Slumber Party

It's Monday and I'm tired. Yesterday I couldn't manage much more than a long sit in the square, drinking coffee in an attempt to fend off the nap that was threatening to take me over at any moment. I finally succumbed, walked home and tumbled into bed for an hour in spite of my 5 cups of espresso.

I'm not sick, I'm just recovering. Because I got to spend a portion of this weekend with 3 friends whom I had never met before...except through our blogs. Two Texans, Sara and Adrian and Kirsty, an Aussi, who live here in the south and who also blog about their lives as expats. If you read their blogs, you'll understand why we had so much fun! These women were a kick times 10.

I shouldn't be tired. We only had two things we HAD to do. The first was get to O'Shannon's pub so Sara could watch the first half of the Ireland/Italy rugby match. I don't know why it was specifically O'Shannon's but I led the group to what I thought was O'Shannon's.

 Except it was not.

Oh sorry. Oops. 

Now I know where it is. We can get there in a few minutes.

Oh geez!  That's not it either.  Who knew finding an Irish Pub in a French city could be so difficult? Or that we'd have so many to choose from. Sara said, "it's across from a fountain, just at the end of Cour Mirabeau and off to the right".  Oh yeah, I know where that is. I spent St. Patrick's Day there once. I forgot about that one. 

Strike out. 

It starts with an O. Doesn't that count?

No, she said, I think it's on the other end of Cours Mirabeau...to the right. At this point we'd covered most of the town but we schlepped to the other end of Cours Mirabeau, running the last few meters because  Adrian and Sara (who have both lived in Ireland) wanted to hear the national anthem. National anthems make them cry.

Score! 

We talked a blue streak ( in English....yeah!) through the first half of the game.  Sara, being a woman, was able to watch her game and talk trash with the rest of us AT THE SAME TIME. 

The only other thing we HAD to do was put down the wine bottles on the terrace in time to get to dinner. Which we managed because I'd already scoped this one out. Properly.

So here's the deal. These girls were rarin' to go at about 7 am the next day. AND they had to return to their families, husbands and dogs and hit the ground running. I didn't have to do anything. Except attempt to polish off the chocolate cupcakes. And sleep. Which, as I said, was all I could manage. Is this the difference between the being in your 30's/40's and surpassing age 50? I guess I could be depressed about that...except I'm still giggling thinking about all the funnies from the weekend. 

Thanks girls. Let's do it again soon. But give me a little time!

What Feeds the Fire

Two weeks ago I received an award. Actually I received the same award from 2 different bloggers! I’ve gotten awards before and though I really do appreciate them,  a long time ago I declared this an award-free blog. Because it’s kind of a “blogger thing” and I write primarily for people who aren’t.  But since I got 2 last week, I decided to (sort of) play just because it might be fun.

The awards came from Lee over at Traveling Sardine Class and Renee at Writingfeemail. Please check out both of their sites. Lee and I have been blog friends for quite some time. Renee and I are new friends and I so much enjoy being a part of their lives. Thank you Renee and Lee.

I was the proud recipient of the Blog On Fire Award. All this means is that other writers like my work and that could not make me more proud. After receiving the award, I’m supposed to write 7 things about myself that you might not know. Geez, my life has become a bit of an open book in the last year and a half so what would anyone want to know? This ain’t easy. But here goes.

1. From the time I was a young child until I was a teenager, I had a reoccurring dream that involved a very large wolf who walked on two legs and splendidly dressed in a green Robin Hood style outfit. I spent the dreams running away from him, up and down and throughout a grand cathedral.  He looked an awful lot like this fellow, except he was enormous, and mean, and not a cartoon. The weird thing is, this Disney film came out long after the dream started and when I was 4 I had never even seen a Cathedral…so what the heck does that mean?

2. I think snakes are evil…and I often have dreams about falling into a deep, dark pit of writhing serpents. No more about dreams. Somebody may be able to interpret them and then I might have to accept some very harsh facts about myself. By the way, I have good dreams too. I just can't remember them.

