Tag Archives: France

Day Twenty-Eight, Nostalgic Contemporary

Yesterday I went rip-tearing about town on my happy feet. I shared a bit of my experience as well as promising to share more of what I saw and enjoyed. I have not forgotten, but I wanted to share a couple of things that happened today before we dive into nostalgia.

That’s the white horse from the place near my client’s home. She ran over to where we were and posed the question of our existence. I told her she was a lovely horse and she posed in the second picture. Bored because we gave her nothing but praise, she munched on the grass.

The stand in the tree is too small to be a treehouse and has blotchy type camoflauge on it. I’m guessing it’s a hunting stand. The people who own the house behind that stand have a large fenced in yard with a solid black gate to their driveway. It was open enough today to see a little dog, about the same size as my Porkie (Pomeranian/Yorkie mix). It was mostly white with brown on the ears and boy did it have a voice!

The last pictures are what I had for dinner. It was kind of set up like a Salsarita’s or a Moe’s in that you started with the dish size, then added sauce of your choice, then meat (or not), then you could add a side. I chose plantains. (They also offered vegetarian and vegan options as well). The man spoke a little English, but we mostly laughed and pointed. Laughing was because of my atrocious pronunciation of the menu words. I’m getting better though!

Now let’s do some timey-whimey stuff and go back to the yesterday.

Eglise Saint-Pierre de Caen
The construction took place
between the 13 and 16th century.

Until around the mid-19th century, the eastern end of the church faced onto a canal that was then covered and replaced by a road. It’s spire is seen in several pictures that I took from the Chateau de Caen which is practically across the road from this ornate tribute to Saint Peter.

This is what I saw as I approached the Chateau de Caen. I wasn’t really aware that’s what it was. These sights are what grabbed my attention and pushed me to explore.

As I approached the former palace of William the Conqueror, I was filled with wonder. I breathed in the fresh air, observed the many textures of plantlife around me, and allowed my curiousity to lead me forward.
The castle is being renovated and excavated. A garden is being put in the courtyard. The paths are lined with fencing which guides you to the places you’re allowed to visit. This next video is what I came to first.

For 3Euro50 you can explore the permanent exhibits of fine art. I’m not particularly fond of the period that used black as the predominant color. I find them to be off-putting, but I did find some I like as well as a little joke.

That painting! It was practically hyper-realistic.
Saint George’s chapel was a bit surreal. The tombs that are in the video are more than likely out of order since I couldn’t read the thumbnails. But, they’re all there and accounted for as best as I could do. The tombs were covered over in plexi-glass which I thought a might bit odd. But, that’s what they do for the famously rich, I suppose.

There is so much more to show you, but I’m late in posting. I forgot how much I love the hyper-focus of production. I’m still learning how to use the tools I have, so bear with me. For a newbie, I don’t think I’m doing so bad at it.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!

Day Twenty-Seven, Can Caen!

I spent six hours walking around today looking at various places in Caen. I started out with no particular place to go, but found the Caen Castle. It was the palace of William the Conqueror. I have a lot of pictures to sort through for that one, so I’ll share those tomorrow since I have to work and most likely won’t get out much to explore.

As I ride the bus to work, there is a place called Moon and Sons. I thought it a clever name. I notice it quite frequently making a mental note to visit, but I didn’t until today. OMG!

20 Avenue De La Libération, Caen, FR 14000 It was simply magnificent. It’s an British restaurant in Caen. A mix of magical and muggle alike. You won’t be sorry for stopping in for an espresso, a meal, or a pastry.

But this…The bartender played a few pieces while I drank my espresso and ate a cinnamon roll. When I asked him if he was okay with me posting, “Yes!” he said. When I asked if he wanted his name on the video or did he want to be some random Dude, he laughed, “I’m okay with random Dude.” I think his name was Justin. I gave the staff each a little yellow duck.

