Mademoiselle L'Oiseau

If you knew what my street looks like on a sunday evening..this would infuriate you too. Trashbins-runneth-over in waiting for the trash brigade on monday.  no room for a candy wrapper.  Flies, poop, ripped open garbage bags by creatures of the night.  It is disgusting... and so are the smells that go with it.  Alexis so lovingly took out the trash on a saturday whilst doing a spring cleaning including an box that my mother sent.  Already, there was no room for the box, so he apparently left it on the side with the rest of the streets litter.  No. can. do.
On Monday morning I received a notice from the 'green brigade'.  The green brigade (Brigade verte)  are the people that come around after the garbage men to pick up what they don't... they also clean the streets, dog poop, and apparatly give out tickets when they can identify you.... they do a pretty crappy job though.  They wear green suits and on the back it's stenciled in BRIGADE VERTE.  I, personally, think it is the most hilarious sight because they look so serious with their straw witch-like  brooms.  Anyway, the notice just stated that they found my 'colis et sa contents' next to the garbage, and that that wasn't allowed etc, etc... i didn't read the fine print because basically i took it like a slap on the wrist and couldn't be bothered.  A few days later I received an envelope from the Mairie.... well that could be anything.  It was from the CUB section of the Mairie, or those responsible of keeping the streets 'clean'.  It was a 'summons' to present myself or I risk a fine of 91 euros... !!!!!!!  Of course the time given was an inconvenient one.  attached to the letter stating my crime of 'depot sauvage sur la voie publique' was a copy of the ticket and a friendly map directing me to their office for my convocation. 
I was livid. 
I called the next day only to question this summons, all while defending myself as a citizen of bordeaux 'i don't do this, i recycle, why am I being punished when I live on one of the filthiest streets in Bordeaux... have you seen my neighborhood, they only reason they could identify me was because of my address!!!!????  the friendly receptionist could only tell me that if i come in i can avoid the fine.... she changed my apt to the next day.  The next day I ended up working later than expected and didn't have the number to the mairie with me  so i was a no-show.  i finally made it yesterday.... 
I was greeted at the large iron portal by a policeman who immediately knew who I was and what i was doing there.  scary.
He directed me to a tiny white room with no windows and a round table situated in the middle of the room.  on top of the table was 'my file' spread out perfectly.  I felt as though i was in a movie about to be interrogated for a serious crime... all that was missing was a spotlight over the table.
About 5 minutes later a huge cop comes in with an oversized head.  he asked me for ID.  shit.  I immediately started sweating because all I had was my expired Carte de Sejour... expired since July 2007... I had no recipisse, no passport, and my Louisiana drivers license.  I was ready to be pegged as an illegal immigrant.  But he didn't care about that... this gentle giant was only concerned about clean streets of bordeaux.  He sat down in front of me and the first think I blurt out is that I felt like a criminal.  Good... I made him laugh.  Kaylee was with me and sat in silence as we listened.
He had a really, really thick accent...I would say that he wasn't from Bordeax, and I had to concentrate because he spoke so quickly.  He went on to a spiel about who they are and what they aim to do... how they want to keep Bordeaux clean, etc, etc... He then took out a plastic baggie with the evidence.  The proof that I was guilty.  The fact that these green brigade fellas actually took the time to CUT my address out of the box made me giggle on the inside.   I agreed that the evidence he held was, indeed, from my box, but tried to plead my case in asking him if he has seen my quartier on the weekend?  That the trash is only picked up 3 times a week, what are we supposed to do?  He had answers to all of my questions... answers that made me angry and didn't justify this fine.  I told him that I was the victim because you could only identify me because of my address on the box.... has the rest of the street received a fine as well?   I was bemused, but I played along in throwing in here and there phrases like,  'I think what they are doing is great',  'I agree 100%' and 'You're absolutely right'. 
Thirty minutes and 14 'voilà's' later (thanking Kaylee for her accuracy), I got out of the fine, and I left with enough literature to keep me busy... maps on recycling centers, telephone numbers and whatnot.  
I coudn''t have gone through a session like that though with out the 'You have a little accent'... where are you from questions.... I had the petite accent? 
I always seem to be bombarded with these questions 'after the fact'.  It's like the icing... save the best for last.  I always seem to respond with Louisiana first, and then the States.... the french like Louisiana because it was french.   But I forget that not 2 seconds after saying Louisiana, I am bombarded with hurricane questions.... always posed in the negative as if they didn't know.  'That wasn't where they had that hurricane thing-y a few years ago?'  I love how the most blatant of questions are asked in the negative.  I always want to respond 'why no, it isn't.'  
Anyway I had that speech down to a T, and he seemed pleased with my responses and my french. As he slowly stepped off of his soap box he asked a few more random questions... I was a bit  annoyed, but I smiled and again, played along.  After all I walked out of there scott free.  

