Hidden In France

A map of my stress level

As I was commenting on other blogs about how stressed I felt, it occured to me to take a wee pause and tell you about it.  Obviously I'm desperate to vent.

My 18 year old son and three childhood friends are leaving for a month long tour of Europe, a backpacking trip for which their plan is not to plans.  The parents and I are working our asses off getting them phones, gears, addresses to stay, and the boys are evasive at best, wondering why we hover so much, why we worry about every little detail. I am drafting up charts they will not consult, printing maps they won't read, making hostel reservations they plan on canceling, I agonize over directions, sleep loss, bed bugs, robbers, and my mind goes all kinds of even more awful places ... well, have you seen 'Taken'.

Meanwhile what are the boys doing?  Are they planning?  Are they packing? NO. They are at my house shooting the last scenes of a short film.  There is equipment everywhere and very large semi-men all over the house( who seem to have discovered my cupboard and are eating EATING, eating.) Some are wearing snazzy artifical mustaches and many are sporting fake blood.   All of them have prop guns. 

Oh wait, but I could pack.  I want to pack!  but I can't because the house is presently a Film Location and I'm sequestered in my bedroom. This is a violent scene (the same over and over) that involves several gunshots, agonizing screams and a the same horrible curse words shouted with gusto.  

Meanwhile the dog (who is not part of the shoot) is also sequestered in my bedroom where she is happily farting the day away. This suck. A lot.

And I have to get the house ready, and myself packed, because we're leaving the next day.

But it's all good stress.  This morning I saw my friend Susan, who only a month ago lost her husband and father of her 6 and 12 year olds.  It put things in prospective.  "It all sucks" she said.  And in her case, it really does.

 

 

Out of balance

Balance in my life where are you? Here is where i would like to live right now. In this very room. You can't lose your temper, be in a bad mood, or fret, or feel sorry for yourself in a room such as this one.

Thank goodness I'm off to see my friends Lenora and Robin for some therapy. I've been cranky as hell when I should be celebrating, and my bad mood adds to the guilt. What is wrong with me?! They will tell me for sure.

 

Painted glass jars

A DIY so simple even I could not mess it up. A little paint is pastel hues, a few glass jars found in your local landfill, and five semesters of intensive Finnish lessons is all you'll need.

I'm so trying this!

Found here, via here. 

An interview en Français

If you speak French, (or if you don't but are in the mood to get eye blisters staring at foreign words strung together in an unknown language)  there is an interview of me on the website  Expat Forever today. I was asked about my writing process, why I chose to write Hidden in Paris in English, why a novel set in Paris, but mostly what it was like for me to leave France behind and start my life anew in the United States at age 23.  Expat Forever is an excellent site, which, among other things, collects testimonies of French speaking people who now live abroad.  I think, how pertinent to my novel where the characters do just that. Expat Forever tries to facilitate this thorny transition and recommends books on the expatriate life for example, as well as other websites  expatriate can turn to for guidance. When I was 23, there was no internet. NO INTERNET people! I wish I had had that kind of help, especially the testimonies of people who had gone through this, because it was hard (If you want to know how hard you can read the article.)

 

Slough

I'm actually very proud of the double entendre of my post title today.

Stealing just a few minutes to post these pix from the new Rice Denmark catalogue.  

It's a triathlon kind of feel here, i cannot even begin to explain.... Okay, fine I'll explain.  Last week my mom was in town so I put all work aside to spend time with her (Sears, Khols, Mervins and Kmart here we came!  Apparently this is where very chic French women of a certain age and girth prefer to shop.)

The day she arrived I unsuspectingly and naively, (before picking her up at the airport) scheduled a small procedure involving precancerous cells and cryotherapy of a part of my anatomy I rather not discuss in polite company (too late, heh). They told me it would not be painful (sorry but it was) and they certainly did not warn me about the ensuing sloughing that would last for weeks afterwards.  If you haven't heard of the treat that is sloughing, girlfriends, trust me when I say some google searches are better left postponed indefinitely. 

Only had one little bit of an escape running to Belette Rouge's totally fab housewarming party.  I got no work done whatsoever, although I found the time to peek maniacally at reviews of Hidden in Paris on Amazon which are lovely enough to make me want to do summersaults if I only knew how, with one very grumpy one that came out of left field, as though the woman had read an entirely different book or something. Please check it out and tell me what you think if you have a minute.

My son is graduating from High school this week, we're both going to an orientation to USC next week, then he's off backpacking through europe for a month, something like ten cities (i'm not super comfortable about that as you can imagine.  Have I mentioned i still make his bed, by choice) and then we're off to the East Coast, Boston, Vermont, New York for a while.

You overachievers out there listening please tell me how successful multitasking is done? All i seem to do is run around crazed (and go to the bathroom to... slough.)  I need to promote my book.  That's priority number 1, 2 and 3 and I'm not doing it at all.