And Awaa-a-a-y We Go!

The rented vehicle has been loaded with all of Duke 1's clothes (1 box) and computer crap gizmos (approx. 1800 boxes):

Kleenex is in place:
Here we go!

Happy Weekend to All!

Affectionately,
The Baroness

"And Then...

...the Baroness grabs for her dinner napkin, like this:

and tries to discreetly spit out the disgusting mouthful of after-dinner Muenster* that Benoit - you know, that waiter we had once at The Royal? - has just put on her plate . Man, she is so hilarious - I just love that girl. Should have married her when I had the chance."

Yup.

Word of my Euro-trash Champillon exploits has finally reached Venice.

I knew we should have tipped better...

*International Curse Word of the Day: Muenster - some wretched French comestible, passed off as "gourmet" fromage, which is, in truth, rancid foot fungus scraped off of a marathoner's post-race sock, "smoked" over a Galois cigarette, then shaped into a misleadingly appetizing cheese wheel.

The sensory assault which ensues can only be expelled by either rubbing the side of one's tongue on a belt sander, or by a radical taste-bud-ectomy.

Thoughtful Thursday

There have been many a lazy day of summer (and autumn, and winter, and spring) when I'm pottering around, and the guitar playing of Duke 1 trickles down through the floorboards.

At first, I admit, I was mightily irked by the intrusion into my elusive quiet.

Over the years, though, it has become ambient noise - the notes rise and fall, and land in our ears, light as breath itself and in rhythm with our hearts.

I can't even begin to imagine how empty my precious quiet will be going forward.

Today, a poem for one of my most beloved songs.

As he begins to go.

Commission by Ezra Pound

Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,
Go also to the nerve-racked, go the enslaved-by-convention,
Bear to them my contempt for their oppressors.
Go as a great wave of cool water,
Bear my contempt of oppressors.

Speak against unconscious oppression,
Speak against the tyranny of the unimaginative,
Speak against bonds.
Go to the bourgeoise who is dying of her ennuis,
Go to the women in suburbs.
Go to the hideously wedded,
Go to them whose failure is concealed,
Go to the unluckily mated,
Go to the bought wife,
Go to the woman entailed.

Go to those who have delicate lust,
Go to those whose delicate desires are thwarted,
Go like a blight upon the dullness of the world;
Go with your edge against this,
Strengthen the subtle cords,
Bring confidence upon the algae and the tentacles of the soul.

Go in a friendly manner,
Go with an open speech.
Be eager to find new evils and new good,
Be against all forms of oppression.
Go to those who are thickened with middle age,
To those who have lost their interest.

Go to the adolescent who are smothered in family -
Oh how hideous it is
To see three generations of one house gathered together!
It is like an old tree with shoots,
And with some branches rotting and falling.

Go out and defy opinion,
Go against this vegetable bondage of the blood.
Be against all sorts of mortmain*.



* mortmain: the influence of the past regarded as controlling the present

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Attention Les K-Mart shoppers:

Sweaters? Ptuh.

Notebooks? A travesty.

Why spend all of your hard-earned Euros on mundane back-to-school clothes and ho-hum supplies for your darling children, when instead, you can send them to school with this taxidermic wonderment?

"Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi!"

Yours for the bargain price of € 600.

God.

The French.

Fasten Your Seatbelts

Almost silently, the exit door of the plane is closed, and we are hermetically sealed inside the plane.

The high-spirited and adventuring Baron and Baroness, lately of the European Travel-o-Rama, are busy taking one last look at the tacky postcards that would be a fond remember of their journey. As the last call for passengers is being announced.

So there they stand at the gate - defeated, desperately pleading with the indifferent (and may I add, more than a little bitchy) airline personnel to please, please, please let them board.

To no avail.

Taking their place, in seats 13J and 13K, are the Everyday Baron and Baroness.

The ones with jobs, and mortgages, and children to get off to university.

The couple who, only two weeks ago, vacated their lives.

Who left behind business deals, and studying for umpteenth accreditations, and worry about routine oncology exams, and meetings, and all the other flotsam and jetsam that life threw their way.

And now, tethered in to 13J and 13K, are the couple who are no longer vacating.

But instead, re-occupying.

With a vengeance.

The internal, infernal wheels of planning and routines and schedules began almost simultaneously with the plane door closing, and crescendoed with the chirping of the landing gear on the tarmac.

