AliThinks

Homonym or Homophone?

I choose the former, just so I can sit here and say "homonym homonym homonym..." 

Today's homonym (or -phone) pair is WHOA/WOE, as in "Whoa!  There's still so much shit I gotta do!" or "Woe is me: there are so many steps I have yet to undertake." 

Homina homina homina.

Before lunch (moules frites at the local cafe, yum), I had a little breakdown.  I have given so much stuff away.  Yet I still have so much, and the thought of packing it or shipping it brings on ye olde anxiety attack.

Blogging? Pajamas? Yeah!

Guess where I am? 

I am SO in my comfy, comfy bed with my warm, warm duvet covering me; the laptop is gently heating my legs.  Allan and Sumatra are both asleep next to me. 

Now that I've told you that exciting bit of news, I can't think of anything else to say. 

Oh, wait.  Yes.  I'll share a little bit of language with you.  Look at the title of this blog entry.  Pajamas.  Most other anglophones spell it pyjamas.  The French call pajamas le pyjama.   It's an Indian word, that I know, but I'm too tired lazy to look up why we spell it differently.   I mean, shampoo is also of Indian origin, but it's spelled the same way in American English and British English.  (Of course, the French call it le shampooing.  Say "shahm-pwahng" and try not to laugh when you do it).

What's my point?  I don't really have one.  I'm just enjoying hanging out here in my jammies.  Yeah.

One Last Milestone

This is the last post I will type on this computer.  It's been a good friend these past three and a half years.  I know that sounds kind of cheesy, but staying connected via this machine helped me stay sane through a bout of depression and then a tough time teaching.

I've cleaned out all the software my kids won't need.  I've defragged and wiped the hard drive.  I've left all my mp3s on here.  C. really likes to listen to what's in my iTunes library.  The last thing I'll do before shutting down for the last time is uninstall Firefox.  We don't want the kids to have access to the interwebosphere on "their" computer, so there isn't much point in leaving Firefox on it.  I did tell C. to remember that Internet Explorer sucks; Firefox is better.  I think that she'll remember than when going online on her dad's computer.  If not, I'll remind her.

This is my last post from this computer, but not my last post from France.  Allan brought his laptop with him.

Yesterday I gave a bunch of readers a really obnoxious earworm.

Today I leave you with a song that I hope you will enjoy.  I love it, and right now it has particular meaning for me.

Earworm

Oh help!  Oh bother! 

Guess what I'm singing in my head?   Rasafrackin' Hall and Oates:

Because your kiss (your kiss) is on my list...

*runs, screaming, from the room*

He's Here

...and he's dozing on the futon. 

We enjoyed some homemade black bean chili.   

Full tummy + jet lag = Boyfriend In A Coma. 

I know, I know.  It's serious. 

They're Gone

My kids just left SmallTown for the last time.  Their aunt and her boyfriend were driving through on their way back to La Rochelle, and offered to pick up the kids so that the ex wouldn't have to do it tomorrow.  I said that was okay, because really, I haven't been the most attentive mom these past few days.  I could sense their impatience to get back home. 

On Sunday I will see them one last time, because I have to deliver some more of their things, including the computer I am typing this entry on. 

I'm not sure how I feel.  All I know is that Allan's train is arriving in Angouleme at 5, and I have to leave within the hour to pick him up.  Thank God he is coming.  His presence will be the salve that I need so badly. 

On My Mind

There are two things I've been meaning to write about.  Both things involve men. 

One thing involves the man I once loved. 

The other involves the man I now love. 

It is probably not appropriate to combine these things in one blog post, but I'm going to do it anyway.  My energy for blogging is limited right now.  I know, that's no excuse; I could just as easily make two separate posts.  But I'm not going to do it.  Not today. 

Titles? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Titles

So this afternoon I'm gathering things up to take to the Secours Catholique.  There is a "branch" here in town, and it's open for donations on Thursday afternoons. 

I have a few more clothes to take, as well as some of T's old (read: big) Legos.  He's all into those microscopic Legos now.

The kids will balk about this, but I'm going to have them walk over there with me later.  First, I could use the help carrying stuff.  But more importantly, I want them to get an idea of how the other half lives. 

His Comment To Me When He Saw This Photo

Hey Mom!

I look JUST LIKE you! 

Crap. How's It Written?

7even?  No.  Se7en?  Yeah, that's it. 

I got tagged by D of From Florida to France.  She tagged me for this Seven Things meme just before she moved from Grenoble to Lille.  I had a lot on my mind, and told myself I'd do it later. 

Well, it's later.  D has arrived in Lille.  And since I preferred doing this meme to going to bed, here is my seven things thing:

La Nouille!

Today I got a letter from my cell phone provider.  I thought "Oh, good, they got my cancellation notice."

"Dear Madame B.,

We received this letter by mistake, and are readdressing it to you so that you may send it to the proper recipient." 

Oops.  It was my letter to Company X, stating that I no longer had their credit card, and that I wished to terminate my account.  I guess Company X got a request that they cancel my cell phone service. 

