Up in the air

I survived the weekend. Burned and tired - of stirring, chopping, spreading, packaging.

And then I had a dream.

I was sitting in a field, nothing in sight but hills in the distance. And I was trying to put a beautiful pink rose back together. I had all the petals in my lap and I attempted to carefully arrange them back into a rose.

I finally gave up. I threw the petals up in the air and let the wind deal with them. Some stayed right with me, landing back in my outstretched hands or at my feet, and others were carried off to the hills.

I love pink roses more than any others.

What's your favorite color rose?

It's that time of year again

The time of year when I can't say no.

There will be a Christmas market at the boys' school next Thursday and Friday.

Which means I'll be spending the entire weekend in the kitchen.

By Sunday evening, the candy thermometer and I will be best friends and I'll have two or three sugar burns on my hands and there will be 20 jars of salted butter caramel and 80 sachets of caramels, toffee, truffles and whatever else I can come up with.

You wish you had my social life, don't you?

Not being able to say no used to be a lot more fun than this.

It's really cold here

But I'm definitely not complaining. It just helps explain why these pictures I took of the lights they put up for my birthday Christmas are a little blurry. No gloves and freezing hands don't improve picture quality.

That said, you get the picture.

Pick a lane

It was beautiful here this weekend. Cold and sunny. I worked at the café, I cleaned and organized my house - some but not enough - is it ever? And I wrote. I've got this writing gig, just a couple of items a month. But it's a start. And I like it. I'll tell you more about when/if I start to feel a little bit more at home with the idea.

In other news, I had to buy a damn washing machine because my stupid old washing machine was the thing that made the electricity go out last week. Ends up that 10 years was all it could handle. I shouldn't complain, it lasted 10 years and never once broke down. And it washed endless loads of little boy clothes (read: very dirty) for 8 of those 10 years.

The good news is that I have a nice, new washing machine. The bad news is that I hadn't really included buying a washing machine in December's budget. What with Christmas and the trip to London.

The other good news is that if the washing machine had broken down before I bought the London tickets, I wouldn't have bought them. Which means I would've spent the week after Christmas at home alone staring at my new washing machine instead of seeing Beth in London. Which would not have been good. So we'll say that the timing of the whole washing machine thing was as it should be.

So which is your favorite lane? Right or left? Fast or slow?

When the boys are away...

I do not eat the same way.

Dinner tonight:

Half a camembert and pine nuts, roasted, on baby salad greens. A big glass of thick, dark red wine.

Dessert tonight:

Apples sautéed with salted butter, honey, and ginger.

Missing

I got:

Flowers from students.

Cakes from students.

A birthday lunch.

Flowers from friends.

It was a long, deep, exhale of a birthday, a week-long sigh. I've always been a sigher, but not the exasperated kind of sigher. They're usually contented sighs or peaceful sighs or contemplative sighs or I'm so sleepy sighs or I miss that sighs.

I miss certainty, even the illusionary kind.

What do you miss?

Lights on, lights off

It's actually my birthday week. Because one day just isn't enough.

I had a very small gathering at home on Saturday evening. Monday was the real birthday, but I mostly just worked. Tuesday was a beautifully timed acupuncture appointment and then coffee. Friday is a birthday lunch. And then, of course, lovely blog birthday wishes and messages on my answering machine and emails.

My birthday present to myself? A eurostar ticket to London for the week after Christmas. To spend a week with a friend I've had for nearly 20 years, since Wilmington.

The light thing?

Well, Laval is one of those cities with a major Christmas light thing. Saturday evening they turned the lights on with big music and fireworks.

I, of course, told the boys that they were really turning them on for my birthday.

Lights off, well, my very old house and its very old electrical system seem to not be getting along well tonight. The power keeps going off. I've unplugged and called the electrician and followed his instructions and currently have lights and hot water. I'm under strict instructions not to use the washing machine or the dryer or the dishwasher.

He must not know I have two boys.

December 1st is my birthday

How's that for a very subtle ploy to get attention?

