Most awesome calendar ever

I saw this while browsing at Borders.

Lights!

I love Christmas. I do not love being far from my husband during my favorite time of the year. That being said, Paris is not a bad place to be (smile).

Creating a Tradition

in which I must take at least one funny photo of a charcuterie during each of my visits to France.
I personally thought the name Porcus was just hilarious.

Boring is good

Yes, nothing of any true import has happened to me. I think this is a good thing. I'd rather not be having a ton of problems. While they can be interesting, they are not necessarily fun to deal with and believe me, I've had my share of "fun" in Paris. Like the time I left my entire money belt (passport, traveler's checks, all my money, plane tickets) on my hotel bed, or that time the front desk guy locked me into the hotel and wouldn't let me leave. Ah, good times. Like I said, Paris has been a place of pretty severe problems for me (of course, the first one was totally my fault).

On Monday, I went to the Richelieu branch to check in rather than to Tolbiac/Francois-Mitterand. I wimped out. I chose the smaller, less imposing building. Basically, I found the "Service d'Orientation des Lecteurs" after the front guard sent me to Manuscrits Orientaux. Ummm, I know that what I said sounded nothing like Orientaux. There was a big truck driving by and I think he just heard the first two-three syllables. Walked in and didn't see anyone so I walked to the back. A lady told me to go back and talk to someone else and then I'd speak with her. (This is actually what I understood. My French really went down the tubes over the last 2 years--quelle surprise!-and I'm only understanding about 1/3 of the words people say to me. At least I usually understand the most important words. But, even when I do understand, I question myself so much I go back to ask and make sure I really understood correctly. I think when I left 2 years ago, I was understanding about 75-80%.) Went and wandered around some more and finally the entretien lady was at her desk. I sat down gave her my pre-inscription, which I'm so glad I did because it made this process a piece of cake, also handed over my attestation from Stefanie, my passport, and my carte d'étudiante. Went to the other lady to go get my picture taken, et voila! I have my card.

Yesterday, Tuesday, I went back to Richelieu to the Music building because they have some Mercure Galant issues I want to look at. I wish I had a)brought my camera and b)they allowed pictures. That Mercure Galant! So, it was a pretty important journal that was on everything that was happening at court, in Paris, etc. and continued through the revolution and on as the Mercure de France. Anywho, they would actually include little pieces of music in foldout sections. Small madrigaux and the like. Very interesting, but not of direct import to my diss. Also, they have these hilarious debates on such things as "If a person loves an ugly person, but thinks they are beautiful, is the ugly person really beautiful?" I got some good stuff, some poems teasing Quinault and the like (not necessarily useful, but still funny) as well as mentions of 2 of the three operas. But, they only had certain months for each year I was looking at, so I'll just absolutely have to go to the music library at the Opéra. You know, housed in the actual opera building. Sigh, twist my arm or something.

After that little bit of fun, I went to another department at Richelieu--Estampes et Photographies. I'm looking for drawings/images of the set design/costumes for Act IV of Phaeton. Well, they have a book that is a complete reproduction of all Jean Berain's costumes etc. So I waited there for 45 minutes. And they came back and told me it wasn't there. It exists, and no one else had it, but it was not there. I think they just didn't want to tell me it was lost. By this point, I'd had no food in approximately 6 hours and I was getting pretty frustrated/sad/irritated. So, I had an okay day. Not bad, not great.

Today, off to Arsenal in the 4ème.

Katie's "Suggestion of the Day": I can read French fairly well, much to the confusion of everyone who hears me speak it. I suggest that everyone has an LED over their head which would scroll the text of what they were saying to me so I could understand everything and not seem like a complete idiot. While this would be cumbersome, I find this to be an excellent solution to my problem.

Sunny!

According to the weather reports, it is supposed to be precipitating every single day for at least the next 10 days.  I've actually seen the sun twice, though, to my surprise.  Once the day I arrived and this morning!  Here is the view from my window, up the street towards the Pont Neuf.  I had to lean out to take it.

I arrived on Saturday morning an hour early.  Normally this would be cause to celebrate, but since it added another hour to the time I had to wait until I could check in to my apartment I was not overly pleased.  My flights were fine.  The last one, from Dulles to Paris was great because I had upgraded to Economy Plus and while regular Economy was packed like a can of sardines, Econ Plus was only half full.  I had someone next to me, but the extra leg room added to the plethora of empty seats added a sense of spaciousness.  

