Christmas is Coming

It starts with hanging the lights on the tree.

Mary Christmastime

I Wonder What Will Happen If I . . . oops!

On the way home from Chattanooga in October, I took this picture near Monteagle. The irony was too much to resist. The story is that an employee had a little accident in the store room and poof! everything went up in flames. Apparently, it was a spectacular fire.

Smiling's My Favorite

Apparently, people don’t want to read about Oklahoma! anymore. I understand – it’s been up there for a while. Not too many exciting things have happened in the last few weeks and I don’t feel like writing about Paris. Let’s see . . . .

Lacy came into town for Thanksgiving, which was amazing. I never knew Elf (one of my favorite movies) was actually the funniest movie on the planet until I watched it with her. Everyone who knows Lacy also knows she has the best laugh in the world. I forgot that watching movies with her is the most fun because you can never predict what she is going to find really funny. Then she starts laughing and, suddenly, you too think that you are watching the most hilarious movie ever made. The Money Pit and The Three Amigos are good on their own, but they are absolutely incredible when you watch them with Lacy. Mary can even tolerate Naked Gun 2 ½ when she watches it with her.

I also discovered that I now have several friends under the age of 13 (Abby, Béla & Felix). I was asleep on the couch when one called and asked me to come over. I thought it was Abby and I asked, “What are you doing tomorrow? Maybe I can come over then for longer.” The voice responded, “But I’m calling about tonight.” Clearly, she was desperate for a playmate. I told the little voice that I would be there at 7:00.

So 7:00 comes and I drive out to my dad’s house to see Abby . . . who is nowhere to be found. After a confused moment or two, I called Mary’s house and spoke to Felix. “Hi – is your mom there?” He put Mary on the phone. “So, did you call me a couple of hours ago?” She said, “No, but Béla did. They’ve been counting the minutes until you come.” I had to explain to Béla how I made a mistake, etc. and that he would need to count 15 more minutes. Lesson learned: don’t assume you know which one of your child friends called you.

I went to Mary’s that night and ate peppermint sticks while she decorated her tree and the boys had a raging dance party. I’m thinking future rock stars here.

Oklahoma!

I have to say that tonight my little sister Abby was the best prairie girl Ellen to ever perform in any rendition of Oklahoma! She was amazing. Seeing as that the whole cast was between the ages of 11 and 14, I didn’t really know what to expect. Disaster or not, it was bound to be entertaining, but they were really good! Not that I’m biased, but Abby was the most fantastic. She delivered her line perfectly and then nailed her solo part in “Out of Your Dreams.” The whole performance she acted her heart out for us, and I couldn’t have been prouder.

And you know you’re in Nashville when Faith Hill congratulates you by name on your performance (Abby and her daughter are in the same grade). I had to play it cool for my sister’s sake, but I so wanted to blurt out, “Oh my God, Faith Hill just totally congratulated you! That was so awesome, right? Right?!” What was really so awesome was that my being there meant so much to Abby. That felt pretty special. I hope she remembers that I was there when the winds came sweepin’ down the plains when she wins an Oscar.

Oklahoma!

Doggie Smores

It's freezing in Nashville, which means we have "big fire" on at night. The doggies are in paradise. If they could roast themselves like little marshmallows, they would.

Wii Belong

My plan revolving around not worrying about things is backfiring. Let’s just say a couple of my ducks have escaped the pond and are heading off toward the highway. I’ll have to rein them in tomorrow. I’m feeling sad today so I’m working extra hard to find the humor in everyday things. Fortunately, the local news just presented me with several things to reflect on:

• Men with beards dressed as pink fairies while The Nutcracker plays in the background
• Turkeys listening to top-10 songs to prepare for the Presidential Pick Ceremony (I’m not convinced that, in a turkey’s mind, being shoved onto an airplane to lead the Disney World Thanksgiving Parade is really better than being put out of your misery and served on a table)
• Rudy Kalis’ crazy ugly sweaters – Nashvillians, where is he getting them? To be fair, this question has plagued us for over 20 years. It’s very similar to the question, “If the universe is expanding, what lies beyond it?”

I’ve been doing some branding and marketing consulting for the Belle Meade Plantation, which is an old Thoroughbred farm at the end of my street. I had a second meeting with them this morning. I like helping them because it makes me feel that I actually know what I’m talking about. I also grew up romping all around the mansion and the yards. Soon, they’ll be getting a horse that will visit every few weeks. If I’m still in Nashville then, you’ll be sure to read some posts about my daily visits with my new friend.

Today, work consisted of some filing, some rearranging and some cleaning up of a broken wine bottle and spilled red wine. Luckily, I didn’t create the wine problem. Afterward, I met Dad, Drusie, Ben and Abby for dinner. Abby is performing in her school’s production of Oklahoma! on Friday so look for some pictures of that this weekend. Ben is a blossoming mathlete, who came in 3rd at the state competition earlier this month. I told him that maybe if he played a little less Guitar Hero and studied a little harder, he could have come in 1st.

After we both laughed at the ridiculousness of that concept, we agreed that his current math:wii ratio was perfectly acceptable. I also found out that he told a little white lie to protect my fragile ego by saying that I was good at Guitar Hero. We both know I’m absolutely not. If you had heard my attempt at Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot,” (simultaneous guitar playing and singing at the slowest speed “Hit . . . me . . . with . . . doh! . . . your . . . best . . . dammit! . . . shot . . .”), well, you wouldn’t have recruited me to join your garage band unless you’re Marnie, who would always give me a spot in her imaginary Bangles cover band.

Another Day, Another Dollar

Today was rather uneventful. Nellie would beg to differ, seeing as that I accidentally threw her last toy up into the gutter. Actually, she has more, but she’s buried them in the yard somewhere so until she chooses to bring them back to the house, she’ll just have to stand under the eaves looking up at the roof and then at me.

Other than that, I helped Richie identify which breakers went to which outlets in the house. That task consisted of me (Princess Leia) telling Richie (Luke Skywalker) over walkie-talkies when the lights went on or off. The code names were Richie’s idea. “This is Luke Skywalker. That’s a 10-4 Princess Leia.” He also gave himself the title El Presidente last week.

New Elephant in Tennessee

The Elephant Sanctuary in Hohenwald, Tennessee rescued a new elephant this week named Ned. He was part of the Big Apple Circus until 2000 and then he moved to Florida, where is owner didn't keep him well. He's about a ton underweight! Now that he's living at the sanctuary, he eats all sorts of things like bamboo, broccoli, watermelons, and pumpkins.

