I saved Latin, what di you ever do?

The digital world has swallowed me whole. This occurred to me last night on my walk whereupon seeing a hand scrawled note on the ground I immediately thought to myself, maybe it's a quest!

This fact was only reenforced by my recent trip to le Musee Cluny  on Free museum day. After standing before a massive disembodied statue's head and I found myself wishing for my camera and a respectable block print font in post production so that I could turn my would-be photo into the dat ass meme, como esto:

I pointed this out to Sebastien and Christian and had to give a brief history of what exactly I was talking about. Uh, not even for the first time...

 Their reactions sort of gave me the impression I've gone in too deep.  This was only naturally reenforced later when viewing  a bas relief of Jesus in scrimshaw holding the heads of two choir boys with lacquered mahogany backsplash. Some people would have made a molestation joke, or by contrast, actually enjoy the art in the spirit it was created in...but for me, seeing it instantly called to mind something I had seen in my tumblr feed the day before...

With all of this stuff going on in my head, compounded the fact that I keep playing Skyrim before bed, I'm really glad I've got a new music project going with a few very talented musicians. I did my first shift working as a waitress at a restaurant last night. It was fine, except I needed to stretch for 20 mins once I got home. My friggin' back!
But, ever since I got my visa worked out, my focus has been finding work in an immersive French speaking environment. I thought about trying to intern at some office but I hate sitting around all day--even if it means I'd get to wear my pearls.
True enough, I can always fall back on  teaching, but that would have to be in English. Or I could always nanny, but people who can afford that live at least 40 mins outside of Paris. Not to mention,  I loath people who outsource the parenting of their children.
It's funny, here in Paris I've had all the time in the world but no money. If I work out well at this gig, however I'll be working so much enjoying my money will be hard. But this is exactly the kind of trade off I'm in the mood for. One of the hardest things about moving to France was losing the freedom to buy the things I wanted or needed. I'm really not used to having to budget for lotion.

Thankfully I'm exaggerating, but it's wintertime and I'm ashy! Oh well, Aude defends her dissertation  today, so Sebastien and I are going to watch her be all smart and hot about it. Plus, they're serving free lunch!  Maybe we'll pick her up a balloon on the way? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anyway,  I have to get in the science mood, (cuz I'm still running on sleepy mode) So I leave you with this:

Congratulations, you are no longer normal.

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Adventure time (Erin goes gorillas)

On December 2nd, two-thousand-and-ten Sebastien and I landed in Paris, at Charles de Gaulle airport, ready to write a new chapter in our lives...

As happy and sappy as it sounds--the lead up was a particular version of hard that we of the first world are permitted to call hell.
Let's take it back to the last day in November when Sebastien and I, with the help of our very best friend Brad, played a game of Tetris verse the back of a U-haul moving van. 

Brad and banana boxes, really couldn't have done it without ya.

The three of us went to sleep on the floor of our apartment once the game was over around 5 Am. Brad left for work around 8, we said our final good byes to him and Seba and I went to unload the van in a storage facility. That was really fun because everything on our bodies hurt! Once our 5 by 15 space was fuller than the Lestrange vault, we decided it was time to go to the airport. Auspiciously, there was a parking lot full of taxi cabs at our disposal.  We found an on-duty dude who spoke French--a small something I interoperated it as a good sign. Predictably, we encountered park-and-walk traffic, but that clean cab smell had me relaxed.  Or perhaps it was the reoccurring muscle spasms that were simply keeping me immobile. On either account, I stared fixedly out the window at the Beltway and focused on important things, like why I never feel obligated to fasten my seatbelt in a cab...

Well, anyway--we got to the airport and I dumped out my water bottle in the trash,  put everything I planned to own for awhile on a conveyer belt and walked slowly through a gate so that someone coud look at me all naked-like over some scanner and I could simultaneously prove I didn't put bomb parts up my bum. At least that's why I think they make us do that. Whatevs, I was through security, we were good.
Have you ever been sitting on your plane waiting to leave when the attendent says something like, "Is Person Mc Lastname and Other Macotherson on the plane?"
Or, "Will Donner party of five please check in at your gate, the plane is waiting."
When I hear this I'm either outraged or curious--it really depends how tired I am. Anyway, when we got to our gate to get on the plane they had apparently been doing that for us. We were five minutes away from missing our nonrefundable, one way, trans-Atlantic, international flight!
If you know me yet, you know I'm a bit of a spaz when it comes to traveling. Being on time is hardly adequate; having four hours with nothing to do, safely on the other side of security is how I like to roll. So, I'm really glad I read the tickets wrong and had no idea we were cutting it so close, because I would have been forced to murder one of us and I really didn't have the energy.