I held of sleeping until my last flight in order to wait until it was really night-time in Paris. 

Mind you, I had gotten up at 3:30 am PST to get ready for my flight and landed in Paris at 8:45 pm PST.  So, I finally fell asleep on my last flight to be awakened after only an hour by the very loud burser yelling last call for duty free goods.  This scared the crap out of my sleeping self and left me awake for the rest of the flight.  Grrr.

I waited for a very long 6 hours and took the train into central Paris to my apartment.  I'm very glad I'm staying in the same place as last time, even though it's tiny, because I already know the neighborhood and I didn't have to wander around figuring out where to go.  Yay!  I got in the apartment and realized the circuit breaker had been turned off, so got everything going and was getting ready to take a shower.  Then I realized that I had also just turned on the water heater.  Went grocery shopping and got my French SIM card instead.  I came home and skyped with M before finally taking a 2 hours nap around 3:30 pm.  At that point, I had been awake for 27 hours with only 1 hour of sleep.  I tried to take a picture of the spectacular bags/black circles under my eyes, but no picture could do them justice.

Saturday night into Sunday morning, I slept for 13 hours.  Granted, I did wake up for a while at 2 am because there was something that sounded like a huge street party outside my window.  I looked out and the entire block was filled with a traffic jam.  It was noisy like when I was here two years ago for the Fête de la musique.  I still don't know what was going on.

Other than that, I went on a walk Sunday afternoon to Notre Dame and the Louvre.  On my way between the two, I stayed on the Right Bank and walked along the Quay looking over the Seine.  At one point, I was pretty much by myself when I heard someone walking behind me.  I turned my head to look at the person (with peripheral vision) and it was a guy coming up rather quickly.  Just after I turned my head, he stopped and started looking across the street.  Shortly thereafter, he was gone.  Weird.  At first I was all, I averted someone trying to steal something (he would have been in for an unpleasant surprise because I only had my umbrella and my keys), but I'm not so sure of that now.  Who knows?  (Note: I was planning on going to the Musée de l'Orangerie, which had been closed for 7 years, and that has been when I've visited Paris lo these many times, so I've never been.  But, waking up at 11:30 am and then slowly moving around, plus the heavy rain and winds made that plan go down the drain.)

Anywho, today is the day when I go to the Bib Nat and have my interview.  I'm tired and feeling a bit woozy, but am okay otherwise.  We'll see how it goes.

Yep, my time here is just filled with excitement.  People reading this are going to wonder why the hell they did.  :)  More boring stories another time!

Off to Paris

It's my turn to make a European research trip and I'm leaving tomorrow at 6 am.  I suppose in the interests of keeping this blog somewhat active that I shall go ahead and blog over the next 3 weeks about the travails and wonders of my time in Paris.  

Most everyone knows this, but I've had a particularly interesting 10 days since my laptop hard drive completely died and I was stupid enough to lose the chapter (the last of the body chapters!) that I had just finished drafting.  I still had a lot of work to do on it, but the bones were there.  Then there were no bones and I've spent my days (other than the 4 that I took off for Thanksgiving, dammit) madly trying to write it all down again.  I'm almost there.

My trip will not be all work and no play as my mom is going to be there for a week and we are going to the Marché Noël in Strasbourg for a couple days the first weekend of Advent.  It's going to be crowded and full of all the Christmas kitsch I could ever want.  The invited "country" guest this year is Quebec.  Last year it was Romania.  This kind of irritates me because I just went to Quebec and heard all these things about how 2008 is their 400th anniversary.  And the tourism minister of Quebec will be there!  You know, so he or she can help you plan your trip for next year.  Yay.  It is also weird because, as much as some people wish it so,  Quebec is not technically a country.  But, who are we to question?

I will need lots of luck on Monday when I attempt to access the administrative nightmare of the Bibliothèque Nationale, where I have to have an interview with a librarian about why I should be able to do research there.  I will be jet-lagged and having to speak in French--what fun!  It's not so much the speaking that's the major problem, it's the understanding the clipped Parisian accent.