The absolute enchantment of the place was gushing over my senses. I messaged my friend Jen and told her, we would hang out here. When I showed her several pictures via text, she enthusiastically agreed.

Sidenote: I’ve been working through Going With Grace’s The Living Practice. There are a few that I didn’t do because they’re not as important to me. But there have been a couple that have really put me in a stuck position.

  • Who/What was your most impactful death?
  • Who are you? (You can’t use: job, body, relationships, characteristics, accomplishments, possessions, or anything external to you).

I don’t know how to answer those questions. I could give knee jerk answers but these are deep questions. I want to answer them to my personal satisfaction. Quality vs. Quantity I suppose. As I ponder these two, I encourage you to consider them as well. AND, if you’re of the mind to try the course: The Living Practice (The link will open in a new tab).

Day Twenty-Six, High Horses

The title is misleading, I know. I read it and picture a couple of equine’s reclined while indulging in some “funny” grass. But it’s not about that.

Besides bouncing a ball back and forth, it’s my job to encourage my client to take walks to maintain mobility. Sometimes he gets cranky and will only walk in the yard which is not very interesting. And then there are days like today when we get to walk down the country lane to a side road that borders a field with four horses. I’ve described them to you, but today, I got pictures!

Chinaberries, variegated bi-color leaves.

That last picture is a fire hydrant. The red top comes up and off. There is a cylinder inside. I saw some municipal workers clearing out the interior of one. It’s an interesting design. I don’t know how effective it is, but they evidently work because they get maintained.

While we walk, we talk about different things. His voice is quiet so I lean in to hear his take on things. He was genuinely delighted that the one horse was so close to us. I like when he laughs. He doesn’t do it often, but when he does, it’s magic.

I can’t see out of the small window in my small room, but I got brave tonight because I could see the sky. There is a short slanted roof below the window. The first picture is pretty much straight out the window. I angled up and down the street to see what it looks like. The sky was prettier in person. My fear was in dropping my phone while trying to see outside.

While at my client’s house, their daughter was in town from her bike-ride across Europe. She and I talked about how looking a fool is something you need to get comfortable with really quick because with the language barrier, charades is sometimes the best you can do. She disclosed that she also shops by picture and was slightly embarrassed that she couldn’t speak French as fluently as she thought she could.

She’s really a great human. I like her very well.

Why can’t we have nice things like this? This is across from the bus stop in the Cairon Commerces. To the left of this is a recycle and trash station. It’s clean, cozy, and peaceful. The horse that stared at me is farther to the left of this pictutre.

Peace be with you. You are loved!

Peace be with you. You are loved!

Day Twenty-Five, Listen

You know, the church bells don’t sing here.

The cars pass by, the scooters and motorcycles whine

At times loud music stays long enough for a stop light

I hear youthful voices interacting in bubble-gum bursts

Males with raised voices gushing laughter at one another

The steady whir of the fan sets a background,

noise I don’t pay attention to for a while because

I’m listening to a spider win against the fly.

Day Twenty-Four, Chores

I was given notice yesterday that the place I’m staying is currently up for sale. The realtor would be popping by to show the place today, would I mind? Uh, well…since I have no real choice in the matter and I feel like refusing would jeopardize my current arrangement, Yeah, sure! A while later I was messaged with a Whoops, sorry. Rescheduled to next week.

Five flights of stairs is not a lot in the grand scheme of things, but I’m fat and tend to be sedintary if not motivated to accomplish a task. Hey, I come by it honestly, my mother is the same way! The idea of dragging anything up and down those stairs sincerely makes me consider exactly what I’ll need to do once I get down the stairs (THAT’s no problem).

  • Take out recycling (Google image translate informs me that it’s on the ground floor)
  • Take out the trash (Also on the ground floor)
  • Do a load of laundry including towels (Ground floor and over two doors)
  • Pick up some groceries (.2 miles away is the Monoprix Hypermarket)
  • Get nail clippers and hand lotion (Pharmacie across the street)

I double/triple checked that I had all my dirty clothes and towels loaded into my handy buggy. I got the trash out of the can, tied off the bag and put that on top of the dirty clothes, securing the slide. I put the recycling bag handles over the buggy handles. Double/triple check, yup. That’s everything.