I will never understand what goes on through the head of someone like that.  I don't see how bringing me in made a difference to the society.  It was a waste of time and money.  He clearly felt that it was a job well done, but I was still laughing hours later.  

I will never again underestimate the power of 'La Brigade Verte'.   

I cannot express how over teaching english I am.  I really can't.  I passionately hate it.  I suck at it.  Things were be different I guess if I were a natural, but I'd rather curl up and die than spend 3 hours teaching someone how to properly string a sentence with the verb 'to be'.  
Since I've been back, work has been slow.  A friend came to me at the right time about another job that didn't sound too daunting... one day a week... 10 weeks...15euros an hours, basic level english.... can't be that bad right?  BOOOOOY was I wrong.  It's like teaching in the schools all over again.  Dealing with unedcuated people, civil servants, your own lesson plans, and the typical french disorganization.  Yesterday was my first day - 8:30 - 4:30 and I left feeling empty.  Completely empty.  I had no thoughts, no expression, no desires.  Nothing.  I just keep telling myself that this will be a fixed income a month that my other job can't guarantee... something to at least pay my rent with.  I need to help out financially right now more than ever... but in the meantime, I am killing myself.  

Brit keeps telling me to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I really, really, can't.  There is no light in teaching.  I don;t know what else I can do here.... ,every anglophone I have ever met here in Bordeaux (with the exception of a very small handfull) teach english... and the majority of them just do it to have a bit of spending money of the side to get their hair done or visit the weekly hammam.  They are all sitting on their rich hubby;s salary.  Bitter?  Not at all... It's just annoying to get people to understand that this measly salary is what I need to survive on.  
The other sad part is that I don't know what else I'd rather be doing... .own my own business for sure... but do I really want to do that in France?  Would I even make it here or would that tunnel close up and suffocate me?  All of the pessimists that I talk to say no, don't ever open your own business in France especially being foreigner... it's IMPOSSIBLE.  Or, I just get that look... that french 'I wouldn't do that, you must be crazy look'.  The look you get when you're a bit of a dreamer.  That 'oh quand meme' look.  The look I get when I tell them I am a mother.  I hate that look.  It's a look that pounds you into the ground shattering everything.  

Sometimes I really hate the english language... and I don't give a monkeys about wrong prepositions, verbs conjugated in the wrong tenses, or improper sentence structures.  I don't even have an accent anymore. I just speak---english---or - american. 

Enough about that.... In other news, our house is coming along.  We will be moving in around April.. just in time for my birthday and our 2 year anniversary.  I can't wait.  Part of my problem is my apt.... I need OUT!!!
Nothing else really.... Just hoping that 2008 will bring all sorts of changes.. but I know I'll need to work for that.  

Life has been crazy this past month... Actually, since I started working, things have been the definition of hectic.  I don't even think that I saw November fly by... we are already in December and I'm leaving for New Orleans in 3 very short days.  I have had no time to do anything regarding Christmas.  I have orders back home that include wine, chocolate, confiture, and everything else that France does good.  I've been working full time (gasp--new record for me!).  The end of the day I am worn dead...literally dead.  Teaching takes so much out of you.  I just took out my suitcases today, but am no where near close to being finished.  Since my Brit will be joining me this holiday season in my hometown, we need to sort out 4 different suitcases equally dispersing wine and presents and the like.  I am so stressed.  Tuesday will be my first day off in weeks and I will be out early hitting up the shops to do the last minute shopping I was never able to do because the 3 of us are always together.  
I am really excited to show my Brit New Orleans.  He has met the mom and the aunt already....now he'll be meeting the whole family.  It's so cute knowing that he is, and I quote, 'shit scared to meet my dad'.  He swears that I've influenced that.  Then there's the sis.  Can't wait!  Then there's the fact that back in the ol' deep south the temperatures have been in the mid 20's (C).  It will be such a break to get away from these artic temeratures.  I hate cold weather.  These 2 weeks are going to go by so quickly though.... I kind if wish I could stay for longer, but duty calls.  Oh well, at least I know I'll have visits this summer in our new apt!!
Nothing else new really.... 

well I'm off to do more work in the house...

Bonne Fetes et Bonne Année 2008!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


 

Never any time to post.  Never any time to do anything these days.  I've gone from too much time to too little time, and I'm not doing very well at dealing with it.  I am so behind on admin, laundry, groceries, general cleaning, etc....