Other fun things happened. For instance, we met the weight allowances for Lufthansa, the german air carrier we purchased our ticket from, but not Delta, their american partner who would actually be providing our flight. So when we landed in Roissy,  we had  5 bags to navigate with instead of the 4 we had planned on, and I ripped my silk stockings.
That was basically the most fun ever.

But really that's where the horror stories stop.
We made it to our hotel and luxuriated in a hot tub, soothing our aches and scrapes and blocking out the Frenchness of the outside world. We walked around that night in a snow encrusted town with all the holiday lights poking through and cheering up the streets. We found a creperie and had  galette crepe with eggs and ham, sweet cider and desert crepe with whipped cream and chestnut butter. It's funny because a year ago, on that night, I would have been afraid to make crepe at home, now it's just something I whip together if we're hungry enough.
We spent the next two weeks with the best friend of Sebastien's father and his family while we looked for an apartment in Paris. I saw the seventh Harry Potter film with French subtitles.--which amused me to no end.

Harry left his backpack at the Burrow, giving Ginny full reign to rifle through it and sniff its contents: deleted scenes, disk five.

I learned so much about French cooking and table service. I tried fine wines and new foods and I got to meet David Sederis at a book signing he was doing at a small book shop. All in the first week!

We found a flat shortly after that with a a balcony, in a cute neighborhood.   And then I don't know, here we are, encore !
It's been quite a year. My level of French has jumped from non-verbal, non-comprehending infant to that of a fully formed toddler--one who's cute accent is sometimes intelligible by those who interact with me most. Sebastien and I have developed a sense of humor about our arguing that has helped mitigate or resolve conflicts more quickly. I've learned a lot about the strength of my partner's resolve and have found inspiration in his dedication to making our lives better--e.g getting up for work at seven, even if we've been partying till 5.  It's not that I'm not capable of that level of duty and responsibility, it's just that I would be crying the whole time.
Turn your judgey face right off!
That's a job for Judy.
OK?

I'm not joking when I say he sets a good example for the sort of  adult I want to be. I love Sebastien and value the time we've put aside in our marriage to explore commitment, the universe and everything else. It's also cool that I can use this blog as a tool to track the progress and watch the way we've both grown and changed. Sure we could be parents and home owners by now--if we had stayed in jobs we weren't happy in just for the money, doing what society expected of us. But instead we've seen more of the world together. We've eaten millions of new chips, experimented with common French meats and animal products in our kitchen here that would be luxury items priced way out of our  range back in the States. (And one time, last week, we even cooked Kangaroo steaks.)

So, to commemorate our one year anniversary with France, I hung out on tumblr and Sebastien played a russian remake of the 90's video game, Fantasy General. But that's just because we're humble people. 

After lunch we went for a long walk dans la bois de Boulogne, pictured above at sunset, and from there we walked to The Avenue des Champs-Élysées and took our first stroll around the Village de Noel, sharing a cup of mulled red wine and returning just in time to play a great board game with friends in the kitchen.  Milestone unlocked.
I tell ya, the internets, I've tried a bunch of stuff to get happy and stay happy and to be perfectly honest with you, all I've ever really been cut out for  [so far] is adventuring. I am grateful that I have partner who is skeptical of all my best ideas enough to help me make them even better. He's also good with map reading, exchange rates and other languages. Bref, without him, team awesome would only really be, team Erin...and that wouldn't be awesome at all. #foreveralone

I guess what I'm saying is, I love someone. He's the Jake to my Finn and it's totally Rhombus.

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Jam for Jerry

Ay ay ay, Rangers. Raise your hand if you love to camp. Good. Now keep those hands up high if you're desperate enough to settle for sleeping outside. To the lame layperson, there really is no difference. But to the few the proud, the sportif, camping is not something you do for one night in someone's garden. Mais non! It takes weeks of preparation  planning and a good amount of traveling before the hike-in and camp-out  can even happen. Oh yes, it takes true grit my friends, true grit and a lot of trail mix--no chocolate in the mix either, because it friken melts.