The slow, methodical closing vice of time will all but put the skids on the meandering, the wonderment, the "dropping the fork" moments.

We are now toe-to-toe with reality, and all the physical and emotional toll that exacts, getting Duke 1 ready to go off to away-from-home university,

So he can pick up where we left off - meandering, wandering and wondering (with a little learning thrown in)(hopefully), and vacating his old life for a new one.

And we all fasten our seatbelts.

Paris - Epicenter of Fashion?

I think not.

Typically, when one thinks of Paris, one thinks of fashion.

Dior.

Chanel.

Christian LaCroix.

But.

And it's a big But.

I am here to reveal that, regardless of all the posturing and pomposity, Little Miss Hoity-Toity has a 10 foot tall Fashion Faux Pas smack dab in the heart of Le Jardin de Luxembourgh for the world to see (if they dare not to avert their gaze):

Exhibit A:

The Skullet

We're Back, Baby!

Not quite back to our ol' Canuck-ey home yet, but back to Gay Paree after our European jaunt-o-rama.

And by Gay Paree, here I do mean gay. We are residing close to the Latin Quarter, where the rainbow flag flies proud and free next to the bleu, blanc et rouge stripes.

Interestingly enough, Rue de GLAAD intersects with Avenue du Falafel, replete with kosher delis and Shoah museums. It's a fascinating intersection, and one worth many an afternoon of observation, pastis and some nasty cheese.

I have tried in vain to document this expedition in order (because the OCD Baroness is ALL about the order), but have run into a plethora of difficulties. Maybe they are the "normale" for these parts; I just do not know.

I am unable to cut and paste my fabulous (?) tourist pictures, so you will have to wait patiently for "Lessons from the Louvre". September IS just around the corner, after all, so all my ed-ju-ma-katin' of y'all will tie in nicely.

WiFi is also, apparently, either hard to find without one of those wicked cool watches from SkyMall, or when it can be found, is ridiculously expensive. I am grateful for your patience - it will all work out once I'm back in front of my own computer, biensur!

Today, we re-meet with our darling Duke 2, who has had a truly cultural exchange (some would say "shock"). Our plan is to run him to ground during the day, and then he and I will attend the Paris production of "Le Roi Lion". I'm strictly there for the costumes, and I'm sure we'll be able to socially ostracize ourselves once again by singing all the songs. In English. Because we've seen the g.d. video at least 1000 times.

Who knows? We could be starting something - like those "Sound of Music" sing-a-longs.

Yeah, we're back, baby.

Hakuna Matata.

Amelie, Mon Ami

Greetings from Amelie-land - Monmartre itself - arrondisement of a thousand steps, and almost as many tourists.

A short diversionary story. Just after the Baron and I were married (oh so many, many moons ago), one of his clients gave him some indispensible advice. He said that even though there may be some amazing meals where the Baron and Baroness would sit down together, to talk over their days, and make their plans, there should also be times when we would just "drop the fork", and just sit and look and live in that very moment. There would always be time for dinner, said the sage client - but you had to make time to "drop the fork".

We have been having many of these moments - moments where, rather than being obsessed with finding the right street corner, or the exact patisserie, we just stop and look and smell at the wonder that swirls all around us. This little pause begins to etch those indelible memories in our brains. But, just as one must drop the fork from time to time, one must also pick up the spoon, and have a demitasse of motor oil/decaf coffee.

On this day, I had mine here:

Cafe Deux Moulins

(where part of the interiors for the movie "Amelie" were filmed)

The only thing that still remains of the movie are the Polaroids of the Roaming Gnome ( I guess the film company let them keep them:)

Oh, and this:

I think this coffee may have been around since the film was made in 2000.

I drank it anyway.

Merde, Merde, Merde - Ou est Le Internet?

The Baron and I thought we were so-o-o-o-o-o very, very clever.

Laptop - check.

Adaptor purchased specific to Europe - check.

Getting a hotel room with WiFi - check.

And then, it all fell apart.

Wifi doesn't work (oh, wait - I should qualify that it does, if we want to pay 20 euros a day)(which kind of defeats the purpose of having WiFi, non?)

The adaptor we got to charge our laptop? The end of it doesn't fit into the back of the computer. As always in the City of Love, it has something to do with male and female parts - beyond that point I start to lose interest...