In his diary, they said that he's a little scared to go outside, but that he's getting braver. On Friday, he played with the sanctuary's rescue dog. Here you can watch his arrival at the sanctuary -- he's very cute.

Whoa Nellie!

Nellie lives at Gloria’s house. The story goes that she appeared one day with a collar and no tags, bit whole pieces out of the doors for days until they let her inside, and then never left.

She’s mostly pit-bull, physically, but supposedly, she’s a big fraidy cat. I know she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She can’t be alone. Usually, when I’m there (assuming Gloria is at work), Nellie lies practically under my chair. When I go to another room, she goes. When I go to the door, she goes too. When I go to the bathroom, she lays outside the door until I come out. Interestingly enough, she wanders off a lot. Gloria says she goes wherever she hears construction workers. It seems that Nellie has to be retrieved from houses around the neighborhood frequently.

She is absolutely obsessed with her kong. Kong is always around and Nellie likes for you to throw Kong down the hill several times a day. She lets me know when I am shirking my kong-throwing duties by butting my leg with her head. Before I first went over to the house, my parents instructed me re: Kong. “Do not touch the kong. Do not look at the kong. In fact, don’t ever acknowledge that the kong exists.” Apparently, they made the mistake of throwing Kong one night while having dinner out on the porch. Nellie relentlessly insisted that they continue throwing Kong for the next three hours. (above: Nellie & Kong in the yard)

And it’s like Nellie knew I had been warned about Kong. The first night I was there, she walked up to me and tried to put Kong on my lap. “I was told not to acknowledge the kong!” I almost screamed. Fortunately, Gloria took Kong away at that moment and placed him in the bar sink where he resides.

Mom says Nellie’s a changeling. I’m still not sure what I think. She seems like a dog in a lot of ways, but then again, tonight Gloria pointed out what looked to be opposable thumbs that Nellie was using to hold Kong in place for a good chew.

This afternoon Nellie had gone AWOL yet again and I went to retrieve her from the neighbors, who had called earlier that day. Well, they weren’t exactly neighbors. I had to drive up the road a little and then all of the way around the ridge overlooking Radnor Lake. When I arrived, I didn’t find anyone at home except for the men who were taking down a dead tree in the yard – ah, the familiar construction worker draw. I asked one if he had seen a “reddish pit-bull sort of dog,” around, he said “oh, yeah, she’s great!” and that the owners had taken her into the house. Super.

I wandered around for a few minutes before I heard Nellie’s tags clinking away in the driveway. When I called her, she just bounded right on over as if to say, “Look at this new house I found! I spent the whole day here and they let me sleep on the couch! Thanks for picking me up! Where’s Kong?” Nellie’s new German friend, Andreas, told me that she had been such a joy all day and that she could come back anytime, which made me wonder if I was going to end up making this trip again. I will if Nellie overheard him.

I put Nellie in the back of my mom’s station wagon. Then, we found ourselves in an interesting predicament. The “road” I had driven up was one lane with a steep hill on one side and a sheer drop-off on the other. In their superior wisdom, the tree people had parked their trucks in a brilliant strategic formation that completely blocked me from the house’s turn-around area. To ask the men to move the trucks, would have meant yelling over the chainsaws to ask them to come down out of the tree, move the trucks, get back up in the tree, and, frankly, this adventure had already proved complicated enough. I decided to back down – literally.

Now, it wasn’t the easiest drive I’ve ever made, and there were some touch-and-go moments since wet leaves concealed much of the road, but I made it down the steep, curvy ½-mile course backward with dog, car and sanity intact. For the rest of the afternoon, Nellie occupied her usual position on the rug next to my chair, and I continued my highlighting.

Little Goblins

My mom’s friend, Gloria, was kind enough to think about me a few weeks ago when she was looking for an interim personal assistant. She presented it to me very appealingly; “It’s crap work and you’re way over-qualified, but if you’re interested . . . .” To everyone’s surprise, I decided I was interested.

I never took the time I should have after the MBA to breathe and figure everything out. Maybe I should have done that this summer, but I was shuttling between cities and scrambling to get interviews in New York instead. Honestly, this is the first time in my life that I’ve just said “no” to all of the things I “should be” doing. I probably should be worried that I have shitty health insurance that’s good for practically nothing. Maybe I should be jumping the next plane to New York to charge into my next career. I guess I should be concerned about the open accounts I still have in France that I desperately need to close. I definitely should be anxious about my finances.

To all of this, I say “no!” I am taking a break. I am taking a break for the first time in my life.

And it’s really very nice not to be so worried. I’ve had to do some soul searching since I got back to the States, and I’ve realized that I probably won’t “figure everything out” anytime soon, if ever. And that’s okay. I won’t ever have it all together. My little ducks seem to be happier when they are swimming all over the pond rather than lined up in one neat row. I’m thankful that I’ve managed to confine them to a pond. They could be floating off in all directions over the Atlantic Ocean.

So while I’m here, I’m helping Gloria. She and her husband have a wonderful house on beautiful land, which is even more beautiful in the fall. This house, however, is a creature with a life unto itself. Rarely am I working there alone, and I go there every day.

Richie is usually rummaging around in some crawl space. Twice a week, Andrea spends the day cleaning and talking to herself (so she says), but I always think she’s talking to me. The carpet layers are quiet, and Richie says they don’t do their job well. The carpet cleaner thought I couldn’t be more than 20 (nice guy). The pool patio crew fixes things rather slowly considering their number. The pool tile layers are a husband and wife team. She reads to him while he lays tile. Then, there are the yard people and the UPS man, who comes often. I missed the fireplace man the morning he came.

I sit at the big kitchen table, which is made from a single tree trunk. While I work, the people come and go. A few days, in the late afternoon, I have been at the house all alone, save Nellie the dog, and we become lonely.

Unfortunately, I was sick the day the two water mains broke and shot water 40 feet into the air, sending Richie on a wild goose chase to find the shut-off valve which ended up being at the very end of the ¼ mile-long driveway. A few days ago I asked Richie, “What happened here? What happened to this house that it constantly has a little army of workers attacking it?” He gave me a contractor-like answer about shoddy workmanship, but I wasn’t satisfied. What else was going on here?

This morning I was talking to Mom about it, while we waited for the window washers to finish inside. I said, “You know what I think it is? Do you remember that day we took that picture out at Cheekwood in the bonnets when I was about four? Well, before I was watching a movie that you probably didn’t know I was watching on that little tv we had in the kitchen. You know that movie where the little men drag the lady down the heating vent?”