3. When I was younger I was sure I was going to be hit by a truck (yeah, I know...a truck?) by the time I was 25. This didn’t consume me…it was just “a fact”. But I made a bucket list of all the things I wanted to do before this tragic moment…and did almost all of them. Except parachuting and hang gliding (although I did make my first jump at 49). On my 26^th birthday, my friend Mary turned to me and said, "congratulations".  “For what?”  “You’re not dead!”  Oh, yeah…that’s right.

4. When I was 18, I quit college and went to work for a big game outfitter in northern British Columbia as a trail cook. I didn't know what a big game outfitter was...I just wanted to live in the Rockies (one of the things on that list). I was deposited in the middle of the mountains, with a horse,  a bunch of cowboys and hunters, and no electricity or running water. At my interview I had told the boss that I knew how to cook. Of course, I had no idea. NONE! I learned very quickly (because the cowboys were hungry) how to bake bread in a tin, fire-heated oven, stuff moose heart, how to kill and skin a rabbit…or an elk, and that I do NOT LIKE brains and eggs or rocky mountain oysters. I also learned to make do with one bath every 2 months and do the laundry in a giant tub of water from the river, heated over the stove.  Oh yes, and to always take a pitcher of water to the outhouse in the summer. Life is more pleasant if you pour it down the hole first so as to clear out the blowflies. A blowfly-bombarded bottom is really an icky thing. These are things everyone should know, don’t you think?

5. I used to be 50 pounds heavier. But I'm not ready to talk about that.

6. I did go back to college and earned a degree in television journalism. Not because I wanted to be a journalist, but because I’d been there so damned long and all the credits I had already taken fit into the degree. I worked as a television reporter for a couple years. Until (among other things) I just could no longer stand sticking a camera in the faces of people in the midst of tragedy and ask them the stupid question, “how do you feel right now?” And writing to a 5^th grade level. And other assorted nonsense. But it was great training. For what, I don't know, but still... great training.

7. When I grow up I want to write a book…and be a singer. I can’t sing, but oh, wouldn’t it just feel so good to belt one out once in awhile? I might be able to write. But I just don’t know how to start the book. 

Now that I've filled you in on some of the inane details of my life, I'm supposed to pass this on to other bloggers. Which I'm not going to do (remember I said I was sort of playing). Not because I'm lazy, but because I can't pick. All the bloggers on my blogroll are there because like 'em.  As far as I'm concerned, they're all "on fire" and I hope that you will take the time to check them out. Yep...over there to the right....under "Places I snoop regularly".

Here's to a great week everyone!  

HTML Headaches

I've been meaning to write a blog. I really have had it on my list for days. And I will. I promise myself... I will. But right now I've got one hell of a headache.

I'm not kidding.....this is killing me!

I've been working on an awesome new project that I can't talk about just yet...but once again it's put me back into the world of websites and html code...a place I do not belong and a language I have no business even attempting. We already know my problems with French! But I shall persevere. I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR and all that. This is not going to beat me...it's not going to beat me....its not going.....

Okay, it's beaten me for today. But as Scarlett says, "Tomorrow's another day."

But before tomorrow comes, I am going to take 3 ibuprofen with a nice, chilled rosé chaser...and don't call me in the morning. I mean it! Something tells me you'd be sorry.

Speaking of fesses

Okay....I'm done! Finished! I can't take it anymore! I think I have now qualified for the Bloggers Most Injured list. This is now how I pictured my name going down in infamy.

Last Wednesday, I decided it was high time to re-do my blog page. I had no particular ideas in mind and I began to play around. Trouble is...I pushed one of those damned wrong buttons and lost my old template. Thus, I was committed.

You need to understand, I'm a complete idiot at this stuff....html....code....design. I only know what I've had to learn so far...and since I haven't had to use this extensive knowledge for at least a year, it had flown from my brain like the french word for keyboard (I know it starts with the letter "c"), the password for my bank account, and the rules for every single card game I've ever been taught.