Last week was great.... Cheeks was on vacation, and I took the long weekend and we all head off to visit the Brit's friends in Perpignan.  We took a side trip to Carcassonne and Montpellier which was nice too.  It was my first time to that side after 2 year in France which is a bit pathetic in my opinion. 

I feel like this post is going to be nothing but a 'whoa is me' rant, so I'm going to pry myself away from the computer screen and do something that I constantly complain about never having time to do.... the market. 
  
Ciao, 

oiseau

That was made clear to me on Monday when I had to endure the dumbed down 'welcome video' about life in France.  Liberté, Egalité, and Fraternité was defined as was the fourth word of their motto Laïcité.  
They portrayed a Préfecture as a bright and cheerful place, with civil servants smiling with good teeth and hair, and handing over recipissés left and right to African immigrants.  Then they had a few 'testimonials' from 'immigrants' who have been here awhile.  They were all from African countries.  I felt so....left out....
After my medical, I sat down with a girl younger than me who assessed my level of french.  What a joke.   
Question 1 - she read out the never ending number of my file.  check.
Question 2, 3 & 4 - I had to fill in my name, last name, place I was born, and were I live now.  check. 
Question 5-  In one sentence minimum, I had to describe what I ate last night.   This is what I wrote
                      'Hier soir, j'ai mangé du spaghetti avec une sauce bolongaise fait mason bien sûr!  C'était    délicious!'
er, check?
What an unbelievable joke?  So I managed to forgo the french classes, and the training day spent on how to rent an apt, sign up for the CAF, and the sécu.  I will however have to sit through a day of 'civic training'.  9h30 - 17h.  I somehow felt better after I was told that I had an accent 'québécois' when I speak french.  I felt better only because it was better than her saying I sounded like an american when I spoke french.  However, I don't know if it would be better to sound Québécois or American. 
After signing my life away to the french republic, I walked out of there proud to be an..... immigrant. 

In other news, Tuesday I officially started my training period with one Company B.  Company A is looking farther and farther away.  I really didn't feel comfortable with those people.  They seemed to take things too seriously, were a bit uptight, demanding, and didn't seem as easy to work with.  I have a kid and no car, I will not be as flexible as others.  I refuse to work around people like that.  Plus the woman who was hiring me knows everyone I know, (the older crowd I 'hang out' with).  I prefer to remain anonymous.   Company B is very laid back, and they are much easier to access by tram.  I really don't think this job is going to be difficult.... the lessons are all made out for you.  I just hate pretending that I LOVE teaching, and being SUPER EXCITED about it.  I'm such a mellow person... I like silence, reading, and getting lost in my own thoughts.  I'm far from the extrovert teacher that acts like a clown every lesson.  We'll see what happens.  I'm training with another guy who is a bit much to handle after a long day.  After five minutes, I found out too much about his life... really more than I had ever wanted to know.  He's from Québec, but sounds like he's from Scotland.... When he speaks french he has a québécois accent... a real one.  When he heard me speak french for the first time, he told me that if he hadn't known I was from New Orleans, and heard me speaking french, he would have pegged me as a Québécoise.  That makes 2 days in a row from 2 different people of 2 different nationalities, I am proud to say that I will now officially be refering to myself as Canadaian Québecoise.

I really, really, really, need new clothes.  I dread starting a new job with the same old shit I've been wearing for years.  My wardrobe is quite sad really.... I have some things that I've been wearing since high school.... that's right HIGH SCHOOL...TEN YEARS.  Then I have some things that I lived in in university.  Those are the clothes that have a permanent B.O. smell no matter how many times I wash them.  Then I have a few things that I bought when I first got here.  Things that were more comfy, and good for teaching at the time.  I very little fitting the cadre of 'casual dressy'.  What I do have looks like something a 20 year old would wear.  Being close to 30 and a mother, I need to look more.... femme.  It actually depresses me now to get dressed.  I don't even have a pair of jeans now.  My good ones ripped at the ass due to a year of biking.  The Brit tried sewing them back, but they're gone.  And makeup?  My budget doesn't even allow mascara here.  I had to buy cheapo mascara at 3 euros... you know the one that smudges and smears, and stings your eyes.  I have no makeup.  My hair?  Let's not even go there.  It is a f-ing rat's nest.  It's down to the tattoo on my lower back, dry, dead ends, thick, and absolutely unmanageable.  I had a trim the beginning of summer, but the girl and I didn't get on and she trimmed it and I didn't notice that it had been barely trimmed and dead ends were left until I left.  She spent more time trying to sell me the hair mask and shampoo, and it pissed me off.

