no one ever stumbles across it? I have had the experience of re-reading my adolescent diaries and I think I may have burst blood vessels I was blushing so hard. Even the memory of the idea of someone reading those is making my face a bit hot. So definitely not putting it on paper.
The worst part is, for all this build-up of dramatic secret-revealing, the basic story is really pretty under-whelming. Maybe I'm just trying too hard to produce a Sunday afternoon blog entry?
For about 3 years I had an anonymous journal, which I loved having because I could write about absolutely anything. Which I did and light votives on a regular basis in the hopes that it never comes back to haunt me. But I felt that it was starting to get really negative and self-indulgent and I thought that by starting something new and not keeping it a secret from everyone I knew, I could use the journaling in a more positive way. And mainly, that is exactly what has happened. Its nice to do a bit of a whinge every now and again, of course. And its a bit irritating and smug, I think, when someone's blog never hints at anything wrong in their life. You can't just assume everyone's got their problems, you want to hear about it as well. The dark side. Hopefully, I've kept things at a happy medium.
But voila. Still have things like this that I would love to sit down and dissect but I can't do it here without facing messy consequences. I kind of hate the idea of writing something down on paper because then what? Lock it in a box and hope that no one ever stumbles across it? I have had the experience of re-reading my adolescent diaries and I think I may have burst blood vessels I was blushing so hard. Even the memory of the idea of someone reading those is making my face a bit hot. So definitely not putting it on paper.
The worst part is, for all this build-up of dramatic secret-revealing, the basic story is really pretty under-whelming. Maybe I'm just trying too hard to produce a Sunday afternoon blog entry?
Saturday, January 13, 2007
I think we may have found a buyer...
I hope I'm not totally jinxing this, but we had a second visit this morning from the most adorable couple and their agent just called back to start the negotiations for the price. Freaking out a tiny bit.
This couple would be perfect for this building. The woman must be about 60 and the man is about 70. The agent told me that they are a couple of lovebirds who are looking for their first home together. They looked all around and asked lots and lots of questions and played with Ella and told me all kinds of stories about the neighborhood. Apparently he lives at Place des Vosges and she is Blvd Morland. They were so sweet and so nice. If they don't buy the house, maybe they will agree to be Ella's adoptive grandparents?
I was so irritated this morning to have to get out of bed and straight away start cleaning the house (changing sheet, folding clothes, etc) especially on a Saturday, as if already doing that every single day this week was not enough. Thank god, for once, it was worth it.
This couple would be perfect for this building. The woman must be about 60 and the man is about 70. The agent told me that they are a couple of lovebirds who are looking for their first home together. They looked all around and asked lots and lots of questions and played with Ella and told me all kinds of stories about the neighborhood. Apparently he lives at Place des Vosges and she is Blvd Morland. They were so sweet and so nice. If they don't buy the house, maybe they will agree to be Ella's adoptive grandparents?
I was so irritated this morning to have to get out of bed and straight away start cleaning the house (changing sheet, folding clothes, etc) especially on a Saturday, as if already doing that every single day this week was not enough. Thank god, for once, it was worth it.
Friday, January 12, 2007
I am too old for this...
Last night, I had made plans to meet some girlfriends at a club for an After Work party. Its fun to do with girlfriends because generally you pay an entrance charge and then there is open bar (or atleast you can manage to sort out with a barman or manager to have free drinks brought to your table all night). Girls (atleast these girls) are not used to going out and having to spend any money, but when there is no man around to pick up the the bill at the end of the night, things tend to go wrong. No one orders anything and then everyone leaves early. Or worse, I suppose, they spend their time flirting and having drinks with guys that they meet. Anyway you cut it, not a fun girls night. We don't do it every Thursday, but regularly, and I like it. I liked it better when Ella was at garderie on Friday mornings because then I could just sleep off my hangover and take a leisurely shower before having to take up mommy duties again, but I can deal with her for two or three hours if I know that I have all the afternoon for napping.
Last night, B didn't get home on time since he was busy at the office. In fact, he was about an hour late and I knew that I would miss the official open bar. It ended up working out since he warned me and I used the extra time to wash my hair. It had been raining on and off all day- the "on" was mainly when I tried to dash outside for a few minutes without an umbrella so my hair was a frizzy, knotted mess. But then that's why they invented headbands, right? And I figure, if you are dressed well and your make-up is perfect you can just pretend to be very avant-garde and people think your hair is supposed to look like that. Still, I thought it fine to have a bit more time in the bathroom before going out. Ella is happy to spend all night playing in the tub so it was with a smiling face (and perfectly blowed-out hair) that I kissed B good-bye as I left the house.
Of course, I was not counting on spending my night in a sauna, otherwise I would have left my hair alone. The way Mimi described the club, there was an upstairs with a bar area, and the club area was downstairs, so I didn't wear particularly light clothing. My mistake. Naked is best when going to a new club, a club which has been untested for air-conditioning and ventilation. My god, it was just steaming by the time I walked in, it was like Florida in June- my hair went from smooth waves to the White Girls Afro in about 20 minutes.
But thats just the downside of Paris nightlife. You either put up with it or stay home. The thing that really makes me start to think I am too old for all this stuff is the fact that I cannot deal with getting hit on by little boys. Technically, I wouldn't call this party an After Work unless you count paper routes and babysitting as official jobs. One boy very kindly told me that I looked REALLY good for my age, he could hardly believe that I wasn't 25 (his first guess) since I didn't have wrinkles on my face or anything. Well, I suppose it really was my fault for having left my walker and hearing aid at home.
