jambier!!

One of our friends lives across the street from a bar we used to go to when we lived in Troyes. Everytime we went to the bar as a group, everyone (except me, obviously, because I had no idea what was going on) would pound on Friend's windows and yell out "Jambier!!" at the top of their lungs. Everybody had a big laugh over this happening every single time we passed this guy's house, and whenever I asked for an explanation, all I heard was, "Oh, it's from an old movie, I can't explain it, you've just got to see it." Pfft.

Finally, two years later, we came across the famous movie at Fnac (Fnac Fnac!) bundled with two other movies for the low, low price of 15 euros, so we bought it and settled down the other night to watch La Traversée de Paris.

Unfortunately, for the low, low price of 15 euros, you don't get subtitles in English or otherwise*, but I was basically able to follow the story of taxi driver-turned-black market operative and the painter he enlists to help him carry four suitcases of meat across wartime Paris. As far as films go, it's not the best French movie I've seen, but it certainly wasn't the worst either. I think it does a good job of expressing the fear, the frustration and the inventiveness the Parisians experienced during the war (which I'm sure was still fresh in the filmmakers' minds since this was made only ten years after the war) and there are a few poignant moments as well as a few laughs to be had. I would certainly recommend it, provided you're fluent in French or subtitles are available. (Tangent: it must be a hallmark of films made in this era, because when I think of American films from this time, there are plenty of fast-talking actors who spit lines out of the sides of their mouths that would be impossible to follow if you're not fluent in English - hell, there are some that I can't even follow!)

So why is crying "Jambier!!" outside of innocent peoples' homes so funny? I'm afraid I have to tell you the same thing that was told to me - you'll have to watch the movie!


*I actually can follow a movie with French subtitles. In fact, we often watch a French tv show called Maigret which comes on about every other Friday evening. This one's a mystery show set in the '50s and based on the books of Georges Simenon. Thanks to closed captioning for the hearing impared, I know exactly what's going on!

PS In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I thought they were yelling "Janvier," which is French for January, and it wasn't until I saw the listing on IMDB that I figured out my mistake.

PPS This doesn't have anything to do with anything, but I really got a kick out of listening to Katia and KylieMac's Thanksgiving podcast yesterday. Thanks for the shout out ladies; I was thinking of you, too! Have you listened to the podcast yet? Make sure you check it out here!

more adventures with Bank Dude

Before I came home from the States, Steph received a call from our bank representative who wanted to make an appointment us. Apparently, bank representatives do this periodically, say once a year or so, to let their clients know of new offers that are available or at least to get some face time. That appointment was today, and since we had several other errands to run in Troyes, we decided to make a day of it.

By the way, if you don't remember our previous run-in with the man I call Bank Dude, you may want to read this first.

So, we arrived to the bank a few minutes late, but considering how Bank Dude has treated us in the past, I don't think either one of us were worried about it. In fact, it turned out to be a good thing, because no sooner had we found ourselves in the waiting area, he was ushering us into his cubicle. I couldn't help but chuckle thinking about every time in the past we've arrived on time and we had to wait ten to fifteen minutes.

Things did not get off to a good start, as the first thing he said when we sat down was, "So, why are you here today?" Steph and I looked at each other in wonder before Steph reminded him that he had invited us to come. Ah, yes.

Basically what followed was thirty minutes on nonsense. Bank Dude kept going off on tangents and tried to sell us services that we don't need. While it's true that we are considering buying an apartment in the next year or so, some of the numbers Bank Dude were throwing around either didn't apply to us at all or didn't even add up (dangerous territory when your client is a math teacher, for crying out loud!). Finally, Steph was able to extricate us from Bank Dude's web by assuring him that we'd be back to talk numbers when we're reading to do something.

Man, I hope we can change bank representatives before that time comes...

Afterwards, we hit the Fnac (Fnac Fnac Fnac! just love that word!) and then ate lunch at a restaurant downtown that I hadn't been to before and we both had gratin savoyarde. This is a dish with potates and lardons (basically bacon) baked with creamy cheese on top, served with salad and bread. Delish! And perfect for this chilly, cloudy weather we've been experiencing as of late.

Another interesting stop was to our insurance office to inquire about putting me on the car insurance. I've been driving for well over a year now, but we figured we were protected as I would have "permission" from Steph to drive the car, in case something happened. It turns out we needn't have worried because with our insurance, I'm automatically included because we're married, and it doesn't cost us anything extra. It's still a good thing we went, however, as they still had him listed as "single." Oops.

After a quick stop to say hello to the in-laws, it was back home. Not much else to report; I'm still working on some bookbinding (I'll post pictures when I get them all finished) and I've pulled my huge cross stitch project out of retirement and I'm working on that slowly for a change of pace.

thanksgiving dinner

thanksgiving flowers
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

Saturday went without a hitch, except for the fact that seven people plus the oven running constantly for about two hours makes for a very warm place in our small apartment. Besides that, everyone was very complimentary (though they couldn't resist jabs like "Not bad for an American!" and these were taken in stride) and we hardly had any leftovers at all. By 2:00 in the morning, four bottles of wine and one bottle of Jack were gone (yes! they killed the Jack!) and a good time was had by all. They even gave us this gorgeous floral arrangement which I will try desperately not to kill in the next couple of weeks. We've been invited to join this group of friends for New Year's, which should be fun.

In case you're curious, dinner consisted of appetizers of olives, raw veggies and canapes with tatziki sauce and spinich dip; a main meal of roasted turkey breast, green beans with mushrooms and garlic, mashed potatoes, stuffing and cranberry sauce; and a dessert of pecan pie with vanilla ice cream.

I got a request on my last post (hi Antipo!) for the recipe of the day-before mashed potatoes. I adapted it from this recipe, and here's my version with French ingredients which will serve four:

4 large potatoes
85g or about 4 sqaures kiri cheese
about 3/4 large pot of creme fraiche
15g butter
onion powder, salt, pepper to taste

Peel and cube potatoes and boil about 15 minutes, or until they are tender but still firm.

Transfer to a mixing bowl and mash potatoes until smooth. Mix in all the other ingredients. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

Preheat oven to 175C. (The recipe calls for greasing a baking dish, but I didn't find it necessary.) If you find the potatoes to be dry, stir in a little more creme fraiche. Transfer potoates to the baking dish and cook in the oven for about 30 minutes or until it is warmed through.

Voila! This was a huge hit. I made an enormous casserole dish of potatoes, and there was just a couple of spoonfuls left. Let me know if you try it out!

vivi gets her butt in gear

Well, very nearly, anyway.

While all you Americans were munching on turkey and gravy yesterday, I was pushing my shopping cart around the great big grocery in Troyes. Actually, given the time differences, you were probably snoring away, since I was there around 1:00, so... ok, that's not important right now. Where was I?

Right. The big grocery. OH. Here's a tip: if you can manage it, always go grocery shopping at lunchtime. There's hardly anyone there! Seriously, I've been there just after lunchtime and it can get so crowded I couldn't even push my cart down the widest isle in the middle of the store. During lunchtime, I zip through there so fast I even have time for a café crème and a game of Rapido before the long drive home.

So anyway, since I know that my easy-bake oven will never be big enough to contain a whole turkey, I did the same thing I did two years ago, which is buy a ginormous turkey breast wrapped up tight with string. I'll just stuff a little garlic in it and slap some butter and herbs on top and call it a day. I also had to restock our whiskey supply. Whiskey is Steph's prefered alcoholic beverage (tho we're practically teetotalers and it probably takes him a year to finish a bottle, even with help) so I knew I'd have to have some for before-dinner drinks. Of course, left to my own devices, I came home with our good friend Jack. I thought I'd get a rise out of Steph for bringing home an American whiskey but all he wanted to know is how much it cost (18 euros for a fifth, if you're playing at home). Ah well, better luck next time.

Today I was a blur of motion! OK, not really. But I did get a few things done, including

• finishing a new book (finally! back on track!)
• cleaned the bathroom (you know company's coming when...)
• vacuumed high traffic areas upstairs
• tidied up a bit downstairs
• made enough mashed potatoes to choke an elephant (these "day before potatoes" are so awesome, they taste like you just mashed them when you take them out of the oven!)
• made some spinach dip
• chopped up some veggies

Tonight I'd like to prep some paper for a new book, which I'd like to bind tomorrow, but that's not looking too likely considering I need to

• go to the grocery and pick up a couple of last minute things
• sweep and vacuum downstairs
• bake a pie
• prep as much as I can so I can be a gracious hostess instead of a kitchen slave

before our guests arrive. I guess it all depends on how early I can get my butt in gear tomorrow!

happy turkey day!

We have been invited to not one, but two Thanksgiving celebrations this year, happening on Saturday of course, since today is just your regular old Thursday here in France. Sadly, I don't feel quite ready for traveling out in the world just yet, so we've declined both of them. Steph suggested inviting a couple of friends over on Saturday for a much more subdued Thanksgiving celebration, and I thought I could probably handle that, so I've been trying out a couple of side dish recipes. After all, what fun is Thanksgiving if you can't share the box of Stove Top you carried all the way across the ocean (they can each have a spoonfull)?

