Short and Sweet

Just a quick one. My mom arrives in 8 hours....and I realize that it has been, oh, 10 years since we last spent 6 days together...just mom and me! I can't believe it. And I am ready (and with a clean apartment!) for some nice bonding time. Might even re-walk our last time together, which was right here in this very city, when I got my purse stolen, lost my passport, had to run to the American consulate on the day we were getting on a train for Italy and mom had to find boxes to wrap up and send home the winter clothes she'd packed and didn't need! We were here during the World Cup....while it was in Paris...when France won and the night of the stolen purse when we wandered back to our hotel at 2am, small French cars packed with flag-waving, scarf-wearing Frenchmen circled the block with their horns blaring. That was 10 years ago. And we wandered this city feeling very foreign and ordered with trepidation...when the smells were different and the streets unfamiliar. And this time it's my city, which I can share with my mom...starting with a haircut with my hairdresser tomorrow, followed by lunch in Montmartre (Josh, I promise we're going to the same resto you and I ate at!)....and Edith will be our tour guide in the Louvre and we will hang out in the café and see Molly's baby and do a dinner with her mom when her visit overlaps my mom's visit...and we will celebrate my 30th birthday with people who know me well but haven't known me long...and we will clean my windows and plant my flower boxes and go to an antique/art fair and sit in parks. We will look at cherry blossom trees and reminisce about Door County and eat Sunday brunch and probably do some shopping.
And I can't wait. 8 hours. Now 7hours40minutes. Must go to bed. Clean, ironed sheets. Vacuumed and on-hands-and-knees-scrubbed floor...forgot to buy fresh flowers but we can pick out some tulips tomorrow.
Good night!

Random thoughts

Two nights ago it snowed. There will still piles on the wooden decks around the library when I arrived in the afternoon. This is a strange place...where we have spring-like weather all winter and then have snow in the spring. Alas. I saw Alicia Keys in concert with Mél, Kat, and Laetitia last week, and I will say that her voice is absolutely incredible, maybe even better live than on her albums. More rich, more varied...and she never stops! But. She, as a person, disappointed me. I guess we don't get the same media coverage over here, because I seemed to be outta the loop that she IS an immature person who doesn't have a whole lot of depth. Nobody at home was surprised when I made that remark about her personality (or lack thereof!) during the concert! But I was surprised. She was packaged, scripted. So now we have a big group going to see Mary J. Blige in June. I have pretty high hopes for her!! And then on Saturday, we threw Molly's baby shower. She loved it...and I loved seeing her and seeing Savanna!
And on a totally different subject, I should be working on my chapter that's due on Thursday...but there is a documentary on France 2 right now..."68". It's about the many, many revolutions that occurred in 1968. They just finished the portion on the US...protests against Vietnam, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and JFK. Just amazing. The images, and the interviews and video footage...the music and the history....and I just can't help but think about how the structures of power are no different now...in fact, if anything, they are stronger, more centralized, visible and covert at the same time. And yet, we have nothing of the sort today. Well, to some extent we still do in Paris, but much less in the US. Are our lives just that much easier today? Is there less to fight about, to fight for? Is my generation that complacent? That passive? That disengaged? Distracted?
I have no way of wrapping this up. Oh the times, they are a changin'.

Day off

The Monday after Easter, being today, is a national holiday in France. I still haven't figured out why such a secular country's national holidays still line up with the Catholic feast days. Nevertheless, the library is closed, the gym is closed, many businesses are closed....certainly the bank and any useful errands I might run are out of the question. So. I will write today in a café. I have become such a library junkie that writing in a café presents all kinds of obstacles (space, noise, outlets...!)....which is crazy because I remember countless hours I spent at Alterra in Milwaukee, grading papers and planning lessons and working on my teaching certification courses. That WAS my library! And I wish there was an Alterra in Paris. (Hmmm....an idea!?) But there are only Starbucks, in way of American-genre coffeshops. And the Starbucks depress me. They are dirty and all the same....but, in fact, if I want a big 'ol American coffee in a paper cup with a lid, it's my only option.