And I forgot how guys in their early 20's are so into the free love. They just put themselves out there and don't care how many times they get knocked back- if there is an outside chance of having sex, their pride is a small price to pay. "Hi! What's your name? I think you're really pretty. Can I kiss you?" That hardly even counts as a pick-up line. Although, I appreciate brevity. Its true, gentlemen, why waste all night talking talking talking to someone when really you could care less?
Ultimately, I think the real problem was that I arrived so late that everyone in the entire building was drunk and I wasn't and that is a terrible situation to find yourself in. I stubbornly stuck it out til midnight and then metro'ed it home, due to typical parisian taxi shortages. That, my friends, is a night in the City of Lights. Don't say that you haven't been warned.
Last night, B didn't get home on time since he was busy at the office. In fact, he was about an hour late and I knew that I would miss the official open bar. It ended up working out since he warned me and I used the extra time to wash my hair. It had been raining on and off all day- the "on" was mainly when I tried to dash outside for a few minutes without an umbrella so my hair was a frizzy, knotted mess. But then that's why they invented headbands, right? And I figure, if you are dressed well and your make-up is perfect you can just pretend to be very avant-garde and people think your hair is supposed to look like that. Still, I thought it fine to have a bit more time in the bathroom before going out. Ella is happy to spend all night playing in the tub so it was with a smiling face (and perfectly blowed-out hair) that I kissed B good-bye as I left the house.
Of course, I was not counting on spending my night in a sauna, otherwise I would have left my hair alone. The way Mimi described the club, there was an upstairs with a bar area, and the club area was downstairs, so I didn't wear particularly light clothing. My mistake. Naked is best when going to a new club, a club which has been untested for air-conditioning and ventilation. My god, it was just steaming by the time I walked in, it was like Florida in June- my hair went from smooth waves to the White Girls Afro in about 20 minutes.
But thats just the downside of Paris nightlife. You either put up with it or stay home. The thing that really makes me start to think I am too old for all this stuff is the fact that I cannot deal with getting hit on by little boys. Technically, I wouldn't call this party an After Work unless you count paper routes and babysitting as official jobs. One boy very kindly told me that I looked REALLY good for my age, he could hardly believe that I wasn't 25 (his first guess) since I didn't have wrinkles on my face or anything. Well, I suppose it really was my fault for having left my walker and hearing aid at home.
And I forgot how guys in their early 20's are so into the free love. They just put themselves out there and don't care how many times they get knocked back- if there is an outside chance of having sex, their pride is a small price to pay. "Hi! What's your name? I think you're really pretty. Can I kiss you?" That hardly even counts as a pick-up line. Although, I appreciate brevity. Its true, gentlemen, why waste all night talking talking talking to someone when really you could care less?
Ultimately, I think the real problem was that I arrived so late that everyone in the entire building was drunk and I wasn't and that is a terrible situation to find yourself in. I stubbornly stuck it out til midnight and then metro'ed it home, due to typical parisian taxi shortages. That, my friends, is a night in the City of Lights. Don't say that you haven't been warned.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Bad mommy
I just wanted to write a post to say a bit more about getting told off by the pediatrician.
I do think that Ella is getting more bratty every day. We are doing our best to deal with her increasingly contrary attitude to everything, sticking to our guns and trying to hand out appropriate punishments/time outs. But it is an uphill battle at best. Right now, we resolve one situation only to have some other issue crop up, and she goes at us even worse than before. I think the entire building probably heard her shouting at me yesterday when she got sent to the naughty chair for throwing toys at me when she got angry about me turning off the TV.
I think what bothered me most about what happened was having it pointed out that other people are noticing how bad Ella behaves. Its like when you are 15 and you look in the mirror in the morning and see an enormous pimple on your chin. You fuss with creams and make-up and finally convince yourself that you have it hidden, only to sit down at the breakfast table and have your little brother point out that you have an enormous red lump on your face, possibly making reference to the gestation of alien lifeforms or volcanic eruptions. You hate him (and say as much, possibly giving him a noogie in the bargain) but its not for making fun of you, its for destroying the illusion that you had anyone fooled with your "concealer". A misnomer if there ever was one.
So the doctor was a bit like my little brother. Atleast she was honest. I am now fully aware that Ella's getting the reputation for being a bit of a punk. I would always rather have the truth than some gentle lie. Just because no one says it outloud doesn't make it not true. She acts like a brat. And I'm not being too hard on her when I discipline her, its absolutely necessary in order to keep things in check- and possibly, not quite enough.
But I don't think that she said those things to hurt my feelings, and I take them in the spirit that they were intended. Pretending to be insulted would just be a cover. Like I said, I was horribly embarrassed to have to hear what I was trying very hard to ignore. Ella was being a very naughty girl.
I do think that Ella is getting more bratty every day. We are doing our best to deal with her increasingly contrary attitude to everything, sticking to our guns and trying to hand out appropriate punishments/time outs. But it is an uphill battle at best. Right now, we resolve one situation only to have some other issue crop up, and she goes at us even worse than before. I think the entire building probably heard her shouting at me yesterday when she got sent to the naughty chair for throwing toys at me when she got angry about me turning off the TV.
