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!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Monday, September 11, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, September 08, 2006
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!
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!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
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!
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?
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?
Monday, September 04, 2006
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!
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?
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?
Saturday, September 02, 2006
book #2
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.
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!
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!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
my new project
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!
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!
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
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...
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...
Monday, August 28, 2006
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?
* 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?
Friday, August 25, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
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!
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!
Monday, August 21, 2006
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!
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!
Saturday, August 19, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
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.
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.
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