In any case, I can't wait to hear about our friends' gathering in Paris, which we so enjoyed last year, and I'm getting a kick out of reading Doc's blog as she single-handedly prepares a Thanksgiving feast for thirty. She's off her rocker, but that's why we love her.

Of course, the purpose of Thanksgiving (besides remembering our dear Pilgrim ancestors) is to give thanks for what we have. Although Thanksgiving is just the first stop on a holiday journey that will be an emotional roller coaster this year, I will always be thankful first and foremost for my wonderful family - not just those who will gather today, but those who have gone ahead. Today I'll be thinking about wonderful memories of Thanksgivings in the past while dreaming of Thanksgivings to come.

I wish all of you in the States a very happy Thanksgiving! So tell me, what are you thankful for this year?

I've got the blues!

blues
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

No, not that kind of blues, my cobalt blues, which I lugged across the ocean in a foolishly heavy carry-on bag so I could have them in my home once again. Sorry the picture is so dark; if I waited for a sunny day to take a photo, we'd have to wait until next year some time, I'm afraid. Anyway, I've always been fond of cobalt blue glass and started collecting pieces quite a long time ago. When it came time to pack up my belongings two years (and some change) ago, these were the pieces I thought were worth dragging across the Atlantic. Only problem is that I don't really have anywhere to put them right now. We're thinking of getting an entertainment center soon, so maybe a couple of them will end up there.

Yesterday I popped in the DVD player a new aerobics DVD I picked up in the States and had a nice little workout. Unfortunately, my quads are so sore today that I can barely get up and down the stairs. I must be doing something wrong, surely? Aren't squats meant to work out the back of the thighs? Anyway, I'm supposed to (according to the workout schedule that came with the DVD) workout six days with one day off, but if I'm meant to do an hour of squats (slight exaggeration) and then go up and down my stairs all day, they've got another think comin'. I'm going to try for every other day for now, until my body gets back in the swing of things.

I'll tell you what I miss, and that's actually going to an aerobics class. Most of the fun was being in the back row with my friend Dana snarking over the ever-perky aerobics instructors. They were perky, but they were actually quite fun and knowing I was going to meet my friend there went a long way in keeping me honest. Meanwhile, we howled in mock (and real) pain and joked around and kept a positive attitude about the whole thing. And that's the last time I was in anything close to being called "in shape."

Now that I think about it, I seem to have a history of snarking in the back row, as I remember taking an aerobics class in high school with Carrie, only then we were surly teenagers who had to fulfill a fitness requirement in high school and this seemed the easiest way to slag through it.

Yep, me and aeorbics go way back, and now I think Aerobics is getting back at me!

ups and downs

Last week I had a little taste of getting back to normal. Thanks to the fact that Steph was in the middle of his formation cycle, when he's gone all day during the week, I didnt have to race in the mornings to get a hot meal on the table at precisely 12:15, when he usually walks in the door for his 45 minute lunch break from school. Instead I was able to move a little leisurely and eat a small lunch when I wanted, while attacking mountains of laundry my husband thoughtfully left for me so I'd have something to do (le sigh). I also got most of my new belongings put away and ran a few errands around town with my big French basket in tow. I felt like I was getting my legs back and enjoyed my little trips to the grocery or to the Mairie and at one point I even illicited a smile from the lady at the poissonerie as I passed. My idyllic dream of living in the French countryside was slowly but surely coming back to me.

Then I got an email last night from some close friends of the family who had been next to unreachable the last month and a half, and because of the lack of contact, they wanted to know how Dad was doing. At first I put it off, deciding to reply in the morning. I walked away from the computer and found myself unable to stop thinking about the reply. I came back to the computer and opened up my email and walked away again. Finally, knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep until I put this behind me, I sat down at the computer and composed the hardest email in my life. I know I probably should have called, but the idea of actually telling the story again was too much. I hope they'll forgive me for telling them by email.

For two months after Mom died last year, my mind replayed the day that she died over and over again, like a cruel movie loop. I haven't had that experience too much since Dad died, but last night, after writing that email, I was back in that mindset. Our brains play cruel tricks on us sometimes. I guess it's just a part of that roller coaster I'm on right now.

This week I have some fun things to look forward to, plus I'll be diving back into my bookbinding, and then there's the usual grind of day-to-day living that we all have to look forward to. Here's hoping the roller coaster will be straightening itself soon, or at least give me a little more time between the loopty-loops.

500

four generations part two
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

This post marks my 500th post on Dispatches From France. And to think, it only took a little over two years! To celebrate, I'm finally uploading a picture of me. Of course, I was pretty tiny at the time, but I basically look the same, with a bit more hair.

I began this blog as a way to keep my friends and family in the States updated about my life here in France, and here we are, two years and two months later, and I have friends all over the world in all walks of life. I would like to take this opportunity to sincerely thank all of you - those of you who have been with me since the beginning and those who have found me along the way - for your kindness, support and for continuing to come back and visit my little corner of the internet all this time. Merci beaucoup, mes amis!

Also, I think it's time to change This Old Template. The problem is that I know exactly what I want but have no illustrator skillz. Anyone know of an illustrator who would do a commission?

And, as always, clicking on the picture will take you to my flickr feed, where you'll find another interesting four generation photo from my family archives.

Thanks again, y'all are the best! Gros bisous à toute la monde!

someone else's dream

For a week after he arrived in North Carolina, Steph joked that we would move into my father's house and I would work while he kept house, the inverse of our life in France. He joked about it so much that, as we slipped into a booth at our favorite lunchtime restaurant, I asked him how much was joking and how much was actual interest in moving to the States. So we began to mull over the idea of uprooting our lives.

At first I was skeptical. What about his parents, his brothers and sisters? What about his specialization course, which he finally was accepted into only this year, his career, the main reason we chose to live in France in the first place? And what about the grand irony that I would be moving home only after both my parents have passed away?

For the next two days, we researched immigrant visas and green cards, mulled over monthly expenses of owning a house this grand, spoke to family members who are retired teachers, even spoke with the personnel director of the county's school system. Slowly, my vision shifted. I could see a future for us, with both of us gainfully employed, in a house twice as large as we could ever own in France, on a piece of land large enough to hold two or three homes in France. Our children would attend schools just around the corner and would intimately know my family. I could achieve my former goal of being a high school drama teacher (which was practically guaranteed by the personnel director) while Steph could continue working in special education.

My vision was so clouded by this dream that I walked right into the brick wall of reality.

The truth is that the risks were just too great. If Steph ever leaves his position as a teacher here, he can never reclaim it. Sabbaticals are possible but it would be June before he got any approval for it, meaning he'd have to apply for a job in the States before he knew he could even take it. Even then we'd have only a year to make it work there before we'd have nothing at all. Although we're glad we did do the research as it may come in handy one day, we realized that now is not the right time.

I had a difficult time letting all this go, when everything in this dream was centered around this house. My father's house: the house he knew he'd buy the moment he walked in the door and declared, from a chair in the sun room, "I'm home." The house he longed for for ten years of apartment living with no land, cramped living quarters and half his possessions in storage. My father's house.

My father.

And with that, I realized that letting this dream go, letting this house go, meant letting go of my father. For moments that stretched into hours and then years, the idea was unbearable.

Truth be told, I'm still coming to terms with all this, which I suppose is normal, since he's only been gone for a month. I do have moments of clarity and peace, however, when I realize that that house wasn't my dream, and it never was; it was his. Slowly, my vision is refocusing on me and my dreams. With a little bit of time, I think my vision will be clear again.

wake me up in 2007

Last night was a restless night thanks to Snorey McSnore actually invading my dreams, forcing my retreat to the guest bed. I'm feeling a bit more like myself today, except for some aches and pains and the shock of being back in France (ooh, cloudy skies that go on forever! ack, French lady runs me over in the veggie isle of the grocery!). Tuesday is absolutely the best day to go grocery shopping here, if you can help it (I feel an informative post about grocery shopping welling up) so I took advantage of having the car in my possession and hottailed it to Troyes to the big shopping center.

Meanwhile, I feel like someone has picked up my house and shaken it. The only thing to do is attack one corner at a time, while finding new crevices to stuff in all the things I brought back in my overweight suitcases. This afternoon I attacked the kitchen area and at least the dishes are clean and I can see the table.

Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching and I have declined two invitations from dear friends here. I suddenly find myself extremely uncomfortable in groups of people and feel more at ease being around one or two friends at a time. The idea of talking about what I've been through the last month in real time is unbearable.

