I went to bed late, energized by conversation that was early by Pacific Standard Time. Shrug. It happens. As a result, I lounged in bed until 11. This is a good thing because I then can indulge myself in a big breakfast that doubles as lunch. Yum. Or as we say in France, miam, miam.
I was particularly looking forward to this breakfast. In a previous blog, I mentioned that I am here in Paris this stay in a different time frame. Decembers have normally been the time to wrap up my trip; this is just the beginning. Previous trips had a break of only 3 months. I remembered things. This time the 10 month gap has proved vexing. Most recent example? BACON. Thinking of my impending trip to the country for New Year’s, I recalled that I was promised Irish bacon. Sounded delish. Yesterday I was in the grocery and suddenly the Irish bacon came to the front of my mind. And then I remembered, I had bought bacon here in France before!
Straight to the meat section: I found it.
Today I was looking forward to the bacon with my scrambled eggs. And to the escargot pastry. So named because it is rolled and looks like a snail shell lying on its side. Tasty devils. The boulangerie gal picked the one with raisins. That’s fine. I’ve had those so I said oui.
Eggs, scrambled. Bacon, cooked with eggs. Escargot pastry heated up on top of the toaster.
Eggs – tasty. Bacon – delicious. Escargot – wait. Wait what? Those are NOT raisins. This is not escargot pastry. It is – quell horreur – pain au chocolate. You know how hard it is to pick tiny (smaller than toll house) blobs of chocolate out of pastry? Especially when they are warm and melty? Tossed.
Why would anyone ruin perfectly delicious pastry? And perfectly good chocolate? by mixing them together? I cut a slice of bread to have toast and jam instead.
Minor disaster last night, fixed this morning. When I finally got in bed, I took off one earring and put it on the night table. Then reached for the other. Not there. Normally, this is a major disaster. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would have gotten out of bed and searched the entire apartment (which, you may recall, is not big but it is like a black hole in terms of what can get lost inside it). Why is this a disaster? Just a silver hoop earring, you say. I wish. For some strange reason, my body has decided that anything but a gold post or hoop will make my ears ache after a day. Surgical steel? Hypoallergenic? Nope. And I choose to wear silver, not gold, as adornments. So these “silver” earrings are really white gold. Do you know the prices of gold these days? Costly. So I try not to lose these things.
Good news. When I woke up, I noticed the solitary earring and remembered. Sighed. Turned on the flashlight in my iPhone to start my search and immediately spotted the mate on the mantel. Apparently, I took the one out and then promptly went to bed… to wake up just enough to take the other out and not recall the one on the mantle.
Tango progresses. Yesterday was a fabulous session. I had worked on the moulinets all week and somehow it came together when he led that step… I got dizzy! Then we just danced all about the studio and I really had a better understanding of the improvisational style of the tango. And how to NOT anticipate the next move. That’s a very bad thing for the woman to do. And actually, it takes great discipline and yes, power, to wait. To breathe. To stand, balanced, with your axis straight, your legs flexible. And I am getting brave enough to watch those tango videos showing the women’s embellishments. Woo Hoo. And the music. Every now and then, Patrick reminds me to listen to the music. What a concept. So I have been asking Echo to play tango music while hanging out at home. (Yes, I brought an Alexa to France with me.) I think that’s why my foot started drawing circles with my toes while at the stove. video on female steps
Soon I must finish my washing and start packing for my trip. Dear friends live in the country about 25 minutes south west of Paris. The closest town/village is Longvilliers. They pick me up Sunday and will return me on Thursday. So the gilet jaunes who are planning stuff today, Saturday, and NYE will not impact me at all. Well, perhaps today as I have to go visit a friend in the 7th. Some buses may be diverted. I’ll figure that out.
My work continues. My mind is turning over the concepts of male and female speech. Communications. I have been focused on Myers Briggs for so long. And the Enneagram recently. I read Deborah Tannen’s work back when it was on the best seller list. Now thanks to my partner, I am revisiting it. It’s like walking into a new house. Or new addition to the house that was always there but I never went to that wing. That’s a metaphor I heard in the 80s from Leland Kaiser, PhD, a visionary in healthcare. I would go to any conference where he was a featured speaker and sit in the front row transfixed. He said think of your brain as a house. And you are usually sitting in the kitchen or the office or even bedroom, looking out at the backyard and the scenery is basically the same. What if you went into the front room and looked out those windows for a change? What new things will present themselves to you?
And what other things roll around in my head in this process? From female communication to the larger concept of femininity. And what better place to ponder femininity than in Paris? I ask you.