I don't know why I'm even bothering to mention Starbucks when there is a LOT of good news to share! First, I had an amazing visit from my friend Heather Foley. We share the same birthday (though she's a year ahead of me)...our dad's were roommates at Notre Dame...and we grew up with our families hanging out at ND tailgates or their family coming up to WI for various reasons in the summer. And Heather and I have always connected so profoundly, and yet we've never actually spent a stretch of time together. And ceratinly not as adults. So when her parents bought her a ticket to come to Paris for her 30th birthday, I was ecstatic! But life took crazy exciting turns for Heather at the same time that she was supposed to come last year....And hence she finally used her ticket this year. She stayed with me for 10 days, and never once did it feel cramped in my studio apartment. Cuz we do SO much the exact same way! Cooking was a breeze together, shopping for food, walking around the city, splitting up for the days so I could go to the library....meeting back up at 8pm to have a glass of wine and make our dinner plans...I was so lucky to have her here! We laughed so hard and sang Joni Mitchell and fought with our flipped-inside out umbrellas in the street, danced and stumbled home at 4am. Lingered over coffee and just had endless good conversations. She's amazing.

THEN, just when Heather left, my friend Molly gave birth to a baby girl! She and her husband Yann named her Savanna. Savanna Chevance. Beautiful. I went to the clinic less than 24 hours after her birth....and it was just increadible to see one of my best friends be SO very much HERSELF after going through childbirth. Molly is an absolutely beautiful mom...and I loved seeing her navigate motherhood...not knowing what to do, having loads of questions and sometimes looking lost...yet doing it all with absolute grace. (It's normal, i know, that giving birth doesn't somehow give you the absolute knowledge or "instinct" of motherhood!....but sometimes I fear my friends will take on a different, foreign persona after having a child!) So there is a new girl to add to the group...and she will have a lot of aunties!

And then, in much smaller news, I have crossed some major hurdles in my school year. Last semester was crazy busy, and this semester, though only taking 2 courses and writing my 100 pages, has seemed even worse. But I crossed a major bridge on Thursday. I finished 2 oral presentations....and those were either all or half of my grades in those 2 classes. So now I just have a 15-page paper to write for one class (and believe me, 15 pages is nothing these days!)....But for the most part I am just focusing on my own research and writing. And I've already got 40 or so pages under my belt (though 40 pages which still need revising)...and I'm working on the next chapter, which flowed right from the last, and I just feel such a sense of relief. That I can work now at a normal pace, and without the added stress, I can ENJOY the writing that I'm doing, without pulling nearly all-nighters to meet deadlines amidst preparing for other classwork.
So....now off to a café I go....maybe it will be a Starbucks....but I will enjoy the "Lundi de Pâques" holiday (Monday of Easter)....AND luckily Charley is still teaching his Ashtanga 2 yoga class this evening. I will be there.

And the oyster returns

I have no business writing now...though I have a lot of business of catching up to do. But not now. I have killer deadlines coming up and so much writing to do. And I cannot motivate cuz I just spent the last 4 marvelous days with my best friend on the planet!! From the Opera Garnier to Chez Janou, the café and out with the girls, walks and walks and sunshine and glasses of wine and a normal Sunday night of "lost" and pizza....Everything made that much more special to share it with Leah. And....we just had a blast and laughed and discussed everything under the sun. So since I have no time to write, I'll just let the photos speak for themselves. Next stop: Italy!

