I'm not really a last minute kind of gal.  I like to plan ahead, make reservations, shop around and do everything I can to ensure that whatever is happening is done so in the smoothest and most efficient way possible.  I don't mind saying yes to a last-minute invitation or hop off to a movie or dinner on the spur of the moment, but when making plans to, say, host a party or take a trip, quick decisions make me nervous and wary. 

This weekend, though, I caught the most wretchedly dire homesickness that I've ever had in my life and nothing could coax me out of my funk.  Gui and I grabbed happy hour and a movie on Friday evening (Alice in Wonderland in 3D - beautiful film but the jury's still out on the storyline and oddly-added solo dance), and then had some Tex-Mex for dinner, but I could barely eat from being so run amok with thoughts about my family and how much I miss them.  Everything reminded me of my nephews and my far-away friends - now mostly parents of little ones - that I don't see often enough.  I felt awful and tried doing things to distract myself, but nothing worked to deter my thoughts. 

On Sunday, we had lunch with Gui's dad and sister at the same place we took my mom to on her first and only trip to Paris, and I struggled to keep it together.  It was hard to stay composed when they asked how I was doing, how my job was going, and how my family and new nephews where getting along - normal stuff.  My heart was totally longing to be near them, to hold my new nephews and run around like a kid with the others.  Gui and I talked about our trip in June and all the things we'll do while we're there, all the people we'll see.  But, in doing this, we realized how little time we'll actually have to see everyone we want to see.  Between Kansas and Austin and Dallas and the traveling between each, two weeks is just not enough time. 

Monday morning rolled around and I was in such a foul mood.  I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first black dress I saw, tights and boots, trudged slowly to the bus without much care about the time or my tardiness and then, with immense difficulty bonjoured everyone in the office and sputtered off a lie when they asked how I was doing.  I just couldn't be bothered with the day; with anything. How did it get to this?

Despite my lingering Monday workload, all I could think of was leaving - leaving the office, leaving Paris, leaving France.  Just leaving.  I was so incredibly sad and felt so incredibly guilty about being so sad.  All I could think of was going home - being home with my parents, sister, brothers, nephews, friends and their babies.  I just wanted to be near them all. 

So, as an act of desperation, I checked flights to Texas and flights to Kansas and realized that I could visit my sister (and brother-in-law and 3 out of 4 of my nephews) in Kansas by cashing in on our frequent-flyer miles and paying about half the normal price of a ticket.  Originally, I thought about going for a long weekend - taking advantage of the Monday holiday, I could leave Friday night and come back on Sunday, but Gui thought that was just too crazy.  He reminded me that I work in France, and when my contract is all said and done, I still won't have used up all of my paid vacation and RTT (days accumulated each month that act like paid vacation).  So, I guiltily asked my boss if he would mind my taking a few extra days off - even though I'd already taken two days the week before, and he was totally cool with it.  More than cool.  He waved his hand and told me to take whatever days I need to and not to worry about any asking in advance.  I was elated.


I don't know if this last-minute trip will make everything better or if I'll return with a renewed feeling of positivity and happiness, but I know it will do me some good.  Just knowing that I'm leaving on Thursday morning to finally meet my new nephew and see my loved ones has already made such a difference in my mind.  I've never planned a transatlantic flight so spontaneously before, and this time it's not about how smoothly everything goes or how efficiently my time is spent.  Once I see those toothy grins and hear those hearty grunts from the sweetest boys in all the world, my thoughts will be light-years away from the trifles of time and economics. 

I just wish the sun wouldn't be so fleeting around here.  It's warmed up a bit, but the days have been mostly grey with patches of sunshine, and it would be really nice if spring just sprung already!  Despite my complaints, I am pretty happy that I can still wear my tweed wool sweater that was finished just in time to greet the giboulées de mars (the French version of April Showers or June Gloom).  I'm really proud of my first attempt at sweater-making, and I'm getting as much wear out of my new knit as the weather will allow.

…and stuff.

Gui and I were recently invited to the top-secret, velvety-drape-lined K&K boudoir to be guests on the ever-popular podcast hosted by fellow Paris-based expats, Katia and Kyliemac. We’ve known these lovelies for some time now, having met them through the shrinking circle of expat friends that we’ve been lucky enough to have made here. They’re a rather dynamic duo who dish the dirt on life as anglophone transplants in Paris and offer tidbits and advice on how to survive the often bittersweet streets of this bipolar city.