Mom said, “Oh, yeah, I remember that movie. They were little white men who looked like boogers. I swear it was called The Haunting.”

“I think that’s what’s going on at Gloria’s. There are little men in the vents causing chaos. That movie terrified me.” I still get the chills thinking about that one vivid scene. There I was, a four-year-old dressed in her best batiste dress with the pink ribbons, watching some poor lady get pulled into a heating vent (the very same heating vent we had!) by little white booger men. It was horrifying – completely horrifying.

The fear came rushing back to me. “Well, now I have to know which movie it is. It’s been driving me crazy for too many years. The Haunting? From the 1960’s? No, The Haunting doesn’t say anything about heating vents. Was it the 70s, you think?”

“Well, if Beth was around it would have had to have been the 80s.”

“But it was on tv so it was probably an old movie.”

“All I know is that the woman in it is the same woman who was in that John Wayne movie, Paint Your Wagon.”

“Paint Your Wagon? That’s a ridiculous title.” I typed it into imdb. “Well, Paint Your Wagon is a Clint Eastwood movie.”

“That’s not it then. It’s the one where John Wayne’s character is Rooster Cogburn.”

“That’s also a stupid name. Okay, that movie’s called, um, Rooster Cogburn.” I read the names of the Rooster Cogburn actresses, but none rang a bell with Mom.

“Okay, so read me all of the John Wayne movie titles and I’ll recognize it.”

“Alright. I’m starting in the 50’s.” I really started with the 40s. “Angel and the Badman, The Fighting Kentuckian, Bullfighter and the Lady . . . .” I made sure to do some good movie voices so each title brought a new fit of laughter with it. “Big Jim McClain, Hondo . . . Hondo? Really? Oooh, look! Here’s Hondo and the Apaches!”

At this, the woman washing the windows decided to pipe in. “Y’all are just havin’ a good ole time, aren’t you?” Mom replied that we really knew how to party. Then I looked into my coffee cup and commented, “I’m drunk already.” And the window woman said, “Well, it’s noon somewhere.”

I went back to the John Wayne titles. “Oops, I was reading the wrong list. Hold on. War Wagon?” I thought I stumbled onto something. After all, we had started with “wagon,” but War Wagon didn’t elicit a response. “The Green Berets, Hellfighters, True Grit . . .”

“True Grit! It’s True Grit! Her name’s Kathleen”

“Kathleen . . . Kim Darby?”

“Yes! Kim Darby! Kelly, Kathleen . . . same thing.”

“Well, Kim Darby was in an episode of 'Wagon Train.'”

“I knew she was sitting on a wagon in something. I can see her sitting on the wagon.”

It also turns out that John Wayne’s character is named Rooster Cogburn in both True Grit and, yes, Rooster Cogburn.

“Ugh! I can’t find it. She’s only been in tv stuff.”

After googling “Kim Darby heating vent horror movie,” I discovered that it was indeed a 1973 made-for-tv movie called Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark. Apparently, as indicated by some emotional posts online, I wasn’t the only child scarred by the film.

After I watched that horrific movie, Beth and I posed for this precious portrait. We’re both looking toward a stuffed Kermit the Frog puppet that the photographer held up to make us smile. Incidentally, Beth discovered a few years ago that the photographer still uses that Kermit . . . at weddings.

Anyway, Beth’s clearly watching Kermie thinking “huh, what is that and who is that crazy lady attached to it?” I’m looking at it thinking, “Holy shit! That frog’s gonna jump off that crazy lady’s hand and drag me down the nearest heating vent!” For months, maybe years, after that I wouldn’t go near any of the vents in the house.

"Oh, Allison. Don't be ridiculous."

Ugh! I have been so sick for the last week. Finally, I started feeling better yesterday, but until then I was becoming more and more convinced that I had contracted some new form of the plague. Okay, really I was thinking it was mono (which, for many reasons, would have been almost comical – almost), but the plague diagnosis continued popping up whenever I entered my symptoms into WebMD. People shouldn't be allowed to access sites like that. It's just an invitation to become a hypochondriac. Since WebMD's creation, I become convinced that I'm dying at least twice a year.

Before I went to the real doctor, I visited the Walgreen's Doc in the Box. He was no help, although he was almost my mother's hero when he asked, "Do you have a cat?" Her eyes lit up at the thought of Krispie being responsible for my illness because it would mean he would be ousted instantly from the family, despite his years of loyal service. "Yes, we do have a cat!" When he asked me if I'd been scratched in the face recently, I said, "Why, no! Krispie would never ever do that! He's a perfect kitty." The Box Doc then started talking about Cat Scratch Fever, so my mom and I both sort of stopped listening. He might as well of diagnosed me with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever . . . or the plague. Krispie was safe for another day.

Anne came into town this weekend, which was only fitting considering my state. She's the only person who ever called me sure that she had meningitis. "Allie," she said, "I have meningitis. I just know it." I asked her if her nose and fingers were turning black. They weren't. We decided that she did not, in fact, have meningitis. At that time, we worked right next to Presbyterian hospital, so the situation would have been easily remedied had we misdiagnosed her. We hadn't.

As always, it was really good to see Anne. A good thing about coming back to the States really excited about spending more time with your boyfriend only to have him suddenly break up with you two weeks later, thus sending you into some sort of heartbreak hell, is that you realize how truly wonderful and caring your friends are.

Since I got back home, I've been spending as much time as possible with Mary, which is really very easy since she now lives less than a 5-minute walk from my house. We met in ballet class when we were 10 and have been, with Lacy, best friends ever since. When I returned to Nashville, Mary let me cry on her couch everyday for a week and then intermittently for another week. She also didn't mind that I cried one day for about 2 hours over coffee at Bread & Co. and then later over lunch at The Picnic. And even though there was a 100% guarantee that if she talked to me, I would cry, she still called me every day. That’s a true friend.

I went over to her house last night to help convince the boys that brussel spouts weren't straight from the Devil's garden. We didn't really succeed. Both of the boys ended up in tears. After the sprout episode, I wanted to show Mary something online, but we discovered that her Internet had crashed. After about 15 minutes of plugging the modem back in and trying every password Mary had ever used, I asked what I thought was a reasonable question.

"Do you have the original paperwork?"
"Oh, Allison. Don't be ridiculous."

Yes, she had lived in the house for only 3 months, but, yes, it was a ridiculous question. I’m the friend who saves the paperwork. Mary’s the one who has someone set up the connection, hopes she remembers the password, tosses the paperwork and doesn’t look back. We’re a good balance, but I’m always trying to be more like her. France helped with that.

