coup de soleil

I slept on the floor, under the open window last night. My neck's a little stiff, but the rest of my body is thanking me. I'm sitting on the floor in my underwear. Our door is propped open; our window is open despite the rain. I'm trying not to let anything touch me. Not even the wind. (Not directly.)

There are a lot of adventures packed into a very small window of time before we leave France–making sure we adequately say goodbye to everyone we're not sure we'll ever see again, checking out the last few bits of undiscovered Nancy territory. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but let's be honest: I'm enjoying the affection.

I was invited to a friend's house yesterday for a great, summery lunch (with fresh cheese made by her friend, fresh berries picked on Sunday...) I wore flip flops for the first time this year, and they rubbed the skin off of my feet, including a spot on the bottom near the thong-y spoke thing, before I arrived.

After a good lunch with my friend & her incredibly kind, welcoming mother, we headed to the outdoor pool–a pool that is bigger than any I've ever visited. I wish I'd taken my camera. If nothing else, you'd be able to see me in a swim cap, which are a required part of the attire.

Apparently, it is also required that men wear tinier swimsuits than you'd ever see in the States. I laughed at how out of place Joe would seem in his almost knee-length swimming trunks. One man, roughly age 55, had taken this too far: a thong Speedo. There were many screams and gasps and stares of shock for boys & girls alike.

We spent most of our time "bronzing" ("bronzer" is the French verb for to "lay out" or tan). My friend finds pale skin sad & rather unappealing. I find my pale skin my natural state and a sign that I will, if I don't tan it to leather, have a lower chance of skin cancer. I slathered on the sun screen while they were (while admittedly looking lovely & bronze) soaking up the oil.

The sunscreen didn't seem to help. By the time I got home, I was completely burnt, & it looks ridiculous. I sat Indian-style (excuse me, "criss-cross applesauce" style) most of the afternoon, so the burn follows all the lines of my sitting and swimsuit. I'm not quite lobster level, but it's painful. It feels like the bones and muscles were burnt, screaming from strain when I bend or twist or walk.

I gave myself a cold shower when I got home–something that never quite feels good to me, but that I knew would help me a bit. I smeared moisturizing lotion on, & I got ready for the opera.

To cover the burn, I wore my pencil skirt & a nice, flowing shirt that wouldn't have to touch my poor chest. Walking through the 90 degree weather to the opera, we calmed ourselves by the thought of air conditioning and cooling down before the performance began.

False. It's France. We were roasting, and we were tucked in tiny seats with no knee room (the stadium seating put the women in front of us two inches from my feet)–and tucked between a family that frequented the opera to the left and a group of elementary school girls to the right. The repeatedly explained to each other that they couldn't see anything; they had no idea what was happening; they were hot; they couldn't see.

The opera is beautiful; the orchestra played beautifully; the costumes were beautiful. But Joe & I are not opera fans. Maybe it was the heat or the claustrophobia or the fatigue we felt in the dark space. Maybe it was the frustration of trying to read the French translation of the Italian opera while also trying to catch what was happening stage left, the spot with the most action & the most people blocking our view.

We appreciate the experience, but between my sunburn ("coup de soleil" in French–a hit or cut, as if the sun smacked you and left a red mark) & my low heat tolerance I wasn't willing to go back into that room. Joe wasn't putting up any arguments. He got an ice cream; I got a large water and we walked through the park on our way home in the cooling night air.

Joe was kind enough to get groceries today while I "clean the apartment" (since that's clearly what I'm doing. I refuse to put clothes on until I have to work today. I refuse to turn the stove on. I refuse to close the window. I refuse to think about the fact that this day marks our last week in Nancy.

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sunshine

I walked into class today a bit late. I had walked rather slowly to campus so that I had an extra minute of soaking in the 60 degrees. We've had sunshine all week, a rare phenomenon in Nancy. I've walked around without a jacket most of the time. A few days included a between-classes lunch hour (or pound cake hour) on the lawn with one of my good friends, Lauren.