I think what bothered me most about what happened was having it pointed out that other people are noticing how bad Ella behaves. Its like when you are 15 and you look in the mirror in the morning and see an enormous pimple on your chin. You fuss with creams and make-up and finally convince yourself that you have it hidden, only to sit down at the breakfast table and have your little brother point out that you have an enormous red lump on your face, possibly making reference to the gestation of alien lifeforms or volcanic eruptions. You hate him (and say as much, possibly giving him a noogie in the bargain) but its not for making fun of you, its for destroying the illusion that you had anyone fooled with your "concealer". A misnomer if there ever was one.
So the doctor was a bit like my little brother. Atleast she was honest. I am now fully aware that Ella's getting the reputation for being a bit of a punk. I would always rather have the truth than some gentle lie. Just because no one says it outloud doesn't make it not true. She acts like a brat. And I'm not being too hard on her when I discipline her, its absolutely necessary in order to keep things in check- and possibly, not quite enough.
But I don't think that she said those things to hurt my feelings, and I take them in the spirit that they were intended. Pretending to be insulted would just be a cover. Like I said, I was horribly embarrassed to have to hear what I was trying very hard to ignore. Ella was being a very naughty girl.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
First day of the Sales- Damage report
Well, I spent all my "allowance" and I only managed to buy myself 3 things. Ella, on the other hand, has an entire wardrobe for next winter. I swore I wouldn't do it- waste all my money on fancy clothes for her, since there is a very good chance that they will all be the wrong size next year and considering how particular she is about her clothes, she will refuse to wear any of it even if it does fit. Already, I called her over to try on a little kimono that I think is adorable and she gave it one glance and then shouted "No!" in response. Repeated entreaties to come by mama were summarily ignored. Not looking good.
I, however, love love love everything that I did buy myself. I had my heart set on a Chloe Paddington, but they weren't on sale and I don't want to pay 1200 euro for one since I know that in 6 months I will want something different no matter how much I might love it right now. Instead I looked at Marc Jacobs, Mui Mui, and Luella and ended up finding exactly what i had been wanting at Luella. Its a great big gray distressed leather quilted bag with a folder over top flap, a little bit squishy but not too much either. There is this sort of weird key-chain closure thing that is already proving to be a bit annoying but it looks good. Of course, 10 minutes later I walked past the Dior boutique and found a really nice black bag, just the right size, just the right price (at 50% off, it was incredible) but it was a bit too structured. Looked very much like a doctor's satchel and I didn't think that it would be quite right. Not that I mind returning things. I think every floor manager at Bon Marche knows me because I return stuff all the time, very very un-French of me. But that is why its good to shop with a girlfriend. In situations like those, she is there to either say "Just buy it and think about it later" or "Leave it, its not you" and then the whole thing is settled. I hate standing there like a dope while the salesgirl is getting visibly bored, trying to receive some message from above. Elizabeth, this would never have happened if you hadn't abandoned me!
The second purchase was a cream-colored trench(type) coat from Prairies de Paris. Its more mid-season than winter but its perfect. Classic but with really modern details. Exactly might type of thing and it was a fantastic price. I bought a coat from this mark a couple years ago and I wore it to death.
The final purchase was a deep blue jersey dress from Tufi Duek, a Brazilian brand I adore. The cut of the clothes is just perfect and that is saying something considering that almost everything is made from a feather-light jersey. Incredibly sexy dress that I wish I could have bought in black and purple as well but even at 50% off, it was a bit more than I would normally spend on summer dress. The problem is that they are a bit too sexy- you can't just throw it on for a stroll through the park. Definitely the casual end of eveningwear. But, since we are absolutely positively spending two weeks on some tropical island this spring, I figure that I needed to buy this dress. Its perfect for St Barts or the Maldives. Otherwise I would just have to go back at the end of February when I was doing my bags and buy one full price in order to fill the big gaping hole in my wardrobe, right?
Then, I headed to the shoe department and it was complete chaos. I am a dedicated shoe person and I take advantage of the sales every year to buy something really gorgeous and a bit out of the ordinary. Saying that, I did think I should try to find some flat black boots and they had a beautiful pair in my size at Balenciaga, but it was nearly impossible to try anything on with so many people. I found a pair of blue heels from Micheal Vivien that would have been great with my dress but I hesitated. I tried on pair of ballet flats at Tod's but wasn't blown away by them although it would have been very practical to buy them. But I just hate wasting money on practical purchases during the sales. Practical purchases can be done any time- you just say, "Well, I have to spend the money. I need it." Purchase justified. During the sales, you can buy any crazy item that catches your eye and call it sensible because you saved so much money.
I learned that from my mom. Wisdom passed down through the ages.
I, however, love love love everything that I did buy myself. I had my heart set on a Chloe Paddington, but they weren't on sale and I don't want to pay 1200 euro for one since I know that in 6 months I will want something different no matter how much I might love it right now. Instead I looked at Marc Jacobs, Mui Mui, and Luella and ended up finding exactly what i had been wanting at Luella. Its a great big gray distressed leather quilted bag with a folder over top flap, a little bit squishy but not too much either. There is this sort of weird key-chain closure thing that is already proving to be a bit annoying but it looks good. Of course, 10 minutes later I walked past the Dior boutique and found a really nice black bag, just the right size, just the right price (at 50% off, it was incredible) but it was a bit too structured. Looked very much like a doctor's satchel and I didn't think that it would be quite right. Not that I mind returning things. I think every floor manager at Bon Marche knows me because I return stuff all the time, very very un-French of me. But that is why its good to shop with a girlfriend. In situations like those, she is there to either say "Just buy it and think about it later" or "Leave it, its not you" and then the whole thing is settled. I hate standing there like a dope while the salesgirl is getting visibly bored, trying to receive some message from above. Elizabeth, this would never have happened if you hadn't abandoned me!