I arrive on Saturday very early in the morning, when it is supposed to be raining, and have to kill 5 hours before I can check into my apartment at noon.  This too shall be interesting as I'll be schlepping my bags around and trying to buy a SIM card for my cell phone, while praying that the hundreds of euros in my pocket which will pay for the remainder of my rent will stay there until I can get to the 6ème.

Pray for me.

Quite the popular candidates

More Dissertation Avoidance

I have yet to read the book "No One Cares What You Had For Lunch" by Maggie over at Mighty Girl, but I've enjoyed reading her posts based on its prompts.

In a bid to procrastinate some more, I'm taking her prompt from page 49 (or so she and others say).

Making My Timeline

My First Decade + one year to make a prime number

Age 1: I am small for my age and my mother worries that I will be very short.

Age 2: My sister enters the world. 'nuff said.

Age 3: I memorize my favorite book, Sleeping Beauty, including when to turn the pages. My parents have a dinner party and a friend's 5-year-old daughter runs out of my room and proclaims in astonishment to everyone, "She knows how to read!"

Age 4: I want my mom to cut up an apple for me for a snack. She tells me to wait because she is trying to finish something. I keep asking. Finally, she tells me to stop asking for an apple or I would not get one at all. I return a minute later and ask for "that green thing on the counter."

Age 5: I learn to hate wearing dresses because Ryan S. keeps chasing me and trying to flip up my skirt. My mom never understood why I didn't like dresses after that.

Age 6: In first grade, my teacher does a shadow profile portrait of each kid in the class. I am offended that Dolly's profile portrait includes the outline of her eyelashes whereas mine did not. I wonder why my eyelashes are so short.

Age 7: I really want a Cabbage Patch Kid for Christmas. My parents don't have a lot of money--especially considering those dolls were something like $40 in mid-1980s money--so my mom makes me one by buying a head (that looked very similar to the real ones, btw) and sewing the body. I bring it to school, get made fun of, and abandon the doll at home, which means I played with it for maybe 2 weeks. Years later, I realize I had no comprehension of the amount of time, energy, and love my mom put into the project because she wanted to give me the best she and dad could, and how much it must have hurt to have that effort be so unappreciated.

Age 8: I am bored in my 3rd grade class, so I switch teachers. I help out the kids in my new class and a number of them tell me I should be a teacher when I grow up. And I got a perm. One of those kinky 1980s poodle mistakes.

Age 9: A boy named Jacob tells me in line outside of the classroom that I have "a fat butt and skinny arms." When playing dodge ball, I somehow end up the last kid in and all the boys throw the balls as hard as possible to hit me. I run to my teacher crying. I also start getting pimples. Goodbye self esteem!

Age 10: We come home from Christmas at grandma's house to find two feet of snow. I run to the backyard and see my sister's cat Cloudy dragging her entire hindquarters on the ground behind her. She was run over by a car while we were gone. She gets put to sleep at the vet's office. This is my first experience with the death of someone(? thing?) close to me. I realize that life is unfair.

Age 11: I learn to play basketball on my 6th grade team and have the best coach ever (Mr. Zeisler!). We had an "awards ceremony" at the end of the season, where he gave each of us a nickname. Because I was 5'6" at the age of 11 and therefore almost 4 inches taller than most everyone else in my year, my nickname was "The Tower."

Sicko

I saw Sicko a couple weeks ago, and while it did not contain any new information for me, it was still disturbing. There were things I felt could have been more fully explained--for example, I had some very long conversations with my host when I was in France about their healthcare system. She always complained about the high cost of their healthcare, via taxes, and how upset she was about the high level of fraud among illegal immigrants, the lack of security for their access cards, and how they were paying such high taxes to other people's advantage. Moore's film makes it look like the French healthcare system is all peaches and cream.

But, that's to be expected. And I'm okay with that, to some extent. When making a point, especially in a feature-length movie, sometimes we don't have time to comb through all the ins and outs of a system. I think a better stance would be to think of it as like a marriage. Each system has its problems. So, let's say these problems are a human being's "foibles". My husband's foibles, which I find irritating but can live with, are not the same foibles that my friends could live with. In fact, I'm sure some people wonder how I can stand to live with him at all! But, that's what marriage is about--finding the person who has the foibles that you are willing to deal with. Because, we've all got them, those foibles. Except for me. I'm perfect.