This is all to illustrate the mood I was in when I walked into class. While I was unpacking my materials, another student–one of my more animated students whom I can count on to participate–walked in. He started walking back to his seat and casually said, "We should have class outside."

He was joking. French students never expect this to happen. All but one student said they'd never experienced it before. They already think I'm a bit of a Crazy American, which I play up in class to keep them entertained & interested. Before I fully realized what I was saying, I was repacking my materials and leading them down the stairs. Make way for ducklings*.

We had just planted ourselves on the grass, formed a circle and gotten our notebooks out. I was loading clips on my computer & getting out my lesson plan.

Then there was a man behind us, asking if we had any cannabis–not using some slang or subtle word. Directly asking, "Do you have cannabis?" I know my students told them no before starting to laugh, but I didn't quite manage to say anything. I felt so small, tucked up with my legs Indian-style. (Are we not supposed to say that anymore?  Hmm...) I felt my authority melting away. My mouth was hanging open.

We recovered & got through the whole lesson plan, even handling the dictation–an excerpt from a Nelson Mandela clip, which is a difficult accept when you're only in your first year of college–rather well. I decided I wasn't willing to risk it again & had my second class inside. Once was enough. I feel like I've liberated enough French souls for a while.

I know that I'll be spending as much time a possible outside this weekend, assuming the sunshine holds out. I've gotten used to this weather & didn't realize until yesterday evening that spring = rain. I thought we'd skipped right to summer. The flowers are already arriving... Maybe we don't need the April showers? Or maybe they can at least wait until after the weekend, so that I can finish my post-winter thawing?

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17: sunblock

So it's still going. I'm still casually packing, telling myself that this will make the end mess of big packing and cramming easier.

While with Joe, we picked up some more natural products Trader Joe's, and I was excited to see their (again, not completely but more) natural sunblock. I have serious issues with slathering white chemicals all over my body.

Granted, I haven't been the greatest at using the stuff. I was in high school. It was more important for me to be tan. I went tanning. I used tanning accelerator. Now, as members spread throughout my family struggle with cancer, I realize that there are more important things.

Like loving the way I look all year.
Like preventing skin cancer.
(And let's face it. Like not becoming one of those leathery old dames that spent too much time dipped in iodine and baby oil.)

I looked into making my own sunblock. I knew it wouldn't be as easy for our year in France (because I am afraid to translate all the ingredients correctly), but I wanted to know what that process would look like. I will spare you the re-typing and explaining. I will instead send you to instructables.

If you don't feel like jumping into making the whole thing yourself, eHow had a great idea. (Instructables mention this too, but I saw it on eHow first.) The active ingredients in store sunscreens are either zinc oxide or titanium dioxide (like I said, scary-sounding things to put on your skin!). Both are in powder form, so you can add the stuff to your favorite (all natural) lotion in a ratio of one tablespoon powder to one of cup lotion.


So if you have a kitchen of your own (wow, calling Woolf to mind) and a bit of time, try it out. The initial investment can get a bit expensive, but once everything is in stock, you're set for more than a summer.

I may choose to navigate that mess one day, but for not I'm sticking with Alba Organics' green tea sunscreen. Don't go getting all snotty on me. You know you pay too much for your Banana Boat or your Coppertone. You know that shit's overpriced. You don't know (and I don't either. Another post perhaps?) what it could be doing to you besides blocking a few rays.

So if we're already protecting ourselves with a pricier product, why not spend the extra $2 to get one that will truly wash off or let botanicals instead of chemicals seep into those tanned arms and legs?

53 (or OMG why is it so close!?)

Mom had some errands to run, so I offered my sauce-making services to get dinner started until she got back. I love her spaghetti sauce, pouring in all of the herbs and spices, watching them form stripes across the top of the tomato juice and fold into a simmering, aromatic pot of family tradition.

This time, the sauce was sans viande for the family vegetarian, but there are so many herbs and spices that it's hard to even notice. I mean, really... look.

...Actually, don't look. It's a secret.

While the sauce simmered on the stove, I resisted the urge to take a loaf of italian bread and instead made a snack mix. It involves peanut butter. I know you're surprised.

