Curves and Cow Heads

My friend Susannah left for Paris yesterday. She and her family are there while her husband teaches at a University there, and it's brought back a lot of memories, and I think for the first time since we got home I actually am missing Paris. Not that it wasn't a completely amazing experience, but after last year (which, to remind you, included building a house, a bad case of pnemonia, as well as moving my whole family overseas) it's been nice to be home. I'm loving my new labeler and organizing closets.

I know, nothing like life in the fast lane.

But I have to say that it feels good to be nostalgic. I feel like our time in Europe was such a whirlwind, especially the end when we left Paris and then spent ten days in London and two weeks in Amsterdam. It was wonderful, but left me overwhelmed in the blogging department. So, expect a little catch up in the next few weeks, starting with today.

I really did learn a lot about beauty and art in Paris because it surrounds you there, and thinking of this brought me back to one of the most beautiful things I saw during my time there.

I was at a tourist shop with my sister Angela when she visited and I was waiting outside on the corner while she made her selections. I had walked down the street a million times, but I had never stopped on this particular corner and taken a look around. I spied what looked like an building from a movie set at the end of the street and, after my sister was done, we went to check it out.

Turns out it was one of the best examples of Art Nouveau architecture in Paris, so I had to snap some photos:

Every little detail of this building was a piece of art in and of itself. The doorway was so beautiful I could have just studied it's details all day.

One of my favorite parts of Art Nouveau is the weird assymetry and whimsy. Like the oval shaped window thrown in randomly (behind the tree). It just made this example over the top. As I was taking the photos an American tourist couple stopped to see what I was doing. I explained that this was the most stunning example of Art Nouveau architecture I had ever seen. The woman said it reminded her of Gaudi, and then added "And it certainally is GAUDY, isn't it?" Ugly Americans. Even when they're cultured enough to know who Gaudi is, they have to go ruin it by making a stupid comment. Whatever.

I especially loved the color in this building. Next to all the monochromatic gray Haussmann buildings in our neighborhood, it stuck out like a really beautiful sore thumb.

Curves and Cow Heads. Both should be required in all buildings in my opinion.

Even the artist's signature was beautiful. And this guy deserved credit for this masterpiece.

So, I wanted to share. Despite all it's haughtiness, Paris is truly one of the most beautiful places on earth. And I was so lucky to be there, even if it added to the absolute craziness of my year.

And I really am terribly jealous of Susannah.

Is that so wrong?

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Yes, I have been away for a while. Why, you may ask, well many reasons, so I'll give you a list:

Blogging Burnout: Seriously, you try living in Europe for a few months and blog about ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, and you'll see what I mean.

Kernel Panic: So, as soon as we got back from Europe, my laptop kept having what, in the computer geek world, they call a kernel panic. It would just shut down for no reason, then not let me start up again and put me in a perpetual loop with this lovely image:

You know when Apple starts giving you warnings in several languages your computer's days are numbered. I took my dear, sweet laptop into the Apple Store a bunch of times (which was no problem, if you remember how I feel about the apple techs), and they finally gave me a shrug and told me it would cost at least $300 to fix. Well, I may have been an English major and no math whiz, but I was able to figure out in no time flat that it was time to upgrade, which leads to the next item on my list...

I Bought An iPad: You know, when these little babies came out I thought it was a great idea, but didn't plan on getting one for a while. I was totally last on the bandwagon with the iPod and iPhone, so I usually take these things slow. But with the threat of having to SIT AT A DESK to check my email looming over me, I decided that now was the time, first generation and all. I have to say, it's great, but not so much for the blogging. I don't have all my photo library at my fingertips all the time, and I often dip into it for my posts. But the good thing about it is that I don't have my photo library at my fingertips all the time, which means that I don't have to stress about losing all my family memories with one tragic click. You remember what that did to me before. I'm still not completely over it.

I Changed My Blog Template: Why, you may ask? Well, it all comes down to bedding. Yes, bedding. While we were in London I decided I had to partake of the Orla Kiely bedding at Heal's. I was all set to buy this one:

but once I got to the store I felt it really was a bit too girly for Steve to have to sleep in every night, so I bought this one instead:

And it felt a little too tech nerdy to be sleeping in my blog template every night, so I did the old switcheroo. You'll have to tell me what you think.