Spending time with Lacy and Mary always proves the old idiom, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” When we’re together, the scene isn’t much different than it was when we were in 7th grade. More wine is involved now, and the conversation has changed somewhat, but not much. It’s such a gift to have friends who always help you remember who you are.

A New Day and An Old Place

First of all, I'm very excited about Obama. It was so nice to watch the country be so happy and hopeful about the future. I hope the feeling lasts.

It's been 14 years since I've lived in Nashville during the Fall. I'd forgotten how pretty it is. The weather is perfect and the leaves are all changing. It was probably the same with the leaves in New York, but I didn't have the time to wander around Central Park every day to watch.

I've been coming down with something for a few weeks and I finally admitted that I need to go to the doctor today. For the time being, the less I move the better so I'm typing and watching tv. It's been so long since I've watched tv that I almost don't remember how to just sit and do it without doing anything else. Thank goodness for the Internet and stupid shows that don't require much brain power, like MTV's "Made."

My favorite thing to do when I'm watching "Made" is to think about what I would be made into. I think trapeze artist. Or maybe a surfer because I'm scared to death of being in the middle of a wavy ocean alone. I used to love watching Lori and Evan surf in the Sound, but the thought of doing it myself gave me the chills. I tried to go in once and the waves knocked me down before I ever got knee-deep. I'd have a long way to go before I became a surfer. But if I wanted to, I bet I could. You could all start calling me Gidget.

Happy Halloween!

Last night, I went trick-or-treating for the first time since I was 13. Mary and her boys, Indiana Jones (Bela) and Army Boy (Felix), invited me to go with them in the neighborhood behind my house, aka. Halloween Wonderland. Seriously, these people go all out. One house was showing The Nightmare Before Christmas on a big screen in the yard. We went through several blow-up haunted houses. Mary got trapped in an enormous spider web. The boys drew the line at strobe lights (too scary), however, so we didn't get to go to any of those houses.

This is the same neighborhood that mandates each house put up white fairy lights at Christmas so that the whole neighborhood looks like a White Light Winter Wonderland. There are always a couple of rebel houses that are obviously pissed off about being told what to do. They always put up colored lights, and I'm sure all of the other neighbors want to just claw their eyes out whenever they pass.

Anyway, here is one reason that you have to love the South: booze. Mary and I left the house with two solo cups full of red wine (trust me -- we are both going through times in our lives in which a little wine numbing seems to do a lot of good). Every other parent out there had the same idea, so I can't feel too irresponsible about getting a little liquored up on Halloween.

About halfway through this adventure, we were started to run low. Then, we walked up to a house and a keg appeared just like a glorious vision from the heavens. I said, "Mary! This is the best house ever!" The owner asked, "Do y'all need a refill? Are you of age?" Yes, I indeed needed a refill and yes, I was of age +10 years, but thank you for asking and telling me that I look so young because I am kind of feeling a little old and you probably don't want to hear about all of that right now, so I'll just take some merlot thank you very much.

By the end of the night, both "adults" were a petit bit tipsy. Indiana Jones took it upon himself to make sure I didn't stray. I would get lost in thought while looking at some house with demons in the dormers and, suddenly, I would hear, "Come on Allison! We're going this way." Thank goodness for the little angels that look after us.

Meanwhile, Beth was busy performing Thriller in the NYC Halloween Parade. Ha! She, Anne and Anne's sister, Sarah, had been practicing since Monday night. That's Hallween dedication. Here's a link to the Youtube video: Thriller 2008.

Actually, here is the NY1 coverage and you can see Beth. "OK, in this version, toward the end, at time 2:01, from an arial shot looking down, you will see my red wig toward the top of the screen, right in the center. I was on TV!!!": NY1 Thriller

Nash-vegas Here I Stay (for a brief while)

Okay, so this blog is going to be titled "My Belle Vie in Nashville" for a little while longer everyone. But never fear, I will be in New York before Saks puts up its Christmas lights. Until then, I hope that I can entertain you with stories from the South. If anyone wants to come visit, you are welcome as always.

Good Clean Fun

I was watching some ridiculous tv show last Friday -- "Clean House" on the Style channel I think. The show is absolutely terrible, but I did hear this brilliant little nugget of wonderfullness from the houseowner:

"I first met my wife at Chucky Cheese at our friend Bonsai's birthday party."

I'm glad to be back in America.

State-side Entry

I'm back in the States! I have not much to say today and have to get ready for dinner now, so I'm going to just share one of my favorite poems that's been stuck in my head for a fews days now. My birthday present to you . . . .

SUZANNE
John Logan

You make us want to stay alive, Suzanne,
the way you turn

your blonde head.
The way you curve your slim hand

toward your breast.
When you drew your legs

up, sitting by the fire,
and let your bronze hair

stream about your knees
I could see the grief

of the girl in your eyes.
It touched the high,

formal bones of your face.
Once I heard it in your lovely voice

when you sang –
the terrible time of being young.

Yet you bring us joy with your
self, Suzanne, wherever you are.

And, once, although I wasn’t here,
you left three roses on my stair.

One party night when you were high
you fled barefoot down the hall,

the fountain of your laughter
showering through the air.

“Chartreuse,” you chanted
(the liqueur you always wanted),

“I have yellow chartreuse hair!”
Oh it was a great affair.

You were the most exciting person there.
Yesterday when I wasn’t here

again,
you brought a blue, porcelain

egg to me
colored beautifully

for the Russian Easter.
Since then, I have wanted to be your lover,

but I have only touched your shoulder
and let my fingers brush your hair,

because you left three roses on my stair.

Du Vin, s.v.p.

Back in July a few of us got together with our oenology teacher to have a wine/dinner pairing. The professor brought all of the wine, so, of course, it was amazing. We all had a great time, as you can see from the pics.

Wine with Dinner

Ce Soir Est La Nuit Blanche

Alors, c’est la Nuit Blanche encore à Paris. I didn’t exactly tell you the whole truth about la Nuit Blanche last year. I might not have mentioned that I had developed a big crush on Chesley Hines that night (God forbid that he actually find out that I liked him or that Ainsley disown me for pining after her little brother). Fortunately, the crush was mutual and Ainsley’s still speaking to me.

So, then, I might have also glazed over the fact that we’ve been dating now for close to a year now. Most of you know this, though. However, I’ve never given him proper space on My Belle Vie, and I feel like I’m keeping secrets from friends by not updating you (let’s hope he’s not reading this right now and wishing that I hadn’t written it).