So, now I'm using the hotel internet, which is some weird-ass keyboard connected to the TV screen, which feels like I'm seeing my words on a drive-in movie screen.

This for the fabulous privelege of 10 euros a day. A bargain at twice the price, I say.

Until we get our laptop baby back and running, this will be my only missive - I really am on borrowed time here, people.

No fancy pictures to download yet.

You should know that I'm not in any way, shape or form, a photographer. What I see and what I want to capture are two different stories. And, points out the Baron - quite validly - there are thousands of pictures on flickr.com that are far better. But I will try. Soon. Promise.

For now, I can tell you that everyone we have met has been quite lovely. OK, almost everyone.

Our hotel staff, save for Shewon and cher petit Jeremie, are a little on the aloof side. Think of the "Michel" character from "Gilmour Girls".

By and large though, thoroughly lovely, and very patient - they hardly wince at all as we butcher their language and are kind enough to repeat themselves when we give them that deer-in-the-headlights look, should they ask us something in return.

And the architecture? Enough scrolled wrought iron and embellishments to make me want to plan my next trip already, just to be able to walk down every little twisty Rue I missed the first time.

We have been walking for 6 hours straight every day, just gawking and oohing and aahing. Yesterday, we visited Saint Chapelle (no relation to Dave, and the docent didn't really get the joke - huh). To come upon the second floor is comparable to entering the center of a brilliant blue topaz (here I would definitely flickr - I couldn't possibly do it justice). I wept at the sheer beauty of it - and I'm not even Catholic! (there was no i.d. checked at the door).

Today, we visited L'Arene du Lutece, an old "sports" arena built 1800 years ago. And by sports here, think lions and scraggly prisoners.

I must run, as time is a-wasting. But rest assured, as soon as possible, I'll be back.

Non merde.

We are Ici...

OK, I know that I said here that if the statue of Mary Tyler Moore fell on me after visiting the Best Damn Polka bar in Minneapolis that I would die a happy woman.

But, this, well...

Monmartre
(Photo credit: Ricardo Martin on flickr.com)

I'm changing my mind.

Baroness' prerogative.

Eet ees the Fransh way, non?

The Baroness & Baron at Les Deux Moulins

One more sleep and this will be Madelle et Monsieur von Bloggenschtern:

(For those of you who have yet to see "Amelie"
- one of my absolute favorites - you'll know what this means.
For the others, get thee to a video store...)

*M.F. (Melodramatic Footnote) - I do apologize to those of you out there who think I might be gloating a little. I'm really not intending to come off that way - I'm just so exTREMEly excited I could pee the noble knickers.

One of my dreams has always been to go to Paris, and drink coffee at a small cafe on Le Rive Gauche. When I was sick a couple of years ago, at least a tiny bit of my sadness was knowing that this fantasy could possibly not become a reality.

But, thanks to the efforts and hard work of my CFO and partner-in-crime, it's all happening. 'Tis like living a dream. I love him already, but this trip is making me fall in love with him all over again. Ahhh.

Wanderlust Wednesday

2 more sleeps, and this will be MOI!!

(clique sur la picture pour une photo grande...)

Is My Heart Fluttering?

Who on earth doesn't like to hear good things on a Monday?

I would like you all to meet my newest bloggy bling:

She is the Arte y Pico Award , and she's given out for blogs that "... deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language."

According to the briefest of translations on the site, it would appear that Arte y Pico means "Wow. The Best Art. Over the top."

I received this more than a week ago my dear blend Asthma Girl, over at "Is My Cape Fluttering?" Her sweet nomination said the following - "While I generally think of art as photography, the Baroness creates art with her words. Seriously."

Aw, hon - I'm so very glad that I put you on the payroll - it's one of the best investments I've ever made in my life!!

As much as I would love to shoot one of these back Asthma Girl's way for her always breathtaking photography, she has one already, and there are some equally beautiful sites out there I read when I'm looking for inspiration beyond the written word.

First recipient is Shari over at The Glass Doorknob. She has such a lovely, lovely way of taking the everyday and shining a light on it, so we can truly appreciate it. I find her a gentle oasis in the blogosphere.