The second purchase was a cream-colored trench(type) coat from Prairies de Paris. Its more mid-season than winter but its perfect. Classic but with really modern details. Exactly might type of thing and it was a fantastic price. I bought a coat from this mark a couple years ago and I wore it to death.
The final purchase was a deep blue jersey dress from Tufi Duek, a Brazilian brand I adore. The cut of the clothes is just perfect and that is saying something considering that almost everything is made from a feather-light jersey. Incredibly sexy dress that I wish I could have bought in black and purple as well but even at 50% off, it was a bit more than I would normally spend on summer dress. The problem is that they are a bit too sexy- you can't just throw it on for a stroll through the park. Definitely the casual end of eveningwear. But, since we are absolutely positively spending two weeks on some tropical island this spring, I figure that I needed to buy this dress. Its perfect for St Barts or the Maldives. Otherwise I would just have to go back at the end of February when I was doing my bags and buy one full price in order to fill the big gaping hole in my wardrobe, right?
Then, I headed to the shoe department and it was complete chaos. I am a dedicated shoe person and I take advantage of the sales every year to buy something really gorgeous and a bit out of the ordinary. Saying that, I did think I should try to find some flat black boots and they had a beautiful pair in my size at Balenciaga, but it was nearly impossible to try anything on with so many people. I found a pair of blue heels from Micheal Vivien that would have been great with my dress but I hesitated. I tried on pair of ballet flats at Tod's but wasn't blown away by them although it would have been very practical to buy them. But I just hate wasting money on practical purchases during the sales. Practical purchases can be done any time- you just say, "Well, I have to spend the money. I need it." Purchase justified. During the sales, you can buy any crazy item that catches your eye and call it sensible because you saved so much money.
I learned that from my mom. Wisdom passed down through the ages.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Why doesn't anyone understand me?
Look at that little face. According to my pediatrician we are well on our way to a lifetime of hell if we don't get things in check pretty soon. She was a complete monster this afternoon and now our ped has us both on probation. We have another appointment in a month and she wants to check on our behaviour. She said Ella's behaviour, but I know that she means both of us.
We just got back from a doctor's appointment, obviously- Ella has developed yet another interesting skin disease requiring pots and pots of ointments and unctions- and it didn't go well. Last time we were there was only the end of November and Ella got two big shots, which she clearly remembered. As soon as she saw the doctor, she started fussing and tried running in the opposite direction. As soon as we got in the examination room, she grabbed onto me like a little howler monkey and buried her face in my shoulder.
If it had been only this, that would have been bad enough- but when we insisted on her showing the doctor her face, Ella started screaming louder and louder and finally swatted at me, giving me a real crack across the cheek. Have to give her points for manual dexterity. She nailed me.
Because we were in the middle of the exam, I just snapped, "Ella! Stop that!" The doctor finished her examination and sat down across the desk from me, only to give me a 15 minute lecture about Ella's appalling behaviour. I was a bit irritated because considering the circumstances, I don't know that even the strictest, most battle-scarred mother would have been able to administer a lesson in proper behaviour. But mainly I was horrified that someone with rather a lot of experience with children was so shocked by Ella. I guess that up until now, I thought that I had been doing pretty well at the whole mommy thing. I need B to get home and remind me that I am not a complete failure at this. Its hard to be positive when the truth is that I feel like this latest challenge has me whipped. I think I'm doing the right things and yet it just keeps getting worse.
I suppose, considering how she has been since Christmas holidays and all the extra attention she got, I shouldn't be surprised that I am currently battling to keep things in check. But she used to be so sweet! The terrible twos are really really not fun. Not only do I have to be constantly disciplining her at home but now I am going to have to start cancelling stuff out of fear of her acting like a little thug and embarassing me.
And its just like everyone says- all the naughtiness comes at the same time as something utterly adorable, like her new penchant for kissing. Throw a tantrum or cover mommy in kisses seems to be her big dilemma most of the time. There is no happy medium with a toddler, I guess. God, I may have to drag Ella with me down to the cellar so that I can grab a bottle of red wine. Detox, schme-tox. I need a drink.
We just got back from a doctor's appointment, obviously- Ella has developed yet another interesting skin disease requiring pots and pots of ointments and unctions- and it didn't go well. Last time we were there was only the end of November and Ella got two big shots, which she clearly remembered. As soon as she saw the doctor, she started fussing and tried running in the opposite direction. As soon as we got in the examination room, she grabbed onto me like a little howler monkey and buried her face in my shoulder.
If it had been only this, that would have been bad enough- but when we insisted on her showing the doctor her face, Ella started screaming louder and louder and finally swatted at me, giving me a real crack across the cheek. Have to give her points for manual dexterity. She nailed me.