I'm posting tonight because I won't have time tomorrow, classes all day and kids' stuff after that. I promised the boys we would bake a cake.

This will be the second hard birthday I've had in a row, for reasons too numerous to discuss. But I will say that none of them even have to do with how old I am. I've shelved that issue and will, perhaps, get to it some other year.

Know what I want for my birthday?

Rainbows and unicorns and lines in the sand that spell out a message that will make me smile until my next birthday.

Child logic:

Learn new rule, apply new rule everywhere.

Before I get started, I must tell you, I saw another rainbow yesterday. An early birthday gift.

So. We were at Laurent's café this weekend. Boy2 burped. A big, fat, loud burp. He did not close his mouth. He did not cover his mouth. He's five, I know, but still.

He was immediately told to keep his mouth closed during such activities and to put his hand in front of it.

He said, "Oh, just like when I cough."

Exactly. Just like when you cough.

He jumped to his feet. With the appropriate gestures to illustrate his point, he then said, "Then I guess I should put my hand behind my butt when I poot."

What do you say to that?

With my week, I will

1. remember that lost is not forgotten.

2. pester everyone about my birthday next Monday. Because, as much as my age might freak me out, I just love birthdays. Mine and boys' especially.

3. get organized. No, really.

4. remember the rainbow I saw on Friday afternoon whenever I get sad this week. It was really beautiful and whisper faint and so briefly there I was probably the only person who saw it.

What will you do?

We had chocolate fondue for dessert

So all must be right with the world. Tart clementine sections and crisp apples slices dipped in smooth, warm chocolate can only signal harmony. And yet.

I didn't really have dinner first, just a glass of wine with cheese and dried sausage slices and thyme-parmesan crackers (yes, homemade) while skyping with Meg, one of my beloved shadow sisters and a dear, sweet, beautiful friend. She's one of the many, many reasons I miss Seattle so much. (Lorraine. Audrey. Tanya. The mist. The views. The lakes. The coffee. The restaurants. The I'm home feeling.)

The boys did, have dinner, I mean - chicken and rice soup (yes, of course, also homemade).

Back to harmony.

This past week has been so difficult and so easy, so breath catchingly hard and so flowy smooth all at once that my only hope of survival was chocolate fondue.

For those of you out there who think I'm just freaking out about my approaching birthday (two weeks from today), think again.

And no, to those same people, it's not going to get a whole lot worse between now and then.

I'll eat chocolate fondue every night if I have to.

Another Paris weekend

Do I sound blasée? Because I'm totally not. I'm thrilled. I haven't left Laval since my last weekend in Paris which must have been in March. So it's well past time.

I will take the fast train and walk along busy streets. I will drink coffee and wine and maybe champagne. I might eat, depending on my mood. And I will see if St. Anthony doesn't think maybe a few of my lost things can be found this weekend away. That would be nice.

What will your weekend be made of?

What I believe

I believe most of the rainbows I see are signs.

I believe St. Anthony helps me find things.

I believe my 2008 will make beautiful sense to me one day.

I believe I must be where I'm supposed to be because here I am.

I believe the man who was supposed to win the election won the election.

What do you believe?

Republicans I love, I don't want to hear it.

Spoken but left unsaid

There are some truths that are more easily heard from a shadow sister in a dream. Or from a stranger over a glass of champagne in front of the fire at a chateau. Or from a ladybug meandering on the organza that covers the night table in the bedroom at the chateau.

Truths we want to believe, long to believe, even manage briefly to believe when we stop dragging around the past or reaching for the future.

Truths made of soft steel that warm you even as you feel their cold.

Truths, once heard, that change everything, forever. For good.

What's true for you?

Lay your hands on me

In the past 36 hours, I've seen an acupuncturist, an energy therapist, a massage therapist, and an osteopath.

Which is to say that I've been unblocked, re-energized, relaxed, and realigned.

Short term results: very tired.

Long term: too early to tell.