Now I don’t know what to write other than I still think he’s entirely wonderful, and I’m so happy that we met for dinner on this day last year. Had I known that I was about to meet le garçon de mes rêves, I might have tried harder not to get lost on the way to dinner, which made me horribly late that night. However, I still get lost in that neighborhood, and he didn’t seem to mind all that much.

Au Revoir Cergy

One year later and I’m heading out to Cergy for the last time. I have to deal with the devil bank and meet with my career counselor. I guess BNP isn’t exactly the worst bank in the world, but French banks have yet to centralize customer information so I have to go to my home branch out in Cergy to get things like printouts of my statements. Of course! C’est impossible to get this information at one of the hundreds of branches in the city. I guess that’s what you get from banks that don’t actually have money at the branches, which begs the question of why the branches invest in heavily secured entrances that only allow one person to enter at a time.

It’s weird to think that there is another class now in my old classroom, but I’m also glad that I’m not in class anymore. If I had only known how little sleep I was about to get for the next 3 months at this time last year . . . . Well, I probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. Last night I had a too much cheap wine and too little dinner so I’m feeling just about the same way that I usually felt at 8:00 in the morning on this same train during the school year.

I officially graduated two weeks ago! I am now part of the “Christian Dior Couture Class.” That sounds fancy doesn’t it? The ceremony was really nice and most of the class was able to make it back so it was nice to see everyone. We were very international indeed! Meeta wore a sari, Akiko I. wore a kimono and Suen wore a traditional Korean gown. They made my black dress look très boring, but I had brightened it up with some pretty pink shoes. If I had known so many girls were going to wear their cultural best, I would have donned my old deb dress and talked like Scarlet O’Hara all night.

Mom was able to come over at the last minute, which made all of the graduation festivities seem much more festive. I was happy that she got to meet all of my friends and that I got to show her my favorite places in Paris. We had a great time for the week and ended the adventure with a visit to Giverny. So here are lots and lots of pictures of flowers:

Paris & Giverny

Carey and Elizabeth also came to graduation and proved that they are some of the best soirée-goers in Paris. After setting up shop near the bar, they entertained guests all night. Every time I went over to say hello and get a glass of champagne, I swear they had made new friends. They are also expert party givers. I confirmed that fact last night, which explains why I am still in my pj’s at 3:00 p.m. Ugh. I feel like I’m revisiting college a bit. I probably should get it out of my system before I head back to New York and have to act all adult and responsible every day.

I will have lots of pictures from graduation later – I want you all to see that I did, in fact, graduate.

Empty Promises Made Less Empty

Enfin, je reviens!

I finally don’t have much to do. Well, I should rephrase that. Everything that I have to do, I am not currently inclined to do – like mailing all of my books home and cancelling my various accounts around town. Boring! So I ventured out of my apartment and have been at a café eating lunch and drinking wine and coffee. How French of me, non? Lots of exciting things have happened since I’ve been here. A dog chased a pigeon into the corner where I am sitting. It flew almost straight into me and then started banging itself against the windows until it took a seat in the chair right behind me. I had to get the waiter to catch it and throw it back out into the air. Then, there was some sort of motorcycle/car collision right outside, but no one was hurt so I can call it exciting and not tragic.

I have been renting an apartment on Ile Saint Louis, which is an amazing location and the perfect place to say au revoir to Paris. The apartment itself it filled with stuff – lots of old dusty stuff. I hung 7 sheets around the place to keep everything out of sight. I also put as many objets d’art, like the African reed instruments and the tusk with teeth, as I could into bags and hid them away. I have a great view of the street, which is always busy and it’s only 3 flights up, which is a welcome relief from the 7 I’d been climbing since December. The apartment is also sans Internet, which is sort of my excuse for not posting more often.

I don’t even know where to begin with catching you up on things. I want to say thank you first to anyone who’s still reading. It’s been hard to keep in touch this year and I’m not exactly the best at it to begin with. It’s so nice to get emails and see that people have checked my little blog because it makes me feel like I’m still connected to my friends and family.

I’ll just start with the most recent news and go backward. Earlier this week I was in London to interview with Phillips de Pury (an auction house) and Fabergé. The first went really well, and I’m very hopeful that they will have a good opportunity for me in New York in November. The second was not so great, but I’m glad I went to check it out anyway.

Here’s a picture of me waiting for the Eurostar. I still think that’s one of the coolest things ever. You just pop on a train in the middle of London where everyone is speaking English and being helpful and calling you “Love,” and before you know it, you’re in the middle of Paris where everyone’s speaking French and not caring about you. Still I love Paris. I liked London, but it’s no Paris. For the first time, I actually felt like I was going back home when I left St. Pancras station. Of course, Paris isn’t home home, but it’s become a new home like New York is a new home place for me.

So, yes, I’ve decided to come back to New York, for a while at least. I don’t seem to be able to plan more than a year ahead anymore so I’ll just have to wait and see how long I stay and where I go next. Dammit! That pigeon just flew back into my space! Are you kidding?? It’s sitting next to me on the floor just looking. Good, now the waiter just told it to leave and it walked out of the door like a human. Maybe it is a person who’s been turned into a pigeon. Anything’s possible here . . . .

London

I'm a Horrible Poster

Hi. It's me. I'm still here and am back in Paris after 5 blissful weeks in Atlanta, Nashville and New York. Since I'm back and jobless, you will be getting all of the posts I owe you since:

1. I have the time
2. It's free
3. I have lots of pictures that I've done nothing with
4. Again, I have lots of time and $0

I hope you all had a good summer. I'm moving into a new apartment tomorrow. It's . . . well, I'll take some pics.

Il y a une Mois!

Wow, you have a lot to catch up on! I'd better fill you in, but first I am going to distract you with these pictures from Carey's Au Revior party last month. The theme was "Dress Up As Your Favorite Parisian ____." Some people claimed that they didn't dress up because they didn't see that part . . . . You know who you are and I still don't believe you. Anyway, we had a good time. A kid threw up out the window. I think I'm too old for that to be happening at any party I'm attending, much less throwing. Oh well, nothing says "I'm still young" like vomit.

Paris Party

"Thursday's the New Saturday!"

And so it began . . . .

The quote above -- proclaimed in a New York bar in the Fall of 2000 -- was courtesy of my friend John, who will probably deny saying it now, even though it was an amazing thing to say. I've never forgotten it because it was the first time that I encountered the concept of something like a weekday being "in," or utterly "out." I mean at that time, everybody knew that Thursday was the new Saturday. Jeez. Thursday probably lasted about 6 months only to be replaced by Tuesday.

