it's (nearly) official!

What an exciting way to begin our last month here! It's getting easier to think about our return (in some ways–though I admit that my eyes started watering when I saw a picture of Paris today & thought about being a flight away).

Right before going to sleep last night, I checked me e-mail. There was a massive new message with five different attachments. Our lease for # B9, the apartment I discussed yesterday, has arrived! Tomorrow, we will mail our deposit & be on our way to securing our new home, an apartment three times what we lived in this year.

Looking at the floor plan has me so excited. Not only will Baby, who also has a massive new home thanks to my parents, have room to run around, but we'll have space for storage, a dinner table AND workspace. Also, our bed will be full-sized & sitting on the ground, no ladder required.

Our move-in date is August 16, an interesting situation that caused some rescheduling & a series of adjustments to our Returning to Our Home Country Mega-long To-do List. My week of intensive math study (which IU affectionately refers to as "camp") begins August 14. Moving will happen in several phases, cause several arguments, require lots of driving & mean we're ultimately living in an apartment with JUST a bed for about a week. I'm excited!

I've spent the day planning how I want to decorate, which is how I've spent lots of hours since January... but now I have some real space to imagine! There will be more to come, but we have lots of other things to take care of first... like eating a celebratory broccoli-cheese pizza & chocolate-covered cherries we made this afternoon. HUZZAH!

Enjoy what you're reading? I'd love to know that we're on track. Click Follow on the right side of the screen to stick with us.

crumbs

Growing up, our house was very clean. So clean that if I dropped a sandwich on the floor, I wouldn't hesitate to then just use the floor as a plate (obviously mopping the floor afterwards). So clean that once, when my dad pulled out the oven to clean behind it, he found an M&M. He ate it. (Maybe this says more about Dad than the cleanliness kitchen?)

I see this as a good thing. I expect this.

It made college roommates a bit difficult to handle. It makes living with a boy (who could have easily gone for months without cleaning the floor of his "bachelor day's" studio apartment) a bit tricky, but we've gotten on a good cleaning routine. We clean this floor daily. When you live in 17 meters, that's not difficult to do.

One of the things I had to adjust myself to here were baguettes. Not the eating them part–I'm a master. If you're eating French bread, you have to come to terms with a fact: Bread crumbs are a part of your life. That's all there is to it. They will fall on the floor when you look at it.

When you walk into the apartment, flour will leave a trail from the door to the table. When you break of a chunk, you leave a small pile on your chair or place mat–even if you try carefully to cut the bread first or tear it over your plate. Bread crumbs gradually accumulate on your table over the course of a meal. Your sponge gets filled with them.

It's a fact. And it's worth it, because the bread is outstanding. I've come to terms with the sweeping, the smearing of crumbs across the table.

More impressive than this are the bends Joe and I are making on our living habits to accommodate the other person–like putting your clothes away when you're not wearing them or allowing a cup that looks dirty and empty to stay on the bookshelf so that you can use it again for the next cup of tea.

But this mold issue. This has got to go.

The man below us, who believes that our shower is somehow dripping into their apartment and causing a mildew spot (thank God we're renting and don't truly have to deal with this), came up to visit and evaluate the situation. We said we were also having a mold problem. We showed him our wall, cleverly (on the mold's part, not ours) hidden along the wall under the table and spreading upward.

No, he explained. This is not a water issue. It's the North side of the building. It's cold; we're on the end of the building. The moisture from the heater on the cold wall of the building gives the mold a perfect dwelling place. That's why it's worse in the bathroom.

His solution: open the window when the oven or heater are running. Every part of my soul is against that solution. He saw this response in my eyes, in the way my face fell. He shrugged as if to say, "It is what it is."

But this is not what it is. I am not living in symbiosis with this mold, though at the moment it is beating me. (Does sweeping it off with the broom do something to it that could be dangerous? I'm afraid this may be the case, but I can never resist the urge to give it a good brushing and at least stop the spread.) We are going to kill it.

This year, I'm resolving (more on resolutions to come–to make sure I haven't already broken them) to be more patient and easy going when it comes to factors that are out of my control. Like bread crumbs. They're annoying, but what are they hurting? In exchange for delicious ending to your meal, you have some extra sweeping to do. Lately, I shed like a golden retriever and would be sweeping anyway. Cool. However, this is one truly out-of-control situation that I can't come to grips with.

Cheers to a new year and a visit from your landlord to sort out all your problems. Have a drink for me.

Have you dealt with mold? Any advice or similar assaults you've experienced?

Enjoy what you're reading? I'd love to know that we're on track. Click Follow on the right side of the screen to stick with us.

changing life goal #1

I blogged a few days ago about our efforts to be green–with money savings & low energy usage. Today, we're having to figure out how to adapt that plan a bit.

We have a wall-mounted, electric heater. We keep it set around six, keep a rolled up towel at the base of the door to block a draft & keep the bathroom door closed. This does two things: keeps our apartment very warm & keeps the bathroom freezing.