I need a serious makeover. 

New job, new home in a few months, new nationality. 

So now that the KID has turned 10, she thinks that she is now entitled to overuse the word 'bitch'.

SO. FED. UP. 

I wish she would just start her f-ing period already. 

It's been awhile.  It's not that I haven't been on the computer as much, it's that I had that 'staring at the blank screen' syndrome again.  

The Brit and I are finally PACsed.  Everything worked out beautifully as far as paperwork goes.  We were at the Prefecture the next morning, and it was the best trip to the Prefecture ever.  He wore a suit and I looked more like my lawyer than my boyfriend.  Everyone swears that that made a difference.  Since he's known me I've complained about the hell the Pref puts you through, only to have this trip with him seem like a cake walk.  I was dumbfounded, but at the same time really happy, that they just gave me the carte de séjour that I wanted with no questions asked.  
What I'm really not happy about is this medical and 'welcoming session' I have to go through on monday.  A welcoming session?  Seriously, my level of french is going to be assessed, I get to meet other new comers (yeah I'm really looking forward to that), I have to sit and listen to what life in France is like.  I might ask them if I can teach it.  Or maybe I'll ask ridiculous questions.  The best part is that I have to pay a hefty foreigner tax of 275 EUROS!  Where that is going to come from before monday I haven't the slightest.  I laugh in the face of the acronym that is ANAEM.   

The price to pay to live here. 

In other news, now that  I have the right to work, I have landed  not one job but two.  Ask me if I'm excited about it.  I'm happy that I am no longer working in the schools as the poor exploited english assistant.  I'm happy that I'll be making more money.  
BUT what makes me slightly ill is that I'm teaching english again... albeit to adults, it's still teaching english.  I hate teaching english.  I can pretend that I like it, which is almost scary.  I feel like the inside of me is so dead... I'll also be moved around, which is less than convenient when you don't have a car or a driving license in France.  I'm being hired by 2 similar companies at the same time, and I don't know how I'm going to work this one out.  I'm a bit annoyed that Company A clearly doesn't want me working for Company B, and would rather me with them full time.  However Company B, does not seem as demanding, is easier to access, and is more understanding about the fact that I don't have a car.  Company B is also more understanding that I have a daughter, and refuse, downright refuse to work evenings.  I really don't know what to do.  Company A offers more money, but it's not that I'm after.  The director of Company A and I know the same people... so if for some reason I screw up with them, everyone is going to know about it...and that doesn't too well with me.  

The Brit is so happy for me, as is everyone else, and I can't help but feel so indifferent.  I cannot share the excitement because I'd be lying to myself.  

I want to own a paper shop.  Stationary.  Invitations.  With a cafe in the back....or front.  Am I crazy?  No, I'm just like my mother.... which is perhaps crazy.  She has taught brainwashed me (and my poor sister) to never join the rat race and to do what we want, to hate working.  All our lives she has hated her job(s), and refused to conform to the norm.  This is a woman who is in her 50's and still doesn't know what she wants to do with her life.  I will probably never tell her this, but I'm proud to have been raised by someone who refuses to settle.  I will not teach for the next 10 years, or 5 even.  Two maximum.  I have to continue to search for something that I'll be content with.  Something that will allow me to express myself.  I cannot do this in teaching because it's not me, I have such a block against it that I cannot be 'creative in the classroom'.  I just want to be my own boss.  The Brit has left (er, was fired) from his fruit and veggie job and is now in business with his dad renovating apts.  I'm so jealous that he has just left a job to do what he wants, and I'm just starting a job that I loathe.  I'd paint walls, install counter-tops and sand floors over teaching english.  I've mentioned it several times that once he's settled in this business that we should go in it together.  I would absolutely love that.  Who knows, maybe one day we will do just that.  

We've started looking at kitchens for the house.  I'm super excited that we are going to get started in the upcoming weeks.... I cannot wait to start work on the house and move!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm not old... but I feel it.  
Cheeks turned 10 yesterday.  Ten.  I. have. a. ten. year. old. daughter. 

I'm not ready for what's to come. 

I'm tired.  

My ipod has been frozen all day.  I was all set for the market and a morning dose of Massive Attack and it just froze.  I am really, REALLY upset about having to face the world without my headphones making me vulnerable to the pitiful pleading for money and cigarettes, and the pathetic cat-calls, whistles, and lewd comments.  

I am hoping that it will eventually die and I can 'restart it'.  Other than that, I have no idea what to do!  What pisses me off even more is that it's brand new-ish!  Not having my ipod is like not having internet. 

I feel so naked.    