So...I sat in front of the damed computer, typing on that thing that starts with the letter "c", for 14 hours. Yeppers, 14 hours in my newly-made bathrobe, doing nothing but struggling with a dumb blog page.  I did finally eat something about 10 pm and at midnight I opened a bottle of wine. Which is probably why at 1:30 a.m., I closed up shop. Satisfied. At one point, late in the marathon, I thought I had sat on a pin, probably left behind in the bathrobe-that-had-the-day-before-been-a-sewing-project. I couldn't find it anywhere within the folds of my wonderful, new, fuzzy robe and so, continued on with my project.

The next day, I had a pain in the ass. Okay, actually two. The first was the fact that, by the light of day, I hated my new blog page. The second was, I had an actual pain in my ass. A big, excruciating pain in my hinder. Okay, it was really the top of the back of my thigh but these days the two seem to be one in the same. And when I sat down...well....that wasn't really possible!

During the course of the day, a little black and blue mark developed. I know this because I actually had to yank down my drawers and show my injury to a friend (this is, I'll have you know, downright degrading). She thought maybe it was an insect bite and we let it go at that.

It had improved...a little... by Friday but was still really painful. My friend Claire insisted I make a doctor's appointment for Saturday morning and I decided to placate her. Friday night I spoke with my mom and mentioned this little problem and by the time I was done with that conversation, I was sure I was in the midst of some sort of blood clot crisis and I skipped a party so as not to dislodge said clot and die of a pulmonary embolism (this is why one should never discuss minor health problems with one's mother).

I went to the doc on Saturday, downed my drawers again and said, "mes fesses sont mal. Je crois que c'est un probleme avec un vein. Comment vous les trouvez?" (I don't know if this is proper french....I never know. When I came home I ran that one through the translator and it came out, "My buttocks are evil. I think it's a problem with a vein. How do you find them"?). At which point he laughed and said in French, "now this is a special situation".

Yeah, really special. Hysterical.

After a little prodding and pain, he announced it was a broken surface vein and I had practically no chance of dying from it. He did however, tell me to get off my ass. Which I have been doing. Pretty much.

Today it's much better and I decided to re-do my re-do. I don't know if I'm satisfied. But I'm not going to sit here long enough to worry too much about it. However, I welcome any comments from ANYBODY who knows ANYTHING about this sort of thing.

And back to the subject of fesses. I still haven't gotten to to say "tu les trouves jolies mes fesses?"* which was the subject of a recent post and which I've since found out is a famous quote (here in France, anyway) by Brigitte Bardot in the 1956 movie And God Made Woman. I really had that line on my top ten list of things to accomplish in the near future. And I pictured the moment....oh yes....

`

But, sadly, my first fesses conversation did not go according to plan.

*roughly translated to "do you find my bottom pretty?"

J'ai un pied en deux pays

The bed is made, dishes done, and the apartment is picked up. I've showered, shaved and washed my hair, dressed and applied make-up and adorned myself with jewelry and perfume. I've turned on the stereo and even gone so far as to turn on the heat. Sounds pretty normal but lately I haven't been able to manage all those things. At least not all at the same time. But today is different. I have a date with my blog.

Actually, I'm not sure if I did all these things today in preparation for writing or in order to avoid it. The fact that I haven't posted since December 10 suggests the latter. But either way, I'm here....and writing...and am now wondering what the hell I've been waiting for.

Yes, I've been away. Away from France for 4 weeks visiting friends and family in the mid-west where I didn't have reliable internet nor a moment to spare to spend writing.  But I've been home now for 9 days. I've remained away; distant and almost fearful of getting back on the computer.  In fact, this return has for some reason hit me hard. I've been tired, I haven't felt good, and my emotions have been churning too close to the surface for comfort. And I have just not been able to figure out what it means or why.

Last night, my girls came over for dinner. I was so excited to see them...it's been 6 weeks. Those of you who have a group of friends like this understand what I mean. They are your confidents and you, theirs. They tell you if you have spinach in your teeth and when it's time to color your gray roots. They show up out of the blue when they know you're in trouble and offer you a warm bed when your apartment is just too cold to be livable. Your joy is theirs and their troubles are yours.  And I was so happy to have them here, share a meal and hear ALL the news.