Because the bathroom stays so cold, the moisture from our showers can't evaporate. This means the tile surround for the sink stays damp. This means our apartment becomes very humid. THIS MEANS MY HAIR JUST ISN'T GOING TO LOOK RIGHT. No, but really. The humidity is threatening to cause a mildew problem, & it's making the trash smell terrible.

We're trying not to use too many trash bags & not too much energy. So, what's a broke, enviro-centric couple to do? For now, we're buying sponges & a bucket, scrubbing the walls of the bathroom before anything gets started, leaving the bathroom door open & buying some air freshener.

Why does trying to help the earth get so complicated?

early, in the apartment alone

Somewhere around the third cup of tea poured from my petit hibou teapot, I realized I was in a great mood. Sheets were hanging up to dry. My hair was wrapped up to dry. Two more graduate school applications were completed. (Creative writing: check.) I found a nice, warm recipe to make for our weekly dinner with a friend, from a blog I really enjoy.

Joe will be largely in charge of dinner tonight, since I'll be out giving my first exam. That's right: the first exam that I ever created, and the first exam that I have to proctor. I love coming home while he's getting food ready. The "kitchen" is right by the door, so I literally open up the apartment door and walk into my husband's arms, where I stay for the rest of the evening.

Right now, I imagine that he's left work & begun his walk to the bakery, where he will contemplate buying a pithivier but then remember we're daring ourselves not to spend any extra money this week. He'll walk into the apartment with his headphones still on, the music still going, and ask me a question a little too loudly while I grab the baguette and start eating it before it ever reaches the table.

I wanted to take some time to think up a list of things that are making me really, really happy lately that I think can easily be found in the states. There are so many pieces of this experience abroad that I want to share in a more tangible way than blog posts about my day. Here's what I've come up with so far:

1. Cheap "blond" beer with peach syrup–not tons of syrup, but a little splash before you pour the beer in to give it a slight sweetness
2. Camembert, which we have decided is the king of our favorite realm of cheeses (rich and soft with an edible rind)
3. LU Petit Beurre or Petit Écolier cookies–and we don't need to talk about how many of them I've eaten
4. Rooibos, or red, tea (which some people say isn't tea)–which isn't new, but I still drink a ton of it
5. Dry white wine, which is the specialty of the Alsace wine region we live in
6. Quiche Lorraine, a specialty of the land region we live in–but only with real butter and really thick, fatty, horrible-for-you bacon
7. Rice pudding, which isn't French but was found at our fruit & vegetable store with caramelized sugar on top

I wish I could think of things other than food to share at the moment... but I wasn't able to find any quality links to the French jazz music that's happening in town right now. Every time you get close to the giant park in town, there's jazz and reggae going in honor of Nancy Jazz Pulsations.

So put on some jazz, dip petit beurres into a mug of red tea you can wrap your hands around & know that I'm thinking of you.

the weather & my mood

Store fronts like this one in Metz are popping up... Fall is here!

Yesterday, my sister had her second homecoming dance. I have no phone, no Internet at home and no place to go make a phone call because it was a Saturday afternoon by the time she woke up to start her day. These things are wearing me down. I know I haven't been the most optimistic person, but it just seems like no one–businesses we're communicating with in the States & people we're working with here–are really getting our situation.

There is another mystery class tomorrow. I may be changing a class time. I may be teaching a new class that I know nothing about. What I do know is that I was happy with the schedule I was settling into. I am happy with my ideas for the course. I am happy teaching. I like it more than expected: the time preparing, the trying to make them comfortable, the effort to work around words they don't know & search for understanding. I always leave class with a smile & a sense of accomplishment. They laugh at the silly things a make them do. ("No, say mother. Grrr. Like you're growling. Do it. Growl. Right now.")

All I can do is wait for the next e-mail & wake up early to prepare tomorrow & give them all I've got. I have YouTube. I have English as my native language. I have a sense of humor & a small mouth that can make me look angry very quickly (for if the sense of humor doesn't win them over or shut them up). In the mean time, I'm going to keep reading Une Forme de Vie, Nothomb's latest novel & a great fiction-that-looks-like-nonfiction work. I'm going to go to a Potimarron festival. I'm going to learn more about my camera while I walk around Lunéville & hold hands with my husband. We're going to have a picnic by a castle & watch the leaves change color from our window when we get home tonight. I'm going to, for once, make myself give up control & enjoy what I am in control of–my ability to enjoy what's going on around me.

I was angry yesterday morning. I was complaining about what we don't have & getting angry at people for not getting our shit together for us. "But we're in France," Joe said. And that said everything–things take longer; life moves more slowly because the living part of it is more important. I should be content–I'm living out my dream of being here.

It's another one of those weekends. It's getting colder & rainier, but for the first time this year that feels invigorating. It's no longer "too early for this weather." It's time. I have a passion for automn that's unmatched by any other nature event. I feel most alive, most vibrant, most in-tune with the world when the air starts smelling like leaves & cinnamon.