Grabbed my bag and keys, unlocked the door from the inside with the key… Pulled my buggy into the dark hallway, locked the door with the same key I used to open it from the inside…Open the stairwell doors and descend.

Down to the lobby where there are three doors. One goes to the outside. One doesn’t open. One reveals a storage area with a closed door off to the right. I open it because it will and I found the trash bins! Hooray!

I didn’t see a place for the recycling to go until after I’d dropped it into the cans I’d found. It was behind another closed door. Dudes, I thought about correcting my error, but truthfully, I was grateful I even found the trash bins.

I am not a graceful person. I’m large but unaware of my size most of the time. I don’t feel like I’m a size 20. In my head, I’m much smaller. I could be reading more into it than is necessary, but it’s rather magnified over here.

As I’m in the grocery store, shopping by picture, guessing at words, refusing to translate because I’d have to translate the entire store, I felt an ineptitude that I’m not a fan of feeling. It really snaps my awareness into a clarity about what it could feel like to be illiterate. I’m practically mute because although I can say simple things like please, thank you, good day, I’m sorry and my numbers, I’m ridiculously unable to do things I take for granted back home.

I’ve observed that the people I’ve interacted with have primarily spoken more than one language. They have at least a rudimentary conversational base which I am lacking in their native tongue. I feel small here. As if I could be quickly and easily forgotten. I want so badly to communicate, to let them (whomever that may be) know I exist. Maybe I’m like Ariel, wishing to be a part of a world that doesn’t belong to me. Perhaps.

Why did you get the emotional roller-coaster? It turns out that the laundromat is slightly different than the one I used before. I tried to will my brain to translate the words into ones I could understand, for some of them it did, but not enough to know what the hell I was doing. I didn’t ask for help. I just stared at the sign, trying to make sense of the symbols.

A young man, maybe 22-24, asked me in accented English if I were going to be staying long in France. Yes, until the end of the month. He suggested getting a laundry card and loading it. Instead of paying 4 Euros per wash, I’d only pay 3 Euro 60. Well, heck. That’s a pretty darn good deal. I followed his instructions. Voila! I have a loaded laundry card.

An hour for a wash. Yikes. I toddled across the street to the pharmacie, found nail clippers but no lotion. The woman behind the corner kept trying to engage me by asking me questions in French. I smiled and nodded, thank you I said. I tried to explain that I needed a small bottle of hand lotion. She stared back at me with an equally blank look on her face. I felt a little better. I relented and pulled out the translator (Why aren’t babbelfish a real thing?) A bit of back and forth and I tucked my purchases into my pocket-bag.

I’m reading a book by Jenny Swartz. Freddie Nechtow gave me the book “The House That Walked Between Worlds” and I finished that three book series. Now I’m on a new adventure by the author. Maybe it’s because of what I described earlier about illiteracy, but I don’t typically read for fun any more. I like to get lost in the world the author created. I like to ride the emotional pony around the imaginary carousel. It takes up a significant chunk of time which is why it’s not something I readily do. However, I sure am popping them back like illicit drugs trying to get a reader’s high. I returned to the laundromat and read.

After my clothes were dry, I folded them and stacked them compactly into the bottom of the buggy. I headed off to the grocery. The weather was gorgeous out, if not even a wee bit warm. But the sun, the people, the neighborhood feel of Mondeville created a sense of being. It was good.

I arrived at the store, picked through the aisles, collected my necessities, checked out, loaded up my buggy, and walked back a different route.