Speaking of unbearable, I don't know how I'm going to get through Christmas this year. Not only was it my mother's favorite holiday, it was the only time we had Dad here with us in France. The whole reason we invited him was so he would have a new place to celebrate without any associations of Mom attached. Now I need a new place. I swear if I had the money I'd send myself on a Christmas cruise. Do they even have those? It may even be worth the dysentery and other communicable diseases found on those floating petri dishes. What I'd really like to do is skip the whole thing and start over in January. Anybody know a doctor who can put me in a voluntary coma?

home

I'm home. All the flight stuff went just fine, and I only had to wait about twenty minutes for Steph to arrive at the airport to fetch me and my overweight luggage. Yesterday was Armistice Day, or Veterans Day, as the U.S. now calls it, and since it was a public holiday, all the groceries were closed, meaning it was another weekend of eating out. Since we packed up Dad's kitchen at the beginning, I've been eating out nearly a week straight. I can't wait to go to the grocery tomorrow and buy some real food.

Excuse me for whining a little, but I'm in quite a lot of pain from all the packing and dragging boxes and luggage and now unpacking. I'm torn between the need to rest my body and the need to put away all this crap I brought home with me. I'd gotten about half of it sorted before my back and legs simply refused to do any more. I've popped a couple of Tylenol PM and I'm going to sort it out in the morning, I suppose.

Some new photos have been posted to my flickr feed and the previously mentioned soul searching monster post is still forthcoming. For now I've got to sort out my mind, as well, and try to figure out if I dreamt the last month or not.

magic

Yesterday morning, I stepped outside to clear my head, and I saw

• a groundhog, who lives in a clump of trees in the neighbor's yard, scrounging for food
• no less than six squirrels, bounding across the grass
• a chipmunk scurrying from one bush to another
• a bird in a tree not ten feet from me, singing his heart out

and I felt like I'd stepped into an episode of Wild Kingdom. The world is a magical place, if you take the time to look.

I am utterly exhausted, but I have one more full day of work ahead of me. I have had an enormous amount of help, and I can't imagine how I could have done this alone. Tomorrow I'll get on a plane and start the difficult process of letting this all sink in. I'll talk to you all again, from the other side of the ocean, a.k.a. home.

busy bee

I have a monster post in me, but not the time to write it. It may have to wait until I get on the plane and don't have lists and lists of things to do, but I do intend to write it.

I have enlisted the help of my dear cousin Judy to help me get this house in order. Yesterday we "staged" (yes, someone has been watching too much HGTV) the den and it looks outstanding. This morning I'm running errands (shipping boxes, WalMart run, maybe a much-needed haircut) and then it will be back to the house for more. This work is heart-wrenching but necessary, and it may need time and distance before I can really process it.

The house is going to be on the market tomorrow (anybody wanna buy a house?) and then I have a couple of extra days to get everything in order before I go home. The plan is that if the house sells before January, I'll come back during the closing and help put everything in storage, and if it doesn't sell before January (when the Estate comes out of probate), I'll be back then to manage an Estate sale and clear out the house. So long story short, this ain't over, even when I get on that plane.

Right, I guess I'd better get to it then.

one week

Everything finally hit me Thursday night, and I crashed as if running headlong into a brick wall. I'd been doing pretty well up until that point. My new current status is "not ok." But don't worry faithful readers, I will be again.

Plans have changed, and I'll be going home next weekend. I have a week to pack up the house, in case it is sold before we can have an estate sale in January. I'll be back either when the house sells or when the estate comes out of probate in January, whichever comes first. When I get home next week, I'll have piles of work to do as well.

What I really need is a week of nothing, so I can just shut down, and I don't know when I'm going to get it.

halloween fun

One of the good things about having Steph here with me at this time of year has been showing him all the fun that happens around Halloween. On Friday we drove down to Greenville, SC, to attend a Halloween party with some friends from my old dining-out group. We threw on some silly costumes and enjoyed some delicious Halloween-themed treats and beer from local breweries. Steph got to talk shop, as most of the attendees were fellow teachers (it really seems that the majority of my friends and family are teachers!). On Saturday, our hosts Sarah and Roy graciously drove us around Greenville and guided us through the new Reedy River Park, which was being renovated when I left and is now complete. The park and the suspension bridge are absolutely stunning. Then we drove by the new ballpark, which is also downtown, which is a gorgeous old-fashioned brick facility, with bricks taken from the very mills which once dominated the site. If you're ever in the area, I highly recommend a stop at the Park, where you can see a gorgeous natural waterfall right in the middle of downtown.

On Monday, Steph carved his first jack o'lantern, which came out quite good, if I do say so myself. We also picked up a few bags of candy for trick-or-treaters, but not ever having spent time in this neighborhood, I had no idea if any kids would show up. We had a grand total of six kids last night, so now we've got a ginormous bowl of chocolates and tootsie roll pops tempting me everytime I walk through the living room. Those may have to go away before I put them out of their misery.

Meanwhile, small progress is being made in the house. Having Steph here has been extremely helpful, as having an "outside" eye helps me be realistic about what to do with some things. Hopefully we'll make good progress before he leaves on Friday. After he leaves, I may have to take refuge at my Grandmother's at night, as being here alone simply creeps me out.

In any case, photos are being dutifully taken, but you'll have to wait until I get home to download them all, which looks like it's going to be closer to Thanksgiving.

reunited

...and it feels so good. :)

Up early to go back to Asheville but I'm so happy I can show Steph how gorgeous the mountains are during the Fall peak season!

a letter

Dear Daddy,

I remember back in August, back when we had some hope of the medicine prolonging your life as long as possible, you said, "I may make it to 70," and you were so full of hope and so emotional that you were choking back tears. Today is your 66th birthday and, just like Mom, you died within two weeks of your birthday. You know how much I love birthdays - not just mine, but anybody's - and how people should be surrounded by friends and family and live like a queen or king for the day. I have so many great memories of your birthdays - waiting in anticipation for you to open your gifts, your mugging for Mom's ever present camera, the big meal or cake we would all share together.

Today would be extremely difficult to get through if it weren't for the fact that, even now, Steph is in a plane over the Atlantic Ocean on his way to me. It wasn't planned that he would arrive on your birthday; in fact, I only realized it a couple of days ago. Tonight we'll raise glasses in your honor and lament the fact that you're not here to see it.

I love you always,
V.

paris on the run

I'm running a little late to meet my sister and cousin for running up to Asheville today, but as I was drinking my morning coffee and blog reading I saw my favorite Frog with a Blog's amazing video post about his route to work and I knew I had to share it.

If you've ever wondered what the morning commute on foot in Paris looks like, check this out and tell him Vivi sent you!

a nice break

On Friday afternoon I popped into my old office. I had just missed their annual barbecue and everyone was busy cleaning up the place, but I knew there would be little "real" work done so I got to spend an hour or so hanging out with my old cohorts and catching up.

For dinner, my homegirl Dana and her hubby and I hit our favorite Mexican place for cheese dip and Grown-Up Slushies. Brian is (among other things) a professional bass violinist and was in the middle of rehearsals for a concert Saturday night. When I asked what they were performing, Dana and Brian looked at each other, and Brian gulped before he said, "Mozart's Requiem." Little did they know that I love the Requiem and I often listened to it as study background music and don't associate it with death and destruction at all. Once we got that out of the way, Dana and I made a plan for the next day.

So Saturday we drove around downtown, which has been beautifully restored since I left, and then we saw Marie Antoinette, which we both enjoyed very much, and then I finally found a papermaking kit, so I've got something to really look forward to when I get home, and then we got all gussied up and went to the theater to hear the Requiem and Mozart's Mass in C Major, both of which were extraordinary.

Sunday morning I got up early and went to my old church, where I got to take my old place in the choir and sing with all my friends. Afterwards I joined them in the fellowship hall for lunch and then I came back to Dana's house to load up the truck and head home.

This weekend was exactly what I needed to clear my head and give me some time think about something other than going through Dad's things and working with my sister on the estate and what on earth we're going to do about this house. Today I'm going through the boxes I had stored in Dana's attic - it's surprising to find things that I thought were so important to keep two years ago that I now find myself throwing out or giving away because they're either impractical to keep or just useless junk - and then I'll be diving back into the inventory of the house. Only two more days until Steph is here so I've got a lot of work to do that will definitely keep me busy in the meantime. Many many thanks to Dana and Brian for their gracious hospitality and the opportunity to take a break from all of this!

alone

Monday, we buried Mom and Dad together, according to their wishes, in the National Cemetery. Then we celebrated Dad's life in a memorial service, including a beautiful speech written by my uncle. Afterwards, we welcomed friends and family into my father's house and enjoyed some delicious local barbecue (Dad would have loved that) and sat around telling stories about him for the rest of the day. The scary thing is that even among my closest friends and family, I have never felt so alone in my life. I can't begin to express my grief as I said goodbye to my parents. Sudden flashbacks of random memories send me reeling and I don't know how to regain my footing.

By yesterday, the last of the out-of-town family had left, my sister, who is acting as the executor of Dad's estate, was exhausted from running from one county office to another and went home to finally sleep in her own bed, and I had the whole house to myself. I confess that I don't have a lot of emotional attachment to the house beyond the grief of knowing all the plans Dad had for it and how much he looked forward to pottering around his own land again, but last night was the first time I found myself really alone for over two weeks. I did my best to not think about anything at all, and pretty much succeeded, thanks to a marathon of Project Runway and a couple of nighttime sleeping tablets.