But as the evening commenced I just couldn't....I just couldn't be me. I couldn't put my smile where it's accustomed to being. I couldn't share what I wanted to share. I....just....could...not. Finally Claire turned to me and asked me what was going on. And all I could say, with a bit of a tremble, was "I just don't know. I don't know."

She said "it's like you're floating, isn't it?" Yes, that's exactly it. She understood. They understood. Though French, Claire lived in the U.S. for years and Lynn is American but has lived here for 25 years. They understand the feeling that the re-entry brings and what it's like to have a foot in each country. Yes, I'm floating and I don't know why and I want it to stop.

Immediately the worry was whether or not I wanted to go back to the states for good. No, that's not it at all. I live here now. It's my choice and I don't regret it. It's just that coming back after spending 4 weeks of glorious moments with my boys and my family as well as old, dear friends seemed to uproot me a little. Thus the floating sensation.

I'm really not depressed. Just sort of in a surreal state of suspended animation. And it will pass. I'm sure all the other ex-pats who read this (if anybody ever reads it again after being gone so long) understand what I mean. Lynn says that it took her years before she could come back from the states and hit the ground running here at home. But last night as we were talking and I expressed my concern about my current weird state and what to do about it, Lynn looked at me and said simply, "do what you do". Okay Lynn, what is that?

"Write about it."

Now that's a hell of idea. And I feel better already. Merci, mes filles...Claire, Lynn et Saro. And thank you, those of you that read this, for waiting for me. It's good to be back.

Tuning In

I began blogging (do you suppose that is now an actual verb in the dictionary?) in January of this year. I was scared of the idea, wary of making my life so public, reluctant to make a commitment and worried that no one would care. But as with many things that frighten me, I did it anyway. And as with so many other things, like skydiving, having babies, working on commission, and moving to France (and oh so many more), the THING that scared the wits out of me, in the end presented me with unexpected rewards.

One of the many rewards of writing this blog and one which I never imagined, is the people I have met in the process. People who have somehow stumbled upon my blog or vice versa and have become regular readers and now, people I truly consider friends. I read about their lives, their thoughts, their art, their business, their whatever, and I feel as if we could meet for coffee every Monday morning and have a wee of a time!

 

There are so many of you and I think you know who you are. But one I want to mention today (because...yes....this is sort of a shameless plug) is Michelle Craft who writes Manifesting. Michelle ended up on my blog and I on hers through a mutual friend. She is a teacher...a guide...for the idea of manifesting your life and the things you want in your life. If any of you have ever read the book The Secret, it's basically that idea.

And that idea is, your destiny is in your hands but you must expect it...want it...ask for it...and visualize it. The idea is not new to me. This has always been basically my philosophy but often, and at different periods in my life, I've "fallen off the wagon".  And although I didn't see it during those times, afterwards it was very clear that my mind and my self-talk had directed me down a much darker road than was necessary.

Several years ago,  just after my ex-pectorant took off,  I was really very sick in both mind and body. At the time, I cleaned a small, private gym on Saturdays, for the opportunity to have a private work-out twice each week with a wonderful trainer named Kim. Kim turned out not to be just a trainer of my body but a sort of spiritual teacher for my cloudy mind. One day as she was pushing me to lift a few more pounds and we were talking (okay, I was whining),  I expressed, once again, my fear of the day (there were so many). The ex-pec had made off with all the cash and I was frightened of how I was going to make ends meet.  I lived in the dark with one light on because I was afraid I wouldn't have the money (and I had no job) to pay the light bill. Kim finally said to me "if you live as if you have nothing, you will have nothing. You need to live as if you have everything you need and it will come to you".

I know that sounds so simple...perhaps too simple...but when she said that to me, the switch turned back on. It was something I already knew but I had forgotten to live it. And at that moment, one which I will never forget, my life began to turn around. No, I didn't win a million dollars and go sailing off into the sunset. But a new job fell in my lap. I unexpectedly found renters to live in my extra bedrooms and catch me up on cash. I began the process of dating again (now there's something scary) and discovered that, in fact, I had lost the real me for many years and the old Delana could and would rise up from the ashes (oh my...how dramatic is that?).  And....eventually, the new/old Delana, decided that she wanted to move to France.