Here's the Peanut Butter Snack Mix recipe. Don't worry. I'm not becoming a big foodie blog, but I absolutely love this flavor combination, and it's super easy to make, and it's the season for snacking lightly and entertaining. So, why not share? Note: T = tablespoon while t = teaspoon.

Melt:
3 T honey
2 T butter
2 T peanut butter*

Pour it over:
4 cups of Chex (I used Cheerios instead--actually Aldi's Crispy Oats.)**
2 cups mini pretzels
1/3 cup nuts (I used peanut, but I want to try a nut-blend next time.)

Bake at 175F for 1 to 1.5 hours.

*Creamier options will help this a lot. I love Naturally More, which has wheat germ, flax and a few other handy body-fixers, plus it's creamy and delicious.
**This may be because I used Crispy Oats, but I thought it needed a lot more pretzels and nuts, which would require a lot more peanut butter.

I also topped everything with cinnamon before mixing, because honey + peanut butter + cinnamon is my favorite trio. (The Barbershop Quartet of my diet: honey + peanut butter + cinnamon + chocolate making some beautiful music on my toast/bagel/English muffin/spoon.)

The honey gives everything a bit of a shine, an extra sweetness with the pretzels. The peanut butter is delicious. The baked peanuts get a bit softer, giving under your teeth and contrasting with the crunch of the pretzels. It's a bit of summer heaven. Keep it classy. Kick back and enjoy it with a glass of semi-sweet wine (or a six-pack and a ball game).

I think this will keep up our energy as Joe and I take the megabus to Chicago in mid-July. Things are moving so quickly now...

111

There are pieces of my life that are slipping into place. My plans for the summer are rounding out. My to-do list is color coded; full of wedding things and nonfiction reading; not filled with enough Joe and certainly not finished.

Item number one on the to-do list: Developing pictures
I got a Holga camera a little over a year ago, to give me something to play with while in St. Louis. Then I remembered that I was not getting paid over the summer, so I didn't have money for more film or developing the four rolls that I got with the camera.

I've finally taken those four rolls to Jack's Camera Shop to be developed. One of the rolls wasn't wrapped up tight, and the woman was afraid that there would be blurring. I assured her that this would not matter, since the Holga is known and loved for is mechanical flaws that add character to the photos.

I then asked her not to judge me for the number of pictures I took with the lens cap on. Driving through (rather, being a passenger while Joe drove) St. Louis that summer, I didn't think much about the lens cap. I just pointed and clicked, then realized my error days later.

In about a week, I'll see how I did with the first go at the Holga. Joe and I are hoping to use it in France, along with his 35 mm, to create some great wall art when we get back to the States.

As for developing my picture-taking skills, I'm still toying with the idea of buying a nice Nikon. I've promised myself that I will not splurge with a new one. A friend mentioned that he wanted to sell his camera, which was originally $600. I just sold the video camera I used for my online speech class last summer for $75 (thanks, Jack's!). If he can give me an amazing deal on his camera, I will put that $75 toward it and scrape by with no grocery shopping.

Joe was against the purchase at first, but I'm convinced that it's a skill more and more PR practitioners (and journalists) will need to have in the changing/integrating world of our profession. Having the summer and a year in France to read about photography and sharpen my skills, maybe even create a few photo essays, could be a huge help when it's job-getting time.

Item number two: JOBS
This is going better than expected, too. I know that if I want to make good money, I could find temporary factory work or waitress at a few restaurants everyday. This just doesn't seem feasible with a wedding and the move, though. So instead, I'm trying to dig up some jobs that will together amount to "full-time" money, but more importantly, key experience.

 So far, I've heard that my editor for the Wapak Daily News will "need some help." I have some sort of job there, but I have no idea what that means or when I will know. I'm forcing myself to be okay with that and not e-mail him everyday.

I'm also building a Web site and blog for my dad, which is a project that I want to keep as a sort of surprise until it's ready. I think it'll be really fun for us to create posts and work on it from now until, well, forever.