Today I started the heart wrenching project of inventorying Dad's possessions. I must not have been thinking very clearly when I decided to start in his bedroom, but every room has things inside that have things that are going to jump out and bite me. Maybe I got the worst over with first. There is just so much work to do that I don't even know when I'll be able to go home.

I have two really lovely things to look forward to right now. Tomorrow I'm going away for the weekend to my old stomping grounds. Even better, Steph will be here next Wednesday, to spend his Fall school break with me. Maybe when he gets here, I'll finally allow myself to fall apart for a day or two.

Thanks again to all of you for your lovely condolences and wishes in my comments box. I may not be posting very much these days but your comments do brighten my day when I sit down to relax in front of the computer.

it's over

Last night I thought, wouldn't it be just like Dad to die on Friday the thirteenth? And don't you know, that's exactly what he did.

Daddy went to be with Mom this afternoon, and while we are devastated, we are also so thankful and relieved that his suffering is finally over.

Funeral arrangements will be made in the morning and friends are welcome to contact me or my husband (I'll email him the info when I get back) for information. If you'd like to make a donation to the American Cancer Society in his name, please drop me an email and I'll be happy to give it to you.

Thank you all for your kind comments and wishes.

not much to say

I arrived much too late last night to see Dad, especially after a quick grocery and fast food pit stop (well, my plane landed after visiting hours anyway). This morning my grandmother and aunt and I visited several nursing homes, as he needs will be much too great for us to bring him back home, but after talking to the doctor this afternoon, it seems they may not even release him from the hospital. As for Dad... he's in and out of lucidity, but he seems to be comfortable and he's not in any pain. That's all I can ask for.

Please forgive me for not updating very often over the next days and weeks. Maybe someday I will be able to be more eloquent and more detailed about these events, but right now I can't. I just can't.

worst possible news

I have been planning my post about the wedding we went to on Saturday since Sunday morning, but an apparent flare-up of the gastro kept me pretty far away from the computer yesterday. Then, the worst possible news, but I can't really say I wasn't surprised to hear - Dad has been admitted to the hospital and best current guesses are a matter of weeks. I haven't been back to sleep since - though to be honest, that's more due to Steph's snoring loud enough to keep me awake in the next room. Anyway, I'll be calling the airline to try to change my flight to leave as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I'm sure Doc will have a write-up about the wedding tonight or tomorrow. I'll post more news as I get it.

Update: Ticket's done, I'll be home tomorrow.

Update #2: I've posted some wedding pics to my flickr feed.

Also, Clare, a fellow crafty person in France (and all-around lovely person, I might add) is on a mission to collect as many quilting blocks as she can, in order to make as many quilts as possible to donate to children fighting leukemia. She has already received some blocks and has more coming from all over the world! If you're a quilter or a sewer, please check out her site here.

Thank you all for your supportive and encouraging comments. It's very comforting to know that I have such an enormous support network behind me. :)

Right, back to packing.

vivi gets social

When we left my in-laws' on Saturday, my mother-in-law popped her head out the window (as she is wont to do) and invited me to come back for lunch on Wednesday, and then go together to see C and the baby in the clinique again. It sounded like as good an excuse to come to Troyes as any, plus something of a challenge - I've never visited my in-laws by myself before.

So even though we haven't talked since (which is highly unusual for Steph's mother - she gets all in a panic if she doesn't talk to her children every few days), I dutifully headed to Troyes at the appointed hour, and when I rang their apartment, my mother-in-law didn't recognise my voice. This is mostly because she figured since we hadn't talked since Saturday that I wasn't coming, so she wasn't expecting me. Heh.

But my in-laws certainly have grace under fire and happily ushered me in and welcomed me to eat with them. I had a good French workout, describing the events of the beginning of the week to Maman Uté. I love telling her stories, as she always can be counted on for lots of fun exclamations like "C'est pas vrai!" (It can't be true!) and plenty of "Oh la la!"s tossed in for good measure.

Then we went to see C and baby Candyce at the clinque. Both of them are doing so well that they are expected to go home today, and C was so excited that all of her stuff was already packed! I'm so happy for them, and that everything worked out fine - C had such a bad birth experience under emergency conditions and she didn't even get to call anyone before they wheeled her into surgery! The funny thing is that now C keeps asking when Candyce will have a little cousin to play with. All I can say is, we're trying! We're trying!

Then it was off to do the shopping. I'm trying a new method this week. I decided to take advantage of going to the grande surface shopping center to try to make a week's worth of shopping, so I took my carefully prepared list. One full shopping cart and a much lighter bank account later, I got home just in time to throw everything in the fridge and head off to pick up Steph.

All this running around left me utterly exhausted. I slept like a baby last night and I still feel like I could sleep another five hours! Thank goodness I don't have to run around like that everyday; I don't think I could manage it!

stranger than fiction

The events of yesterday were so bizarre that I hardly know how to make any sense of them, but I'm going to give it my best shot.

Everything started with the passing of my mother's mother, Grandma Mary, Sunday night/very early Monday morning. This is really considered a blessing by all, as the poor old thing was ninety years old and had been suffering from dementia for years and had been living in a nursing home for the last five years or so, and by her own admission has been ready to go for just as long.

But the way I received this information was a bit freaky, to turn a phrase.

The phone rang at 8:00 in the morning, and the quickest way to get me out of bed is hearing Steph speak English on the phone so early, knowing that anyone we should be receiving calls from in the English-speaking world is most likely calling in the middle of the night. It was my sister, calling not only to inform me about Grandma Mary's passing, but how she got the news.

The nursing home called Dad, as he's the first point of contact, and apparently when he answered the phone, he said something like "Hold on a second," and never came back to the phone. After trying to call several more times only to receive a busy signal, they called my sister, who is the second point of contact. Now, Dad has been going through another downturn, having spent the last few days not being able to eat and falling down a lot and his mother has been staying with him. So my sister calls me because she doesn't know what to do as she's taken a sleeping pill (it's now 2:00 in the morning her time) and can't drive half an hour to check on Dad. We're imagining the worse - maybe he got up to get his mother and fell down or worse. Clearly we need to see what's going on, so she called a cousin who lives around the corner but got no answer. Then she called the hospice nurse line, and they suggested she call the police. So the police head over there, greeted by a much confused Grandma and where they find that Dad had simply rolled over and gone back to sleep.

And I was so relieved that I burst out laughing when my sister told me.

Dad spent most of the day yesterday getting glucose mainlined into his system and, last I heard, undergoing more tests. This whole thing has been such a roller coaster ride that I can't even muster up the energy to be upset anymore. One week it seems he's going to live forever and the next it seems he may go at any moment. I'm just waiting for my people on the East Coast to wake up and tell me what happened next.

Today, for whatever reason, I'm feeling especially lonely. Normally I function quite well on my own; I've got plenty to keep me busy with my bookbinding and housework and messing about online. However, today I'm feeling keenly the absence of someone just to hang out with, when my closest friends live over an hour away and money is too tight to jump on a train. We're going to a wedding this weekend and I'm really looking forward to it, just being around people (even if I don't understand everything!).

welcome to the world, baby girl!

welcome to the world, baby girl!
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

I stitched until 11pm last night and my eyes were crossed and my back was screaming, and did everything except the date. This morning, my fingers were so cramped they rebelled when I picked up the needle, but I plowed on. Then I ran to the store to buy a frame, and by the time I ironed it out (and still couldn't get those creases out - but what do I expect from super-thick Aida cloth?), placed it in the frame and wrapped it up, it was time to go!

Yesterday, Steph said it would be ok if I didn't finish it right away since the baby is three weeks early, after all, but I have to admit that I liked the challenge of finishing it on time, and I'm not sorry I pushed myself to finish.

So we did get to spend a little time with C and baby Candyce, who is super tiny and sleeps in an incubator, but happily the nurses have allowed C to keep the incubator in her room. Other than the fact that she's super tiny, she's in perfect health and both C and the baby should be able to go home at the end of next week.

je suis encore tante!**

I was just sitting down to do my French reading (with notebook, verb dictionary and English-French dictionary close at hand) when I received a call from my mother-in-law. My youngest sister-in-law gave birth to her first child last night, a little girl! It was an emergency c-section and she's three weeks early and under 3 kilos (I think she said 2.6 kilos which is 5.72 pounds) but it seems both Maman and baby are doing fine.

Of course this also means that I've got to put everything else aside and get cracking on the cross stitch I've been working on for her. I'm only halfway through and I'd love to give it to her when we see her this weekend! If I can knock it out today, I'll add a picture here when I'm done.

**Check out the comments to find out why "je suis encore une tante" is not proper French!

a connundrum

Three co-workers are attending the same three week conference in the next département, and they agree to carpool. Because they live in different areas of their own département, they have only the highway, which goes directly to their conference, in common. A lives ten minutes away from the highway, B lives twenty minutes away from the highway, and C lives forty minutes away from the highway.

How should they divide the driving time?

1. They should share only the driving they have in common - the highway.

2. They should divide the driving according to their distance - in other words, A would drive more because he is closer, and C would drive the least.