Now, I've spent the past year studying everything that's "in," knowing that tomorrow it will all be passé. As a final step in my program, I need a little help from you to know what's the thing to do these days. Even though I try to keep up, it's hard when you're not living in the States and talking about the latest TV show, restaurant, etc.

So, if you have a second to reply to this post with fun things, it would help a lot. Anything you want to share would be great -- movies everyone is seeing, the most popular TV shows, who Joel is talking about on "The Soup," exhbitions, general gossip, news stories, where everyone is going on vacation this year, the newest frozen yougurt place or anything else that you can think of.

Also, thanks so much to everyone who filled out my shoe survey! So far, it's been really insightful and I appreciate the time you took to help me earn my MBA -- (soon) yay!

If you didn't get the survey and want to fill it out (it only takes 10 mins), here's the link:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=5vApQnEdfPQ2ALfrqQLcOA_3d_3d

Sorry to use my blog for school solicitation, but I figured that I had included enough entertainment throughout the year to ask for just a little help with my homework. Carey and I threw a costume party on Friday night so you can count on some good pictures going up soon. I was the Eiffel Tower.

xx,
A

I Once Was Lost But Now Am Found

Wowie Wow! I took a big fall the other day -- 7 whole storeys! A stiff breeze came along, and then, wheeeeeeeee I was flying! And then down, down, down I went. I've always wondered what I would be like to visit the courtyard. Now I know. It isn't really a big deal. You see a lot less of Paris, but do get frequent visits from Clovis the cat.

Anyway, some kind stranger picked me up and placed me under the tree where I sat for a day and a night. Then, my owner's roommate came and found me. After she took a short turn around the neighborhood to get a coffee and a smoothie (so she could pretend for just one day that she was back in New York), she came to fetch me and took me back upstairs.

Now I am with my friend again. Here we are -- happy as little clams.

Love & Kisses,
Plant*

* that's me, there on the right

And Another Thing

When Elizabeth moved in she brought two plants with her and set them on the window sill. Today I noticed that there is only one. There is no evidence of the other 7 storeys down in the courtyard either. I don't know what I'm going to tell her when she gets back.

Good-ness!

I had a lovely picnic last night on the Champ de Mars under the Eiffle Tower. After a disappointing attempt to rent Louise a friend, Jody and I met Carey and a bunch of friends at the park for snacks and wine. It's quite the party over there during the summer. We left around 11:30 and there were still plenty of people hanging around.

We also discovered that the one way to look dumb in Paris is to put on a helment and ride around on a Segway in a herd of other Segway wranglers.

Picnicking on the Champ de Mars

The Chanting Explained & the Exploded Suitcase

I felt like a jerk for not knowing which Jewish holiday it was so I looked it up. It's Shavuot. You can read about it here. Carey and I are now wondering if the lights in are stairwell have been turned off because of Shavuot. It's a little dangerous. We can't see anything until floor 5.

Also there have been police outside of our building since Saturday. Carey thinks it might be due to Elizabeth's suitcase that she left downstairs and was either shot and exploded or just doused in water. Here's that story (I received this email from Carey on June 1st):

i just got back from the police station. here's why.

my friend elizabeth is moving in with me for the month- i live on the sixth floor (french, so seventh american floor) with no elevator, so we left her big suitcase downstairs while we went back for another load. when we went back for the suitcase, there was dirt and water all over the floor. but no suitcase. an old bitch who lives on the first floor was coming downstairs as we were staring confusedly at the corner. i asked her if she'd seen a suitcase.

her: "yes, i was worried about it too."

me: "worried? do you know where it went? it's ours."

her: "oh, the police came and shot it."

me: "what? shot it? uhhh"

her: "yeah, we thought it looked suspicious. there was another real problematic bag a few years ago, you know"

me: "uhhhh"

her: "the police came and told me to stay inside and then i heard a gunshot."

me: "uhhhh. do you know where it is?"

her: "no. they shot it"

me: "uhhh ok."

so elizabeth called the cops. three different places before they figured out where she was. idiots. once she got the, their response was something like:

cop: "no, it was taken immediately to the police station and it was exploded."

elizabeth: "but we only left it for like half an hour"

cop: "nope, we were called and it was a suspicious bag and we had to do that becuase it was policy"

so she took elizabeth's information and told her to come to the commisariat in my 'hood right away. so we have a mental breakdown, then head over there. some nice cops on the street directed us in the right direction. we walked in and the exchange went like this:

me: "we're looking for a suitcase that disappeared"

cop: "ohhhhhhh" (looks at another cop and laughs) "the suitcase!"

me: "uhhhhh.."

then they take elizabeth in the back and i waited out front for her wondering what was happening. what was happening was they took her back and took her around the corner to her exploded bag on the ground. she was suprised cause her stuff was still there, obviously intact, even though they'd said on the phone it was exploded, which we thought meant it would be in smithereens, like if american cops exploded something.

they wouldn't answer her questions but just took her and wrote her info on a piece of notebook paperwhere people had been writing all day, completely unofficial, and she had to sign saying she'd received her luggage and the components inside on the 31 may. they i see her come out with two cops carrying her baglike it was a corpse. apparently "explode" means "cut around the edges, don't look at anything inside, just destroy the piece of luggage and get everything really dirty and wet".

so they gave us a trashbag that we shoved all her clothes in- when i asked for another the bitch cop told me it was the last one they had. go figure. i told them that i'd left suitcases downstairs 7 different times and never had any problem-apparently i was just lucky. since i live next to a synagogue there are always cops patrolling and if something's suspicious they take it and blow it up. aka get it wet. effing france.

"Wait! I Can't Pray!" and Other Exclamations

Something has been going on at the synagogue downstairs. There has been a great amount of chanting and singing and general goings-on over the last few days. I've been too lazy to try to figure out which holiday, if any, it is. On Saturday, I heard a lot of commotion down in the courtyard so I peeked out of the window to see a bunch of men and boys gathered and playing some sort of game. So I made Carey look out the window to witness the scene. Just as she opened the window, she heard the rabbi yell, "Wait! I can't pray!" Who knows? They are chanting right now and it's a Tuesday morning. Must figure out what's going on.