Edit:  Google, yet again, has saved my life.... or just my ipod.

I detest driving.  Especially in the cities here.  Driving in Bordeaux is a nightmare because the city has been under constant 'traveaux' for at least 2 years.  Once I leave the comfort zone of my quaint little city, I am faced with my arch-nemesis....The Round About.  France and the round-about seem to have this ongoing relationship, never will they break-up as they just keep growing stronger.  There is always a new one going up somewhere, and for no reason whatsoever. 

Back to my original post.  I have to take The Brit's car today to bring the kids to their riding lesson.  I'm secretly not happy about it, but I have no choice. The horse club is conveniently located in the outskirts of Bordeaux, in a country-not-so-country-like area.  It's not that I've never driven before, especially in Bordeaux, I've just always had the luxury of having him in the passenger seat saying 'WATCH OUT!' or 'THE LIGHTS RED!' or 'THAT'S A ONE WAY!' 
He was even kind enough to scream something on the day I rolled through a 'priorité à droite' only to simultaneously see my life flash before my eyes.  That was the day when I was deep in conversation and decided that paying attention to the road was less-than-important.  The passenger side of his nice, black,  Audi A4 was unrecongizable.

Too many euros later, it has been repaired and I haven't sank my feet into the drivers side since.  That was in late June.  
Then there's the driving without a  'permis de conduire' problem.  I am not in the mood to go through the necessary steps in order to get one.  So if I get stopped, I'll just have to pull the 'dumb foreigner look'.  Although being here already for 2 years, I don't think that would work very well.  

I don't know what happened since I've been here.  I've had my license since I was 16, and always had my own cars..... at some point something in me clicked and I decided I didn't want to drive anymore, ever. 

 I'm off to test myself behind the wheel again...it is somewhat reassuring that I'll be toting my kid and someone else's.  I might as well put on a granny wig, because I have a feeling I'll be driving like one. 

It never ceases to amaze me how many english words have been integrated into the french language, and become, well, 'frenchified'. 

This morning, while dropping off Cheeks at school, I started reading the TRES URGENT bulletin informing parents that the ubiquitous louse has once again reared its ugly head.  Typical rentrée routine.  Kid starts school, kid gets lice, kid gets cold. 
I stopped mid-bulletin because of a word that struck me as 'foreign'.  

Vous voulez faire 'RELOOKER' les cheveux.... 'relooker'........ :/  

I read over it a few times to make sure I was seeing correctly.  (8:30am, no glasses, no coffee).  I pointed it out to Cheeks wanting her to affirm that it did, in fact say 'relooker', and she just nodded her head as if it were normal, and to avoid the embarrassment of her mother pointing and laughing at the sign, she practically ran off with her bike and dissappeared into the portals of french education. 

The sad thing is that I thought about it the whole way home, anxious to 'google it' and start researching this new addition to 'la langue française'. I turned on the coffee pot, and made myself comfortable in front of the computer screen only to find definitions that did not suit this sentance.  I figured it meant to 'look over' or 'to check'... All I am finding is this definition, or similar;

Plus original, "relooker" qui plus encore que "looker"
(pourtant à la terminaison bien française, sur ce radical
anglo-saxon) montre l'indépendance du mot. "Relooker", d'origine
anglo-américaine, ne correspond à aucun mot anglais ou américain,
et c'est une création purement française, qui signifie, en gros,
changer l'image d'un produit en le rajeunissant, en le dynamisant,
en tentant de le rendre plus séduisant. 

Le mot est récent, pas la chose : les bas Dimanche
s'étaient relookés en devenant Dim, la Semaine à Paris en devenant
Pariscope, la Manufacture des Armes et Cycles en devenant
Manufrance. Un exemple plus récent ? La Poste ou France Télécoms.

I love french, and I love the fact that I am constantly adding new and 'branché' words to my vocabulary.

I almost want to go back later when it's calm and take a picture of it...and then maybe I'll send it to the Académie Française. 

No, it's not the lovely scent of a hot apple pie that permeates my apartment.  Nor is it the familiar smell of my incense or candles. 

It's the stench of what could be a rotten rat or mouse that has died behind my wall.  I have been driving myself crazy searching the place with rubber gloves and a bamboo stick in the event that I find something, only to come to the conclusion that it is coming from the crack between the floor and the wall. 

I think I am going to be sick.

Following the parisian tradition, the diner or festin blanc goes for year 2 in Bordeaux.  We had the luck to be invited again this year by our friends.  
The theme is that everyone dresses in white, and brings their own tables, food, candles, tableware, wine, etc...
I was under so much stress last year because these types of events are not my cup of tea, but this year seemed so much easier and a lot less stressful. 

