AliThinks

2006

Happy New Year, Bonne Année, Meilleurs Voeux...et cetera, et cetera.

I hope that 2006 brings you love and happiness, health and wealth (and not just money), and lots of good times and laughter. 

Me?  I'm still on the roller coaster, but it's no longer throwup-scary.  It's pretty fun now.  (I was going to write about the cycle of change I'm going through, and how its origins date back to the summer of 2003, but I am not in the mood for introspection right now.  A dear friend of mine once told me that I was about to step on the roller coaster, and she was right). 

It's one long-ass roller coaster, but at least I'm enjoying the ride. 

Really, I Gave Her A Mop, I Swear

   

Click image to enlarge.

   

C. and T. mopped the floor for me this afternoon.  I told them not to slop water all over the floor, which of course they proceeded to do.  For a while the two of them had a sponge under each foot; they slid around the floor that way. 

I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to go in there and sop up the excess water.

Back In SmallTown

We made it, but the day was long (the preceding night having been short) and not without its trials.  Our trip from Brussels to Paris was wonderful; we even got served lunch (I loves me some first class travel).  Paris was, however, the proverbial nightmare.  The "inclement weather" had "greatly perturbed" the TGV schedules.  Thousands of travelers milled about the gare de Montparnasse, and some of us tired folk sat on the floor.  We weren't sure we'd even be able to get on a train today, but we finally did, and got home about two and a half hours later than planned.  I drove us the 60 kilometers home in the pouring rain (thank goodness it wasn't freezing).

The four of us had a lovely time with Amber, Len and their children.  It's great how comfortable we all were together -- because we'd never met before!  Even my shy children warmed up quickly, especially C., who's the same age as Amber's oldest daughter.  And Amber and me?  Separated at birth, yep. 

There's much more to say, but it is late and all that.  More posts and photos to come, once I've caught up on some sleep. 

Soul Sisters

   

Click on that image to see how lovely [blink blink] we are.

See You Later, Alligators

I was going to write a quiz-like blog entry, a "where are we going this week?" kind of quiz.  But since our hostess has left a comment on each of our latest entries, all hope I had of making this a guessing game has gone out the window. 

That's okay, Amber.  It's a little too early in the morning for me to be trying to come up with witty questions (or witty anything).

Yes, Allan, my kids and I are going to Belgium to visit Amber, Len, and their four chères têtes blondes. 

We're all pretty darn excited about this. 

If blogging is light, you'll know why.  (See, Amber and Len don't have a computer, so we're just going to have to make due.  That attempt at humor really sucked). 

Have a great week. 

First Christmas

...with Allan and my kids. 

C. and T. no longer believe in Santa Claus, and so it was hard to create the magic I used to feel at Christmastime.  If that makes any sense! 

T. was bouncing off the walls all day, so I know he was excited about something.  C. was feeling a little less joyous today and said as much.  She is growing up.

It was a happy day, nonetheless.  I know tomorrow today will be, too. 

Merry Christmas!

How To Have A Kickass Friday Night

Allan and I have just spent the past two hours laughing our asses off at this site.  Have fun.  It's our Christmas gift to you. 

Heheh.  She said "ass."  Twice. 

Short Attention Sp-

Yesterday the kids and I made cookie dough.  It had to rest in the fridge for 24 hours. Don't ask me why.  When I cook I don't follow a recipe, but when it comes to baking, I stick to what's written. 

This morning the kids were all "Mom!  When are we going to make the cookies?"  I grumbled something about needing to have my coffee and computer time.  After some more Mom!ing from C., I said "Okay, let's bake those cookies." 

We rolled out the dough and started cutting out Christmas shapes.

Putting It Out There

I'm going to get a bit personal on you here and write about something I've been thinking about for a while.  I wasn't sure I would blog about it, but posting this stuff on the internets (or internest, as I first typed it) will probably help me stay true to my goal.

This morning I saw my doctor.  My reason for seeing her doesn't matter, but her comment to me does: "You have gained weight." 

The inner me said "No shit, Sherlock." 

The outer me stepped on her scale. 

F.R.A.N.C.E.

One of the first things I learned at the Alliance Française was that the French are notorious for their use of acronyms.  This seemed strange to me, because I had always thought that the French were all about the beauty of their language. 

Not that they aren't, but acronyms pepper their speech and writing.  One of the most famous newscasters here is known by his initials, PPDA.  There are so many other examples I could give to make my point, but I'm really tired and don't much feel like spending half an hour explaining.  I will say that every teacher in the country knows what the B.O. is, and I'm not talking about their scent after a hard day of teaching, either. 

So today I went to the post office (I mean the P.O.) to give them a letter I'd received.  No one by that name lives here, and I said as much to the worker behind the glass. 

She took the letter (ironically enough from La Poste itself, from their financial services branch), scribbled on the bar code at the bottom of the envelope, and said in a self-satisfied manner, "Ça, c'est un NPAI."  It took a lot for me not to laugh out loud.  NPAI (say it with me, En Pa Ay Ee) means "N'habite pas à l'adresse indiquée."