In a sort of religious vein, Carey and I volunteered with our church a few weekends ago at L'Envol, which is one of Paul Newman's Hole in the Wall camps for terminally ill children. We spent the day varnishing the fence of the mini-farm in our space suits (see pictures below). I'm still a little confused as to why the mini-farm has a fence because the goats, ducks and roosters we saw were just wandering around all willy-nilly.

In between varnishing, we took a tour of the château and the grounds, which were really nice. We also had a picnic on the back terrace. Carey and I thought we did well just to pack a lunch, but we were quickly put to shame by one woman's virtual cornucopia of goodies in a huge basket. Whatever, our smushed pb&j's were just fine. Well, Carey just had pb.

The people we were volunteering with were, well, interesting. While I was listening to one woman tell me about how she could not find one single volunteer opportunity for her 16-year-old daughter during her Spring break (and I'm thinking, "wow, what a lame Spring break"), Carey was being regaled by stories of how the woman next to her had moved from Alaska because she felt that she needed a man there, but couldn't find one, but that she was okay on her own in Paris. Sometimes people share too much.

All in all, it was a good day. It was almost not a good day when we thought we might miss our train because the camp people insisted we sit and have coffee. But we made the train, so it was a good day.

Day at L'Envol

Springtime+ (from Lacy's Shower to Evil Prawns)

I can't leave that somewhat depressing entry from Saturday up for too much longer. Alors, here are some fun things I've done this Spring (well, since December really). Just more incentive for you all to come visit.

Paris Printemps & Other Things

There Goes the Sun

I am back from the beach and alone in rainy Paris: a sad state of affairs. Come visit me!

La Côte d'Azur

Here are some pictures from my voyage. I forgot my camera so these are courtesy of a fellow traveler. Thank goodness for my camera phone! I will have more to post for you later.

La Côte d'Azur avec Chesley

Here Comes the Sun!

I am currently in the South of France enjoying the beautiful weather, while my industrious beau works the day away. Well, I am enjoying the sun and working on my school project in the hotel resto (only Internet access) too.

Here is a picture of me also being industrious and responsible:

And here is what is watching me work*:

* Animal arrangement courtesy of the hotel propietere's father

EDF(you)

So Carey and I received a 700 euro electricity bill this month. Let's just ignore the fact that out of the 9 lighting aparati we have in the apartment, only 4 work 75% of the time, 2 work about 50% of the time and 3 have been on strike since September and refuse to work at all (these were made in France). Then, we have a total of 3 heaters, only 1 of which actually works "sort of," as in we have no control over the amount of heat that comes out because the dial broke.

Anyway, besides the stove, microwave and toaster oven (which, by the way, is TOTALLY out of control and has destroyed one Pylones travel coffee cup and a loaf of bread due to its turning on whenever it feels like it -- actually, the bread could possibly maybe have been the result of my not turning said toaster oven all the way off) we don't have anything else that uses electricity. Well, there is the hot water heater, but that can't use all that much because you can't take more than one and a half long showers in a given day. Then there is Carey's alarm clock and the TV, but we don't even watch that much TV because all French shows aside from the Double-Dare-esque game show called "En Ze Boite" (translation: En Zeee Box) are dumb.

The point is that I have no idea how anyone in their right mind could think that we used 6000+ kilowatt hours in 2 months, when we have never used more than 300. That's not the most interesting part of the story, which does go on to include an encounter with an electrician and a disappointing visit from the EDF lady, who might just moonlight as, oh, I don't know, the Devil!

No, the most interesting part of the story, in my opinion, came when I spoke to the nimrod at EDF. So I'm going through the bill and the fact that it seems entirely bizarre bizarre that all of a sudden we would use more electricity than the Eiffle Tower does at night (6000 kw would actually keep the thing lit, sparkle and all, for 3.7 days and nights. I know because I looked it up.) and that, unless he tells me that everyone in Paris had a 700 euro bill this month, we were not paying. I decided that it would be entirely appropriate to use "C'est impossible!" as frequently as possible. I said it about 8 times. It seemed to have no effect.

Suddenly, oh so many things were possible! It was possible that we used too much heat. It was possible that they had underestimated previous bills. About 4 other logically impossible things were now also totally possible!

Alors, I've had to tweak my "C'est impossible" theory a bit. It seems that a thing is "impossible" when that thing would require someome to perform work. If a thing's being impossible, however, actually requires more work, then suddenly that thing is completely "possible" because it's being possible means that someone else is to blame for it.

To sum up, "c'est impossible" really means "I do not feel like doing anything else about your problem." Interestingly enough, when a French person says, "but of course, this is possible," it also means, "I don't feel like doing anything else about your problem." It's confusing, I know. You really have to live it every day to understand it in your bones.

Louise

Here is a picture of me with my new friend.* Her name is Louise. She and I ride all around town together!

Some people call her Rustina because she had a habit of collecting rust before she met me. I don't think that's very nice.

*Note the lack of headlight in this picture. Someone stole it this very night after I had worked so hard to attach it. Frenchies . . . .

Oops! Les Oeufs!

Our neighbors got egged!

A few nights ago they threw a rawkus dance party and sang horrible (well, and some not so horrible) songs for the whole block to hear. I guess someone below us didn't like the playlist because I was looking out the window this evening and noticed that the party apartment's window was totally egged. Nice.

La Famille Va à Paris

I'm a little out of order in my picture posting, but I guess that doesn't matter so much. In mid-March, Dad, Drusie, Beth, Ben and Abby came over for a grand aventure Parisien. While I was in class, they explored all over Paris, experienced the chaos that ensues after a strike of tour guides in Versailles, discovered Nutella and did all sorts of Parisian things. Together we had a fun day in Montmartre, found out that the Catacombs close at will and without any forewarning and finished with a great dinner at my favorite restuarant, Les Cailloux.

The Bishops in Paris

Le Week-End

Springtime is finally in Paris! The rain has gone away and the sunshine is here! The city is beautiful again. I'm even sunburned where I missed a spot with the suntan lotion. I guess that's what happens when you apply sunscreen while riding a bike through the busy streets of Paris.