Second recipient, Stacy (with honorable mention to Kevyn) over at The Best Life Ever. Every day is a reflection on what makes her happy - how cool is that? She has a way of always putting a positive spin on things, and the on-going photo essay of her and her husband and their friends is proof positive that there is a Best Life Ever out there for everyone.

Third recipient is Alicia Paulson of Posie Gets Cozy. It's crafts, but on such a higher artistic plane. She's an nostalgia and comfort artisan, and I when I look at what she's working on, I feel like I've just stepped into my favorite aunt's sewing room. She just published a book "Stitched in Time" - check it out!

Fourth recipient is Jen of Simply Breakfast and Simply Photo. Simply Photo takes me to links I would never in a million years find on my own, and without fail, they're always so sensory fulfilling. I live vicariously through her Simply Breakfasts - each one a snapshot of what's going on that day - the harder you look the more you'll discover!

Fifth and last is Miss Tracey at iPost. As someone who proclaimed themselves to be geographically-challenged, this site was to collect postcards for her and her kids from across the US. Luckily, she managed to get some pretty exotic ones as well, and they (and the stamps from abroad) are fascinating to look at - perfect for the armchair traveller in all of us.

Should any of these wonderful women care to share the love of Miss A y P, here are the rules, as they were told to me:

1. Pick five (5) blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.

2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.

3. Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.

4. Award winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of "Arte y Pico" blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award (click here for link).

Enjoy your Monday, you fabulous women, you!!!

Cling, Cling, Cling Went the Mommy....

Prologue
Here's a fascinating factum about the Baroness - I'm an e-mail hoarder.

This has the Baron rather worried, as he sees this tendency as a gateway towards more troubling, potentially dangerous hoarding. You know the one - where the newspapers and magazines are bundled up willy-nilly 7 feet high and create a maze throughout the hallways of the house.

He can rest easy - for now. What I'm hoarding is strictly information. Because I hate getting rid of something that I could potentially learn something from. Let me explain.

Every day, I get an e-mail newsletter from Yoga Journal - sometimes it's a "Daily Insight", sometimes it's a "Wisdom" piece.

It is virtually impossible for me to devote the time I need to actually read these articles with the intention and attention I wish to revere them with. So I fire them into my "To Read" file.

Another intriguing trait? I'm a little on the OCD side. Meaning, I had to get a certain number of these e-mails in my To Read file before I could begin reading them. On the day that I got to 52, (which means I could read and reflect on one per week), I didn't get the time to sit down and start, so I had to start all over again. The next magic number? 104. You guessed it, 2 articles a week.

Only this time, when I reached 104, I did have the time. And so it began.

Actual Post
The date of the e-mail is March 3, 2008.

The title of the article is "Embrace Reality", penned by a certain Frank Jude Boccio.

The gist of the article refers to non-attachment and equanimity and how they relate to Buddha's 5 Remembrances (see below).

What I find most compelling about how all these things came together - Duke 2 being away, me secretly pining for his happiness and enjoyment, Duke 1 readying for leaving home, me finally getting down to reading this swack of e-mails - is the exquisite timing of it all.

It cannot be mere coincidence.

The sentence which hit me like a bolt from the blue was this one:
"Once you accept the reality of impermanence, you begin to realize that grasping and clinging are suffering, as well as the causes of suffering, and with that realization you can let go and celebrate life. The problem is not that things change, but that you try to live as if they don't."

Wow.

This is something so simple - so incredibly commonsense - yet so soul-stirring and revolutionary for me.

My clinging, my wishing my boy-men could always stay within hug's length of my heart, my hoping that things between us would always be the same - it's all for naught. For to move ahead, to grow, to experience, to evolve, we must be in a constant state of flux.

Another quote I loved:
"As your insight into impermanence deepens you start to see the truth of the "no-separate-self." When you can extend beyond the limits you've created you see that your life is not really "yours" but all of life itself manifesting through you."

Yes. Manifesting through you - in a state of impermanence.

I do not have ownership of my children; I'd like to call them mine, but while they are but a infinitesimal part of me, they are truly their own beings, with their own paths to walk.

I am now starting to fully appreciate the wonder and awe of having them share our lives for a time, but I am also starting to accept that impermanence is a fact of living.

And that fact is far more fascinating than hoarding or strange rituals, don't you think?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Five Remembrances

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.
by Thich Nhat Hanh in The Plum Village Chanting Book (Parallax Press, 1991)