What steps I have traveled on roads
past tense and presently, 
altared;
a communion of daily lives
exalted as the fevered prayers
of the faithful
knelt in the pews with bowed heads
whispered words of conversations,
of confessions,
of wrong paths and right roads taken
A map to their righteousness
emblazoned on a rosary bead.
I sit in the silence, aware.
I wonder if their God would understand
if I spoke prayers in English.
I wonder if the forgiveness would
somehow taste different or
if the mercy would cold shower me
with a condemnation...
con-damnation?
Instead, I don't press my luck.
I return to the community I don't belong to
hearing the voice of the God
that doesn't speak my language.
MM 2023

I tugged the buggy up to the top floor. I unloaded the groceries then my clothes. I texted with my friend Jen who is currently in an inconvenient situation. I dozed for a bit, then woke up to tell you my eventful/uneventful day. Tomorrow I plan to go to church (at 4PM here) so, there will be plenty to do while I’m waiting.

Peace be with you wherever you go. You are loved!

Day Twenty-three, Back from Honfleur

I don’t know if it was the internet where I was or what the deal may have been, but it absolutely would not allow me to upload ANY pictures. In fact, it gave me an error today about pictures I’ve already posted. Murg.

But! I was beside myself with glee yesterday. The drive today was lovely. The air was just right coming in the window. The sun was shining and when I came up over a crest of a hill, it was like Brigadoon showing up in front of me. I “Oh, wow!”-ed outloud.

What a spirit-fulfilling day. I feel a deep sense of peace. I have a sense of a withdrawn/inclusion of self. I am not sure how to express what I’m feeling. I visited the leaning church (The outside pictures of the church are not from Saint-Jean, they’re from a church in Honfleur).

While inside I witnessed some faithful praying on bent knee or at the very least bent heads. I found pamphlets that described the veneration of the church’s saints. I previously shared about the artist that created the stained glass windows in the mid 60’s-late 70’s, they were richly crafted. Pictures can’t quite capture the look and effect of the sunshine dancing rainbows through the textured glass.

I sat outside the church in a paver topped park. I sat on the bench facing west. I could see the major bus routes converging nearby. I watched people walking in a variety of paces to various places. The dopplar of French voices waved over me as a bouquet of floral scented young women echoed passed by. The fashion went from snappy tan leather dress shoes beneath a cream-colored linen suit carefully styled with a khaki light colored trench coat to over the knee black leather boots and a slap of fabric covering the important parts in a striking red and a miniscule white tank shirt knotted at the front.

I watched a verbal fight break out between a man on an electric scooter and the driver of a car that I’m guessing drove too close to the scooter-rider. It was heated, loud, and two other men were holding back the torrent of imminent violence. With a bit of physicality from the protectors of the combatants, the rage dissipated in a poof of raised fingers.

I tugged my suitcase up the flights of stairs, which I now count in halfs to make it easier for my mind to accept the exercise, I unpacked my things, restored my sense of order and rested. This is a great day.

Peace be with you and follow you. You are loved!

Day Twenty-Two, Hiccup, Honfleur!

I’m pretty sure I can be the butt of a good cosmic joke. I know I was today. I was scheduled to pick up the mini-car at noon, last transaction before they close for two hours for lunch. They really do that. A LOT of places basically say “Piss off” for two hours. The car rental place was one of them.

I arrived on time, got all the paperwork started, got out my credit card that I JUST got the bill for that said I owed $0.00 because I paid it off before the trip. Apologies, a phone call to the bank, and it turns out the car place was charging me $5.47 over my limit. Oh for the love of Pete! It got my goat a bit because I’ve rented from this company before without a large deposit or anything. It was toot-sweet to do it which is why I did it this time.

The shop closed up and I kept at it until I found out what the issues were and resolved them. I waited for the lunch time to pass. I stopped in a bakery and got a croissant and a double espresso. I was people watching because I hit right before the lunch rush. It was fantastic. Directly across from the window where I sat watching was a mural with a smaller one next to it.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear?! But a CHICKEN!

It was to my delight that it was on a building that said “Climb Up!” Pathe’! didn’t translate.

