Now hear this

I think it's been too long since I wrote something. But I also think that I don't have anything comprehensible to say. I've started to get a bit sick (again, again!) and have extremely blood-shot eyes despite getting more then enough sleep. I woke up this morning feeling like I'd been punched in the stomach and feeling like the only thing I wanted was to drink tea and mope around all day. (Sometimes I get this complex where I don't want to chew my food...not that I don't want to eat but that I'm too lazy to chew. It's completely nutty I know and doesn't happen that often but when it does I'm usually in some weird in between sort of mood. Read: confusion, fear, frustration. Psycho-analyze that!) I'm not sure if I mentioned before that I want to stay. In Paris, that is. It's a recent decision that I've come to and like most things that I want I want it pretty bad. I always have an amazing time in Paris, I've got lovely friends there, and it feels entirely possible. Rather, it felt possible. I practically had a place lined up to live in for the summer, had found several promising job opportunities, and well just a million other things felt right about it. I was ready to begin again. As I'm sure you remember it took me much longer then anticipated to get used to and feel comfortable with being here. And, well, I never did feel this way in St. Brieuc, but I do feel this way in France. But, not being a European Union citizen I am unable to stay. As of May 31st Mother France is officially pushing me out of the nest. It's tough love in France and you're only welcome as long as your visa stays current. This leaves me with 2 choices: find a husband or go home. Brilliant. Suggestions, ideas, and the phone numbers of single (French) men are welcome.

Epic

So I let you down. I promised stories and then didn't deliver and now I'm leaving town. It's Paris time again, lovers. Please accept my deepest apologies. I still feel like my feet haven't hit the ground yet and have been trying to recover & return to some form of normalcy since vacation. Here's a quickie to tide you over until then...the weekend before I left for Holland I was in Paris and staying with my sweet friend Annabella. I arrived in Paris Friday night and we went out for dinner at a very swank Pershing Hall (love love love this place) with her friends. Champagne was offered and didn't stop for the rest of the night. While having apero we were joined by 2 contestants from France's Next Top Model, wowza I felt like a country bumpkin and couldn't stop staring. We finally had dinner at midnight, left for the clubs at 2, club hopped for several hours, meeting new and fantastic friends, given a ride home sometime around 7. (I learned the next day that we were given a ride home by the owner of the last club we were in.) Needless to say the transition from St. Brieuc to Bright lights, Big city was abrupt...and I loved every minute of it.

It's a long way down to the bottom

Yesterday I walked in the Alps, played in the snow, and had Swiss fondue...today I carted my suitcase through the rain and was followed by a construction worker on a bicycle shouting, "Were you on vacation? Were you on vacation? You're very pretty!" ...Hello St. Brieuc. You're a sobering slap in the face. Back to reality, I guess. (Vacation was great, more stories to come, but first dinner.)

Sometimes I don't know which one to wear

...but I'm sure I'll wear them all at some point during these next 2 weeks. It's vacation time again; did I fail to mention that I've got another one? Lucky me because February happens to be my least favorite month of the entire year, does anyone else feel the same way? To me it's that odd time of year, the transition between winter and second winter (at least that's what it was like where I grew up in Wisconsin and Minnesota). You're stuck between winter and spring and wanting one or the other but certainly not February. February you are the year's biggest disappointment. I suppose that must be why Mother France has bestowed upon me yet another 2 weeks with which to frolic from country to country. This week's adventure being Paris and then Holland (Utrecht, Rotterdam, Amsterdam) followed by Switzerland (Geneva and Zurich, I believe). So, with that I must bid you adieu. See you in March, lovers.

I didn't have anything to say except this

We are kitchen goddesses, me and these girls I know. We're a team, we make beautiful little cakes and pretty petit fours. Today we (Barbs, C-town, me) made macarons after a somewhat prolonged absence in the kitchen. Having been humbled by a particularly wonky batch of violette macarons we all returned to the kitchen with our A-game and were successful in realizing the glory of fleur d'oranger macarons. (Ooh are they beauties...apricot colored shells and cream ganache filling.) The ganache filling being somewhat of an improvisation on a traditional butter cream frosting which we changed through the addition of crème fraîche, orange zest, & orange flower water. Joy! Also, this Friday is officially the beginning of vacation which means it's finally time to get the hell out of Dodge. But looking down at my hands on the keyboard I notice my chipped burgundy nail polish (time for a fresh coat of paint eh girls?) and a reminder note about my tutoring session tomorrow night. Damn. I'm still here. This week isn't over, yet. (Hope you are well dear readers and friends, I still think about you sometimes. Do you think about me?)

Paris saves

Hello lovers, sorry for the absence. The trip to Paris? It was grand. In all honesty it felt like couples therapy for me and France. We needed a little weekend getaway, some time to reflect on why we fell in love, what made the other special and unique. And let me say, the proverbial flame has officially been rekindled. There was some small bit of excitement and energy in everything and everywhere that I went: shopping, a new hair cut, dinning out (le marais), dancing (CAB, a great club by the Louvre), a museum (the Rodin, one of my all time favorites), a film (Sweeney Todd, meh, it was ok). I couldn't help but feel lighter, more free. (Something about this city makes me walk differently.) It felt inevitable, it felt like I was meant to be there, meant to live and love and exist in this city. And, at the risk of sounding like a complete skhizo, it made me want to stay. I've finally come to terms with being here, with the fact that this is my life now. I live in France, Paris is only a train ride away, and home, when I miss it, is only a phone call away.

Park that car, dream about me

Ok so I'm not 17 but I've got my make up on, I talk trash under my breath, and I ain't coming back. (Till Monday...)