I've Been Re-Evaluating My Life: Okay, totally CHEESEBALL, but true. I've been thinking about a lot of things, many of which I plan to share in future posts, but lets just say for now that I have realized that life is a lot more fun that I was giving it credit for. I'm learning to enjoy it more by spending more time in the sun with my kids, doing more yoga, sleeping more, reading more, and spending more time with friends. It's been good.

We Got A New Cat, Then It Got Shot: Yes, you read that right. After our cat Briscoe died last Fall, we promised the kids that we would get a new cat as soon as we got back from Paris. And believe you me, we kept our promise. The day after we got home (at 3 AM, no less) we were adopting a cute little tabby cat and we named her Yoko. Long story short, she got shot a couple of weeks ago. I'll save the details for another post, but after the boys were done crying their eyes out, they both asked if we could get a new cat, so the next day we did. Here he is, Smoke:

He's an awesome Tabby/Siamese mix with amazing blue eyes, and we love him. Now if he would just stop peeing on our duvets, he would be perfect.

Well, that's all for now. It's good to be back, and while I'm not committing to writing every day (part of the life evaluation thing), I plan to write a lot, and hope you'll all decide my life is interesting enough to check out from time to time.

What French Women Taught Me About Fashion

While I was walking around a market in Amsterdam with my friend Lara, she asked what women were wearing in Paris this year. I gave her a list: black leggings made from shiny, fluid fabric that looks like leather, short denim shorts with tights and tall boots, tall boots with just about anything, crazy, colored tights, and the list goes on and on. There really isn't just one thing. I liked some of it, some of it not so much, but I did learn one very valuable lesson from French women when it comes to style.

I think it hit me one day of the first warm, sunny days we had in Paris when I walked by a busy cafe and a woman was sprawled out on her chair like a cat in a very transparent, very small camisole, enjoying the sun. And she looked amazing. And, you could tell, the last thing on her mind was how she looked.

I started looking around and realized that this epitomized the real edge that French women have on fashion, they are fully committed to it, and more comfortable in their skin than even the most put together American women. Of course there are exceptions, but I feel that it's very rare to see an American woman who is truly comfortable in her own skin, let alone her fashion. I took the above picture of a woman walking down the street near our apartment because she looked so amazing (and had some really amazing shoes) and was wearing pink. Pink! Layers and layers of it with ruffles and flowers. I wouldn't have been caught dead in that outfit, but she looked BEAUTIFUL!

So, I guess what I want to take away from this is to find my own style, wear it well, then commit to it, believe it, and forget about it.

I'm Back!

And almost ready for action.

I realized just now that we've been home from our travels for almost two weeks, and I am just about decompressed. I think I need one more night of catching up on 30 Rock, The Office, and the other goodies saved for us by our thoughtful DVR while we were gone. Then I'm ready to catch you up on all we've done and are doing!

Promise!

The Five Stages of No Internet Access

Even though I am in Amsterdam, possibly my favorite city in the whole world, I have been suffering dearly due to the fact that we have no internet access.

Seriously, it's been freaking me out far more than I would have ever thought. But the uncontrollable shaking only lasted the first day or so.

The only way I am posting this is that we are camping out in the hotel room of my friend Lara and her husband Christian, who are also visiting Amsterdam and who not only have internet, but it's FREE! I just never knew how much I rely on the internet for JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING. I catch myself about ten or more times a day saying to myself "Oh, I'll just go and look that up online....DOH!" And yes, I have gone through all the stages, and the most pathetic part of the story is that not only have we resigned ourselves to watching TV, but watching TV in Dutch. Which I don't speak or comprehend. At all. It may be an all time low.

But the good news is that we are living in a lovely apartment in an even lovelier part of Amsterdam, eating good food that actually has flavor (and fiber) as well as a lot of chocolate from Puccini (more on that later), playing in the park, and sleeping well.

Not a bad way to end our four months in Europe.

So, I guess you all will have to wait for the nitty gritty details of our travels in England and Amsterdam. But hey, look at it this way, at least I'll have something to blog about when I get home.

On my 24/7 super speedy internet. God Bless America!