Not a fan of January

The holidays have come and gone...my 2 weeks in the States went by as fast as ever, though leaving me with such a good feeling. New Year's eve in Paris, then my last 2 weeks of class...to finish my first semester. And yet here I am, mid-January, and wanting sunshine, a beach, another trip, time with my grandma, a fireplace, a night out with Leah....something. I shy away from anything too sad sounding on this blog...but Jenna Sims-Gray is my role model of honesty...and so I am choosing to just put it out there. She says that's what blogs are for anyhow. Besides...no life is roses all the time! The low moaning of something missing, something not quite being attained. And I ask myself if it's the season (maybe I am looking for roses!), the time of year, too much time indoors...and all the much harder questions going way beyond the weather. The January-February funk (good term, mom!). I need spring. I just bought a comfy chair that's being delivered to my apt. tomorrow....a 1930s refurbished leather beauty...old and worn and full of character and experience well beyond my years. I've been thinking about one--and looked at them at the flea market--for nearly a year. This was the time I needed to buy it. So tomorrow night I will be cuddled in my chair...with the book I'm reading...hoping that little by little the funk will fade with each espresso and candle lit. A good laugh, Tewfik's arms, a nice meal, a fun night in the café. But in the meantime...until spring inspires, here are some photos from the past month of so!

To be reminded

I just read my brother Jon's blog posting about how running affects your state of mind and connects you in time and space with where you are. I totally agree! I even reflected back to when I did morning walks...seeing only street sweepers and the occasional early-motivated business man, cutting through the narrow cobblestone streets of Paris, past churches and boulangeries baking bread, through parks and gardens. I loved it. But there's something about this city that moves one into the rhelm of night, moreso than morning. Despite morning being my favorite time of day...I now associate mornings with waking up and looking east from my bedroom window, the sun illuminating the acres of fields...mornings are walks along the lake in Milwaukee, the sun also rising over that immense body of water, he wings of the art museum going up...early mornings are leaving my apartment in Chicago at 6:30 before any light of day with my travel mug of coffee and two pieces of buttered toast...getting blinded by the sun finally on the overpass of the Dan Ryan heading south just past downtown Chicago.
But here in Paris, mornings are gray, often rainy, nobody is moving before 8am, you are lucky to find a coffee before 7:30, and while still inspiring to some degree, it's nothing compared to the nights here. Night-time in Paris IS the reason this is the "city of lights". It's breathtaking...crossing the oldest bridge, Pont Neuf, looking across the Seine at the Eiffel Tower and the illuminated gold dome of the Institute de France...the glittering reflections on the river's surface. Not to mention the night-time energy. People are everywhere, they are happy to be going out, as opposed to going to work...they are with friends and they look beautiful--dressed for dinners and drinks and maybe even dancing. There is less noise, or at least it's muffled, and the street lamps cast shadows on the cobbestone streets and everything looks clean and somehow museum-like.
And so while I sometimes still jog through my city, these days I discover Paris either on bike or by night. During the strikes, I was on the bike going everywhere I usually went by underground metro. And what a delight! I discovered that Paris has a small zoo--"menagerie"--that there is a park leading right down to the river, I discovered the most quaint streets ever on the Island of St. Louis (the smaller one in the center of the city)...that there is an old Parisian diner called "le cérise de Paris" (the cherry of paris...think of the rhyme when pronouncing Paris the french way!). And otherwise I just walk. I'm not much of a jogger. I do it...for the obvious cliché reasons of weight loss and body image, but I've never loved it. But I agree whole-heartedly with my brother. Knowing your surroundings--or rediscovering them--is quite an amazing energy-boost. Moreover, it reminds me of why I am here. Why I've chosen this city.

homeward bound

an old message from my mom that i never erased, a song that my dad used to sing while playing his guitar when i was young, a smell that reminds me of my mom and dad's closet...a photo of my brothers and i when we were young, or just thinking of the layout of our old house, my african bedspread and a book that i've taken with me everywhere i've lived since 1999. i am needing home. memories and nostalgia, seeing photos of jenna's new baby and getting an email from a teacher who i worked with at LE who now lives in Vegas...my old friend Sheila is leaving Milwaukee. nothing remains unaltered. and yet some things remain untouched in my memory, triggered by just the right stimulus. change, it's the natural order of the universe. of course, this is what is supposed to happen, and thank goodness that it does...but sometimes it just feels like a lot (not too much, just a lot) going in so many directions, like nothing is as simple as it used to be. and yet it never felt simple at that time either. the isolation of memory is both beautiful and detrimental, allowing me to think that a different time and place could be recovered, that just singing "be not afraid" to my brothers at night would bring me back to a time when getting my pony to stop eating grass when i led her to the pasture would be my biggest challenge. so i need to go home, to be back in plymouth, to be surrounded by my family, to recuperate a bit of that which i am missing. it's not the same. nothing is, in fact. but i can take the bits and pieces and forge a new memory which will carry me back to paris and sustain me until the next time i fly across the atlantic.