All this personal nonsense aside and back to the subject at hand, Michelle has also become a sort of trainer for my mind. I read her posts and she helps me stay on track. I ask her questions and sometimes challenge something she has said. And now I consider her a friend. How great is that?

Michelle hosts a radio show and has asked me, along with the friend that introduced us (an old high school classmate), to be her guests for today's segment. I consider this an honor. So here's the shameless plug:  The show is Tuesday, June 8 (today) at 8 pm French time and 1pm central time. You can follow the link here: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/uvisualeyes

If you can't catch the show live, I believe you can listen at a later time by clicking on the link to previous shows. We'll see what happens.  It's scary... but not as scary as dating or having babies, and though it makes me a little nervous, I'm going to do it anyway!  

 

Messing with imperfection

Enough already!!! I've got to step away from the computer! It's sucking up my life!

I have hated the way my blog looks and being a complete idiot on this subject, I haven't really known what to do to change it or how, for that matter. And why does it really matter anyway? It's just a silly page among a gajillion others. Why do I frickin' care?!?!

So this morning...okay...it's now 1:33 in the afternoon...I played around with it. I think I like it better. Certainly not what I ultimately want but I'm taking a break from caring. Resolution for today: Do not mess with blog site for...at least one week.

Unless, of course, any of you tell me it sucks. In which case, I'll probably still be sitting here amidst the mess of coffee cups and wine glasses, perhaps with a stale baguette to nibble on and still in my pj's...UNTIL next week!

Bon Weekend. I gotta brush my teeth.

Blog...another word for lunacy

My kitchen is torn apart right now. And it’s all because I started a blog.

The first thing on my list of things to do after returning to France after my 3 1/2 week Christmas trip to the states, was to start a blog. I was reticent to do it but it seems to be a necessary portal on the pathway to writing a book. I’m reluctant for many reasons. First and foremost…. I barely know what a blog is!  Secondly, a blog is so….public. Writing for the not-so-big population of Wittenberg and a few friends on Facebook is completely different than having your life exposed for all the world to see (okay, maybe not all the world but they could read it if they wanted to!) But, in fact, a book really lays one wide open so I suppose I need to get used to it.

So I began the process of learning about blogs, learning how to blog, trying to wrap my mind around links and SOS and code and monetizing. This in itself took days and I found myself sitting on my little, supremely uncomfortable, yellow chair for hours at a time, staring at my computer, periodically stretching my back, looking out the window and realizing I was missing the one sunny day this week and wondering what the hell it was all for.

I finally felt comfortable enough with it all to jump in. I designed my page (if you can call it design), entered article number one, sent an email to everyone I know, published the address on Facebook…and waited.

Got some explainin' to do

The problem with setting up a blog and writing about your life is when you spend all of your time in front of the computer, you're not living your life! This had got to stop!


This is my second post and before I start this fabulous Friday I'm going to try to explain a little bit about how I hope this whole thing is going to work.


I began writing articles about a year ago for the Wittenberg Press, a weekly newspaper in Wittenberg, Wisconsin. My old friend Miriam had just recently bought the paper and she asked me to write a few articles about this new life of mine. That was 38 articles ago and I'm still rambling on every week. I have posted those articles to my Facebook page as well but many people who have not been sucked into "social networking" have asked if they can view them elsewhere. I've also been toying with the idea of writing a book. This is sort of a test...perhaps a validation...to see if anyone at all (besides those who are required to be interested like family and friends) is in the least bit interested.


So the plan is to post last year's articles once each week and spend the rest of the week on....well....I don't know yet. I'm really not a good planner!


So enough of explanations. It's Friday morning, the sky is blue, I'm living in the south of France.....and it's market day. I have a new camera. I think I'll go take some pictures!

Bonne Journée