No, I'm not making up this scenario, but I would really like to know what you think, so I'm not giving any clues as to where we fit in this story. Please leave your opinions in the comments box, and happy Friday!

mmm lunch!

mmm lunch!
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

Here's what I whipped up for lunch today:

One sachet of couscous pasta, boiled in chicken broth
One chicken breast, baked and finely diced
A handful of cherry tomatoes, seeded
Half a cucumber, seeded
Juice of half a lemon
Dash of olive oil

Mix it all together and yum! And then, almost as an afterthought, I diced up some black olives and threw them in, too. Very tasty! I think next time I'll increase the tasty factor and sauté the chicken with some garlic and herbs. (Thanks go to an aussie lass who gave me the idea when I was her guest a couple of weeks ago!)

In other news, I bought my plane ticket for Thanksgiving! The fare was HALF the fare of this summer. That's some racket the airlines have going, isn't it? I can't wait to hang out with Dad, but I just wish Steph could come, too.

o happy day!

We had the best possible news yesterday: Dad's cancer has not grown at all since the beginning of his treatment, and yet another alternative method of treatment has begun, hopefully with fewer side effects, which were getting a bit out of hand before. I was told that he was so encouraged by the good news that when he got home, he had part of a sandwich and asked my sister to bring back an ice cream! I'm super relieved and I'll be going ahead with plans to visit again for Thanksgiving.

Yesterday's shopping trip to the "big city" was a complete success. The difference between going on a Tuesday and going on a Wednesday, which is traditionally not a school day in France, is enormous. I went to McDonald's and was surprised to find only a handful of diners and no line at the register (though I paid for it the rest of the day - changing my eating habits for the better has made even the rare fast food pilgramage a guarantee for an upset stomach). Shopping at the big grocery store was actually a pleasure - without hundreds of buggies clogging up the isles, I was able to wonder up and down isles at a leisurely pace. I even spent a lot of time at the craft store, picking out new decopage paper and a whole lot of time picking out different material for my journal covers without feeling like I was in the way. Enjoyable shopping days like this are few and far between so I think I'll be savoring this one for quite a while!

cautiously optimistic

Dad ended up doing some more tests yesterday, and it seems he's got another doctor's appointment today. "Cautiously optimistic" is definitely the code word for today. The worst part of being so far away is having to wait all day for something to happen. The six hour time difference is a killer, and I'm always going to bed with little to no news and waking up to frantically check my email for updates.

In other news, Steph has begun another three week stint in his specialization course. This will happen all through the school year, with three weeks with his students and three weeks acting like a student with other teachers. He's carpooling with two other teachers in the area, so that means today I have the car and can go shopping in the big city! Hooray! I'm going to go to the big grocery store and do a "big shopping" and swing by the crafty store and pick up some more supplies for making journals. Steph suggested that I make some journals for his nieces and nephew for Christmas, so I've got to get that done before I head back to the States.

I also received a very exciting email this morning from a friend from high school that I haven't seen or talked to in about ten years. *waves vigorously in the direction of Maine* That makes a grand total of two - yes, TWO! - friends from high school I'm in contact with! Of course, we three are the ones that got the hell out of Dodge as soon as humanly possible, but since my folks moved away from our old hometown about ten years ago, I haven't had much reason to go back and see what everyone else is up to. Anyway, I'm really looking forward to catching up with her! D and I once challenged each other that whoever got their Oscar first would have to take the other out for lunch - O how times have changed!

distractions

I had a pretty rough night last night. Dad is not doing well at all, in fact he's basically back to where he started, thanks to the side effects of his medicine becoming to intolerable to bear. He has a doctor's appointment this afternoon to determine if there's anything else to be done. I won't have news until this evening and I've been on pins and needles ever since, fearing that I'll have to go home sooner than expected. I tossed and turned for many hours last night, finally taking something to help me sleep. I managed to amble downstairs to see Steph off this morning but fell back into bed to sleep in a little, which is a luxury I rarely afford myself. Today I'll be doing whatever I can to distract myself from bad thoughts, including attempting to hook the new computer up. Which reminds me, I never told you what really happened with the computer, did I?

Remember back a few weeks when we were having so much trouble with the new computer? It keep restarting itself, and poor Steph was beside himself trying to make it work. It was very late one night when he came to bed with the air of a six year old that's broken his mother's favorite china - he had just blown the computer up. It turns out that, in reaching around to the back of the tower, he had accidentally flipped the voltage switch from 220 volts to 110, and the next thing he knew there was a "lightning bolt" in the tower and it died. On the outside, I did everything I could to comfort Steph, telling him that we'd take it to the computer shop, while on the inside I was thinking, "Oh my god, that's SIX HUNDRED EUROS down the drain...."

So we did take it to the computer shop, where we were resigned to salvage whatever we could, maybe replacing components from my old computer with whatever could be saved. The computer tech we talked to wasn't very encouraging, telling us that everything could well be destroyed.

A couple of days later, when Steph called the shop after receiving a message from them, he greeted the tech with, "So, is it dead?" With the speakerphone on, I heard the response, "We were able to resusitate it!" and I couldn't help but cry out, "Hallelujah! It's a miracle!"

Turns out that the power supply was the culprit, causing the computer to reboot itself over and over. When Steph flipped the voltage switch, he managed to kill the one component that was broken in the first place, and we'd have had to replace the power supply whether he'd blown it out or not.

Sometimes we catch a lucky break.

domesticity and daydreaming

tomatoes
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

I found an interesting tarte recipe the other day, so I made my first attempt to roast some tomatoes. They looked so pretty in the afternoon sunlight before going in the oven that I couldn't resist a picture. Unfortunately, something went horribly wrong and both Steph and I were sick after eating the tarte. I don't know if it was the tomatoes or the sauteed onions, but I don't think I'll be trying that one again anytime soon. I have something like a 90% success rate with new recipes and the majority of meals in my everyday rotation come from recipes found online, so this one setback certainly won't deter me from trying others.

Otherwise, nothing much going on. I don't know if I'm still recovering from the weekend, but I've been uttery exhausted all week. After a mad cleaning session downstairs yesterday, I spent the afternoon in a haze (which can be dangerous when weilding sharp utensils for chopping up veggies), but I did manage to prep some materials for yet another bookbinding. I'm hoping that I'll improve my bookbinding with good old repetition. Each book seems to be a bit better than the last, so maybe there's something in that old adage "If you don't succeed, try, try again."

On Wednesday, we went to pick up the computer (that's a whole other post) and on the way back we talked about my dream of one day making my bookbinding into a real business. Steph was under the impression that I just wanted to make a few and sell them on Ebay or something, but no, I have visions of making this into a legitimate business. The biggest obstacle is going to be dealing with a workspace; the French government is pretty strict about home businesses and it may be that I'll have to rent space for a workshop. Obviously that's a long, long way off but the idea of having my own business and my own workshop to go to everyday absolutely appeals to me, though heaven knows how we'll afford it. For now it's the daydream that keeps me going. Hopefully we'll be able to spare a few euros next month for buying some tools for making paper, which is step two in my plan for taking over the wor-- um, making lovely journals.

to market, to market

to market, to market
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

I bought this stereotypical French shopping basket last winter at the weekly market in our town. It's so much nicer than carting around a huge plastic shopping bag for making grocery runs on foot, and is the perfect size for picking up enough food for two or three meals between my big grocery shopping trips with the car.

In France, it's becoming less and less common for grocery stores to offer any kind of bags for packing up your groceries at the check-out (I can only think of one chain that still offers plastic bags!), but all offer recycled/reusable plastic bags in various sizes for usually around one euro. Some folks just pack their groceries back in their shopping cart and either throw everything in their cars or pack them up in bags just before putting them in their cars. I can only guess that they do this so they don't take too much time bagging their groceries and holding up the line at the check-out (remember: there are no bag boys in France!).

After two years of struggling at the check-out, I've got my own system down, which involves opening up my two big plastic bags just after all my groceries are loaded onto the conveyor belt and throwing them into the open bags as soon as they've been scanned by the clerk (who is comfortably sitting down, by the way. As a former check-out girl, I wish they'd offer this option for clerks in the States!). Nine times out of ten, I'm all caught up by the time the clerk is telling me the total and asking for my carte de fidélité.

If you're wondering what type of greens are popping out of my basket, you might be surprised to know (if you live in France, anyway) that they are celery stalks! Celery stalks are pretty rare in France (on more than one occassion, a check-out clerk has asked me what they are!) as celery root - which tastes exactly the same! - is much more popular. Whenever I find celery stalks (which is called céleri branchée in French), I'll buy it and make some chicken salad or tuna fish sandwiches or lentil chicken stew or chicken stir fry (chicken is pretty much a staple in this house!). My only complaint is that it is rarely crisp or fresh. It's quite bendy, actually. At least it still tastes the same when it's all chopped up!

weekend of action!

bowling in paris
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

This weekend was so action packed that I'm actually still recovering! It was chock full of laughter thanks to two special friends. It included lunch at our favorite Chinese place, two ridiculously fun frames of bowling in a small alley before the Saturday afternoon rush, gazing at dragons at the Museum of Natural History, a brief visit with the newly arrived Miss Bliss, and a Sunday in the country hunting for mushrooms and enjoying the hilarious stories and delicious cuisine of our gracious Antipodean hostess.

