Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The President's coming

Not the soon to be lame duck, the other one, the French one. He's coming to Laval this evening. How do I know? By keeping myself well-informed? Yeah, right. Reading the newspaper? Nope, can't find a good one. Watching the news? Nope, my television is dead. Seriously. So broken it's officially dead. I'm thrilled. The boys are beyond despondent. News on the internet? Nope, I use my computer time for much more frivolous things.

I know because mon quartier est bouclé. My neighborhood is nearly sealed off and it's overrun with stern looking CRS guys.

Don't ask me what he's doing here, I have no idea (see above paragraph).

I'll tell you tomorrow if I hear about it in a café. That's my real method of staying informed.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008


There have been suggestions - recommendations that I need to cultivate some of that.

Like rising up out of the pit was before it, it's on my list of things to do.

These days, however, I'm cooking. Pastry cream for chocolate eclairs and mischief meringues and lemon buttermilk sorbet and chocolate sorbet and peaches with balsamic vinegar for rare duck breast.

La temperance will follow, washed down with champagne.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Seriously, don't people have better things to do?

So, I'm in Nantes. Briefly. For 24 hours. Mostly to drop Boy1 off at his grandparents' house. And also to buy a few things at Ikea for the redone kitchen (a bar stool, a basket and a thing I have no name for), for my bed (a surmatelas, whatever that is because it's firm which I love but it's still lacking give, which I don't), and for the office (a wheeled multi-drawer thing to put the printer on and a chair cushion because the chair is this weird weave thing that hurts the back of my thighs if I'm not dressed. Yes, gasp, I occasionally blog in my panties. Go ahead, friends and family, try to get that image out of your head.) And a mirror for the bathroom. And a small table for the phone in the dining room to replace the wrought iron thing I've been using that really belongs outside with plants on it. And that's it. I didn't get anything that wasn't on my list. And as everyone knows, that's a big deal at Ikea.

But what I don't get is why half of France was at the Nantes Ikea this afternoon. It's summer. It wasn't raining. It was a nice, sunny day, if slightly chilly for August. There was no sale, there was no reason. And yet, it was packed. It was a nightmare. Everyone with their yellow bags and their pushycart things. Except for me. I had a blue Ikea bag that I bought (60 cents) the last time I went to Ikea. WHICH SOMEONE STOLE FROM ME TODAY. Can you imagine? Can you imagine shopping at Ikea, picking out furniture or a new kitchen or whatever and actually being lame enough to steal a 60 cent bag?

I assure you, I'm not upset about the bag. I was over it as soon as I realized it had been stolen. Because really, I have a lot of big bags and the Ikea one is actually too big and I just put the mirror and the cushion in the basket and all the other stuff came in those flat boxes (some assembly required). So they actually did me a favor, getting rid of that useless bag for me.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

L'état de l'attente

Waiting. The waiting state. As opposed to the desperate longing state. Maybe a bridge to a state of grace. We'll see.

I can't do yoga. I haven't really been able to do yoga for 2 weeks. I did something to my left wrist, funked it up a little, ignored it and did yoga anyway for a week. Bad idea. It moved beyond funky into not really utilisable. Which sucks because yoga's become something I love doing. So I'm forced to wait.

Oddly, or interestingly, enough, that's not the only thing I'm forced to wait for these days.

If I were a highly evolved person, I'd see the wisdom in all this waiting. I'd see the gift of clarity in all this limbo. Like Julie, I'd see that events and timing and plans are much more gracefully laid out when I'm not operating under the illusion that I'm the one eventing and timing and planning what will be my new world. I'd see that having to wait makes you take responsibility for what you get. That it makes sure you've got your eyes wide open so you see what you get when you get it. So you don't wake up in the middle of it and wonder where it came from.

How do you wait?

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

The plot thickens. Or thins. Or something like that.

Remember Mary Kleyweg? Remember all the posts I've written about her?

Well. Here's another.

Dear Witness Protection Management People,

Are you aware that Mary's apparently alive and back in Seattle and part of a writer's group? (That's just so Mary, isn't it?) Did you make sure all the bad guys were locked up or whatever before you let her resume her real identity?

Or is this all just an elaborate test to see if people are still interested?

Oh dear, I'm not being very discreet about all of this, am I?

Google her name and see for yourselves.

See? This is what happens to people who don't finish their therapy. They blog indiscreetly about things.

Yours truly,


Hey Mary, if you ever google your own name and stumble upon this - I hope you're well. You were cool. I'm sure you still are. The next ladybug/rainbow/four leaf clover I see will be for you.

Monday, August 04, 2008

On getting what you ask for

A few months ago during a hard week on a very hard day, I asked for some flowers. I was walking down the street and I asked, out loud, for some flowers. I wasn't talking to anyone, although to passers-by I must have looked like I was talking to myself. Anyway, I asked not for a little johnny-jump-up (although I love those) or a tea rose or cornflower on my path along my day. I asked for a huge on purpose bouquet of flowers, kind of like I might have asked for a rainbow from time to time. A huge bouquet of flowers out of nowhere to let me know that I would make it through that hard day during that hard week.

The day wore on, no deliveries to my door, no florists phoning me up to get directions to my house. At 10:30 that night, I checked my email. And I had one email with an attached file. It was a beautiful painting of a vase full of ranunculuses (ranunculi?) from a very unexpected source. I got my huge bouquet of flowers.

Last week, on an odd day during a very odd week, I asked for something else. A good luck something else. I was walking to lunch and I asked for a good luck something or other. A 4 leaf clover or a ladybug or unicorn or something like that. I haven't found a 4 leaf clover in over a decade and I never see ladybugs here. People who don't live in the city center tell me they have them but I haven't ever seen a ladybug in Laval. Of course, that evening, in my bathroom on the linen bag that I keep girl stuff in, I saw a ladybug. We chatted for a minute and then I brought her outside to the rosebush covered with aphids.