Seriously though, the hard part for our country over the next few years is going to be negotiating a healthcare system whose primary foibles we are willing to live with. And there will be foibles--a lot of them.

Anyway, while I was at work and had a slow moment, I was trying to catch up with my New Yorker reading and read Atul Gawande's take on the movie. In the penultimate paragraph, he brought up some points about government involvement and things like birth control, etc. This got me thinking...

I'm definitely a social liberal--I'm all for government programs that help people. AND, more importantly, I'm willing to pay more taxes for them. But, I don't trust our current government, specifically, the judicial branch in the form of our Supreme Court. If we give the government more control over our healthcare system, what's to stop them from limiting abortions, birth control, morning after pills, etc.? We're already seeing this with pharmacists and some doctors. We're seeing the attempts to overthrow Roe v. Wade. Or the recent partial-birth abortion ban that is really only used in this day and age if the pregnancy will eventually put the mother's life in peril. That ban says the procedure can only be done if the mother is in immediate danger. Aside from issues of body ownership and if a fetus has more rights than the vessel/mother, this has, for me, major implications for a universal healthcare system over which this particular court would have some semblance of control.

The big problem I have is that I do want more government involvement with healthcare, but only of a certain type. A type which I'm not sure our government can really fulfill, especially with many citizens' inability to separate their moral beliefs from the rights and choices that everyone should be able to have under the tenets of our government.

I don't expect a perfect solution, but I certainly do not want one which is yet another platform for religious conservatives, or anyone for that matter, to restrict our choices in healthcare. Can this be done?

Fire Season

Nice sunsets. Not nice air quality.

Explaining my Absence with Pics

I've been sort of busy lately what with birthdays and anniversaries, planning trips to other continents, planning trips to our friendly neighbors to the north, and planning trips to states with active volcanoes. Getting my computer fixed was also a big one as my optical drive died and I got my topcase replaced for discoloration (yay!). Oh, and of course, living the high life for one night here. (Pics to come another day for that last one).

Speaking of pics, we also bought a new camera! We've finally replaced our old 2 MP (yes, you read that right) digital that had full manual controls--the reason we've kept it for so long--and got a new ultra-compact one!


You must admit, however, that the old camera could take some nice pics:


Anywho, one of the awesome things about our new camera is that it has optical image stabilization, particularly helpful in macro and night shots. And it's not that digital IS crap that just changes the ISO making the shot really grainy.

So, I did a little test on my 5th wedding anniversary flowers:
New Camera:










Old Camera:
As you can see, the image stabilization makes a big difference because my hands were clearly shaking from the lack of martinis in my blood. Oh and the color is better too. I'll put up the cool Color Accent photos I took on flickr.







But most of all, I've been obsessing about my damned tomato plants. I bought 6 this year with the hopes that I'll get a fully ripe tomato from at least one plant, even if I kill the rest or those damned devil rabbits from Night of the Lepus eat our entire garden like they did last year (including my ripening tomatoes!). Oh, the destruction they caused.

I've watched as the first round of blossoms just fell off. I've only grown early variety tomatoes so this was a new thing for me and it freaked my shit out: was I watering them too much? was it getting too cold outside at night? WHY?!? Then, I noticed that the blossoms would open widely and then close, something that my early tomato varieties never did--the blossoms just stayed open and the little tomato grew out of that for everyone to see.

Just yesterday, we went to the garden to water it and I will share with you the marvels of our garden (because it is so utterly exciting).

The tomatoes are the newest thing:
Note that I didn't plant the seedlings until early June, so I'm a bit behind with the maturation of the garden.

But, can you see it??? There's a tomato there! Well, I learned that the non-early variety tomato blossoms do close back up (I assume to protect the fruit from the heat/sun) and then the little tomatoes eventually peep out. Meanwhile, I've had about 2 weeks of thinking I had a black thumb for tomatoes.

In case you don't believe me:


Yep! That there is a tiny baby tomato.






We also planted bell peppers:
A baby bell pepper. This is very exciting.








And lettuce, which likes it here:
And the arugula that bolted because it hasn't been as foggy as normal:








And finally, the cucumbers (well, just one in this photo):










I'm liking the new camera--especially how portable it is.