The only dark spot in this whole crazy weekend was racing back to Paris to catch my train home, which I missed, thanks to everyone in Paris also returning from a gorgeous weekend in the countryside. Even that bad spot was quickly glossed over when I was informed that I could simply take the next train, which was boarding half an hour after I arrived. I got home a bit later than expected but it all turned out alright in the end.

But all that partying certainly does come with a price: after going to bed last night at the ridiculously early hour of 9:00 and sleeping through the night, I'm still exhausted! But I suppose that's par for the course, since I don' t get to visit my homies in the City of Light very often, and we try to cram as much as possible in only two days. It was worth every moment! Thanks to everyone for making my visit a success!

There are plenty of photos from this weekend on my flickr feed; just click the photo to see them!

five years

In 1997, I visited some friends who lived in Manhattan. One friend worked in a hotel near the World Trade Center, and when we bought tickets to see a Broadway show, it was at a kiosk inside. We arrived by the metro and we walked through the mall underneath the twin towers.

Before five years ago, this was just a footnote in an otherwise typical touristy week in New York - the Museum of Natural History, MoMA, Broadway, cool restaurants, stifling summer heat in Central Park, drag show in Chelsea (okay, maybe that last bit isn't so typical) - but now seem kind of precious. I've been there and now it's gone, along with 2,996 innocent victims who were going about their hectic daily lives when tragedy struck.

Five years later, we live in a world where passenger airplanes are potential weapons and everyone is afraid of their own shadows. Today I'll not only be thinking of those innocent victims, but also of our way of life that seems to be irrevocably changed.

More about my weekend in Paris tomorrow.

party time, excellent

I'm running away to the big city (of light) for the weekend. I have to confess that I nearly cancelled because it seems Dad's not doing very well, but sitting home staring at the phone (or, more realistically, my inbox) isn't doing much for my stress levels, so I think a weekend with the girls may be a nice break from stressing out all the time. Plus I'll be home on Sunday in time for me regular weekly phone call. It's frustrating that I have to talk myself into going away for a weekend. Well, my sister will have the phone numbers of my gracious host, so with that kind of safety net, maybe I can put my mind at ease for a couple of days.

The weather has finally cooled off considerably so I'm really looking forward to getting out in this delicious fall weather. Have a good weekend, everyone!

country livin'

Do you know what's worse than being stuck behind a tractor on a national road going 20 mph?

I'd say it's being stuck behind a tractor-trailer filled with pigs for 20 kilometers.

Ugh.

Since we hadn't heard anything from the Mairie about my new carte de sejour (and why would we? They didn't take our phone number), we stopped by after the doctor's appointment this morning. Steph thought it was odd that we didn't have to pay for a new stamp (which is actually a tax represented by a stamp), so we double checked with the clerk who took my info before and she double checked her records and sure enough, it didn't say anything about a stamp or a tax. I was concerned because the last two times we applied for the carte I was given a large blue card with all my info on it which served as proof that I was in the process of requesting a new one. Since the old one expired on Saturday, I was worried about not having anything to prove I was allowed to be here, but Steph assured me that as long as the paperwork has been turned in, I was alright. Since we've always done our paperwork directly at the Préfecture before, I have no idea how long it will take to get the new card. Patience still isn't my middle name so I'm just trying to go with the flow and not panic about not having it.

Meanwhile, it looks like we're stuck with this heatwave for a couple more days. I'm going to go plant myself in front of the fan for the rest of the afternoon. Hope everyone is staying cool!

can't shut up about my uterus

If you don't want to read about gory stuff, please indulge in your geeky side and check this out.

So, this is my second month on a drug called Duphaston, which is a synthetic hormone, which is supposed to help dissolve my freakishly large ovarian cysts, and if they don't I'll have to have surgery and stay a couple of days in the hospital to have them removed.

Okay, everyone caught up? Cool.

So, I didn't mention it at the time, but the first month went with no problems at all. When the end of my second cycle came, my period was acting all funny, and I dared to hope I might be carrying a passenger (which is the real reason we started all these doctor's visits and sonograms, etc.). That hope was dashed to the ground last night when (how can I say this delicately?) um... the dam broke and um..... things you don't often find is these particular floodwaters were swept out to sea (how's that for taking a metaphor way too far?). Happily the water receded (geez, make me stop!) and the terrible cramps stopped (I can only keep it up for so long!) long enough to get some sleep.

The excellent news is that I already had a doctor's appointment scheduled for this morning. I was relieved to learn that it wasn't a miscarriage, but it does seem that the dosage of Duphaston is too high, so he's decreasing it by half for my next three cycles. Since the dosage is changing, I'll have to push back my sonogram, which I was meant to do in September, until the end of October or the beginning of November.

The interesting thing is that the new dosage is the one usually given to women who are trying to conceive. The kind of crappy thing is by pushing back the next sonogram, the possibility of surgery gets pushed to later in the year, and I was hoping to have it done before I go back to spend a month with Dad at the end of November. Well, there's no sense stressing about it, it only makes everything worse (like I don't have enough to stress about!), and the fact that the pain in my tummy has significantly decreased since I started taking this medicine gives me hope that surgery won't be necessary at all.

So, there's my uterus update. Aren't you glad you (didn't) ask?

still awake

And I'm not even tired. My neck is still killing me, however. The muscles that are pulled will never recover until I get a couple of full nights' sleep, which I haven't had since I woke up in pain a couple of days ago. Hopefully tonight will be my lucky night (for sleeping, how sad is that?).

I've completed another trial run on bookbinding, but I didn't use any colorful paper for the covers so there's no sense in posting it. The bindings are finally getting tighter but I'm still getting a gap between the first and second signatures. I do feel like I'm making progress, and that's all I can ask for. Steph is so interested in this project that he's stealing it to use in his classroom. One of these days we'll be able to sit down together so I can show him the ropes.

I've put off going to the Mairie because walking in 97% humidity is not my cup of tea. It feels like we've landed back in North Carolina somehow, or brought the weather back with us. Again. I swear bad weather follows me around like a shadow. Go away heat, I want my autumn back!

dear insomnia,

Please fuck off and die.



Love,

Vivi


Update 10:45am
I somehow managed to fall asleep after 4:30, after hours of listening to Steph snore, making up the guest bed, reading thirty pages of an old book, plugging the fan back in, surfing online and lots of tossing and turning in between. I still got up with Steph at 7:30 and now I feel fine. What the hell is up with that? I guess I'll probably crash this afternoon but if I can stay awake, maybe I'll actually sleep tonight.

Speaking of plugging the fan back in, the heat is back. After a half-hour's journey to the grocery store I feel like I just got out of a swimming pool. I hope this doesn't last more than a couple of days. I've got to go back to the Mairie this afternoon because I never got any kind of a receipt when I dropped off my documents for my next carte de sejour and my last one expired on Saturday. Not that I feel I'm in any danger of being kicked out of the country, but it's nice to have something on paper, you know?

book #2

book #2
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

I've just finished my second attempt at bookbinding. It's certainly a vast improvement over the first one, but the binding process still needs some work. Click on the picture to check out some more (and better taken) photos.

After a discussion with my financial advisor (read: thrifty hubby), the paper making is going to have to wait a bit. In the meantime, I'm going to keep massacring computer paper and embroidery thread until I get this right. Actually, since my back is still making me want to weep in pain, I may give up for the remainder of the weekend and lounge on the couch for a while.

happy happy

Steph wandered back to work yesterday, where he caught up with his colleagues and set his schedule for this school year. Since he's continuing with his specialization certification, he'll be doing the three weeks in school/three weeks out of town thing for most of the school year, so he also met his teaching partner, who will command his classes while he's out of town. The funny thing is that the only students who come to school on Monday are the 6ème level (these are the students leaving école primaire and this is their first year at collège) and they are scheduled to have two students in 6ème this year. One of these are from the enormous family of former gypsies who live two villages over and barely tolerate school only drop out on their 16th birthdays, so he expects to have only one student on Monday. Three teachers for one student, all day long. At least he's easing back into the school year.

Since it's back to school, that also means there are two important anniversaries happening. Thursday marked my two year anniversary of landing in France and today marks the two year anniversary of Dispatches From France. The really funny (that's funny-odd, not funny-haha) thing is that here I am, two years in France, my French still sucks, I still don't have a job, I've lost my mother and my father is dying, and I'm the happiest I can recall being since I've moved here, because I can finally see myself doing something that I enjoy and can make a living from. I must really need to have my head examined. (Obviously I'm not jumping over the moon about my father's illness, but this project goes a long way in helping take my mind off something I can do little about that is happening on another continent.)