Then, I thought of another possibility. When I went home for Spring Break and did loads of wedding shopping,  we stopped in at Vino Bellissimo, which now has a site. I got really excited about going up twice a week for all of their wine tastings.

I got even more excited about all of the potential this has when it comes to utilizing social media tools and "engaging with the public," like my professors have been raving about. I decided that I had nothing to lose, so I e-mailed them.

I explained that I was graduating and would love to put my creative skills to use for them, developing their Web presence a bit (learning along the way, admittedly) and doing an public relations work that I could. I said that I was passionate about wine, going to France and eager to learn more about it–not quite begging, but very clear that working for them would make my day.

They responded positively, asking when I'd be back and saying they never know what they may need. Fingers crossed, I'll be putting these hard-earned degrees into practice. Now, anyone need a French tutor?

one hundred twenty-two

Baby is going crazy, doing kick-spins around the room.

My mind is swimming in a migraine from no caffeine and too much reading of words on a screen. I made a pot of coffee. I am drinking it slowly.

My window is wide open, the blinds pulled up, my fan whirling. Winter is drifting out the window, leaving the carpet a bit sticky with humidity and the air crisp.

The old smell of our house is back– the one that reminds me of those first few weeks; when our voices echoed in the house; when we had no couch, no television, no microwave; when we, Rachel and I, split a bottle of V-8 in less than two days. When Joe was here and we had no idea what the next two years would do to us. Before France. Before he knew he wanted to be with me. Before I knew what it is to be homesick.

I am searching for a recipe for sweet tea. And sun tea. I'm contemplating freezing coffee in an ice cube tray, to make coffee ice cubes to plunk into iced coffee. My coffee is hot, leaving a bit of sweat-steam on my lip when I sip.

Joe has officially been selected as a lecteur for the Nancy-Metz region. We both have jobs. In the same part of the country. I got an e-mail from "Elvis" in France. He mailed a check with our refund. I'm hopeful that it will arrive, and more so that we'll be able to cash it.

Our wedding bands arrived. The saleswoman that spoke so kindly to us about her faith in us, that gave us a special discount for being young Christians in love, that promised to pray for us, that reminded us how easy it is to be happy when you let yourself, the saleswoman called Joe and told us to pick up the rings at our convenience. I remembered crying when I picked up my engagement ring alone, after Joe had returned to St. Louis. This time: no tears, unless their tears of pure excitement for how things are shaping up.

All and all, even though my eyes hurt and I can't look at the screen, even though there aren't enough hours, even though it would be easier for me to panic and cry... It is starting out as a wonderful, wonderful day.

Epilogue

Aforementioned Baby rabbit is now attempting to chew on the cord for the aforementioned whirling fan. This shall not ruin the aforementioned wonderful, wonderful day.

a day of decisions

I woke, decided to stay in my flannel pajamas until noon, decided to write a paper instead of working out, decided to mess around on the Internet after each page I've written (two in two hours), and decided how I would spend my summer reading time.

This summer, I am dedicating myself to improving my creative nonfiction writing. I'll hopefully be working for my hometown newspaper, improving my journalistic writing there. Then, I'll be reading the collections of nonfiction I've accumulated for class, from used bookstores and as gifts.

The Goal List:

1. The Best Creative Nonfiction, Vol. 1, edited by Lee Gutkind
2. The Best Creative Nonfiction, Vol. 3, edited by Lee Gutkind
   
3. Talk Stories, by Jamaica Kincaid
4. The New Kings of Nonfiction, edited by Ira Glass (of This American Life)
5. Telling True Stories, edited by Mark Kramer and Wendy Call
6. In Fact, edited by Lee Gutkind

Goals for Semester, Personal Reading (even this is a bit too ambitious)

1. finish Main Street (Lewis)
   
2. finish Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress (Dai Sijie)
   
3. finish Elizabeth Browning's collection of sonnets from Joe
4. finish Pale Fire (Nabokov)
5. stop starting books I can't finish

Up for three hours, not stressed yet and still feeling positive. So far, so good for the New Year.