I had to do something to kill time, so I took a couple of pictures of things I truly appreciate about Europe. The trains, the street signs, the walkways, bike lanes, hardly any potholes. Honestly, we have nothing on European transportation. They have it dang near mastered as far as I can tell.

One o’clock rolled around and I went down to wait by the closed rental place. I happened to meet a father and daughter from Minneapolis/St. Paul Minnesota! We chit-chatted for a bit, well I did. Silence just isn’t my game. I do it because I have to, but dude, ENGLISH! I take my language for granted so much. Every person I’ve spoken with, in some capacity, speaks more languages that the average American. That’s rather shameful considering we’re supposed to be global.

I let them go first because they had a tighter time frame than I did. I even told them about Miss Marge Swenson! Minnesota was her home state while she grew up. When it was my turn, the woman listened as I explained what the deal with my card was. With a bit of nip-and-tuck, she was able to complete the transaction completely smooth.

I was lead out to a Fiat 500 EV. No shit. Not only is it an electric vehicle, BUT it turned out to be an automatic! WOOT! She gave me the basics, including pushing a button to open the door…no. No latches, just a button. Could you imagine NOT being told that and trying to get out? Talk about a really stupid reason to call roadside assistance.

Because I got delayed by two hours, I had to kind of haul ass to make my check-in time and my appointment time. I was so intimidated by driving. I learned quickly that the moment you let off the accelerator in an EV, the speed drops pretty darned quick. It’s not like a hybrid that is similar to the gasoline engine I’m used to. Plus side, it was relatively easy to maintain speed.

Boy do they love round-abouts here. I can’t tell you how many I went through on my trip, but there were more than I’ve ever done before. They do keep the traffic moving pretty well overall. They’re not difficult to use, but they are a bit cumbersome the first go-round…ask me how I know. Facepalm!

I arrived in Honfleur at 3:40PM (1540). I met with the owner of the place I’m staying. It’s a charming home with paintings she did on the walls. There is a front room, a kitchen behind that, a spacious bathroom, and a soothing bedroom at the back of the apartment.

Her name is Sylvie. She clearly loves where she lives. The painting on the far left is her favorite of her work.

Off to my appointment I went after checking into the lovely home.

Once I found the studio, I went in the wrong door. I’m telling you, I mean well, but getting lost here is a thing. I found the right door and the woman named Mireille greeted me warmly. She brushed aside my apologies for my getting lost. She was listening to Oasis turned on low. She had a canvas on my side, a canvas on her side, so many colors, so many choices, so many brushes. Pardon me, but I practically drooled in anticipation.

She spoke a little English so we communicated mostly with pointing, exagerrated movements and, because we had paint on our hands, Siri. We painted and enjoyed each other. She showed me techniques that I hadn’t thought of but really were duh type of things. She encouraged highlights and lowlights. She was fiddling around on hers, showing me different things. SQUEE!

For whatever reason, the pictures won’t upload. I’ll have to share them tomorrow. I’ll also share the photos of her studio, the restaurant she showed me where I had divine food and a glass of wine from the region. Hopefully the internet will bless me with a better connection tomorrow.

Peace be with you. You are loved!

Day Twenty-One, Nothing

In a way I feel as if I’ve let you down since you’ve been so kind to keep up with my adventures and exploits. However, I do need a day of rest. I took that today. I’ve been up to reading, napping, texting, and generally preparing for my adventure tomorrow.

I’m heading to the main bus station late morning tomorrow to pick up a rental car. A manual mini. Then I’m going to drive from Mondeville (a suburb of Caen) to Honfleur. It’s about an hour away according to Google maps. I chose a route that is a bit longer but there aren’t any tolls on the road.

I’m going to stay overnight and drive back on Friday morning.