Because we were in the middle of the exam, I just snapped, "Ella! Stop that!" The doctor finished her examination and sat down across the desk from me, only to give me a 15 minute lecture about Ella's appalling behaviour. I was a bit irritated because considering the circumstances, I don't know that even the strictest, most battle-scarred mother would have been able to administer a lesson in proper behaviour. But mainly I was horrified that someone with rather a lot of experience with children was so shocked by Ella. I guess that up until now, I thought that I had been doing pretty well at the whole mommy thing. I need B to get home and remind me that I am not a complete failure at this. Its hard to be positive when the truth is that I feel like this latest challenge has me whipped. I think I'm doing the right things and yet it just keeps getting worse.
I suppose, considering how she has been since Christmas holidays and all the extra attention she got, I shouldn't be surprised that I am currently battling to keep things in check. But she used to be so sweet! The terrible twos are really really not fun. Not only do I have to be constantly disciplining her at home but now I am going to have to start cancelling stuff out of fear of her acting like a little thug and embarassing me.
And its just like everyone says- all the naughtiness comes at the same time as something utterly adorable, like her new penchant for kissing. Throw a tantrum or cover mommy in kisses seems to be her big dilemma most of the time. There is no happy medium with a toddler, I guess. God, I may have to drag Ella with me down to the cellar so that I can grab a bottle of red wine. Detox, schme-tox. I need a drink.
Its not entirely true what I said yesterday about not needing a shot of Americana. Its almost worse just when I've come back to France. I miss home- the food, the tv, the driving, the countryside, the air, the sky, the supermarkets, friendly strangers. I miss seeing my family, I miss having dinner with a table full of people, I miss going to church when the church is full of entire families and not just old people hedging their bets before the Big Guy comes knocking. I miss seeing Ella play with her cousins. I miss feeling like I can do whatever I feel like doing.
I don't hating living in France. I know that I have a really nice quality life by anyone's standards. But I don't like when I have just arrived back and I am still in that stage where I am making comparisons. Paris just doesn't suit me. I make the best of it, and I know that there are things that I love that I can't do anywhere else so I try to take advantage but still. I feel more and more that this is a vacation that has dragged on just a bit too long.
The worst part is that I really don't know if I could live full time back in the States anymore. I'm afraid that I may have idealized things to such a point that I've ruined it for myself. How awful to feel like you don't fit in anywhere. I'm not French, never will be, hope never to be. But I haven't lived fulltime in WI since I was 16. Feeling like a stranger there might be worse than living here and having a bit of a manque every day.
I would love to just be able to leave here and give it a shot. Find a job near home, find a house, get a car, get a routine and just see what happens.
I don't hating living in France. I know that I have a really nice quality life by anyone's standards. But I don't like when I have just arrived back and I am still in that stage where I am making comparisons. Paris just doesn't suit me. I make the best of it, and I know that there are things that I love that I can't do anywhere else so I try to take advantage but still. I feel more and more that this is a vacation that has dragged on just a bit too long.
The worst part is that I really don't know if I could live full time back in the States anymore. I'm afraid that I may have idealized things to such a point that I've ruined it for myself. How awful to feel like you don't fit in anywhere. I'm not French, never will be, hope never to be. But I haven't lived fulltime in WI since I was 16. Feeling like a stranger there might be worse than living here and having a bit of a manque every day.
I would love to just be able to leave here and give it a shot. Find a job near home, find a house, get a car, get a routine and just see what happens.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Annual New Year Detox
I forgot to mention in the post about Christmas presents that the best thing I received was some sort of super human metabolism. I weighed myself after arriving home from the States in order to judge the damage and nearly keeled over from the shock as I had actually lost weight over the holidays.
Now to put this in context, not only was I participating in the the traditional Christmas Eatathon but the night before we left, my mother organized a bit of a going away dinner and made a gorgeous meal- my Grandmothers spare ribs, cheesy hashbrown casserole, and rum cake for dessert. Not only did I do justice to the meal by taking seconds of everything (knowing full well it would be months before I would taste any of those things again) but, acting on the same prinicipal, I stuffed my face all day long with Christmas cookies, chips, dips, basically anything I stumbled across to give me energy for the monumental task of packing our bags. When I stepped on that scale, I was crossing my fingers and hoping that the number would atleast show less than a 5 kilo gain.
This is truly a Christmas miracle, right up there with the Virgin Birth. Two helpings of cheesy potatoes, people. I can't explain it. Could it be that my miracle diet is the Cheesy Potato Diet? Good bye, South Beach. It was nice knowin' ya, Slim Fast. Its nothing but sour cream, chedder cheese and hash browns for me from here on out.
Which reminds me- yesterday morning we went for brunch at Breakfast in America on rue Malher and I ate a fantastic omelette with chedder cheese and salsa with fried potatoes on the side (or atleast part of one, their servings are huge!). Should weigh myself now, because if my theory is true I must have dropped another 2 pounds . The place was packed- clearly I am not the only one on the Cheesy Potato Diet- but we did manage to get a booth after only a 10 minute wait. Plunked Ella down in the corner with her Dora DVD on the portable player- the miracle weight loss is great but I am still most grateful to Santa for the DVD player, I think, since this is the first meal out with Ella that was not a 30 minute wrestling match.