I’ve always secretly wondered what it would be like to be a guest on their show – if costumes were the preferred dress code attire and if cocktails and pineau really did pour freely. Now I gladly know that the answers to my thoughtful queries are indeed, yes and YES.

Gui and I enjoyed bottomless Muffin Manmade rhum-rhums while recounting the tales of how we met, how we managed a long-distance relationship and how we eventually got to Paris. They refilled our glasses and we stayed to record a second episode where we talked about cultural differences in the workplace. It was loads of fun, and I even learned a bit about Gui that I never knew (like how much he missed the morning taco-truck at work).

I’ve got to say, it’s a little unsettling listening to my recorded voice (which I think sounds like a mix between valley-girl and cowgirl), but the K&K team have really got their technical shiz together!  Listening to their show is such an indulgence that I gladly make time for and being on the show felt like a real honor.  Walking home after such a fabulous time spent chatting with friends, Gui remarked on how great of a souvenir the podcast will make for the future us and our eventual offspring. And, he’s so right.

I'm linking our podcast debuts here, but the K&K website has every episode from 1 to 324, and you can also subscribe to their biweekly shows on iTunes (like I do)! 

The other day, a busy and rainy Sunday afternoon, as Gui and I were leaving McDonald's to get on with the day, a young boy stopped me and asked me if I had a euro. We were still inside the McDonald's when the boy approached me, and I had to ask him to repeat himself because I wasn't really sure what he said the first time. When I understood that he was asking me for a euro, I told him, "no," continued walking out of the restaurant and then proceeded to feel like the scum of the earth.

Being asked for money from strangers has just become part of my daily life as a Parisian city-dweller. I come across homeless people on a regular basis, and I've managed to grow a thick skin of indifference, knowing that my usually overly-emotional self is just not suited for denying a beggar some change. But, it wasn't until I firmly and quickly rejected this child's bid for a bite to eat that I realized how cold and callous I'd actually become. I walked by the McDonald's again a few minutes later and saw the boy sitting at a booth eating a burger. I wanted to cry.

A friend of mine makes it a point to give food and not money to beggars he encounters on the streets and in the tunnels of Paris, and I generally agree with that approach. But, rarely do I find myself with an extra piece of fruit or bag of chips in my handbag, and sometimes it's just not all that practical for me. And, I realize the trouble with handing out cash to people when they ask for it; that there's an organized ring of criminals who make people beg and take their money, but how am I supposed to pick and choose who I help and who I don't help?

I understand now that I should have asked the boy what he wanted to eat, bought him his Happy Meal and made his day instead of flatly rejecting him a slice of happiness that I could so easily have provided. But what if someone older had approached me instead? I might have felt less guilty knowing I'd said no to an adult and not a child, but is that morally OK?

There are a lot of things that I have changed about myself to adapt to living here, but I refuse to let my moral compass be one of them. Of course nobody has asked me to change, to become a different person or to conform to the norms of my new social setting; any changes I've made about my personality or my habits have solely been self-imposed. But, I'm realizing the high price my need to "fit-in" has cost me, and I don't plan to continue paying it.

If I can spare some change to make someone happy or buy a cheeseburger to feed a hungry boy, there's no reason I shouldn't. I won't be able to feed the world or make everyone happy, but at least my humanity will remain intact, and really that's the only thing that fits in everywhere.

I thought I'd (once again) take a cue from my sister's fancy blog, and get things caught up around here. So, here are a few things that sum-up my right now:

I'm loving that the days are getting longer and the temps are getting milder. Although we've had a few intermittent weeks of crazy-cold snowy days (and we're still hanging around the 40s and 50s), it seems like we may be saying goodbye to the worst of winter as we roll into March. It definitely makes me happy to leave work and still see so much lingering daylight - the promise of springtime in Paris so easily makes the stresses of a long workday disappear.



We bought our tickets to visit Texas in June and it couldn't come soon enough! I'm dying to meet my new nephew, Jacob and see all of my other nephews and family!

Gui and I have been getting back into the habit of Sunday brunching. Le brunch is apparently the "it" thing to do in Paris, so we try to get out and about as early as possible to avoid the long lines. We just re-established our brunching routine 3 weeks ago, and so far we haven't had a bad meal, yet. I never knew how close a mouth-watering plate of eggs benedict and huevos rancheros were until now!