To tell you the truth, I’m a filled with a bit of anxiety about this trip. I haven’t driven in nearly a month. I haven’t driven a stick shift vehicle in longer than that…I think three years or so. I’ve never driven a mini-car before, nor have I driven on French roads. Although I have an idea where I’m going, the actual journey is going to be a wild one simply because I don’t know.

My uncertainty isn’t going to prevent me from going. I mean, if I’d let my trepidation take hold, I’d never have come to a foreign country in the first place. But exploring a town on foot and by bus is a slightly different creature than driving it. I really wish I had a sign to put in the back of my window to let other drivers know I’m new here, cut me some slack!

I’ll have a better story and pictures tomorrow to share. I look forward on taking you with me.

Peace be with you. You are loved!

Day Twenty, The Church that tilts

On today’s excursion to the bus stop, I found this church with a distinctive tilt. I noted the street where I found it with the note to self to look it up when I returned to the apartment.

Church of Saint-Jean de Caen

This church was originally built in the seventh century at a crossroads of the lower valley of the Orne. This became the main route between Bayeux and Lisieux which evolved into Exmoisine road, and currently on rue Saint-Jean.

Now why anyone would build a church in a bog, who knows. This church is no stranger to destruction from wars. It has been rebuilt several times. In 1944, although the tilted tower stood, the rebuilding of the sanctuary removed the last remnants of the Roman influence.

In 1969, an artist, Danièle Perré, was asked to replace the windows in l’eglise Saint Jean. The resulting work is simply beautiful. With light touches of abstract design, colorful depictions of faith and love, a new breath was breathed into the revitalized church.

The history of the places I’m seeing is like rooting through an old trunk in the attic. It’s discovering lost treasures that were there all along. I have described it as feeling like history is pulsing in my blood, but I don’t know that it’s exactly like that.

It is more like looking through a dirty pair of glasses. I can see the contemporary buildings because they’re obvious. But if I clean my glasses a bit, I can step further back in time, to when the restoration took place. If I use a cleaner on my eyewear, I can see into the past like a magic mirror exposing architectural secrets to the sharp view now afforded. It’s a new way to observe what is preserved instead of destroyed.

I traveled to Rosel today. I went through the routine of exercises with him. I had to coax him a bit to go for a walk. He finally relented. We walked down the narrow rural road to the corner where there are four horses in a huge field. There is a black one, a dark brown, a light brown, and a white horse. Three males and a female.

We must have caught their attention because after we turned around, the horses came over to the fence to greet us. The black and the white ones were first. They eyeballed us up and down keeping pace with our awkward movement. The other two joined in and walked us down to the corner. It was joyful for me and seemed to brighten my client’s mood as well.

I’m planning a trip to Honfleur for an overnight on Thursday. I’m going to meet and paint with an artist there. I’m also going to drive for the first time in France in a stick shift car (Yes, I know how to drive one. I was taught to drive in one.)

When I was describing the plans to my client’s wonderful wife, she was impressed with how organized I am when it comes to going places. “I know what I want and I make it happen.” She said she wanted to get a painting or a sign of that saying because it was a good life lesson. I don’t suppose I should amend that to say, “If nobody else can help, do it yourself.” Which is the real reason I am going to drive there. I had rides set up twice but one was on the wrong day, the other got cancelled because the driver wanted to spend more time in Caen than he thought.

With all the things that have bowed to the whimsy of Murphy’s Law this trip, I’m just abiding. I sail along whatever waters there are. I don’t have the friend resource here like back home, so I have to make sure I take care of myself, my well being, my safety, and my adventures to the best of my ability. So far, I’ve been enjoying the flow of the days.

Peace go with you. You are loved!

Day Nineteen, A bird and a Rogue

I’ve had quite an interesting day.

This morning, I was sitting in the bathroom. The window to the apartment was open because it gets quite warm up in here. I was doing my thing when I heard a mild racket at the window. I poked my head out the door and there was a pigeon sitting on the windowsill. She was very interested in checking out the place. I greeted her verbally. I finished my task, flushed, and stepped into the main room without approaching her. We stared at each other for a bit. She got a mind to fly away. It was a surprising and pleasant interaction.