Been there, done that right?  I knew most of the people at our table, but once again, I was the youngest.  Our table was the 'mixed nationality' table.  Most of the women were American or English and have been here between 10-20 years, and had met their husbands in America or England and eventually moved back to France with the hubbys.  Typical story.  Most of them don't work, or teach english in private institutions, or have these amazing jobs.  Men were french, except for one english couple who were visiting.  All 40+ and range from middle to upper class.  So, I don't really fit anywhere, which in my opinion is awesome.  Despite their bourgeois-ness, they are fortunately a cool group of people....however, to be taken in small doses.  

The best moment was the jazz band that played 'Do you know what it means to Miss New Orleans', and Janice my southern-belle friend got excited for me and made me stand up...to take a bow.  I had had a few glasses bottles of wine by that point and suddenly became disturbingly outgoing.  Scary what alcohol does to an introvert.  We are like Jekyl and Hyde rearing our frightening sides under the influence.  
I thanked the lead singer for that song and told him I was from New Orleans.  He got so excited and grabbed my hands and said in english; 
'when I was in noo orleenz, zee girls in zee french quarter deed like dis' 
and he proceeded to raise his white shirt.  The whole table bursted out in laughter, including me, forgetting that we were renowned for the year-round flashings.  The Brit just asked me if this is what he had to look forward to during his visit over Christmas and I was honest.

After dinner the entire 450 people were bussed over to a night club for an 'after'.  Or several afters at that.  After too many afters, the Brit showed me some of his dance moves... or what he considers to be dance moves.  The anticlimax of the evening was at some point between the nightclub and where the buses dropped us off The Brit's camera was lost. Everything from the nightclub on is a haze.  We still have not been in touch with the bus company.  Of course, they were not there the weekend, and go figure that that particular driver had monday off.  We still have pics of the event, but his were much better than mine.  

Well, I'll leave you with the article that was in the paper (enjoy if you can read french), and a few pics.... sorry, but I have no idea how to make the pics links. 
Until next year's Festin!

http://www.sudouest.com/010907/vil_gir_bordeaux.asp?Article=010907a4135.xml

    
  my ensemble..                                     check out the MULLET on the guy in the middle! 


A table!


The guy with the banjo is the one who 'showed his tits'

 You know... the french can be so damn 'indiscret'.  They love posing tactless questions by phrasing it ever so cleverfully.... 'si c'est pas trop indiscret'.  (if its not too indiscreet).  It sort of leaves one hanging... do I answer; 
'why yes, that is rather indiscreet, and I don't think I'm going to answer you'. 
Or, do you just answer and feel a part of you die inside from that small morsel of your private life being exposed....and it's usually the kind of questions that you would only share with very close friends.

Damn people. 

Cheek's first day of school was yesterday.  As usual I found myself lost in the crowd of upper 30's to 50 year old parents as usual, and found myself feeling even more anti-social than normal after a summer of near solidad.  I was in no mood to talk to people about what I had done this summer nor did I want to hear about theirs.  Pretty pathetic, I know, but I really cannot talk to people these days.  

I obviously had more courage today when I decided to exchange bisous, with a hesitant mother, that I barely know.  Her daughter attended Kaylee's birthday party last year, she came with us one night to Cap Ferret, and Cheek has also spent a night at her house...all in one year.  So there is a smidgen of a history.  Although today when passing her and seeing her for the first time since last school year, she stopped, said 'bonjour', looked as though she wanted to bisou, started walking, saw that I stopped to give the bisou, stopped short as though to say, 'oh shit she wants to do the bisou too, and eventually gave in and did the damn bisous.
Seriously...WHAT was that all about.  Some of these women treat me like I have 3 heads because I'm a. a damn young mother. (sorry guys, it happens and I ASSUMED)  b.  I still look fresh out of high school and have my 20 year old pre-baby body.  or c. and the most likely.... I'm not one of them.... french.  