Twiglets & Ginger Beer

Well, as you may have guessed from by brief hiatus, I am no longer in Paris, but have spent the last week in London, which I love, love, love. It feels like being home since Steve and I lived here about 10 years ago, and I have been sleeping, eating, and enjoying traveling without those pesky 18 college students to worry about (even though I love you guys).

And as I have come back to my hotel every afternoon, thinking I should be writing on the blog but instead mindlessly surfing the Internet, I have been indulging myself in one of my favorite UK snacks, Twiglets & Ginger Beer.

If you're scratching your head, you're not alone. I put "Twiglets & Ginger Beer" on my Facebook status update and have yet to get one comment, so either people are totally stumped, or they think I'm totally lame.

Anyway, first let's start with Twiglets. Really, these things are totally bizarre, and when they were first introduced to me by our friends Tim & Alison I thought they were kidding. They are these whole wheat, pretzely-like snacky food that are coated in the equivalent of Marmite, which is Vegemite, which is that stuff that Men at Work talk about in "A Land Down Under," which is that stuff made of nasty tasting yeast that Aussies, for some reason, think tastes great on just about everything. When I first tried them I was repulsed, and said "Ewwww," but after chewing and swallowing I stopped and said "wait a minute, give me another one of those things...," and thus, an addiction was born.

The Twiglets are totally pungent, so what better to match it with but Old Jamaica Ginger Beer. It's a little like ginger ale, but then again, nothing like ginger ale. It's a soda, but tastes like real ginger instead of the syrupy, nasty flavor in ginger ale. It can be really strong and almost hot tasting, but I find the Old Jamaica is just right. And it comes in diet. Score.

I don't know what it is, but there's something about that nasty yeasty taste and that sharp ginger taste that makes up for all the bland, heavy, French food I've had over the last few months. I know, I know, Marie-Laure, but I just never did completely get it. What can I say? I'm an ugly American.

So, here I am, having my afternoon snack, writing about my afternoon snack. I know, it's a little less ambitious than most of my blog posts of late.

But come on. I'm on a vacation here!

Locks of Love

Well, Icelandic volcano or no, my time in Paris is quickly coming to an end. And our time with the students, although most are still in Paris, has already finished. It really was an amazing experience to get to know them each, and I can truly say that each of them taught me many important things during our time together.

We've been getting together each Monday night for FHE, and we wanted our last meeting to be one to remember. Then I was reading my friend Reba's blog and learned about the tradition that has been going on for years where couples put a lock with their names up on some of the pedestrian bridges across the Seine and then throw the key in the river to symbolize their everlasting love. I wanted to do it for the family, but I thought of the student's time here in Paris, and how I am sure this experience has changed each of them. So, I thought it might be a nice idea for them each to put their own lock on the Passerelle Léopold-Sédar Senghor to symbolize that they are leaving a little part of them in Paris that will be here forever.

I know, I know, it doesn't really follow the rules, but rules were made to be broken, right?

So we all got together and shared what we had each learned personally during our time in Paris, and then put our locks on the bridge. It was a great evening, and truly one of the highlights of our time here for me. Here's some photos.

The students decorating their locks to attach to the bridge.

Then on to dinner.

Steve got the Boeuf Tartare. Why? I have absolutely no idea, although I do know that he often likes to eat food that's based on a dare.

Finding a home for our locks.

I knew we were in trouble the day before we went to the bridge and I told the boys about the tradition and let them decorate and put their name on their own locks. Jack lovingly decorated both the lock and the key, and then cried like he had lost his best friend when we attached it to the bridge and he realized it wasn't coming home with him. Luckily one of the students didn't make it, so he inherited his lock to stop the sobbing. He's already been back to visit his lock once and wants to see it again before we leave Paris on Friday.

Throwing the keys into the Seine.

Lots of locks. The row is some of the students, and ours is the large one in the middle with Max's and Jack's attached.

And, luckily, someone was smart enough to make a key for you to find your lock again when you return. Ours is in section 23A.

I really have loved my time in Paris, and I have to admit that it has thrilled me, humbled me, inspired me, and kicked my butt on more than one occasion.

It truly has been everything at once.

And, as I am spending my last couple of days here, I am starting to realize that leaving that little part of me here in Paris is really going to hurt.