Me as a Simpsons Character

If you'd like to make your own Simpsons avatar: www.simpsonsmovie.com

Grading Avoidance: a Limerick about turning 30

There was once was a grown-up named Deetie

She felt like a kid, but turned thirty.

While not feeling much older

Her laugh lines betrayed her

Well, at least her small boobs are not saggy.

Dissertation Avoidance: an Ode to Soda (after Pindaric form, kinda-sorta-not-really)

O, soda you are so fizzy

you have so many flavors, like Pepsi, and 7-Up, and Coke

and if I put liquor in there, I sometimes feel dizzy.

It’s truly the fizz that I love, and your sweetness too, so I’ll buy you until I go broke.

I could drink coffee, but that has too much caffeine,

making me sweaty, shaky and wild-eyed,

which renders me unable to do any work on my dissertation.

O soda, you come in bottles and cans, but I hold cans in the highest esteem,

because those fizzies from the can have no where to hide,

and I can burp loud enough to hear across the nation.



O soda, you may be so very bad for me,

your phosphorus takes away my bones’ calcium.

So, I try to drink more 7-Up, which has fewer chemicals, you see.

But, I crave those bits of caffeine to make my days more halcyon.

Thus, I return to those wonderful colas of yore,

with their caffeine-laden bubbles sparkling on my tongue,

and the gentle effects of those chemicals make my words vomit onto the page so beautifully.

O soda, you ask, how could I love you more?

Does this ode not lend a sense of those feelings you give me, of elation?

If not, well too bad, for I’ve tried my best and you can just go screw yourself. Beautifully.

The End.


Pindaric Odes: usually 3, 10-line stanzas with rhyme scheme ababcdecde. The form of the stanzas should be strophe, antistrophe, and epode. But, that's a little TOO involved for dissertation avoidance. :)

Bonus!

For the first time (in 2 days of actual work), I got a daily bonus. This is good because it raises my hourly take by a few bucks. I have yet to check my hourly rate, but my goal in this whole thing is to make close to the 20/hour I get paid to teach. I think this is fair, yes?

Sorry, no highly interesting stories from last night. People were fairly docile or hung up quickly enough. I was actually having a terrible time of it for the first 1.5 hours. I finally just took an early break and that helped me stop stressing and move on. It got better because I decided to experiment and change up my intonation a little bit. It certainly worked! Or I just got better callers.

DC Mollie is here! We went to B'Ak D'Or last night and it rocked! The guy made me a martini and made too much so he effectively gave me the equivalent of 3 martinis--it was like with a milkshake at a restaurant where they give you the extra! I had this highball of martini waiting to pour into my little martini glass. And he made it with Sapphire! And it only cost 6 dollars! So, on a 16 dollar bill I tipped him 9 bucks.

We are going on a boat ride today.

Oh. and I broke my glasses dammit. During my frustrated break last night, I was cleaning them and snapped the lens casing. Crap! Superglue to the rescue. Except I don't have any.

New Job

Many of you know that I have taken on a part-time job in the evenings to accelerate my credit card payoff plan. Basically, for this job I answer phones and tell people about a service. I can't get anymore specific than that here because I don't want to be fired for a blog, you know? I'd rather be fired for something I actually did.

I've just started and there is a somewhat extensive training period. Last night was my first time being on the phones the whole time. It was actually less tiring than training, for some reason.

The best part was when this one guy totally yelled at me and I just kept on going seeing if he would ever hang up. He got really pissed and continued to raise his voice and I still kept going because it was like this bizarro kind of game and I was testing him. I finally let him go when he threatened to curse me out. The funny thing is? I still got the sale.

Back in the saddle again...

You know, I always felt that song had such a crazy sexual connotation to it. In this case, I am actually using it to refer to the fact that I'm back to "normal" life. The months leading up to my conference presentation were difficult, but they allowed me to not think or worry about certain aspects of my life because I didn't have the time. As soon as I came home, it all rained down upon me and I had a sense of paralysis. But, the students turned in their papers and that made me get off my butt.