I've been spending every spare moment I have clicking my needles away to finish my first adult-sized sweater that I'm proudly making for yours truly. It's been a really fun project so far and I haven't even yet arrived at the fun part - the patterened yoke!


I'm waiting for some new clothes pattern books to arrive in the mail - I plan on taking advantage of my proximity to French fabrics and will be jumping back into sewing this spring. My dust-collecting sewing machine will finally get the attention it deserves!

I've been missing my Texas friends a lot lately. I dream daily about being back in Austin, getting together for dinner or pints or weekly yoga clases and simply enjoying each other's company. I really miss the spontaneity and ease of my life there, but knowing it's not such a far off dream keeps me focused on my right now.

My sister emailed me about this Superbowl commercial, and I have to agree with her, it's pretty cute. Gui saw it, too, and we decided that despite it's slightly corny, happy-love-googly-eyed theme, the message is actually pretty relevant. Our relationship would be totally different without the world-wide web (as my mom likes to call it). Whether it's lame or just regularly accepted nowadays, the internet is a really large part of my life, and I don't know if I'd be brave enough to live so far away from the people I love without having it as my lifeline. I'd say Google definitely struck a chord with this one.

I've been thinking a lot about my blog lately; my poor, neglected, orphaned blog. I think I want to jump back on the wagon and rediscover the therapeutic benefits that thought-disposal provides to my tangled-up, conflicted expat emotions.

There's quite a bit of stuff going on round these parts lately. I'm still working on Fancy Street, with fancy people in their fancy clothes, speaking their fancy French. My French is still not quite so fancy, but I have to admit it's improved substantially since the last time I blogged. I can generally hold a telephonic conversation now, and my vocabulary list has expanded at least two-fold. I often hear myself speaking and think of how impressed my girl friends back home would be, being fancy French-speakers themselves. I still improperly conjugate my verbs and say things like à bientôt when I should really say à toute or à plus-tard, but to that I say, "whatevs." At the office I'm still pretty much the outcast, alien American that people kind of look at suspiciously, as if waiting to see if I'll explode or bust out in song and dance. And, at least once a week I find myself in culture-shock hell and wishing I could hail a cab to the airport to jump on the first 14-hour flight headed West. But mostly, I'm getting the hang of the Paris version of the daily grind and find comfort in the habits that I am used to and the skills that set me apart from everyone else (that mostly being my English-speaking talent).

And, it's still winter in Paris, so I'm hoping that has something to do with some of my work woes. This year, winter has been pretty rough on me. I've never gone so long in my life without seeing the sun or wearing flip-flops. I'm going to blame this rant on my lack of vitamin D, but seriously, summer could not come any sooner! (Man, do I sound whiney!) Besides the gloomy, frigid weather of late, Paris folk don't get any warmer or friendlier in the wintertime either, which is why I stocked up on paperbacks from WH Smith yesterday to hide my face behind during my somber morning metro rides. There's nothing worse than staring at a car-full of grumps in the morning before the first coffee's been poured.

But there is light at the end of the gloomy, snow-filled tunnel, and it comes in the form of les vacances! Gui and I are planning our winter, spring and summer trips right now and just thinking about the possibility of a beach and a tank-top in my near future has got me snubbing the cold. We probably won't be headed anywhere warmer until March, but I think I can handle a few more weeks of hoofing it under cloudy skies if I have a sandy towel and umbrella-topped cocktail to look forward to.

We already know that we'll be going to Texas in June, though. If I could take more than a couple of days paid vacation before then, we'd be going in March, but c'est la vie. Besides the obvious reasons of seeing family and friends, Gui and I will be going back to the States in June to "activate" his immigration visa. He applied for the visa in August last year and after going through the process at the embassy in Paris, he recently received the literal stamp of approval to live and work in the States, which requires him to enter the US within 6 months. We're really excited about moving back, and we're hoping to get a date worked out and plans set in stone once we're there in June. There's still loads to sort out, but thankfully, we have some time before my work contract is up to work out the logisitcs and make some decisions. I do already know, however, that whatever date we decide on moving back, it must be before next winter hits. It's pretty clear that my Texan blood just isn't cut out for this big-city winter!