La grève

This is the 4th day in the past month now that the public transportation workers have gone on strike. I can't make sweeping judgments about how ridiculous their demands are (though they ARE ridiculous!)...but I can make sweeping statements about how absolutely annoying this situation is! At first I was amused. "Snow days"...a great excuse to have a day to do whatever I want. Since my school is in the northern banlieu of Paris, there are no trains to take me there. Okay, cool. But now it's just too much. Maybe it's because of the truly frigid weather that we're now experiencing...or maybe it's because I really do like my classes (and I know we are going to have to make them up anyhow...usually on Saturdays!)...or maybe because, like today, we are all fighting each other...because collectively "we" have become hoards of people who are actually getting in massive lines to access the "1 train out of 6" that is actually running (not to mention that you'd be squashed like a sardine if you actually waited in that crazy line to get into one of those train cars!). I'm not clausterphobic, but I decided to walk. And it is cold. And I'm carrying my computer, and even in the metro stops the escalators aren't running. Like they're trying to find every cruel way to make people suffer. (So we pick up a banner and strike with them!?) So here we are...those of us who rely on public transportation....cutting our losses so that the train workers can maintain their retirement and enormous benefits package after 37 years of governmental service. (The bulk of the other "fonctionnaires" have to work 40 years...but running the trains is more taxing. Clearly.)
On top of that, even if i COULD have gotten to my school today, it was blocked by students! I would not have been allowed in. Why? What are they objecting to? Not sure on this one...because it seems to me they are just jumping the gun on ANOTHER strike already planned for Tuesday...a strike for ALL state employees...And oh yes, all professors are state employees. So class has already been canceled, in advance, for Tuesday. My professor will not be there. But the rental bikes are in full action. Everybody is getting more exercise. Or like my friend who has been stuck in Paris since Tuesday night and finally had to get home today, he had to shell out 45€ to get home by taxi. So, who am I to say that nobody is profiting!?

French countryside

My recent trip to the Durdonge region of France (southwest, en route to Bordeaux) reminded me to what extent I remain a country girl at heart. After a 5-hour train ride through the French countryside, looking out over rolling hills and little villages, rivers and stone bridges, we arrived in the small city of Le Buisson. A shuttle bus was waiting at the train stop, and he took us to the chateau where we'd stay for the next 3 days...celebrating the wedding of Steph and Sly, two dear friends from the Café Latin family. We arrived to find those two, along with the guys from the café--Victor, David, Yann, Danny, and Guy--and Steph's brother and his girlfriend and friend. The chateau was covered in vines already turning bright red for the fall, a series of small out-buildings surrounded the main one, all in yellow-white stone, the back side of the chateau overlooked an enormous valley, mostly forest, with the wide Durdonge river cutting through it, the hillside opposite spackled with homes and farms and small field openings. Stunning.

The guys fired up the grill, us girls set the enormous table under the tree overlooking the valley and opened bottles of wine, and we cooked out a lunch...followed by lounging in the sun around the pool. That night we all re-convened wearing masks. Yes, it was a masked ball...started with champagne outside the chateau, the cold country air cutting through our silk dresses. We had a dinner, followed by a dance with the rest of the crew who'd arrived...about 60 or so...mostly all of the young friends.