Well, with a build up like that, you must already know that we didn't have weeks, or trail mix or frankly even a sleeping bag for each person. It was raining and we were in someone's garden. But Sebastien and I also showed a french chick and a german guy how to get down on some smores. I know the picture makes it look a little gross since there was meat cooking at the same time...and this from a people who refuse to mix fruits and cheeses at breakfast! Nevertheless our "camping trip" was win.
I absolutely adore snuggling up when it's raining and there is just something about small spaces that make me feel safe. Thus, tents equal so much love. We all crowded in to hear Sebastien read from one of our favorite steam-punk settings and eventually headed peaceably off to sleep. Well, not before we got a visit from an ambitious little kitten whom, when he deigned to sleep, preferred to lay directly between the faces of Sebastien and myself. It was oddly calming... Mostly though, he indulged in exactly NONE sleep.  He preferred to be chased in and out of the tent, attack the walls, bite my feet and bat at Sebastien's nose. That was, predictably, not so calming.
We went for a hike the next day in a national forest ripe with amazing climbing and bouldering outcroppings. Sebastien is basically half-scout, half-monkey, so he took to it right away. I'm still more of a 'lay in the sun and wait for everyone to feel like walking again,' kind of climber, but I had fun too.
We've had our hands in all kinds of different tricks lately. We celebrated Sebastien's birthday with a party here at our flat that migrated to a friend's house warming party.

Guess who got potato chips to review for his birthday? The Chipster, Aka Mr. Universe 

The whole gang got down

And many a new  friend was made

 We partied like it was 19-99 (on sale)

It was a great night. The second party was even more wild than ours. Seba and I were some of the first only to leave and we didn't even feel like heading home until 4 am. (Though I hear the 1pm breakfast was quite a thing to miss.)
It was also the 14th of July recently. That's the french revolution holiday where they celebrate the jail break of non-political prisoners, for political reasons. One of the traditional events is attending a firemen's fundraising ball where you get to dance around with cute, drunk recruits for less than bar prices on drinks.

I was  en forme that night, let me tell you. They also have fireworks and all of that typical patriotic stuff, like guns and parades. We skipped all of that--the crowds, lack of bathrooms, lack of trash cans, lack of picnic space, all of it--and instead availed ourselves of a great Vietnamese restaurant where I finally got some good Pho. Everyone has heard of Vietnamese soup, but a good Pho Bac come with the meat still raw--Not the meatballs version, of course--but when you've got the thin beef strips, the soup broth is actually there to cook it. So many times in the States they've waited until it was rubbery and grey to serve it to me. Yuck.
Hmm, what else?
Harry Potter's last movie came out on the 13th here but I waited until Bastille Day to see it in 3D. Just one day early, no big deal #mlib.

Are you a fan?
It's a series of both books and movies that have had a lasting and powerful impact on my life and my relationships. You can laugh at the power of love and it's ability to deflect evil in our hour of need. But I am going to remind myself of the boy who lived...

I may do a whole post just on the Rowling universe. I also plan to post the Tunisian Sfax wedding event very soon. I even have a video blog in the works for you from our observance of Dork Day!
Well, I'm out like a queer kid at the pride parade, but I just wanted to mention briefly that you should check out Fucking Bad Ass Recipe Box. Among other tasteables, drinkables and amusing prose, he's got a great idea for goat cheese meatballs up that I plan to make this week.
Moreover, if your looking for a new read and tired of the same old life/fashion/sports blogs, check out Mounting and Counting. It's a very intimate look at the life of a professional escort. Also, I wasn't able to participate in the KROD this month but click the link for the full list over at Sara Swears A Lot.
Well that's just about all I have time for.
Our flat looks like a bomb went off. I'll be cleaning for awhile. What kind of music do you like to clean to? I'll be listening to a lot of Holy Ghost! while I work. Check out Jam for Jerry, Wait and See, Say My Name and I Will Come Back if you want a good little emo-disco bop as the backdrop to your life for a bit. Oh, you read "emo" and were turned off, wellzers, it's kind of like Depeche Mode, Air and a Yamaha Scratch pad all spun around in one amazing musical buffet. Tapes may get older but It's Not Over, Eat up!

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