"Everybody should be able to make some music! It's the cosmic dance."
So I know this post is ridiculously later than it should have been, what with all of my promises. But, I have a thing for patterns, and a Last Day Of The Month pattern is better than no pattern at all, right?
In the past month I've taken a couple of trips, first to Paris and then to California - specifically, Disneyland. Let's start with a mini-report on Paris.
Paris was first founded on the
Île de la Cité, where the Parisii tribe lived from at least the Iron Age. Thousands of years later, a girl named Zannah spent not quite a week in Paris, registering for yet another year of grad school, listening to her advisor's page-by-page comments on her thesis ("This? Not the work of an historian" and waving her hand over the entire page: "this is not good." A bit brutal, but by the time we got to page 30 or so I quit
really cringing), living in different libraries, her favorite of which was founded in
the month Floréal in the year 5, buying gifts for people at shops located next to shops selling
weird hats for children, going to some of her favorite restaurants with
some of her favorite people, and finally ending her last night there at
the Iron Lady of Paris.
And this is the entire history of Paris.
Honestly, the trip was mostly whirlwind-y. I was there to work, so while I usually had decent evenings, my days were filled with school stuff and research. Oh! But other than the highlights mentioned above, there were two more: one, when I was up in Montmartre leaving the Abbesses metro station, I was on the elevator with a dude wearing those hobble pants. You know, the ones where the crotch is in the vicinity of the knees, thus hobbling the wearer? Well, this dude's hobble pants were cropped, so the "leg" section of his pants were roughly four inches long, thus making it even more comical than normal, if hobble pants could ever be considered normal. Also of note: these particular hobble pants were made out of a wide-wale corduroy rather than the more typical stretchy knit, which means that if he were chased there would definitely be a face splat. I miss Paris fashion. And two, several people at different restaurants remembered me. Places I went once every, oh, four to six months when I lived there, but I realized that a blonde foreigner who speaks French? Kind of memorable, it seems.
Now, California. So, you know that guy who was featured in a few pictures on the last post? One of his sisters was going with her family to Disneyland, and another one of his sisters lives ten miles from Disneyland, so we went, stayed with the one and played with the other. He loved being with his
nieces and nephews and I really enjoyed meeting his family, and not just because they are
cute and
all. I was feeling
awfully sick for most of the time we were there, although we did manage to get one
decent picture of us. Also, we met my little sister and her husband and adorable daughter (and my parents, who were visiting them during the same weekend) for lunch in downtown L.A., which is seriously a hole. Honestly, the ancient chicken souk in Marrakech was less repulsive. Point, though: we had fun, we met people, made apparently favorable impressions, and didn't die in the process (despite occasional wishing that I would). Also, I kind of dug comparing Disneyland to EuroDisney (or whatever they call it now; it'll always be EuroDisney to me - it's got that ring to it, like euro-trash) and to a lesser extent, Disney World, which is the best one of them all. Epcot, my friends. Epcot.
In other news, I've been knitting a bit more lately, so pictures to come of some of that. And we watched a bunch of
"I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" episodes on Saturday in between passing out candy, and I gotta say, if you haven't yet experienced that beauty of a freakshow, please, PLEASE do yourself a favor and watch it. Even after six or seven episodes, we still cracked up when they got to the part when the narrator starts to explain why they didn't know they were pregnant. Of course, if we're laughing that hard, karma dictates that I may very well one day hear a nurse tell me, "Honey, there's a baby in your pants." We've decided that if/when that happens, we're obligated to laugh. And I say "we" because he also proposed this weekend. Before the "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" marathon, of course.
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