I Heart Paris

I got back on Sunday from a 10-day trip to Paris (yes, the one in France). It was a wonderful trip and I had an awesome time.

Part of what made the trip so wonderful is that the people of Paris are so nice. Really, they are. Forget everything you've heard about them hating Americans; it's just not true. Or at least, that was not my experience.

If you walk into a shop that sells clothing or fine linens while you are carrying a cup of coffee from Starbucks (yes, it's available), you don't say "Bonjour" to anyone, and you begin to demand immediate attention, you will get the stink eye. And you should. In America, where the customer is always right and the shops are staffed by people who are often trained only to use the register, that behavior is tolerated. (It's still horribly impolite, however, and please note that if I am in the shop at that time, I am judging you.) In France, where shopkeeping and waiting tables are professions, and people are proud to do an excellent job, it is not.

I found that making an effort to speak French (and my French is very, very limited) was appreciated. Most people switched to English immediately and seemed happy to do so. Maybe they wanted to practice their English, maybe they wanted to make things easier -- or maybe they just couldn't stand to hear me butcher their beautiful language. But they were polite and friendly about it, and I appreciated it.

Bottom line: in this, as in so many other things, your mother was right. Manners count.

There Are No Victims, Just Volunteers

My friends, it has been a trying few days. The Army Dude had to write an argumentative essay for the Army Dude School he is attending. I don't know why it was so difficult for him, since he was argumentative with me the whole time.

In his defense, it's been about twenty years since he wrote anything other than Army memos and reports. I volunteered to be the editor and proofreader, which is a fancy title for "bad news delivery girl." It was, as you can imagine, a perfect storm.

Just when I was wondering where I might be able to hide his body if I did him in, The Army Dude showed up with a really nice "Congratulations on Your Bar Mitzvah" card for my upcoming trip. By the time I finished laughing, he was forgiven.

The essay has been submitted, thank goodness. I've already told the Army Dude that if he calls me in July -- when the next essay is due -- I will answer the phone "G'day" because I will be in Australia for the duration.

Can you see those suitcases peeking up behind the chair on the left? STILL NOT PACKED.

Things That Make You Go Awwwwwww

Pack In The Presence Of The Passenjaire

I don't even OWN any of these garments.

A lot of people have been asking me what I'm packing to wear in France, and it's really beginning to stress me out. You would think that after years of knowing me, my friends would understand the care and feeding of a neurotic person. Which, in case you were wondering, precludes things like repeatedly asking them what they are packing to go to Paris because said neurotic person starts thinking what you're really saying is that they look like dog vomit most of the time and will embarass the entire country with their hillbilly ways.

So now I'm dealing with a case of Packing Paralysis. I think about packing. But then I get nervous and jittery and find something else to do. Which brings me around to these:

My niece Katie wanted me to bring something representing her to Paris. I thought what could be better than Katie on a Steek? So I made a couple of them.

This one was a Halloweeen costume, but I thought it would give that haute couture look, especially since she looks exactly like a runway model: giant head and stick body. I think Katie on a Steek will enjoy having adventures, just like Catwoman does. I even have experience in this area as I have helped with a few Catwoman photo shoots.

Incidentally, I am bringing pajama pants but they are cute and have Hello Kitty on them and I plan to wear them to sleep in, not to wear out and about. I don't think they even have Walmart in France.

Auntie Finds Baffling Message at ATM

What can it mean???

Words of Wisdom: Margot Potter

Whatever you are doing that you think is so new and cool, I can guarantee you some seemingly innocent little old lady already did it first.

Mary In The Kitchen

This is my kitchen window, which holds two more Blessed Mother images. It's also home to a soap dispenser, the delft blue girl I brought from Holland for my grandmother (which I got back after she died) and a little blue and white bowl that holds my rings while I do dishes.


The candle is a Sacred Heart of Mary votive that I got at the grocery store. It says "Sagrado Corazon De Maria," and it's made in Mexico. It has the Mary's Magical Open Heart Surgery (With Flames) motif that totally freaked me out when I was a kid. But you know, you grow.


The other image to the right of the candle is more visible in the photo below:

It's a bread press. You press it down onto a slice of bread, and then once the bread is toasted or grilled, the image appears. Voila! Holy Toast.