my cup overflowth

(written last night, while Joe prepared our dinner)

No, I’m not trying to be poetic. (Joe would be nauseated if I spoke that way:) My nose is stuffy, & I sound like a cartoon character. I’m trying to convince myself that the sore throat is from Day One of playing teacher, that the stuffiness is from chalk dust, and that it will all go away before my 8 a.m. conversation course tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the big day: five conversation-style classes at 8h, 14h, 15h, 16h and 17h. Then—you’ll love this—I have choir practice. Francine, the professor that helps me with the conversation courses (since they double as phonetics for beginners), invited me to join her international student choir, culminating in a Christmas concert.

I explained to her, after her farewell bisous (the two-cheek kiss), that people would more often ask me not to participate in their choir than to add on. “We need altos. Are you an alto?” she asked, still optimistic.

“Well, I’m not a soprano,” I replied. And I realized (or rather, Francine told me) that my voice will mix into the others, all singing in Latin & French & who-knows, & it won’t make any difference what I sound like. “Maybe you just won’t take a solo,” she said with a smile.

I’m doing it. I’m taking my first step to immerse myself in French culture & put myself in language-learning situations. So far, these experiences have been limited to asking the names of pastries & trying to remember them while I devour the pastry with some fresh, French (my justification) green tea.

Today, I’ve been extra heavy on the tea (and the napping & the abandoning of other plans for the day) in an effort to fight this thing before it sticks. I’ve been alternating between Mirabelle green tea (THE flavor of Nancy for absolutely everything, even liquors), spearmint green tea & lots of orange juice.

I’m an odd duck when I’m sick. I don’t drink soda, so my sickness splurge is lime mineral water, a throw-back to childhood sick days with Sprite & my favorite excuse for buying overly priced water. This time, I wanted none of that. I wanted the fizz; I wanted the citrus. I did not want the water.

I wanted Orangina, a magical fruit-juice-soda (a fuzzy gray area, really). I wanted it baaad, but when I got to the far aisle of the grocery store, I was already embarrassed by how sick I was letting myself feel & how mopey I could be while doing it. So, I was responsible: I save 1.5 euros & added more fruits to my day with a bottle of juice… At this point, I’ve probably added far too many fruits to the day & will just flush out all the nutrients the next time I pee. They have serving suggestions for a reason.

So as I fill my glass with Bordeaux wine, I cheers to your health, to mine & to successful days of teaching in this young semester.