I celebrated the anniversary of this blog by waking up in excruciating pain at the very unwelcome hour of 7:45am. It seems everytime the weather changes (or I leave the window open overnight) I wake up with the area around one of the vertebrae in my upper back swollen, which sends out pain from my neck to my shoulder blades. Unfortunately, I don't have any muscle relaxers on hand, so I'll just have to make Steph rub some icy-hot concoction onto it (which helps for about ten minutes) and wait two or three days for the swelling to go down. I know this pain is temporary but I'd do just about anything for a Valium right about now!

my new project

my first attempt at bookbinding
Originally uploaded by vivi en france.

Gosh, that's a cute little book, isn't it? I have to admit that I'm rather partial to it, since I MADE IT! *cheesy grin*

So this is the new crafty project I alluded to in my last post. I kind of stumbled into a craft forum the other day about making journals, and suddenly I was inundated with all kinds of ideas about designs, so much so that I could hardly sleep that night! Ever since, I've been gathering materials and cutting and pasting and stitching.

Although it may look impressive in the photograph, the fact is that my first attempt is pretty crap. The book is way too loose and I had a helluva time stitching on the back cover. I really hope that with practice this is going to get easier. Also, I just used regular computer paper, so the signatures (that's bookbinding speak for each section of paper inside) are really thin and hard to stitch. I also want to learn how to do little eyelets for the covers, because I nearly pulled the thread through one of the holes on the back cover.

I'm really hoping that the old saying "Practice makes perfect" holds true for me, as I'm going to try to make another one (albeit a little smaller this time, as I'm really just concentrating on the binding part right now) over the next couple of days. Next project is to learn how to make my own paper to put inside my books! Meanwhile, you can click on the photo to go see the other pictures of the book in my flickr feed. Any helpful hints are very much most welcome!

i'm too excited to sleep!

Well, after four days of frustration, we're finally being sensible and packing off the new computer to our trusty computer doctor in Troyes. The old computer has been reconnected, which is totally fine as there's nothing wrong with it; we've just happened to outgrow it.

Last night inspiration struck, and it struck hard. As you may know, I've been struggling to think of something that I can combine my love of crafting and, to be blunt, making a buck. I think I've finally got it, but it's going to take quite a bit of time to gather materials and learn a few new tricks to get this thing going. I will certainly reveal all when the time is right, but for now I can tell you that I'm researching how to make paper, the best tools for doing a coptic stitch, and as many different techniques of medieval embroidery as I can get my hands on. Last night I was so excited about this new project that I couldn't settle down to get to sleep, and even now, just writing about it has my heart racing and I can't wait to get started. I haven't been this excited about anything in a really long time!


PS: If you're wondering, the title of this post has special meaning for me and my homie Dana and anyone else who remembers a certain commerical for Walt Disney World.

frustration central

When we were in the States, we purchased a new computer (just the tower, not a new monitor, keyboard or mouse). Not only was it less expensive because of the currency exchange, but we happened to be there right before school started, so North Carolina was having its Sales Tax Free weekend. So we have this new computer with a ginormous hard drive (19Gb!) with a spectacular graphic card (my online games never looked better!) which seemed to work just fine when hooked up to Dad's connection but don't you know, once we got home, it's been nothing but trouble.

First we had trouble getting it connected at all, which took no less than twenty-four hours to figure out. Then Steph struggled with the partitioning (tangent: partitioning is such a polarizing issue - you either love it or hate it - but Steph is a big supporter of partitioning and he has his games and documents seperate from Windows, theoretically saving them if Windows craps out). Once we got that done, we realized we'd been gyped out of a sound card - why did we not notice while we were still in the States that the sound card is integrated? Happily we can exchange it with the sound card from the old computer. Finally, I started downloading all my little programs and Firefox extentions and installing both MMORPG games and downloading the critical updates for them... and then the computer started restarting itself. Nothing terrible, only every three hours or so (very heavy sarcasm).

After it restarted again this morning and started once again filechecking one of the partitions, Steph realized that something in the partitioning must have gone wrong, so we did yet another system restore and I'm once again at square one (though, I should add, without partitions this time). If we can get through the whole day without a restart, then we may be able to contemplate changing the sound card and other time-intensive things for setting this thing up. As Steph keeps reminding me, one thing at a time.

Unfortunately, patience was never my strong suit, so I'm going downstairs to bang some pots and pans together before I take my frustrations out on this keyboard!

Update: Computer rebooted. Grrrrrrrrr.... Steph is experimenting on a solution, we'll see what happens...

reason #523 why I prefer living in the countryside

When going to the Mairie to obtain information on renewing my carte de sejour (which is the documentation required that says I have the right to live in France, for those not in the know), we

* immediately speak to the clerk, because there is no one waiting in line

* confirm that it is not necessary to go to the Prefecture in Troyes (where there is certainly a line and not very nice clerks)

* get the correct information on what we'll need in the blink of an eye

* receive an offer from the clerk to photocopy our necessary documents for us

* are in and out of the office in less than ten minutes

Why would anyone want to live in a big city?

the boob tube

Lord knows we had plenty to keep us occupied during our three weeks in the States. There was unpacking, hanging up blinds, odd jobs around the house, and of course, filing, which is what kept me busy most of the time. Not only was Mom a meticulous record keeper, but a newspaper-clipper extraordinaire. There were clippings of comics, clippings about computers and the internet, clippings about managing credit; there were even files with my and my sister's names on with clippings inside that Mom had clipped especially for us. In any case, a whole truckload of unnecessary papers were carted down to the recycling plant and there's still a few boxes lying around that are ready to go.

I'm sure I would have gotten so much more done during that three weeks if it weren't for one major distraction, calling to me from the living room, glowing in all its English-speaking glory: the television.

It all started the very morning after we arrived. Awake before dawn thanks to jet lag, I made my way to the couch and fumbled with the all-in-one remote. I flipped past the infomercials and landed on my dear old friend, who always kept me company, singing away in the background, VH1. I flipped back and forth between that and MTV (did you know they actually play videos first thing in the morning?), until I'd seen all ten videos in current rotation (indeed I think I saw only the same ten videos the whole time I was there). After that, I visited all my old friends; Discovery, History, A&E, Bravo, CBS Sunday Morning... it was like old home week! I was glued to the boob tube, and before long, Steph was taking my place whenever I did get the wherewithal to get up and do something. His poison? Old Westerns, old episodes of MacGuyver, The A Team, old World War II movies... all the things he grew up with (and he's only a year older than me!).

But soon, I knew I had taken my addiction to far. On more than one occasion, much to my shame, Dad would call for me and I'd think, "Why can't he wait for a commercial?" FOR SHAME! Eventually, I managed to withstand her shiny charms and get back to work.

Even so, it was with much disappointment on Wednesday afternoon when I flipped on the tv here and was greeted with jarring French blaring out of the set. I stared at it for a full five minutes before I realized where I was and why I was getting a headache. I promptly popped a DVD in to relax my brain; I may have been a bit premature when I said that my culture shock upon returning to France was minimal.

home again, home again

After twenty-three hours of waiting and traveling and traveling and waiting, we made it back home, where we were so excited to be that we promptly fell on the bed and slept for four hours. I couldn't sleep for love or money on the six hour flight over the atlantic, and either couldn't risk it (on the express RER from the airport to Gare du Nord) or wanted to desperately and couldn't (thanks to the three children under the age of seven and their useless mother on our packed TER train from Paris to Troyes). After a pit stop at the in-laws' to say hello to Papa, Maman Ute drove us the rest of the way home. If you've read any entries at all that I've written about her, you can already guess that we come home to a sparkling clean apartment. God bless that wonderful woman.

The weather has changed so much that I almost don't know how to act. With highs in the low 70s and the nights quite cool, for the first time in at least two months I actually slept under the covers last night. All the shutters are open to let the sunlight in, and Steph even had to throw a pullover on this morning, though my idea of heaven is being just warm enough to not need one. It's funny to me just how easily we've fallen back into our everyday routines and the only time I felt any kind of culture shock at coming home was when we arrived at the airport and I noticed how gray and dingy Charles de Gaulle airport is, and even Steph remarked that coming back to Paris can be something of a let-down when you've just left the pristine cleanliness of America's public spaces.

While we were home, we enjoyed some of the ragu sauce my aunt had made while she was visiting Dad, which prompted Dad to print out for us his own ragu recipe (no no, ragu is not just a sauce in a can). It calls for something like three pounds of meat, which is right up Steph's alley. Although I wasn't too keen when Steph suggested we make it today, it turns out that it was a perfect way to spend our first day home, since the actual work only takes about half an hour and I spent the rest of the afternoon lazing out on the couch, interrupted every fifteen minutes to stir the sauce. It does require a rather lengthy shopping list, including a lot of time at the meat counter, but you do nearly just throw everything in a pot and let it go for about three hours. We ended up replacing merguez for Italian sausage, because even though I'm closer to Italy than ever before, it's impossible to find here in the farmland of France. We had a small portion of it for dinner tonight, and the rest will be frozen for future consumption.