Anyway, back on track... after that freakish incident, she asked me the classic question 'vous avez retourner CHEZ VOUS cet été?'  (Did you go back home this summer?)  Chez moi... I love it...
No, Kaylee did alone this time... I stayed here... CHEZ MOI.... then there's that classic 'oh'. 
Lull. 
So what did you all do this summer....?  I had to hear about that... this is what I hate most about banal conversations.  
Lull.  
'T'as repris le boulot?'  (did you start working again?) another classic... this question is almost as bad as the 'what are you going to do when you graduate' one.  I have come up with a story that I tell everyone and am almost starting to believe myself. 
'No not yet, the rectorat has a contract for me, but I can't start until possibly late october' 
I figure that they don't know anything about the school board, so I just tell them things to make them happy.... 
'oh man that's annoying... so what are you going to do?'
'just wait until october'
Then comes the question...
'HOW ARE YOU DOING FINANCIALLY?'
Jaw drops.
Whoa there.... I didn't even get the decency of a 'sorry if this is completely tactless and none of my business'
I was so taken aback, that all I could say was 'chomage' as I shrugged, smiled, and played with the tie of my new René Derhy top (soldes of course), and left it at that.  
She looked as though I had just landed from Mars....as though she was thinking - great, another foreigner draining the system making it tougher for us.  
She simply responded; 'ah yeah, well... il faut faire quelque chose'  (you gotta do something).  I almost fell down in disbelief.
Seriously people... I REALLY don't know this woman, hell, I can't even think of her name.... can anyone, tell me what she is doing asking me a question like that?  I mean it really pissed me off!  I would NEVER in a MILLION YEARS ask someone that I barely knew that question.  If they looked fine, were not wearing dirty clothes with holes in them and weren't going home to a cardboard box at night, I wouldn't question the situation!  Does she honestly think that I would tell her the truth? How I barely make each month, how my boyfriend has been paying my bills all summer, how I use my american debit card regulary and get screwed on the exchange, how I still ask my parents for money...and so on.

I really just need to rant.  I just really take issue with people who don't even take 2 seconds to REALLY get to know me, don't even try to make me feel like a human, even though their kids are playing with my kid, to ask me a question so forthright, so tasteless, and so personal.  

 I feel so invaded and I never want to see this woman again as long as I live.  No wonder I choose to remain so closed and anti-social.  These are the same kind of women who are ask me my age, just so they can do the math and figure out how old (or young) I was when I had Cheek.  The same women that asked me if I had considered abortion.  (this one was a real shocker!)  The same fucking hags who ask me how I dealt with a child at eighteen.  I've had it, never again will I be the one to approach these people, I don't care.  I will remain the enigma, and I don't give a shit if I have friends or not.  I'm tired of superficial people.  I'm sick of seeing through everyone.  

Next time, I'll just keep walking.


/end rant

Ok, maybe not, but it's the first thing that came to mind for a subject.  

The phone range at 9:30 this morning and woke me up out of a deep sleep.  I don't even remember how I answered, but a 'deep grunt' is what I can remember doing. 

It was my aunt.  They have safely arrived in Paris, and have made it via taxi to a hotel near Montparnasse.  

Of course she couldn't figure out how to use the damn cell phone that I provided.  I spent 20euros on credits, and I have a feeling it'll never get used. 

I got to talk to The Cheek, who sounded a but stuffy, but somewhat refreshed to be back.  The Cheek I talked to this morning was not the same Cheek I had been talking to for the last 5 weeks.  Everytime we talked, she was always distracted and very somewhat distant.  This morning however, and I don't know if it was delirium from jet-lag, but she was bright and cheery and really excited to be going to The Louvre. 

Yes, The Louvre.  The kid is dead set on seeing it.  So they will spend the day there, and come down to Bordeaux by train tomorrow morning.  I can't wait to see her little blonde head come bouncing off the train.  All I want to do is kiss her soft cheek.

This my friends is my last day of complete and utter laziness.  No more lie ins, no more irresponsibility, no more getting by with cereal for lunch AND dinner, no more time-less days... It's back to routines, schedules, and being home for Cheeky's bedtime.  

It was fun while it lasted, but I like being a mom.  I have rearranged her room, and I am ready to just sit with her and let her do all of the talking about her trip, while I listen and say nothing but, "mmmhmm', and 'ahhhaaa',  or 'oh really?!'...only to throw in my words of wisdom from time to time. 

I'm not cut out to teach english, I'll never, as long as I live, sit behind a desk staring at a telephone and a computer screen,  I don't work well when there are schedules and times and this and that,  I want to be my own boss, I have no idea what I want to do with my life... BUT I make a damn good mom.  It's by far the most challenging job, and less paid, but truly the most rewarding.  

Welcome home Cheeky!!

Preface:  Cheek got to spend the day in her old school. She went with a friend of ours who is a teacher there, and was able to see old friends, teachers and remember what life was like in an American school.   So funny so see that two years ago, this was normal, but she is now so used to the french school system, and the FOOD, that it was quite the culture shock for her.... She'll be talking about that hamburger meat all year.  My mom typed out her summary, but these are her own words.