Here's what I did this weekend:

1. Met with my company about our field project
2. Went to drinks and dinner with long lost fellow Davidsonian, Dan Wingate
3. Slept in
4. Painted my finger and toenails
5. Figured out the basic concepts of leveraged finance
6. Wondered if the two beers I drank during the figuring out process only made me think I understood leveraged finance
7. Decided I didn't care
8. Ate a hot dog
9. Feel asleep while watching "Groundhog Day" for the 55th time
10. Woke up in time to have drinks (a Seabreeze I might add!) with Jody
11. Moved to another bar to meet our friend Erna
12. Realized my French has gotten a little worse after 3 weeks away
13. Slept in again
14. Met some friends for brunch down the street
15. Rode bikes along the Seine for hours and hours
16. Discovered Bercy Village (so cute!)
17. Rode my bike home
18. Rode my bike to a birthday dinner in St. Germain
19. Rode my bike home
20. Wondered if I maybe shouldn't have had 3 glasses of wine at dinner
21. Decided I didn't care
22. Said good-night to my bike when I put it back in it's little Velib (Paris rental bikes) home

Alors, there was a lot of bike riding today. I think I'm going to buy my own because it's so fun. Watch out Paris!

Normandie

Normandie

I've been meaning to post these pictures since October, which is when I took this trip to Normandie with my classmates Gaby, Tyler & Fabio. We had a great time that included some adventures such as:

1. Me drinking lots of tea after Fabio told me I couldn't because he didn't want to stop to go to the bathroom
2. Me panicking when Fabio really wouldn't stop to let me go to te bathroom an hour later
3. Being lost in the darkest, most middle-of-nowehere I have ever been (everytime our headlights hit the road, we saw stray cats and other unidentifiable road animals)
4. Realizing about 3 months later that "a driote" means "go right" and "tout driote" means "go straight" -- this information would have saved us from adventure #3
5. Being pulled over by the French police in a routine roadblock (in the darkest, most middle-of-nowhere, where there could not have been more than 2 cars passing per hour)

The list goes on and I hope that I will get it together soon to complete the story. Other news -- I'm excited that it's finally Springtime in Paris! I had a great trip home last week to go to Lacy's beautiful wedding (so now I'm a little homesick and missing everyone more than usual). I got put on the field project that I wanted (yay!) and classes end in about 3 weeks (double yay! because I won't have to go out to Cergy anymore).

No Plans Are the Best Plans

Lake Como

After Florence, I met Laura and we hopped on a train to Como for a little weekend adventure.

School Field Trip (not your usual trip to the Children's Museum)

Milan & Florence

Here are some pictures from our recent school trip to visit companies in Milan & Florence.

Loire Valley Adventure

Loire Valley

Captions still being updated. Beth and I had a great time driving around the Loire on my Spring Break. I've posted lots of pictures of chateaux and such and I'll post some more of Paris this week. Sorry to be so out of touch! I'm not sure I've even been that busy. Lots has happened this winter so I will be sure to do some updates.

Looking, looking, looking

Je vais réfléchir: I'll think about it
Thanks to Jenny, I learned this important shopping phrase

Je regarde: I'm just looking
More shopping words courtesy of my French friends

Je jete un oeil: Also, just looking
Literally, I'm throwing an eye. Ick.

Ne pas mettre la charreu avent les bouefs: Don't put the cart before the horse (or cows, literally)

And the List Might Be Longer Than I Thought

Ce n'est pas possible:

• to deposit bills and coins in the same envelope (or plastic bag, rather) at the bank
• for the bank to post said cash deposit
• ergo, for the landlady to stop harrassing the old tennant

Also, c'est impossible for the RER train to run without certain disaster between Paris and Cergy when I'm on it. Interesting.

Finally, c'est impossible for the man in our French class movie to eat anything at the restaurant because his stomach was upset. My question to that situation was, "Why did he go to a restaurant?"

It's Monday Alright

Not much time to write so just a note to let you know what is "just not possible" today.

C'est impossible: withdrawing more than X euros cash out of your own account with your own check card at your own bank because that particular branch is not the actual branch at which you set up the account

Interestingly enough, I need the cash to pay rent, and I have to deposit said cash at the landlord's original account's bank branch in the 19th. I don't even want to know why all of this has to be done in cold hard cash . . . .

J'habite à Paris!

I made this really cool panaramic photo of my view, but it's not being cooperative with blogger so I put it into a mini-slide show for you. Whenever I'm climbing up the 6 flights of stairs to my apartment, I think of the view and tell myself that it's worth it!

My Apartment

Cheese Krispies and Cheetos

Lots to cover, we have (that was for you, Paul). Before I catch you up on all of the goings-on since mid-October, I’ll do a quick recap of Christmas and New Year’s. I arrived home for Christmas break on December 18th, looking a little worse for the wear. C’est la vie. It was so wonderful to be at home. We threw a shower for Lacy on the 22nd, which was lots of fun. I’ll post pictures when I have them. Christmas was really nice and relaxing and Mom decorated the house to the nine’s and the tree was magnificent as usual. I ate about 500 cheese krispies, which you’d think would have turned me off of them, but I’m thinking I could really use some right now.

Other than eating cheese Krispies, I managed to make it to The Picnic a couple of times and tool around in the little red car a bit. The Wallace family had its decade-ual (my new word for happening once every ten years) Christmas party. Grab a name tag and get a stiff drink. We introduced Paul to eggnog, which did not go over well.

Sarah, Beth, Mary and I also had a dinner with Lacy to celebrate the bride-to-be. After a ridiculously fun dinner, a bar stop and Lacy elbowing me in the ribs in order to get a seat in the back-back of the stay-wag, we convinced our driver (Tom) to stop at Walgreens for Twizzlers, Oreos and Cheetos (which Maggie the dog later dumped over with the cone she was being forced to wear) and mixers we never used. About half an hour after arriving home, Sarah had vacuumed up the Cheetos and the dog and we had all passed out on the couch. Oops.

Although I was sad to leave home again, I was looking forward to seeing Jenny and Mike, who were in Paris for New Years. I managed not to have jet lag (yay!) and went out to dinner with them on Sunday night. On Monday, a group of us went out to a restaurant in the neighborhood and then came back to my house for une petite soirée. I had been missing the parties Beth and I threw in New York so have a little get together was a perfect way to start the New Year. Of course, Jenny and Mike bring the party with them wherever they go.

Lacy's Dinner

Bonne Annee 2008

Around Town and Such

Beaucoup of pictures from the last couple of months for you to see. Stories follow. I'll keep adding this week, so you'll have to hunt for new stories.

Out & About in France and Elsewhere

Research at Sephora

Friday, October 12th

Why I had devoted an entire entry to this one? Je ne sais pas. Oh well, it was fun. Our group decided to create a new fragrance for a product development project so we went to Sephora to do research. We basically mapped out the whole fragrance section, which obviously took a while. I was asked a couple of times where certain things were. I guess standing in Sephore madly writing things down on a clipboard makes people think you work there – crazy. We had such a good group and the project turned out really well. Yay, team!