Saturday was the civil ceremony at the courthouse in the village. It's quite a beautiful (and obligatory) tradition in France; everyone assembles in the courthouse, the bride and groom are dressed up (the bride wearing a hat, of course), as is everyone else, and the mayor reads the official statues the govern the parameters of marriage in France. It's much more personal than it sounds. Following the ceremony, we all walked in the sun through the small village to the quaint and beautiful hotel at the bottom of the hill by the church. Awaiting were tables of pastries and tartes and chocolates, and of course, glasses of champagne and wine. We sat on the terrace and in the garden, in the sun, visiting and mingling until our stomachs were growling and we decided we needed to return to the chateau to fire up the grills. We all changed out of our clothes, the guys started making burgers, and we spent the rest of the late afternoon, once again, by the pool. It was then time to get ready for the religious ceremony. We all reconvened outside of the chateau, were given candles, and as the sun was setting across the valley, the ceremony took place. Stephanie was absolutely beautiful, not to mention incredibly strong, and we all held our candles and listened to the priestess and the two of them exchange vows. We all put our candles on the rock wall...champagne was popped, and two circus men entertained us with music, juggling, dog tricks, transporting one back in time 100 years when this type of entertainment was common faire for chateau gatherings.

When the champagne and hors d'oeuvres were consumed, we moved once again into the other building for dinner. The dinner started at the same time as the France-England rubgy semi-final...so dinner started with half of the group singing along to the England national anthem (Steph is British)...the other half following up with "Les Marseilles", the French national anthem (Sly is French). The French lost...but dinner was animated by the game and loads of conversation and the consumation of fois gras (a spécalité of that region), stuffed guinea fowl, cheese plates, and of course, loads of desserts. Sly and Steph started the dancing, and once we got started, we didn't stop until 7am!

Sunday involved a big brunch at the chateau for all the guests, and then nearly everybody left, except some of Steph's closest English friends and all of us from the café. So we changed into swim suits again, David found tennis raquets, we set up badmitten, played next to the pool, then Victor and Greg pulled out a bow and arrow...as Steph's friend Fogg said, "We are living Great Gatsby". Yes, exactly. It was increadible. Pitchers of beer and snacks and the sun and bathing suits ( or just bras and underwear....we're all pretty comfortable family at this point!)...until the sun was setting and it was getting cool. The chateau owner, who'd been cranking out the most amazing food the whole weekend, then prepared a dinner at the large dining room table. We all sat around the enormous kitchen fireplace (you could honestly STAND 8 grown men inside the fireplace)...drank an appératif...and then assembled for a 4-course French dinner. We all stumbled into the living room afterwards and passed out on couches and chairs watching a movie. With the exception of Steph and Sly, we all left together on Monday afternoon. Though separated with different tickets, we all assembled in the same train car, traded magazines and candy bars, retelling stories from the weekend and trying to catch a little sleep.

The weekend could not have been more beautiful. I am so happy for Sly and Steph, as they are so clearly in love and have the support of so many people. And the weekend just confirmed for me, once again, how lucky I am to truly have this loving, fun, and sincere family-outside-my-family. And, the girls kept joking with me...saying that they weren't going to leave me there, no matter how many times I said, "Oh, I could definitely live here." And I meant it! The freshness, the clean air, the starry nights, nature and simplicity of life...even the sight of cows and crops and bales of hay...I was SO in my element. For many, many reasons.

Lisbon

My good friends, Sly and Steph, already had their wedding 2 weekends ago...and so there are stories and pictures I must post from that. BUt FIRST, I have to back up to the end of Sept. when all of us girlfriends went to Lisbon, Portugal, to celebrate Stephanie's bachelorette party. Hen weekend, as they call it. We flew there on a Thursday evening, arrived at our 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom, beautiful-terraced apartment, went our for traditional Portugese food, stumbled upon a reggae bar...and then got lucky with a beautiful day of sun (and caïpevoskas) on the beach...and Steph's British friends joined us Friday evening...so we were an entourage of 12 going to dinners and clubs...enjoying our apartment terrace and dancing until dawn. It was really incredible. I'll just let the pictures tell the rest...