Oh hell, I might be too tired to explain why the lady at the post office made me laugh with her official NPAI label.  It was just funny, that's all. 

Now let's see how funny you can be.  I dare you to come up with a phrase for the "acronym" in the title of this post.  I'll go first, but it might suck: Furry Rodents Are Not Carrying Ebola.

Your turn now.

Not Much to Say

Kids are here and are full of energy.  I'm ready for bed!

Edit:  Half an hour later, and I just spent a nice time with T. here.  He sat in my lap and made me quiz him on geography.  :)

To All The People Tittering About...

...The Man Who Internet Dated His Mom: did you not see Must Love Dogs? 

Okay, so I only saw that movie because it was the sole palatable choice on the plane a few weeks back.

But really.  Get over it. 

Typepad Goes To The Spa

Strange things were afoot at the Circle Jerk Typepad yesterday, if you hadn't noticed. In the morning there was no access to Typepad blogs.  Allan and I sat here jonesing and commiserating via e-mail with Madame Levy.  Later, our blogs were back, but were missing some days.  That made us freak out a little.

Here is what our Typepad page looked like yesterday (click on the image to make it bigger):

You gotta love the green, yellow, and red dots that Six Apart used to communicate the status of their services.  (Can you see me rolling my eyes?) 

Things are somewhat back to normal now.  Except the photos I posted the other day have apparently gone to Mallorca for the weekend.

Of course, there were status updates every three hours or so, letting us subscribers know that the Typepad people were working very hard to get service back to normal.  Six Apart have become quite the PR masters these past few months.  However, it's all starting to get old.  I chose to pay for Typepad so that I could use a better blogging platform. 

If I'd been thinking of finding another blogging platform before, now I am sure I want something else.  Come the end of my subscription (plus the thirty free days Typepad gave me for earlier inconveniences), I'm out of here.  Unless, of course, I get something like six free months and a killer job at Six Apart for this latest fiasco. 

Oh, and in the spirit of the fast-approaching winter solstice, I've added a sprig of holly to my banner.  Of course, in typical Typepad banner fashion, a few pixels get cut off.  (I'm rolling my eyes again).  No, I'm NOT a complete idiot.  Yes, I tried to make a nice holiday banner (and I'll admit, Allan did most of it for me while I cooked the kangaroo).

You can view the banner as I intended it to look here. 

Have a great weekend. 

Edit:  Thanks for all your kind get-well comments the other day.  As you can see, I'm back in business. 

I Spent The Day In Bed

A day in bed can be a good thing, especially if you're with the one you love, or loving the one you're with, or channeling Stephen Stills.   

Unfortunately, I was in bed because I was sick as a dog.  That's D-A-W-G, folks. 

Fortunately, Allan was here.  I'm so glad.  I couldn't have dealt with going out for chicken soup and Coca-Cola, necessary nutrients for my physical state.  And he stayed on the watch, making sure I was okay.

I think I'm on the mend, but I feel like I've been used as a punching bag, so I'm going back to bed.

Twilight Tree

Hot!

Peppers on display at Le Piment Bleu.

People? Allan ROCKS.

Last night I was going to post a little blurb about how great it would be when Allan got here because I'd be able to use his camera.  I've really missed taking photos since mine broke last month. 

We hadn't been here five minutes when Allan said "Let me give you your Christmas present."  I said "Let's wait until Christmas Day!"  He said "I've got a bunch of things for you, but I want you to have this one now, so that you can use it while I am here."

I closed my eyes and he placed a Nikon D50 in my hands.  Merry Christmas to me.   

Bla-de-bla-bla-bla

• I can't think of anything to say.
• This afternoon at the store I saw a woman pick her nose and eat the booger.
• She was really well-dressed and was wearing make-up.
• Unlike me, who was wearing Old Navy lounging pants, a college shirt, and sneakers.
• Telle une américaine...
• But I wasn't picking my nose in Auchan. 
• I went there to get some last minute things before Allan's arrival, including this and this. 
• Yes, kangaroo.
• Stop saying "ewwww." 
• Boing.

I Was Lamenting My Inability To Find A Good Quiz.

Which John Cusack Are You?

So Allan sent me this link:

Allan: http://www.couplandesque.net/boredom/quizzes.htm
Ali: As in, Douglas Coupland?
Ali: Oh hell, never mind.
Ali: I am thinking of something else.
[pause]
Allan: Which John Cusack are you?
Ali: Oh. My. God.
Ali: I just finished taking that quiz.
Allan: I know you.

Sons Of The Fathers

A flurry of comments over at Alain's latest post made me think of a couple of guys who make my heart go all a-flutter.   They are both sons of musicians.  One father-son couple is dead.  The other is still alive.  The dead son's music has touched my soul.  The living son's music has not (he's just eye-candy to me).  Both sons are lovely to look at (and did I mention that eye-candy thing?). 

Feel free to make other comparisons in the comments. 

And click on the extended post link to see some photos.