On the first leg out to wonderful (she says sarcastically) South Bend, IN, I sat next to this guy:
He's actually pretty cute in person, this Andrew Firestone guy. I really didn't know it was him until I was about to get off the plane, to be quite honest. It actually kind of sucked sitting next to him because he totally invaded my personal space. I mean seriously. His balls CANNOT BE THAT BIG. I had the aisle and he had the window, so he was totally doing that "guy spreading his legs thing" into my legroom. At first, I tried to shrink myself down as small as can be (and I'm not a huge person, by any means). But after a while, I got pissed and decided that our legs would just plain have to be touching because that was less uncomfortable for me than trying to not be in his way. This is a big thing, because I am not a stranger-touchy person. I HATE touching people I don't know. Big time. I mean, I'll give up my 3-foot stranger-danger boundary when I'm on a plane. I get that. Hell, when I travel with my husband, I'm the person sitting in the middle because he's bigger than me, and then I really have to just deal with my personal space issues.

The weird part is that when he finally fell asleep, he actually moved over. His balls apparently don't need as much space or air when he is sleeping. I still don't get it. Why, when you are awake do you take up my room? Why, when you fall asleep are you far more cognizant of other people's space? Whatever. I don't care if your family owns wineries and stuff. I don't go to your winery tasting room because it's too damned touristy. And, you know what happens in overly touristy tasting rooms? NO FUCKING PERSONAL SPACE because there's too damned many drunk-ass partiers there. (I also don't like smelling other people or their cologne/perfume while I'm tasting wine either.)

When I told M about sitting next to the Firestone Bachelor guy, he just said, "well, at least you got to sit next to a cute guy!" I had to explain to him that it was not a plus in my book because Cute Guy was being some weird kind of jerk.

Otherwise, my plane rides were mostly uneventful. Got to sit next to my advisor on the way back and apparently annoy people because we were talking. But no one had the cojones to say anything to us about it, so poo on them. At least I didn't have any claustrophobia episodes on the plane, which is something I've become increasingly concerned about, as I get mild panic attacks every now and then.

And on to more important things:
May I just say that it is currently 9:45 in the morning and it's already 75 degrees? This past weekend has been absolutely beautiful--one of those weekends where I ate the most awesome strawberries ever and don't want to move from my seaside SoCal location. Even though most of my friends are now gone. I guess I have to take comfort in something, yes?

I'm here

and in grading hell, but there it is. I have yet to read a paper about Christina Aguilera, so that's good.

I shall have to give more specifics of my trip and how I sat next to a Bachelor on the plane (which was nowhere near as interesting as it sounds), but I must get back to ruining my students' lives.

My paper presentation went fine. I was so utterly relieved when it was over. The way I think about it now was so eloquently stated by Bill Murray (paraphrasing Caesar) in the best movie ever, "Ghostbusters": We came, we saw, we KICKED ITS ASS!

I also got to see a good friend who just happens to be 8 months pregnant and I kept her up until all hours of the night while tempting her with glasses of wine. :) All-in-all, it was a nice interlude from normal life.

Now, I'm back to grading rubrics and assigning points for MLA usage. Woo hoo.

Oh, and watch this video about the Great Revolution of the British Cuckoos:
http://video.yahoo.com/video/play?vid=445180&cache=1

A Hero

I find the whole Virginia Tech shooting to be disturbing, at the very least.

But, there was one man killed there who was a hero for his students. Beyond his legacy of teaching, he died helping his students live:
Liviu Librescu, 76, an engineering science and mechanics lecturer. He was born in Romania, immigrated to Israel in 1978 and moved to Virginia in 1985.

An Israeli citizen, he had taught at Virginia Tech for 20 years and was internationally known for his work in aeronautical engineering.

"His research has enabled better aircraft, superior composite materials, and more robust aerospace structures," said Ishwar Puri, the head of the engineering science and mechanics department.

Librescu's son, Joe, said his father's students sent e-mails detailing how the professor saved their lives by blocking the doorway of his classroom from the approaching gunman before he was fatally shot.

“My father blocked the doorway with his body and asked the students to flee,” his son Joe Librescu said in a telephone interview from his home outside of Tel Aviv. “Students started opening windows and jumping out.”

Sigh.

Leavin' on a jet plane...

Not quite yet, but I leave at butt-ass early o'clock on Wednesday morning. Woot!

In honor of my stress and how much I love my paper at this moment, I leave you with an image (thanks R):