Snow Day and Gentines

No, we don't actually ever get snow days in Paris, so the Parisiens have come up with their own excuse to not work from time to time. It's called a transportation strike! And it's going on today! So I'm home from school...tried to find an open library to do some work, but with no transportation other than my feet and a bike (which are really hard to find today...everyone is on Paris's rent-a-bike system!), I wasted 2 hours, only to find signs on EVERY library. "Pérterbations à cause de la grève." Expect to be perterbed. Well, I'm not perterbed. I'm just enjoying the day!

And now I can take a moment to catch up on internet business. I've fallen behind on all forms of communication since starting my courses last week. It's going to be like that from here on out, I think.

So...the Cousins Gentine were here a few weeks ago! Kristin, Nicci, Shelly, and Leah...girls time in France...husbands and kids at home...and it was really just so enjoyable. We walked and walked wherever we felt like going, stopped for lunch, for shopping, for photos, sometimes in front of monuments that I couldn't explain...ate amazing dinners and even had a Gentine family dinner! Boris Gentine and his wife, Anne Caroline and her husband...and us. Bringing the French branches together with those of the American side. Really really cool. Morning croissants and scarf hunting and shoe hunting and "not eating dessert"...and a fabulous final dinner overlooking the city of lights. It was really special. I am so thankful that they were able to come...thankful to their husbands for making it possible!...and happy that I had the opportunity to share my life here with my family.

Roots

The Gentines of the USA have now outnumbered the Gentines of France. Yes, we're the only "Gentines" who exist...so it's rare, as I'm learning, to find more of us. Well, more of us in France. But...thanks to facebook (which is also a recent obsession of sorts)...I found a Boris Gentine and a Pierre Gentine. Contacted both of them...yeap, we're all from the Alsace region of France...they knew of the Gentine group that left in the mid 1800s during all of the ongoing wars in that region between France and Prussia...knew that this group settled in Wisconsin. Pierre knew that there was a "cheese factory" involved.

So both were really responsive to my emails...we went back and forth...and just this past Thursday I met Boris for a drink. He's amazing. Quite simply... And it was so fun to recount stories and put things together...shared the family tree with him, which he's going to pass on to his dad and uncle...and I learned that André Gentine is the premiere ear surgeon in France...that Pierre is going to MIT to study water science...that the "Joseph" name has continued in nearly every branch of the tree...including Boris's 2-year old son! So I am responsible now for organizing a dinner with him and his wife, Anne Caroline and Fab...(my other distant cousin...who Boris doesn't know)...and some friends. He lives just north of me...and it's a pretty amazing feeling to know that I have family here who is willing to help me out if I run into any problems or need questions answered. Or just need to call technical assistance with my cable box! And we'll meet up with Pierre when he's home from school in Dec. Pretty darned amazing.
(The attached photos are of the area where our ancestors lived...and the house of Boris's family...which is almost a mirror image of the one my mom and I visited, in the neighboring city, belonging to my great-great-great grandfather before he immigrated to the States!)

I also have found a surrogate uncle here on my street. A 65-year old Israelien man named Dov...born in Casablanca and grew up on a Kibbutz in central Israel...and is now here on rue St. Sauveur. We met in the laundromat...just started talking about the price of American t-shirts...and then continued to run into each other in the street...took a coke or coffee or two together at the café across the street where the cook's window looks into mine and we wave and say hi to each other... So today we had a lunch date...ate Italian and toasted in Hebrew and then returned to the café across the street to have a coffee and say hi to everyone there. He has an interesting story. And some Sunday he's going to take me to his favorite Israelian restaurant in the Marais (heart of the Jewish quarter)...

And besides all that...I am OFFICIAL as a graduate student at Paris 13! The registration process was surprisingly simple...everyone was so nice and I now have my student card, my "certificat de scolarité" and I register for my classes in the beginning of Oct. It feels quite surreal...I am in the French system...a place I never imagined I'd be had you asked me even last year! And I am consuming novels this summer like I haven't consumed in years...African novels mainly...though I just started a Turkish one several days ago. It all feels quite exactly as it should be.