Complaint: The Twisto app that I use to find the nearest bus stop doesn’t update in real time so you have to walk about a half block, tap the screen just to find out you’re not going the right direction. I demand perfection! That’s a lie, but it sure would be nice.

I got to my bus stop barely on time. I mean, I found it, looked up, and there was the bus. Given that I went the wrong way and had to jury rig my directions to make it, I felt pretty proud of myself.

Upon arrival to the last stop on the line, I waited for a few minutes while my client’s wife (An absolute gem of a human) was en route to pick me up. It was 84 degrees outside which is pretty warm. Tomorrow, it’s supposed to be about 66 degrees F. I love cooler weather.

I spent the next couple of hours with my client. One of the activities we do it bounce a ball back and forth 130 times. When I first started working for this family 3 years ago, I absolutely dreaded it because he would insist on counting in French. Bless his beautiful heart that he did. I look forward to it because, unlike in the beginning, I can lead the count all the way past 100! I’m very pleased he insisted even though I wasn’t happy in the beginning.

His wife arrived from the grocery trip she went on and she insisted she drop me at the bus stop. I agreed. As we approached the stop, the bus was pulling away. I said it was okay because I can catch the next one. “Nonsense.” She revved up the engine, passed the bus, and dropped me at the next stop. She went rogue on me! I didn’t expect it from her, but man, that woman can drive!

I got off at the Caen Theatre Quai. I searched for a restaurant nearby. I found a couple of burger joints, but honestly, I haven’t had one since I got here. I just don’t want to eat American food when I’m in freaking France! Instead, I found a Vietnamese place.

Boeuf Loc Lac, a creamy cheesecake, a Vietnamese coffee, and a Coke Zero. That’s a softboiled egg (which I asked to not be included) and a crapload of cilantro which tastes like soap to me. I did some picky eating with this dish.
The menu as clear as I could get it.

I made it back up the five flights of stairs. Since my client is going to have company starting on Wednesday, I won’t be needed for the rest of the week. What to do, what to do…

HA! The Rome2Rio app has a rideshare option. All I have to do is show up at the scheduled time, ride along in the car, and end up at my destination. I’m going to Honfleur, France to paint in a studio on Thursday. I’m so freaking jazzed!

Although I’ve been reading for fun since I got here (think trashy novels and good sci-fi), I wanted to try something I truly love. I don’t think anything makes me happier than when I have paint on my hands. I’ll let you know how it goes and if I’ll be able to find a ride home (not yet, but I’m hopeful).

Remember when I did the professional photo shoot in Paris? They were supposed to send me the proofs in 7-10 business days so I could select 5 of them. Well, that didn’t happen. What DID happen was that she felt so bad that she dropped the ball, she gave them all to me! All 37! To say I was pleased would be an understatement. I would totally recommend Best Pictures in Paris to any tourist. So, where’s the proofs? I’m going to share a few of my favorites with you.

French ducks sleeping!
This wall was SO TALL! I am not. I was on my very, very, very tippy-toes to get this shot. You can’t see the comma, but it says: LOVE, ME

Those are my favorites. I like them because I look like me, not someone posed. I’m so glad I had this experience. I mean, there’s only so many selfies one can take before…bah.

I’m going back to my client’s house tomorrow to exercise with him.

OH! Before I forget. After the calamity of the early morning banging on my door, I’m scared to make any noise at all. I’m living like a monk that’s taken a vow of silence. It’s not as bad as it sounds…ha! See what I did there? Listening isn’t one of my strengths because I love to speak in what I call “layer cakes.” I like for the conversations to be a mix of ideas thrown together, sometimes with frosting, sometimes without. But, this is a practice I’m uneasy with which means I should probably do it and be grateful for the opportunity. Besides, I can speak with my client’s family.

Peace go with you wherever you are. You are loved!