I love knitting, but I'm always feeling a little guilty for cheating on my dusty books with my fancy yarn and needles. Reading is more of an instant gratification than knitting is for me, as I'm very much a "product knitter" (as opposed to a "process knitter"). So I find myself more often choosing to get through a few chapters than a few rows knowing that I'll be more satisfied. I can usually knit a couple of rows while watching a movie or show, but it's more of a distraction to have the TV on than anything. I know lots of people download books to listen to, but I don't really have any desire to change the traditional way in which I currently read my books. So when Aimee recommended listening to talk-radio, I was all over it. I didn't realize how much I missed listening to my favorite talk-radio stations back home until I tapped into some NPR archives and started streaming morning radio shows from my hometown. It's a little luxury that I never knew I was missing since I've been living in the land of public transportation. Belting out wrong lyrics to my favorite songs in the privacy of my own car has always been a nostalgic point for me, but I really feel like I've stumbled upon a little slice of home after tuning in to talk-radio shows these past couple of days.

Last night, while knitting, I was listening to a show Aimee had recommended called, "This American Life," and the topic of the latest broadcast was half-hearted apologies; it featured a story about a man who 40 years ago did some unethical things with dead bodies in the name of cryonics but still can't bring himself to admit his mistakes or offer a full-on apology. It was a pretty interesting story, and at the end of the show, they featured a related poem by William Carlos Williams which he supposedly wrote as a note for his wife to read. It's apparently an oft-spoofed poem, and I found myself thinking of so many ways in which I could apply its quasi-apologetic tone to my own life. So, I did, and I came up with a few spoofs of my own, one of which I'm sharing here:

This is Just to Say
by Misplaced Texan

I haven't done yesterday's dishes
or the laundry
that's been piling up all week

nor have I vacuumed
the floors that also
need a good wipe-down

Forgive me
it was sunny on my day off
and the green grass
so inviting
so plush

It's a well-known phenomenon that while riding the metro you will almost certainly come in contact with some bizarre, odd, or otherwise foreign person. This happens daily. Usually, it's a smelly guy in a suit who's late to work, or a couple talking in a language I've never heard before, or a dude who gets off at every stop and yells some indiscernible chant at his fellow-riders as they descend the metal tube.

Today, I sat next to two very normal-looking guys who were transporting a few bags of market produce. I opened up my book, preparing for the long and dull ride to my stop and kept about my business as usual. Just as I was starting to get back into the juicy bits of the story, a loud clucking noise sounded from just next to me and the plastic bags at the feet of my fellow passengers started moving violently about on their own. Everyone, including me, cocked our heads in the direction of my two neighbors who started wrestling with the bags. A few seconds later, a beak and red-colored head peeped out from the bag and let out a loud "Cluck!" Apparently, these guys had picked up more than bananas from the market and were taking some chickens (or maybe they were hens) home (presumably) for dinner tonight. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, and when they saw that I found it amusing, they began laughing with me. I couldn't decipher what they were talking about before or after that because they weren't speaking French (like that would make a difference anyway) or English or any other recognizable language, but I asked them in French if I could take a picture of their fowl, and they happily obliged. Not wanting to impose too much, I snapped two very quick shots and ended up with these:



We laughed a little more at the incident and carried on with what were doing before the distraction - they continued their conversation and I dove back into my book. Then, something happened that is also a well-known reality of metro-riding. A woman came by to beg for money - I, being engrossed in a book, was all but ignored by the woman, but when she spotted the fresh goods being transported by my poultry-carrying friends, she asked them if she could help herself to a banana. One of the guys had already given her a few coins, but the other guy leaned over and pulled off a banana for her. She thanked him a few times and stood by the doors awaiting her stop. A few seconds later, still conversing with each other, the two guys filled an empty sack with a bunch of bananas and a few mangoes and handed it to the woman. She, nor I, nor the girl opposite me could believe the kind gesture we'd just witnessed.

Here, especially, I find myself on an eternal quest to suppress my over-active, highly-sensitive emotions, and it took everything in me to allow only a single tear to fall. It probably sounds silly, trite even, to become teary-eyed over such a natural and daily encounter. But I find more and more that kindness like this is rarely depicted in the streets (or metros) of Paris. My thoughts are that this has something to do with tradition, and even I have become less sympathetic after hearing people (my husband included) paint a malicious and deceitful, mafia-like picture of the poor and homeless population in Paris. It isn't easy for me to say no to someone when I have the means to say yes, but I feel like it's what's expected of me here. After today, though, it seems clearer than ever that I can still fit in as a Parisian without abandoning my humanity.

I had forgotten what it feels like to wake up with a hangover until this morning. We had too much fun playing poker, eating hot-dogs (with French's mustard), potato salad and ranch dip that I lost count of the number of whiskey & cokes I poured myself after those couple of glasses of wine. Gui was a trooper and had to be up early (as in before noon) to prepare for another night of debauchery for his friend's bachelor party tonight. I got up with him, but never made it past the couch and I've been stalking blogs and randomly interneting all day. My plans to see Sex in the City were easily forgotten after it became physically impossible to change positions on the couch. Thankfully, I had enough strength to get up a few hours later and grab some pho and nems (soup and eggrolls) from the delightful restaurant down the street. It's 9pm, and I'm going to eat, finish my blog stalking, and end the evening curled up in bed with my new favorite book. I expect to be in a much better state of mind tomorrow to recall details of our Independence Day fête.

Wine is sacred in France. When I first ordered a kir, I was astounded (and a little delighted) to learn that it was actually common in France to mix wine with something other than air. Don't get me wrong, I love wine on its own, too - I'm not a connoisseur or anything, but I'm happy to drink a glass daily. Now that summer's here, rosé is the wine of choice around these parts, and this afternoon I discovered a completely neglected and forgotten bottle of rosé at the very bottom of our fridge. I'm not sure how it came to be so discarded, but I decided it needed to be finished off. While pouring the last few drops into my glass, it became evident that it wasn't going to be easy to drink. So, with a dash of soda, my old rosé turned into a sweet wine spritzer. Yes, I said it. I drank a wine spritzer in Paris. I know it's not the classiest drink, but it was good and it made me happy after just running from the metro in the rain.

Another thing that made me happy after my sprint through the rain was the package I found in my mailbox. Jen has the most perfect timing of anyone I know - I swear she can read my mind. The lovely books she sent came just as I finished my back-up book today (one that I've read at least four times). I was scared I'd have to start reading the ads in the metro on the way to school everyday! I think I'll still need to take a trip to an anglophone bookstore in the near future because I have a feeling these books are going to be hard to put down. Thanks again, Jen!!