What is it about diners that is so great? We hadn't hardly cleared the door and I was already telling B that we would have to make plans to come back for lunch and try out the sandwiches. I just spent 3 weeks in the States so I can't be needing an injection of Americana already. It did get me thinking about my favorite diner of all time- the State Street Diner in Las Vegas New Mexico. I used to go there all the time when I was in boarding school. It was so cool, it looked like they hadn't changed a thing in the place for atleast 40 years (including quite possibly the donuts under the glass on the counter. Seriously suspicious looking...) It had the most brilliant dusty, gloomy atmosphere which seems impossible in NM, where the sun was always shining. It was the perfect place to hang out after classes and make plans for a cross country road trip. I've got to be inventing half of this stuff because the image in my head just seems too Hollywood perfect to be real. But there you go- it wouldn't be one of those perfect places if it wasn't a little bit idealized. I can't believe I didn't manage to visit again when I was at my class reunion. Would be nice to go back next time I am in town (15 year reunion? Are you with me Pammie?) with enough money in my pocket to actually buy something other than a bottomless cup of coffee. Who knows, maybe I'll even test out those donuts.
I've gotten completely off track. January Detox. Despite the weight loss, I think that a thorough detox is necessary. Its going to be something fairly superficial, I think. None of this 2 weeks on nothing but water, 'The first two days were hard but now I am absolutely floating on air, its glorious!" nonsense. No caffeine, no sugar, no processed food, a few trips to the sauna or maybe a daily dose of Bikram Yoga. I was reading in a magazine about all these detox drinks you can buy at the pharmacy and I may give that a try as well. To be honest, I am so lazy that I have to try and make this as simple as possible to be able to stick with it for a week. Am also trying to get B to book our spring holiday ASAP (hopefully 2 weeks in the Maldives although if we end up having to take Ella with us, I will cry.) so that I have another reason to keep myself motivated.
Oh- just realized that I might have to put this off til next week. I can't start a detox during the first week of the sales. Finding a black Chloe paddington on sale in Paris is going to take strength and ingenuity and therefore I need to be well fed for the battle. Skinny is nice, well-dressed is better. Besides, those bags are big. If I have one on my arm, I can definitely hid a few extra pounds.
Now to put this in context, not only was I participating in the the traditional Christmas Eatathon but the night before we left, my mother organized a bit of a going away dinner and made a gorgeous meal- my Grandmothers spare ribs, cheesy hashbrown casserole, and rum cake for dessert. Not only did I do justice to the meal by taking seconds of everything (knowing full well it would be months before I would taste any of those things again) but, acting on the same prinicipal, I stuffed my face all day long with Christmas cookies, chips, dips, basically anything I stumbled across to give me energy for the monumental task of packing our bags. When I stepped on that scale, I was crossing my fingers and hoping that the number would atleast show less than a 5 kilo gain.
This is truly a Christmas miracle, right up there with the Virgin Birth. Two helpings of cheesy potatoes, people. I can't explain it. Could it be that my miracle diet is the Cheesy Potato Diet? Good bye, South Beach. It was nice knowin' ya, Slim Fast. Its nothing but sour cream, chedder cheese and hash browns for me from here on out.
Which reminds me- yesterday morning we went for brunch at Breakfast in America on rue Malher and I ate a fantastic omelette with chedder cheese and salsa with fried potatoes on the side (or atleast part of one, their servings are huge!). Should weigh myself now, because if my theory is true I must have dropped another 2 pounds . The place was packed- clearly I am not the only one on the Cheesy Potato Diet- but we did manage to get a booth after only a 10 minute wait. Plunked Ella down in the corner with her Dora DVD on the portable player- the miracle weight loss is great but I am still most grateful to Santa for the DVD player, I think, since this is the first meal out with Ella that was not a 30 minute wrestling match.
What is it about diners that is so great? We hadn't hardly cleared the door and I was already telling B that we would have to make plans to come back for lunch and try out the sandwiches. I just spent 3 weeks in the States so I can't be needing an injection of Americana already. It did get me thinking about my favorite diner of all time- the State Street Diner in Las Vegas New Mexico. I used to go there all the time when I was in boarding school. It was so cool, it looked like they hadn't changed a thing in the place for atleast 40 years (including quite possibly the donuts under the glass on the counter. Seriously suspicious looking...) It had the most brilliant dusty, gloomy atmosphere which seems impossible in NM, where the sun was always shining. It was the perfect place to hang out after classes and make plans for a cross country road trip. I've got to be inventing half of this stuff because the image in my head just seems too Hollywood perfect to be real. But there you go- it wouldn't be one of those perfect places if it wasn't a little bit idealized. I can't believe I didn't manage to visit again when I was at my class reunion. Would be nice to go back next time I am in town (15 year reunion? Are you with me Pammie?) with enough money in my pocket to actually buy something other than a bottomless cup of coffee. Who knows, maybe I'll even test out those donuts.
I've gotten completely off track. January Detox. Despite the weight loss, I think that a thorough detox is necessary. Its going to be something fairly superficial, I think. None of this 2 weeks on nothing but water, 'The first two days were hard but now I am absolutely floating on air, its glorious!" nonsense. No caffeine, no sugar, no processed food, a few trips to the sauna or maybe a daily dose of Bikram Yoga. I was reading in a magazine about all these detox drinks you can buy at the pharmacy and I may give that a try as well. To be honest, I am so lazy that I have to try and make this as simple as possible to be able to stick with it for a week. Am also trying to get B to book our spring holiday ASAP (hopefully 2 weeks in the Maldives although if we end up having to take Ella with us, I will cry.) so that I have another reason to keep myself motivated.