From where I sit, I see the hills of the Vosges starting. Housing move up toward a horizon. Shutters facing us, facing East, are open to bring in the early morning sun. Smoke is puffing from chimneys, and I know that in these homes people are warm in their fluffy socks with their hands around mugs of coffee as I am here, watching them with my toes by my electric heater and my hands around my green tea. The hills behind the houses are dark–trees no longer green, but fading to the sort of plum that comes to nature before it bursts into the full flames of autumn. Soon, the neighborhood will be on fire. I'm waiting, and I'm burning with it.

home sweet home

Well, it took over a week but we finally found it: a corkscrew, from the small grocery a few doors down from our hotel. We've put it to use several times, since the grocery also has bottles of wine for less than three euros.

We're still in celebration mode. Among other things to make life possible here, we've been gradually taking our belongings to our apartment. Our list of belongings has gone well past what we lugged across the ocean, & it's sad to think that much of it will stay here.

Luckily, we found Réjan, a place that is part Big Lots, part flea market & part bargain basement. It's where we scored our sheets, drapes & a candle-scented candle... not to mention our awesome but silent four-euro cuckoo clock. After our shopping excursion, we walked to the apartment. That goes something like this:

Walk up, up & up rue Jeanne d'Arc until it becomes our street. Go to our happy green door on the corner, below window boxes of red geraniums. Walk up the spiraling wooden stairs, pushing the lumiere light several times along the way because the hall lights time off.

Reach the top floor & walk back to our corner of the building, on the opposite side of the road looking of the hills & neighborhood. Turn the key. Oh, no. Turn the key the other way. Keep. Turning. The key.

Walk past our kitchen corner. (No, really. In French, it's coin cuisine, which literally translates as "corner kitchen.") Walk into our living room, which is also our bedroom. Now that we have our cuckoo, our candle & our nice, sheer curtains the place seems very much our own. We're still moving some things, but for now let's take a tour around the living room.

Joe is sitting in front of our bed. Laying on the bed, you look toward the door & corner kitchen. When Joe lifts his head, he looks at the other side of the room. Here, you see the table, the funky white chair with wheels that are more for decoration than function & (not pictured) a closet in the other corner.

 We're excited about our new home, and we get even more excited when we sit at the window together & look out on our view.

Getting our home ready, we made sure to buy the cheapest coffee maker we could find. That turned out to be an Italian cafetiere, & we set out immediately to find some delicious coffee.

Not far from our hotel, there's a coffee & Nancy specialty shop. We thought we would pop in there first. I'm so glad we did. There's a mystery candy that I'd seen advertised around Nancy, a specialty of the town called Bergamotes de Nancy. Along with our surprisingly inexpensive coffee, we bought a small bag & opened them immediately upon leaving the store. The citrus taste is great, light & perfect for the sunny weather we are having (finally).

After some research, it turns out that bergamots are a lemon/orange-like fruit, a native of Italy that also grows in parts of France. Don't these guys look just like summer? (source)

 Along with looking great & making great candy, they are eaten like the citrus fruits they are. Their flavor is "less sour than lemon, more bitter than grapefruit." I'm not sure what that means, & I don't think I'd want to eat it... I do, however, want to find the Earl Grey & breakfast teas that use it as a flavoring, which is apparently a good amount of teas. Which brings me to the other purchase at our Nancy shop.

Along with the rows of fresh coffee beans, this store was filled–I mean filled–with different kinds of tea. I've seen this brand a lot, haven't had a chance to research it yet & am continuously overwhelmed by the variety of flavors. I decided now was as good a time as any to start finding the tea that I like best for the yet. So, I grabbed a few flavors & we were on our way.

It's feeling like home already.

one hundred sixty-six

I am desperately trying to pay the deposit for our apartment. Western Union, my bank and Money Gram hate me. Hopefully, this will be fixed today when I will go to the store, like we used to do in the Olden Days.

I will drive myself to CVS and order a money gram. I will use a calculator, held in my hand and not on my laptop screen, to convert USD to EUR to GBP. I will subtract the cost of the transfer from our deposit.

That last bit is a Godsend. Currency exchanges hurt. Thanks for nothing, America. Thanks for everything, future landlord that is trying really hard to get English down.

We have a lease. We have a bedroom, a private kitchen, water closet (toilet) and shower--furnished. We have a lovely 22-year-old helping us with all of this, who sports a Mohawk in his passport photo.

This is the start of a very interesting year. In six months, we will be in France. We will be married and broke and starting out new. We are scared and broke and ready to get going. We are ready for jobs, stability and flexibility. We are ready to rely on each other, to make a limited budget carry us through Europe, to learn a language and to learn the language of marriage.

We have set our plans for our gift registry: Joe's bank offers wedding accounts. Through this, we'll explain that we have no storage and have already filled our parents' attics, and we will not be able to use any of the appliances that they want to buy us for at least a year. We will also hope for a nice set of luggage.

Over the weekend we played a game. "Ok," Joe asked, "You can only pack four books. What are they?" I am a cheat. "Does that include in my carry-on? Do collections count as one or multiple? What if I pack all paperback and you pack all hard cover? That's not fair."

These are our arguments. These are our biggest concerns. This is why I love him.