Joan Jett

Finally broke down and got my hair cut - it had been 6 months since my last hair cut (which took place on my last visit to Texas).  I don't know why it took so long, usually I'm a regular hair cut kind of girl.  

Made an appointment at the English speaking haircut place, with the lady that was recommended to me as really good.  

She was fine, and I thought for sure she understood what I was talking about.

I guess I forgot to mention that I did not like or want to look like Joan Jett when I walked out of there.  

My mistake.

Conversation with a 7 yr old

My wonderful niece recently visited me in France. We were walking down the street one day in Paris and had the following conversation:

Picture this cute little blonde kid holding my hand and bouncing all over the sidewalk.
me "ok, we're looking for a crepe stand, can you see one, help me look, we gotta find one"
Picture her bouncing all over the side walk talking about everything she sees, but not looking for crepes.
me "ok, remember, crepe stand, work with me here, we're looking for a crepe stand before we can do anything else, focus on finding a crepe stand"
her "what does focus mean"
me "it's when you're trying to find one thing and you don't let other things distract you until you find that one thing, like we're doing with the crepe stand"
her "oh, i understand, (bounce bounce) hey look at that over there at that (not a crepe stand)"

Why this happy feeling?

It's a beautiful time of year here.  Warmer than normal, no clouds, no rain, really beautiful. I rode my bike to work and through Cannes yesterday...and didn't feel like it was enough.  Heck, I even went out to the area of my yard that should be beautiful flowerbeds and cleared it out, pulling weeds and all...I may even plant FLOWERS (like the purple and pink ones, not the yellow dandelions that usually grow on their own...I don't think I can pass those off as intentional flowers anymore)...

Anyway.  I realized that I have been really content lately.  Sure, probably has a lot to do with the sunshine and warm weather - turns out I really hate being cold.  

So I started thinking about it this morning, am I really that solar powered?  Am I really just happier when I can wear capris and a t-shirt, when the sun is shining and there's no rain?  

Then I realized another factor that simply HAS to play a part in my state of contentness (is that a word?)

I have not had contact with one single French person in the last week.  

IT'S BEEN A GREAT WEEK!

Postal vs Le Poste

Going Postal - when a disgruntled American employee (or generally, x-exployee) returns to their place of work very angry and takes it out on the people there.

Going Le Poste - when a disgruntled "etranger" finally reaches their breaking point with French bureaucracy, driving, odd rules, constantly being reminded of odd rules by French person who is in the process of breaking another odd rule, or French customer service in general and snaps in the middle of the Le Poste, supermarché, middle of the village centre, rue, or in the country of France in general and resembles a raving, arm flailing, screaming, lunatic.


(and i am proud to say, with all my angst, i have not yet reached the "Going Le Poste" point yet...)

3 Truisms

1. If you can't get it at Target, you don't really need it.
2. Most everything can be organized/resolved using an excel spreadsheet.
3. Those magnifying mirrors in hotel bathrooms, in combination with the way-too-bright light, are pure evil.

Shark bait

I went to the dog kennel today to pick up my little girly.  The owner and I were talking a little about all the dogs and such.  We started talking about the dog in the kennel closest to where we were standing...a really cute little sheltie mix maybe.  The owner told me she was rescued from being shark bait.

What?  What do you mean?

Apparently a friend of the owners rescues these dogs.  Local fisherman will take a small to medium sized dog, put a hook in it's mouth like it's a fish, cut a gash of skin off it's back, big enough so it's bleeding really good, then throw it in the salty Mediterranean sea.  While the poor little thing kicks and squirms out of pain and fear - it's dragged along by a rope behind the boat to lure shark.

Holy fuck.

I didn't believe she was really talking about a dog when she told me this story.

This upset my whole afternoon.  How could anyone be so cruel.  

Brilliant idea mister

**Warning to all the French men out there**

If you ever happen to feel the need to get out of your vehicle to go to the drivers side window of a woman's car to talk to her (oh, say, to try to explain your completely irrational driving abilities and why you insist she be the one that back up 1/2 a mile instead of you backing up 100 feet on this narrow 1 lane 2-way traffic road)

Take the hint, if said woman decides to not talk to you through her driver's side window it is not a good idea to try to open said woman's driver side door to speak with her.

Picture mother cougar behavior as she trys to protect her child (not that i had a child with me but my reaction could have easily compared)

French women/people may happily accept a complete stranger opening their car door to get closer to her, but American women don't put up with that shit.

Government...

I've been watching DVDs of the TV show 24 lately.
In the one I watched yesterday Jack's daughter is telling a friend "don't worry, my dad works for the government, he'll save us"

Got me to thinking...doesn't it sound much better to say "my dad works for the government" vs "my dad is a government employee"

Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh, better yet, "my dad's a government agent"

That's it, from now on when someone asks me what my dad does I'm saying he's a government agent.  

Sure, he's a painter, paints courtrooms and offices in the county buildings, but whatever technically he does work for the government, by some means he's a "government agent" - right?