Oh- just realized that I might have to put this off til next week. I can't start a detox during the first week of the sales. Finding a black Chloe paddington on sale in Paris is going to take strength and ingenuity and therefore I need to be well fed for the battle. Skinny is nice, well-dressed is better. Besides, those bags are big. If I have one on my arm, I can definitely hid a few extra pounds.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Isn't it too early in the year to be protesting?
I was sitting here at my desk, reading through my endless blog roll, and I heard some shouting out on the street. I thought it was some stupid student protest coming across the bridge (I have accidentally walked into the middle of one or two of those and I have to say they are pathetic. There are usually about 5 kids in the front who know whats going on, talking to the press, and the other 500 are all on their cell phones/taking camera photos of each other or checking out the opposite sex as they nonchalently puff away on their eneime Marlborough Light. Its so awesome being politically active, non?) But it wasn't a student protest. It was a bunch of people shouting outside the door of the Office for Social Housing, located conveniently just across the street, for my viewing pleasure. Have no idea what they are shouting about but is actually a bit surprising that this is the first time it seems to have happened. Seems like these people would get shouted at more often- and since I also have a front row seat for watching them "work", I know that there is a lot of coffee drinking and telephone chatting going on, while the French government is apparently in need of 600,000 new lodgements, atleast that is what I thought I heard last night on the news. That can't be right, can it? Seems like those people should be shouting a bit louder, if so.
Santa was so good to me this year
Note: This entry was typed up at 3 am while sitting on the floor outside Ella's door, whisper-yelling "Go back to sleep" at her at regular intervals. I needed to remind myself, no matter how horrible things seemed right then, there were some good things in life...
Really, looking over my over-stuffed suitcases, I realize that Santa absolutely spoiled me this year. I don't know if, technically, I belonged on the "Good" list, but I appreciate him giving me the benefit of the doubt.
Quick run-down then:
- Santa B gave me that lovely ring of course. He also threw in some earrings and a necklace, a cashmere sweater, and a sweep through Victoria's Secret. If you asked me what I think about VS, I would give you 50 reasons why it is crap. On the other hand, they make really nice cotton T-shirt bras. I should know- I now own 5. Plus an enormous pile of matching underwear (how can you say no when they are constantly tempting you with these '3 or the price of one' deals?) Still, I maintain that VS is pathetic when it comes to making beautiful, sexy lingerie. For that, I stick to the French. Chantal Thomas and Simone Perele, I'm talkin' to you. New problem- I literally have lingerie bursting out of my drawers and must do a massive clearing out.
- a new Canon A530. After reading this site for a recommendation, I put in my order with Santa, and he came through. It was a good choice. I needed something that I could slip in my purse and my old, busted Sony DSC-H1 was impossible. Besides being super annoying since the LCD screen is broken. And I cannot for the life of me manage to take a photo with the flash that isn't completely bleached out. I haven't even figured out how to use half the functions on the Canon yet but I think we picked a winner this time around. Plus, Santa very thoughtfully provided 2 massive storage cards, so no more catastophies like in South Africa when I went to some shop to download my photos onto a disc and they ACCIDENTALLY ERASED THE ENTIRE CARD OF 200 PHOTOS.
- a portable DVD player and a stack of kids movies. This would have been even better with an extra battery so that I could have kept Ella entertained for the entire trip home, but even a few hours of calm was totally appreciated. Also, I bought myself a pilates DVD and this is totally convenient as I can sort of prop it up next to me anywhere and don't have to stand in the middle of the living room to see the big TV and be ogled by the office workers next door while doing my poses.
- a sewing box. This has been on every Christmas and birthday list for about the last 3 years and finally someone managed to realize that I was serious. And I also picked up a pair of pinking shears while I was out shopping one day. You have no idea how happy I am to own both a sewing box and pinking shears. Indescribable Martha Stewart joy fills my heart.
- Two pair of flannel pyjamas and a nice white terry robe and arch-supporting slippers. A sort of sexless, geriatric gift from my younger sister. Is she trying to tell me something, joke about our 4 year age difference? Not funny, if so. Although I really do like all of this stuff. Before, I only owned one pair of proper pyjamas and everything else fell under the category of lacy/ silky/shorty. Considering how cold I get at night, this was a bit of a conundrum. I ended up spending the night either glued to B's side, trying to absorb every smidgen of his body heat (which meant he couldn't move an inch without having to rearrange 8 appendages) or stacking every blanket in the house on the bed, causing B to sweat off about a kilo in water-weight every night. Good for weight control, not so good for restful sleep. I suppose real pyjamas were always the answer, but as we are currently at that critical 7 year mark in our marriage, I may have to ration out their appearances.
- 4 pair of gloves. For some people this might seem excessive. However, for someone with a habit of drunkenly abandoning gloves on the backseat of taxicabs, this is just the right amount to make it through the rest of winter. Fingers crossed.
- a pashmina shawl. Gorgeous thick 3-ply pashmina but its sort of a spicy orange color which isn't doing it for me. Can you dye pashmina? I think a google search is in order...
I've been telling everyone that Ella was spoiled rotten, but clearly I was as well. Must remember all this in the dark hours.
Really, looking over my over-stuffed suitcases, I realize that Santa absolutely spoiled me this year. I don't know if, technically, I belonged on the "Good" list, but I appreciate him giving me the benefit of the doubt.