I did all of this, saw all those people, well, partially because I've been meaning to but never get around to it and the boys are away until tomorrow and I didn't have any classes yesterday or today so it was logistically possible. But really, it's because I was feeling stuck in the worst possible way and I figured if I could get the inside unstuck the outside might follow.

You know what I'm talking about.

As within, so without.

Lost piece and peace

France and I used to have a good relationship. I liked her, she liked me. We got along well. I realize now, of course, (isn't that always the way?) that our relationship worked so well because I had molded myself around her. Which, as any foreigner knows, you have to do - at least to a certain extent - otherwise, well, you know.

Problem is, I molded a little bit too much. So now I've got to unmold (hard work, by the way) and then renegotiate our relationship.

I'm not too concerned, she's more flexible than she appears, and, hopefully, so am I.

In the meantime, St. Anthony.

Signs and transitions

There's a street sign in France that's round and has a diagonal slash on it. In the upper half 1-15 is written and 15-31 in the lower half. And it tells you that you're on a street where parking is allowed on the left side for the first half of the month and on the right side for the second half. Cars are supposed to be switched to the appropriate side on the last day between 8 and 10 pm or something along those lines. I don't remember all the details. I took the written driver's license test here when I was pregnant with Boy1, who will be 8 in a few days.

Anyway, I have to drive on a street with that parking system every day on my way to work. Which is fine, it's a perfectly functional street. For 20 days out of the month. The other 10? Not so much.

It's that whole transition problem.

From the 15th to the 20th, there are cars parked on both sides of the street. As well as from the last day of the month until the 5th of the following month. Which would be perfectly acceptable if it were a street wide enough to accommodate parking on both sides, which it is not, which is why it sports that sign in the first place.

I'm not complaining, I weave that street 10 days a month, just like the rest of the people who drive on it. I'm just noticing.

We see signs but we don't always heed them. Because transitions require effort.

So we ignore for as long as we can and then we just do what needs to be done.

I've asked this before but I'll ask it again, how well do you transition?

The things I'll never know

1. Why I've come to feel like even more of a foreigner here this year than I ever have before.

2. How overtones become undertones. And the opposite.

3. Why violet ice cream tastes so amazing and lavender ice cream tastes like soap.

4. Why it's so hard to do things that are good for you and so easy to do things that are not.

What will you never know?

Please, no politics.

Dodge this

Or we could also call this random.

1. Two more rainbows followed last friday's. Which means that St. Anthony thinks I've lost several things.

2. I've voted and sent off my ballot. The overseas American population votes fairly predictably. Military populations usually vote Republican and expat populations usually vote Democrat. I think I read somewhere that expat ballots got 'lost' 4 years ago. Of course, the military ballots were safely delivered and counted 3 times.

3. I really am going to get back to regular blogging. Starting Monday. It's my almost mid-October resolution.

4. I mentioned to a friend what a friend mentioned to me - Jung said that whatever you've stuck in a box and haven't dealt with becomes problematic after 35. So I'm currently trying to imagine these boxes I've got as lovely Christmas presents and not the time bombs in pretty wrapping that they really are.

5. Esquiver. To dodge or avoid.

Chasing my tail

I've been absent lately. In so many ways. I'd say that my life feels like it is not my own, but that would sound like I was denying responsibility. Which I am not. I'm taking full responsibility - maybe that's why it doesn't feel like my own. I had no idea I was capable of creating such a huge mess.

And I keep waiting to turn a corner but the corner seems to be backing up as I get closer to it. That's weird.

I still haven't blogged about the award. Which I'm currently not feeling like I deserve. Which I will do this weekend, I swear. I mean blog about it, not deserve it.

In the meantime.

I was sitting here at the computer feeling junky and then I looked out the window and saw a huge perfect rainbow. Which made me smile because rainbows really don't belong to October and they certain don't belong to this moment.

Maybe St. Anthony thinks I've lost something. I'm sure he's right. Think he'll find it for me even if I don't know what it is I've lost?