Ode to Dundee

Why shouldn't she have the spotlight? She wasn't my childhood dog. Charlie gets that honor. She was never our best behaved dog. London takes that prize. But she is most certainly the most affectionate. She will sleep by my bedside when I stay at my dad's. She will lay outside the bathroom while I get ready. And only when I am ready (even if it means going half-way down the stairs several times, thinking I'm following, only to turn around and return), she will accompany me downstairs. She has evaded intestinal problems, had a near-miss with cancer, and has to have her food poured on the carpet before she'll eat it (discovered when she almost starved herself to death). She's a finicky one. And I'm not a "dog person"...but I sure am happy that Dundee is there each time I go home.

Tichionana

Really, where do I start? A delightful trip up to Lake Geneva, being a part of Auden's first experience putting her head underwater. Having a day of non-stop conversation in the streets of Boulder with Jon...a girl's day with Molly...endless back-deck conversations and the LoDo experience...our Estes Park adventure....and Estes Park again...and again...horesback riding in aqua socks. Time on the pier at Cyrstal Lake and kyacking...Sargento BBQ at Lou's. And Chicago. It only gets better with each trip back. An unexpected view of Wrigley Field, bar-hopping and making friends. And more friends. Fabulous food and wine and diner breakfasts with free coffee refills...making the wedding dance mix in the midst of chaos. Eye make-up and shopping and St. Patrick's basilica downtown. Bagpipers and oh so many sexy Scotsmen in kilts...daggers and champagne and brie-filled philo pastries...Scottish dancing...spinning followed by Beyoncé..."Do you fancy a dance?"...foreign accents...Being in the American minority, perhaps. Being at the singles table. Terrible bars turned into fantastic bars and continued dancing until all eye makeup was gone and then all of us were gone. And back to Wisconsin. Porch time and pool time and painting time. Chester's drive-in and Lola's on the Lake...pitching practice in the rain. Cathrene's arrival...playing softball with the class of '96...pitchers of beer and going out with the high school gang...another trip to Chicago and an unforgettable night out...kidnapping Leah to Plymouth...sitting on the sunny porch overlooking the fields...blanching, skinning, canning peaches, singing at the top of our lungs and making fresh pie...throwing a dinner party...Nic and Paula, Josh and I, Cathrene and Leah, we overtook the adult's table. I don't want to talk about saying good-bye. Milwaukee time with Mom and Josh... dinner and African literature conversation with dad and Lou and Michele...finally finding the shuttle bus in Milwaukee. I don't want to talk about saying good-bye. But see you at Christmas.

From both sides now

It's my favorite Joni Mitchell song. And I can't quite put my finger on its significance right now, but this song pops up in my life at some key times. And makes so much sense. Maybe it's being back in Paris again after another trip home...and it was harder than normal to say good-bye. "Well something's lost, but something's gained in living every day." I guess it's the humbling notion that, even when everything seems so "on"--in this case, I was accepted at the Master's program here in Paris...the ducks are in a line, and I feel certain that it's exactly what I should be doing--even then, and perhaps especially then, I don't have it all figured out. The choices, good and good. The places, fantastic and fantastic. The friends, amazing and amazing. So now what? Is it a gut feeling? Is it faith? Is it the belief that everything happens for a reason...that once again, I might never figure out?
"I guess this is the price we pay for living in a world with so much worth believing in."

Only in France

I learned two great things yesterday. First, a ripped stomach is called a "tablet de chocolat"...yes a chocolate bar. (Though only in America...or Germany...would such a ripped stomach be a "6-pack"...) And in giving a lesson on degrees of temperature: hot, warm, cool, cold, frigid...my student made a shocked face when I said "frigid." "You use this frequently?" he demanded. Yes, of course. He laughed...and said, cautioning that it was awkward for him to explain to a woman, that "frigid" in French is a "maladie," a true illness. It's a woman who does not take pleasure "in this life." Read between the lines. Must have chocolate and pleasure. Welcome to France.

(Image: Miss.tic. Artist and poet who puts her stenciled images and messages all over Paris!)