'Today'

"I went to Miss Norma's school, Metairie Academy. And, met some old
friends. They looked alot different, but guess what? I told Norma I
didn't want to eat lunch there, but it just happens to be, that I had
to. And, guess what I ate? a rectangle meat, absorbed with ketchup,
and a hamburger pattie smushed on top of hamburger bread. And, cold
pototoes. oooo, and, grapes. Thats about the only thing I ate. I mean,
I'm, already nauseaous from those pototoes. And guess what was fun
about it?  They all wrote questions, and one question was really weird
- its 'what do boys look like over there'? And I scratched that
question out becuase it was ridiculous! I mean seriously, come on,
some people don't even know how to write... I couldnt understand a
thing.... I mean they probably tried to write script. But it was very
hard to understand it. Sometimes I just hoped it was the word I was
thinking of... One boy wanted to spell soufflé but he spelled
s-o-u-l-f-l-e. And another boy asked 'over there, do you eat rats,
snakes, snails and bugs?' I just said 'no'. But yeah, they were really
weird. And guess what? I got to go to an experiment with them. They
had 3 paper towels: one Bounty, one Generic and one Scott.... taped
them to a pencil... put a B for Bounty, S for Scott and G for
generic...and after they dipped it in a bucket of water- just the tips
- and they had a race, like which one got to the top first full  with
water... I voted for Bounty, even though I didnt do the experiment...
well anyway, I'm weird, but I didn't go to PE with the 4th graders but
there's hardly any of my friends there... I dont want to go to PE... I
used to be a soccer champion, I'm not anymore! So I just sat and sat
and sat all day answering questions looking at a sandtime going up and
down, and waiting till it's time to leave, and of course, the boring
classroom.... all she does (Norma) is scream and she had like 25
people! And she asked me to help her, like its so hard to talk and
give out paper to 25 kids. Well thats all I have to say, after, Papa
came to pick me up....then we went to NOMA (New Orleans Museum of Art) to see the
'a-n-g-e-l-s' (singing voice) and went to Aunt Andree's, and Grammie
went to practice at church, Aunt Andree came back and watched tv and
read 'Petit Rouge' in her cajun accent. Thats all I have to say,
now its time to go to bed, my lips hurt and I'm tired... see you soon,
ciao, from and love Kaylee!"

So I'm over the 'I don't want to be back from vacation' feeling, and starting to accept reality.  The Cheek is back in bordeaux exactly one month from today, and although I have been enjoying my life sans responsibility, I prefer being a mom to my pre-pubescent 9 year old.  

My life to date has been rather unexciting.  Partly my fault, partly the fact that it's august and there is nothing to do.  It has taken me one week to call 2 friends back, not one week because I was swamped, one week to come to terms with the fact that I had to return a phone call.  That is not normal.  There have been a few days when I stayed in my PJ's until I took a shower in the evening, and then got right back into my pj's... or I just spend the day walking around the house naked...which is great fun.  I've been avoiding the promised task of cleaning Cheeks room.  I really just can't be bothered with it.  I did manage a litle organisation downstairs.  What is sad is that when The Brit calls after work and asks me what I got up to all day, I need to make a 10 minute task sound like it took hours.
"Oh it took me FOREVER to clean the bathroom!!"  or "I've been working on my art project ALLL day!"
Never "I've been in front of the computer for HOURS!"  He'll realise my addiction to the internet when we move in together... so I still have time to keep that skeleton tucked away in the closet.   
I can't be out and about everyday though because I spend money... money that I don't have.  So my excuse is that I am resisting temptation...there were the sales, then the braderie, and now autumn stuff is out, and there are still sales around.  Not good when you have no income at the moment. 

Speaking of income, I still have no job... don't know if I will have a job.  I actually don't even want to talk about jobs.  

On the new home front, we took a look at it again yesterday.  It is not officially 'ours' yet, but we have the keys.  It is a batiment with six apartments in it, but will be converted into 4 apts.  It has great potential and in a great area!  But months of work, it's actually disturbing to look at, but I can't wait.  I love renovating.  All of this to start in october.  I still have about 4-5 months in this rip-off apt. 

Wow, it's almost 11 already... I'm supposed to go to a friends for lunch.  So not in the mood.  It's always the same story when I go there.... she's not dressed yet, she hasn't started lunch, she spends more time screaming, yes screaming,  at her kids in german than actually having a conversation with her guest.    I'm always there for hours, because of the hours I've had to wait for actual lunch.  She takes long to do everything, and it drives me up the wall.  She's 'knows everything' about 'everything', and tops your stories.  I actually find her very hard to handle, and consider her the 'once a month type of friend'.   

Sigh, I'm off. Ciao----Oiseau