March 27, 2010

We are licking our wounds at St. Mary's stomping by Baylor last night. I let the girls stay up to watch but by the end of the first half it was obviously not our night. Oh well, the sweet sixteen was sweet indeed.

A few more favorite things about living in Paris:

1. You can rent a motorcycle. You can also rent the guy who drives the thing. It's called rent-a-moto and the guy literally shows up in full leathers, and zooms you to wherever you want to go. Beats the hell out of a taxi.

2. Everyone loves Obama; the pharmacist wouldn't let me leave until she was sure I understood how gorgeous she thinks he is and what a great dancer he is. Two very important qualities in a President from the French point of view.

3. Seasons for food. Coming from California, the kids were completely unaware that things don't grow year-round. When the red oranges and melons appeared last week at the market they were very excited.

4. The announcement in French on the metro that Claire didn't understand. Erin translated ... into British! "They're telling you to mind the gap," she said.

5. The advertisement that pops up when you go on the Internet in France, offering you a chance at a US green card if you can identify the current US President. The choices are: Hillary Clinton, George Bush and Barack Obama. My question is, why don't they do the same thing in the US and exile anyone who doesn't answer correctly (there would be a whole lot of Americans leaving the country)? That would solve the unemployment problem in about 5 minutes. I'm just saying.

I do have some bad news. The new styles are in the stores and shoulder pads appear to be back in fashion. Also, puffy sleeves and cowl necks. What's next, leg warmers and headbands? Let me tell you, the only person that can still pull of the headband look is Roger Federer. And, as if that weren't bad enough, women are starting to appear in public wearing leggings without anything on top of them. I almost told someone she'd forgotten to put on her skirt until I realized that's the look she had intended. And it wasn't a good one, let me tell you. My new rule is, if you were an adult last time that stuff was in fashion, you probably shouldn't attempt it this time around.

Latest gym sighting: A middle-aged man in those shorts that women volleyball players wear (a large part of the reason they get good attendance at their games, I fear) getting ready to get on the chin lift machine. Beforehand, though, he decided to do a little dance. The sound system was blaring wrap (white rap); P Didier or someone was on. Anyway, the guy launches into a little dance that looked suspiciously like an Irish River Dance. There he was on his tippy-toes executing his intricate footwork before lifting weights. A mystery. I escaped to the upper floor where two women who had to be in their late eighties were doing full splits. I feel so alone.