Asides

• I'm back in my apartment
• I won't call it "home"
• Typepad was not sending me comment notification this weekend, so if I didn't reply to you personally, don't be upset
• I didn't have 24/7 access to a computer anyway
• If I haven't visited your blog lately, again, don't be upset -- not only was I not home, but I'm also in the crunch period now
• That means that I'm leaving France in two weeks
• OMG
• ...

Evolutions

This is a post I've been thinking about writing for at least a month now. 

Some of the people on my blogroll have started a new blog.  In some cases, it's just cosmetic -- a bloglift, if you will.  In other cases, people have abandoned a blog they had been writing for months or even years, and started afresh. 

At least one of my blog friends felt that too many "real life" people knew about his blog.  Another was bored and wanted to do something different.  Yet another was tired of explaining the name of her blog.  In changing, she also changed her pseudonym, to better reflect the way she feels about herself.*

Daffydowndilly

   

     Click image to enlarge.

*Yawn*

Guess who just woke up from a much-needed nap? 

My kids have gone to have lunch with their dad and some extended family.  Anne has taken her kids, Nine and Seven, to a reptile zoo thingy.  Anne's husband is...somewhere.  He's in the attic probably, because I hear some hammering noises coming from up there.  And I, very tired from three straight nights of little sleep, took a nap after lunch. 

I'm still a little groggy. 

Yesterday the children started cleaning the attic here, without our asking.  From what I understand, they moved the project forward quite a bit. 

I spent the afternoon helping Anne get another blog started.  It's not done -- the template and layout have to be tweaked.  We got a late start on that because it took us forever to figure out that it wasn't just AOHell that was making us jump to the French version of the content management site we wanted.  It was Internet Explorer, upon which AOHell's navigation is based.  Anne downloaded Firefox at my suggestion, and we got to the American site without any trouble. 

I frackin' hate AOL and MSIE. 

Gah!  There is more to write but I just can't do it now.  Think I'll look at the photos I took, and maybe post one or two. 

When Things Don't Go According to Plan

Ten, Nine, Eight and Seven are not getting along as well as we'd imagined. 

Crises have been dealt with -- approximately one every hour  (Anne says we really haven't dealt with any crises.  We've just been gobsmacked by them).  Anne's husband, who had to get up and work this morning despite being sick, just returned from a 3-hour tour power nap next door (don't ask) and has taken the kids out.  Anne just chimed in, "Kids are like dogs or the garbage.  You have to take them out").  It's funny how they don't want to play in the yard, but don't mind following the Pied Piper out for a walk.  Of course, he had some candy in his coat pockets. 

The point is, things are not getting done as quickly as we'd hoped.  We're going to drop off some things at the French equivalent of Goodwill now, then go to the store. 

Time... (finish this sentence in a comment; let's see if anyone can guess what I'm thinking).

Subject: No Subject

It's late on Thursday the 16th.  I don't know when I'll finish writing this post, and I don't feel like altering the post's time.  So if I say today, you'll know it's Thursday, February 16th.  Likewise, tomorrow is Friday, February 17th. 

Would that be a foreword?  Does such a thing exist for a blog post? 

So this afternoon a woman (and her father, and her son, and the real estate agent) visited my apartment.  I think she liked the place.  Her son sure did.  The woman is separating from her husband.  So she and I have a connection.  If she rents the apartment, she is going to buy my kitchen and laundry appliances, which is a very good thing.  I feel good about it. That's all I have to say about that.

Dazed

In about twenty minutes the woman who's looking at the apartment will be here. 

I've been done with the straightening up for nearly an hour now, and have rassled the children into behaving a couple of times since then.

What an enormous amount of energy I've put into making this place look halfway decent.  I hope this person rents it.  Then again, if she doesn't, it's not my problem.

*kicks back and listens to Garden State*

Fewer Things To Stress About

• Allan's flight here is booked
• So is his train ticket from Paris
• My flight to the U.S. is also booked
• As is my train ticket to Paris
• We are leaving SmallTown on March 4th
• That's my mother's birthday
• She'd be 70 this year, if she were still alive
• I digress
• We are staying in a hotel right in the airport
  
• And that means no shuttles
• And that is good
• Because Allan is coming here, despite his broken ankle
• ...something about moral support...
• He rocks

It's Getting Better All The Time

...and you all chime in, bettah, bettah, behhhh-tahhhhh!   

I only cried once the entire afternoon, and that's really saying something (oh, crikey, cue the Bananarama with Fun Boy Three).  I think half my problem is the knowledge that the real estate agency is bringing someone to look at the apartment on Thursday afternoon.  And I'm sitting here freaking out because the dust rhinos are tangoing in every damn room.

But, I'm moving out.  (Oh, jbgeezus, cue the Billy Joel).  So if there is stuff everywhere, it's okay.  I'll get rid of the dust rhinos, but really, who cares if there are boxes and bags of things in the middle of my living room floor?