Girl’s week in! (the place is a mess and it’s only day 1)

So, Adam’s away in Penticton for work. That’s right: It’s just me and the cats. Uh huh, Adam’s been gone, what, maybe 15 hours, and the house looks like a disaster. Sigh. It’s not my fault. I wanted to make delicious dinner for me and I was indecisive, so I kind of sort of picked everything. The resulting mess is probably somewhat related to the fact that the BBQ was running out of gas, so I was prepping in a hurry.

Oh fine. I’ll come clean (even if the kitchen won’t): I hate doing dishes. Wash the floor, clean the bathrooms (and I mean eat-off-the-toilet-not-because-you-would-but-because-you-could clean), vacuum and dust like an allergy-ridden Stepford wife with OCD? I’m on it. But put away dirty dishes? I can’t. Why? The dishwasher is full. Of clean dishes. Clean dishes I would have to put away first, before I could do anything to the dirty ones. I mean, come ON, you guys. That’s epic. Just thinking about it makes me need to take an ice cream break.

Excuse me. I need ice cream… Here’s a picture to keep you occupied during this little intermission:

Hermes the Handsome

My friend Janice is a graphic designer and decided Hermes needed a bow tie. I think we can all agree that she is correct.

Ok. Ice cream acquired and in the process of being eaten. Check. (Just for the record, took me like 34 seconds to hook up a bowl of chocolate chip mint. I gots me a system.)

So I was thinking the other day how I haven’t really posted much about France. Weird, because it was the best trip ever. Seriously, it was amazing. I have always wanted to go to France and while I’ve been super blessed and fortunate to visit some amazing corners of this world, Europe always seemed to stay just out of reach. After wanting to see France for as long as I can remember (it’s the first place I ever wanted to travel to see), I think I was a little worried it wouldn’t live up to my expectations, inflated as they had been over the years.

I’m happy to report, however, that I needn’t have worried. France, you see, is amazing. It’s beautiful. It reminded me of Disneyland a little, where they repaint the garbage cans every night, lest there be any chipped paint, unseemly marks or mild imperfections even on the trash receptacles. My first impression of France, after coming out of the metro station on the first morning — enroute to the Eiffel Tower — was that Paris was stunning. I almost expected it to be just a false front, and if I peeked around the corner, I’d see the city that looked like every other city. But that wasn’t the case. Paris and all the rest of France was just gorgeous. My friends, I’m talking about make-your-heart-sing beautiful.


First thing I saw. Super-beautiful shiny pretty things. Oh, Paris!

To be totally fair, that was actually my second impression. My very first impression was that it was very busy. This could be due to the fact that we’d been traveling for, oh, 97 hours (fine, it was more like 36 hours, but still) and we landed in Paris on a Saturday night. With luggage that was WAAAAY too big (lesson learned: pack light[er]). We were trying to navigate the metro system, which, just for the record, neither Adam nor myself had ever experienced, after a travel-filled and sleepless 36 hours. I was tired. I was greasy. I was wearing Lululemon pants and no make up, in PARIS. I was concerned we’d lost Jen and Jon and I’d have to call Auntie Carol and explain that we’d misplaced her only daughter.

See, we’d also been waiting at the Charles de Gaulle airport for over 3 hours waiting for Jen and Jon (who turned out to have missed the stop and continued into the city, thinking they’d missed us and would meet us at the hotel) who never appeared, despite our best efforts to locate them in one of the world’s busiest air traffic terminals. Thank The LORD that Jen had provided some rough guidelines for how to get from the airport to the hotel. That being said, we still managed to get a little mixed up, leading a kind French man to ask us if we needed help (whilst we stared at the metro map as though it would suddenly show us the way like Harry Potter’s Marauders’ Map). Our good Samaritan’s reward for this gesture of kindness? Our bug-eyed, somewhat frantic, “NO, THANK YOU WE’RE FINE!” What can I say? We were sleep-deprived and paranoid, having been told repeatedly that everyone and their dog in France wanted to pick our pockets. We both agreed afterwards that he was probably just very nice and helpful. Shame on us.

Luckily, we found Jen and Jon at the hotel. They were just about to leave, because they were heading back to the airport to look for us. That’s what I call friendship. Then, we went to a local pub, ate pizza, fries and drank copious amounts of beer.  It was great.

More to come.

By the way, I’m looking for change. New job, private sector. No point keeping it secret, since the Universe can hardly organize itself to give me an amazing opportunity if I’m keeping my head in the sand and trying to be all secretive. Am I right? I am. I am right.

We are being so spontaneous, you don’t even know.

Mmm hmm (make sure you make your “hmm” sound go up at the end to sound mildly patronizing/condescending to capture our mood).

We are throwing caution to the wind all over the place (actually, we’re being pretty rational and responsible, but we are having fun, and it is awfully windy). This weekend, we’re hitting the mountain with Ben and Ashley. Second time this season, and this time—get ready for it, folks—we’re going to partake in snowy activities. I have not been strapped to any kind of fast-moving snow-thletic gear since I was about 12, so this will be an adventure. I am fairly sure I will throw at least 3 tantrums and there will be tears involved. Because I am a big chicken. Adam can’t wait (he said he’d take the beginner’s lesson with me).

I’m both excited and scared to be strapped into just one piece of equipment and no, I don’t believe you when you tell me that snowboarding is just like surfing. I’m not strapped to my surfboard (it’s a leash and there’s significant lee-way). Maybe I just need a shot of liquid courage to loosen me up first. Oh wait, that’s a terrible idea. Sigh.

This will be fun, regardless. SNOW! Ben said there’s so much fresh snow that we’ll need our snorkels. I don’t think he understands how to snowboard (NB: Ben is one of the best snowboarders we know, just on the off-chance he reads this and sues me for libel).

Also, in other exciting news, A.K.A. Paris in the Fall, Jen and I Skyped tonight. There was much conferring over calendars (ooh la la!), followed by each of us asking the other, “So, how’s your French?” I think we’ll get by. <<excitement mounts>>

Lastly, tonight, I didn’t need to teach/work/volunteer/be anywhere. So, post-Skype, Adam and I went for a jog (it’s so light out, Daylight Savings!) and then came home. My laundry pile (all clean, all three weeks of it) was going to be folded this evening, but it did not come to pass. Um, you guys? I’m going to bed now: Feel free to drop by and fold it for me. Maui sucks at it, on account of her not having thumbs, she says. So she just sleeps in it. Only the clean laundry, mind you; never the dirty… And as for Hermes folding it, well, you can forget it. That guy does NOT help out around the house.

Laundry Mountain