Quick run-down then:
- Santa B gave me that lovely ring of course. He also threw in some earrings and a necklace, a cashmere sweater, and a sweep through Victoria's Secret. If you asked me what I think about VS, I would give you 50 reasons why it is crap. On the other hand, they make really nice cotton T-shirt bras. I should know- I now own 5. Plus an enormous pile of matching underwear (how can you say no when they are constantly tempting you with these '3 or the price of one' deals?) Still, I maintain that VS is pathetic when it comes to making beautiful, sexy lingerie. For that, I stick to the French. Chantal Thomas and Simone Perele, I'm talkin' to you. New problem- I literally have lingerie bursting out of my drawers and must do a massive clearing out.
- a new Canon A530. After reading this site for a recommendation, I put in my order with Santa, and he came through. It was a good choice. I needed something that I could slip in my purse and my old, busted Sony DSC-H1 was impossible. Besides being super annoying since the LCD screen is broken. And I cannot for the life of me manage to take a photo with the flash that isn't completely bleached out. I haven't even figured out how to use half the functions on the Canon yet but I think we picked a winner this time around. Plus, Santa very thoughtfully provided 2 massive storage cards, so no more catastophies like in South Africa when I went to some shop to download my photos onto a disc and they ACCIDENTALLY ERASED THE ENTIRE CARD OF 200 PHOTOS.
- a portable DVD player and a stack of kids movies. This would have been even better with an extra battery so that I could have kept Ella entertained for the entire trip home, but even a few hours of calm was totally appreciated. Also, I bought myself a pilates DVD and this is totally convenient as I can sort of prop it up next to me anywhere and don't have to stand in the middle of the living room to see the big TV and be ogled by the office workers next door while doing my poses.
- a sewing box. This has been on every Christmas and birthday list for about the last 3 years and finally someone managed to realize that I was serious. And I also picked up a pair of pinking shears while I was out shopping one day. You have no idea how happy I am to own both a sewing box and pinking shears. Indescribable Martha Stewart joy fills my heart.
- Two pair of flannel pyjamas and a nice white terry robe and arch-supporting slippers. A sort of sexless, geriatric gift from my younger sister. Is she trying to tell me something, joke about our 4 year age difference? Not funny, if so. Although I really do like all of this stuff. Before, I only owned one pair of proper pyjamas and everything else fell under the category of lacy/ silky/shorty. Considering how cold I get at night, this was a bit of a conundrum. I ended up spending the night either glued to B's side, trying to absorb every smidgen of his body heat (which meant he couldn't move an inch without having to rearrange 8 appendages) or stacking every blanket in the house on the bed, causing B to sweat off about a kilo in water-weight every night. Good for weight control, not so good for restful sleep. I suppose real pyjamas were always the answer, but as we are currently at that critical 7 year mark in our marriage, I may have to ration out their appearances.
- 4 pair of gloves. For some people this might seem excessive. However, for someone with a habit of drunkenly abandoning gloves on the backseat of taxicabs, this is just the right amount to make it through the rest of winter. Fingers crossed.
- a pashmina shawl. Gorgeous thick 3-ply pashmina but its sort of a spicy orange color which isn't doing it for me. Can you dye pashmina? I think a google search is in order...
I've been telling everyone that Ella was spoiled rotten, but clearly I was as well. Must remember all this in the dark hours.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Oh. My. God.
Ella is trying to kill me with the sleep deprivation. Since we have been back in France, she wakes up every night at 2 am and doesn't go back to sleep until 6 am. It is absolute torture and I cannot face the idea of doing this for another 4, 5 days. As a result, I haven't gotten anything useful done since we have been back. Am desperately waiting for Monday and the opening of creche so that I can sleep in, take a shower, do some reconnaisance for the sales, and finally get my New Year cards sent (have given up on the idea of calling them Christmas cards since I have totally missed that one) etc.
So to make up for the lack of coherent posts, here are a few photos I took of Ella this morning. She is wearing a dress that I wore for a photo when I was little. My mom loves that photo so I tried to get a nice shot of Ella wearing the dress before she totally outgrew it. Its very very mini- something a little Marcia Brady about it, don't you think?
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
personality test
| Advanced Global Personality Test Results
|
personality tests by similarminds.com
Stability results were high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic..
Orderliness results were high which suggests you are overly organized, reliable, neat, and hard working at the expense too often of flexibility, efficiency, spontaneity, and fun.
Extraversion results were high which suggests you are overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.
trait snapshot:
clean, likes large parties, outgoing, makes friends easily, optimistic, positive, social, high self control, traditional, assertive, rarely irritated, self revealing, open, finisher, high self concept, controlling, rarely worries, tough, likes to stand out, does not like to be alone, semi neat freak, fearless, dominant, trusting, organized, resolute, strong, practical, craves attention, adventurous, hard working, respects authority, brutally honest, realist, altruistic
Surprisingly on the mark, for a five minute Internet personality evaluation. Not 100%, mind you. But I figure it would be good to have a handy list of adjectives describing me in case I ever get another job interview and need some material. Gah- that is a New Years Resolution to work on, the old job hunt. Will I be unemployed forever? Craft projects are fun ways to fill up vacation time at my mom's house but I kind of hate the idea of that being my raison d'etre.
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