Traditionally, the first dinner from a new pot of Italian sauce was an event in my family, with piles of garlic bread and all the spaghetti you could eat, and maybe even a sip of wine when my sister and I were kids if my parents were partaking. Even in December, when Dad helped me make my first pot ever, we had a few friends over to share it with us. Tonight it was just the two of us, and I don't know if I'm pleased about that or not; something this delicious is certainly meant to be shared. Though it's going to be awhile before we get around to making a fresh new pot, I am resolved that the next pot will be celebrated with friends or family so if you like a good red sauce, watch this space and look out for an invitation in about six months!

preparing for re-entry

The new computer is packed into a suitcase, my grandmother's crystal is wrapped and packed into a carry on, and all that remains are the clothes we'll wear tomorrow and the toiletries on the bathroom counter. Dad has been tucked in, Steph is watching The Dirty Dozen, and here I am, wondering how three weeks could have passed so quickly.

We had a great time last night, with friends and cousins packed into the hot and steamy back porch (hi Lisa!), munching on Steph's shish kabobs and the best damn homemade hamburgers ever, and I couldn't help but take a pause and give thanks for my amazing family. As much as I'd like to stay here, I know Dad's going to be in good hands. I don't know how I'm going to get through the next three months until I can come back again; I can only hope they fly by as quicky as these three weeks have.

In any case, I'll have plenty to keep me busy. Steph and I have worked out a new plan for improving my French, and I've been inspired to try to learn a new skill to continue my quest in working from home, which will truly be an asset in the near future as I attempt to spend as much time with Dad as possible. We should be home sometime Tuesday, after a flight to Philly, a flight to Paris, a train to Troyes and a car ride to our village. If we don't fall directly into a travel coma I'll update as soon as I can. See you all on the other side!

one step forward, two steps back

This has been a frustrating week. Last weekend, Dad started suffering from a peculiar side effect of the chemo pill he took every evening: his right eye was burning and ulcers started forming around his eye. On Monday, the doctor took him off the pill and asked us to give him a progress report in a week's time. Meanwhile, Dad has been backsliding all week and all the progress he's made in the last three weeks are being sucked down the drain. Hopefully he'll start back on the medicine on Monday at a half-dose and we'll see some progress again.

We leave on Monday and it's killing me to have to leave. I'm terrified that if no one is here to harangue him, he will neglect eating and keeping himself hydrated. The good news is that he has a monitor in his bedroom that measures his weight and blood pressure and he has to do it every day; if the measurements are out of whack or he doesn't do it at all, someone will call him, so at least he will have some kind of contact every day. Plus, he will have home visits from a nurse two to three times a week. As the nurse was leaving the other day, she asked me if I work. I said no and prepared to go into my speil about how hard it's been to find work over there but she shocked me when she said, "Good, don't get one, it will be good to be flexible over the next few months." Good god.

Today we're having a few friends and family over for a cookout. Luckily, Dad seems to have gotten plenty of sleep last night (which is fantastic considering he didn't sleep the two nights previously) and I think he's looking forward to it. Steph is already busy chopping up food for shish kabobs and I've got to go start tidying the place up a bit. I think it's going to be a good day.

speaking of home...

After my father retired in October, he didn't quite know what he wanted to do. He tossed around ideas like going back to Florida and even buying property in France, but he ultimately bought a house in the town where he was born and where his mother lives.

The house, only five minutes away from Grandma's "farm" and down the street from the hospital, is a lovely 1965 ranch style home that sits on a good sized piece of land. He bought it "as is" with the goal of doing the few necessary renovations himself, not to mention having his own yard to tend to - something he's been missing after ten years of apartment living.

Of course, even when he moved in a few months ago, he was too sick to even contemplate doing any of these things, and while he is gaining strength back at an impressive speed, he has needed a lot of help just to make the house liveable. Before we arrived, his cousin replaced the toilets, and as soon as we arrived we went straight to work. Steph took out the sliding glass doors in Dad's shower and we've made some adjustments there to make bathing a safer and easier experience, and I've been trying to clean out the office. My mother (who died last year) was a meticulous record keeper; so much so that I've been wading through over thirty years of records that my father just doesn't have space for. The pack rat in me cringes to toss out papers that are interesting but have no value, but if anyone wants to know what an income tax form from 1969 looks like, don't be afraid to ask.

Yet another project is unpacking a few boxes of knick-knacks that were sitting in the empty formal living room. Some of them belonged to my mother's mother, who is barely still with us, suffering from severe dementia in a nursing home. Some of them are souvenirs from Dad's travels around the world. Since Dad is wanting a less-cluttered life, my sister and I are in the process of splitting up these family mementos. I've been handling all this surprisingly well, until I came across a batch of photographs of my parents and I around the time of the imminent arrival of my sister. I sometimes forget what a handsome couple my parents made and to see my mother young and beautiful again shocked me into tears. This reminds me of another project that's going to have to wait until my next visit: I plan to take all of the loose photographs, some of which are a hundred years old, and scan them for posterity. So much to do in so little time.

Meanwhile, Dad seems to be getting steadily stronger. We had a small setback with some funky side affects of one of the treatments, so he's taking a break for a week and will likely start again with a smaller dose. Even so, Dad is maintaining his positive attitude and even said that he's looking forward to my next visit (which will most likely be for the holidays if we don't have any surprises) when he can get out and do more stuff with me and my sister. To see him fighting and trying to improve makes me the most proud of him I've ever been in my life.

home sweet home

My father bought a house a few months ago in the town where he was born. He still has quite a lot of family here; his mother and her two sisters (cancer survivors, all) and countless cousins, and then the people who remember Dad from when he was a kid.

On Monday, I took Dad to get a much-needed haircut. We went to a barber shop that is only twenty years old, but the barber has been cutting hair for decades and is now assisted by his son, who must be in his forties himself. Unfortunately, the son seems to be attempting to keep his lost youth through a spectacularly bad haircut, bringing to mind Rod Stewart circa 1979. Eventually, the inevitable conversation began:

"Are you from around here?" asked Rod Stewart, peering down his nose through his eyeglasses.

Dad smiled. "Yes, my family's from Ellis Crossroads, my mother used to play with your father."

The older barber took a closer look at Dad. "I thought you looked familiar! You're Army's boy!" I couldn't help smiling at the mention of my grandfather's nickname. "And this is your daughter?" he asked, waving a comb in my direction. "Did she get a chance to know her grandfather?" I didn't know if he was alluding to family history (my grandfather left my grandmother and started a second family) or was genuinely curious, since he did once cut my grandfather's hair, but since I did go to the same college as my grandfather and have become accustomed to fielding questions about him in this town, I simply smiled and replied, "Yes sir, I knew him very well."

Dad picked up the thread again. "Well, I've just moved back, I've been gone for about forty years."

"Well, where ya been?" asked Rod Stewart as he worked around Dad's head with an electric razor and a comb.

"Been all over the place. Up north, down in Texas, Florida... but no matter where I was, this was always home."

Home is such a funny word.

After Dad retired in October, he struggled for a good while about where he wanted to retire to. He had great friends and family in Florida, he had the town where he spent many a summer at his grandmother's house, and he even toyed with the idea of buying a little place in France to be near me, at least part time. Eventually he chose to move back to the town where he was born, to be close and to help his mother, who turned 86 last week.

Now his mother comes over almost every day to make sure he gets enough to eat and bathes him if he doesn't feel strong enough to do it himself. Believe me, the irony is not lost.

Meanwhile, Dad is slowly getting his strength back. When we arrived, Dad couldn't even sit up in bed without assistance, and now he doesn't even need help to get out of chairs and can move around much better. Steph gave him a shave and he looks as close to his old self as I've seen yet. Our goal is to get him as self-sufficent as possible, because the stronger he is, the longer we'll have him with us. The most difficult thing is that it is impossible to know when he'll peak; it could be months and it could be a year from now. I can't predict the future, and I'm not sure I'd want to, but we are celebrating every little victory. Instead of lying around weeping all over the place, we are encouraging Dad to fight. As long as we treat him like an invalid, he's going to be one. There's some fight in his eyes. I'm hoping it will be there for good while yet.

reality bites

It has taken a couple of days of settling in to gather my thoughts. It occurs to me how amazing it is that we have the capacity to accept enormous changes in such a small amount of time. After only two days, the fact that my father spends most of his time in bed and needs help with the simplest tasks already seems normal.

Dad has lost a lot of weight but fortunately had some to spare. Even so, he only resembles the solid man I saw even four months ago. Thanks to the cancer in his liver, his stomach has been backed up with fluid, making it nearly impossible to eat. This week he started a chemo medication in pill form which we hope will target his liver and decrease the amount of liquid, so he can eat and gain a little strength back. We are under no illusions, however, and understand that the medicine can only help prolong the inevitable, but if it helps him to gain some strength and enjoy the time he has left, whether it be a couple of years or less, it will have been certainly worth it.

For the most part, everyone is in good spirits. There is still plenty of laughter, and I think as long as we're able to crack a joke now and then, I think we're all going to be able to get through this.

I'm still getting over jet lag in addition to playing Nurse Ratched, so I'll have more in the next couple of days or so.